#just realized the tag doesn’t do anything

[you-little-arsonist]

ok so if anyone wants them, here are some buddie fics that have mutual masturbation and/or phone sex in them (don't look at me), idk these are probably pretty well known but i'm still making my way through all of them. they are all complete and they're all rated E because well. also CHECK THE TAGS because i didn't write them all out here!

Your place is where I'd rather be instead by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (3.5k)

The next thing Eddie does, short circuits Buck's brain. Eddie takes his shirt by the bottom and pulls it up and over his head, keeping it bunched up and putting it to the side on the counter. Eddie is now shirtless. He’s shirtless in his kitchen. Oh. OR Buck teaches Eddie how to make lasagna over FaceTime when Eddie gets his shirt dirty and has to take it off and it alters Buck's brain chemistry.

Last night, you called on accident by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (8.3k)

Buck goes back to his bag and pulls out Eddie’s black tank top. He brings it up to his nose and inhales— he can tell himself it means nothing later. He moans on his exhale. Holy fuck. OR The one where Buck finds one of Eddie's tank tops in their locker and takes it home & in El Paso, Eddie brought one of Buck's LAFD shirts with him. You know the GIF.

Kiss me through the phone by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (2.6k)

Buck finds himself sitting up in bed— his back against his pillows— phone close to his ear. His heart is beating like crazy— both of theirs are. “That something you want, Eddie?” Buck says in a low, deep voice. “Want me to tell you how often I’ve thought about getting down on my knees for you?” Eddie’s breath hitches. That’s all it took for Eddie’s dick to get hard as fuck— twitching with the need to be touched. “Jesus, Buck,” Eddie moans out as he reaches his free hand into his briefs, touching himself. OR Buck is bored and Eddie can't sleep so the two end up having phone/video sex

to have and to hold (platonically and heterosexually) by teenytinytomlinson/ @littlefreakbuckley (21.2k)

So in the middle of Eddie’s dining room, with his brain to mouth filter non-existent (as per usual), Buck blurts out, “Marry me.” Eddie sits straight up, looking at him with eyes wide as saucers. “Excuse me?” “W-well, just think about it. If we get married I can add you and Chris to my insurance policy and that solves your problem.” Eddie’s mouth forms a perfect little ‘o’. Buck waits patiently for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. When the ground doesn’t do as he’d hoped he realizes he has to say something else. “Obviously, w-we don’t have to,” he’s quick to assure. “But if we did it would be platonic, of course, because you’re straight and–” he pauses, praying for another rogue stroke of lightning. Anything to put him out of his misery right now. “-and like I know that I’m bi now, but this wouldn’t be like that y’know? It would just be two friends helping each other out.” He’s rambling, the words won’t stop tumbling out. “Like a friends with benefits type situation! E-except you know not those kinds of benefits! Like actual benefits! Health and dental.” or, Eddie is moving to Texas, losing his insurance, and marrying Buck all very heterosexually and platonically.

A Phone Call Away by Ironkissedfanfics/ @ironkissedmage (5.7k)

Buck had his apartment to himself for the first time in months, so of course he had to take advantage of such a lovely opportunity to get off without fear of anyone hearing him. It's just his luck that he butt dials someone while he's fingers deep in himself. And he's just not sure if it's a blessing or a curse that it's Eddie he called.

while i think of you by markofalover/ @markofalover (4.2k)

Just Buck speaking, apparently, is enough to get him hard. His brain starts hurting. Like he’s guzzled down a Big Gulp sized Icee in the summertime. …or, Eddie slowly loses his mind and has phone sex about it.

anyway those are some of the best ones, please tag me if you guys know of more like this! and thank you to all these authors, you are truly doing the lord's work

[sturniololuvz]

Can you right a fic were they have a sister who’s like 15 and the boys go in her room and find like birth control or some thing like a thong and they freak out becuse they still see her as a baby? Love you btw

love ya

⸻

“What We Weren’t Ready For”

It started because of a missing charger.

Chris swore he left it in the living room, but Nick rolled his eyes and pointed down the hall. “Check Y/N’s room. She steals yours every time you leave it plugged in.”

Chris grumbled something under his breath but went. Matt and Nick followed — more out of boredom than anything else.

Her room was its usual mess: books everywhere, one shoe under the bed, hoodie slung over the back of her chair.

“Check the nightstand,” Matt said, digging through her backpack on the floor. “She hides all kinds of stuff in there.”

Chris opened the top drawer.

Then stopped.

“Yo…” he said, voice flat.

“What?” Nick asked, crossing over.

Chris stepped aside.

Inside the drawer — tucked beneath a folded tee and a pack of gum — was a small, pale-pink box.

Birth control.

And next to it, a pair of black lace underwear. New. Still with the tag attached.

Silence.

Like the kind that fills a room after a dropped bomb.

Matt blinked. “No. No no no.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “What the hell is this?”

Chris’s chest was tight. “She’s fifteen.”

Nick ran a hand down his face. “This doesn’t mean she’s… doing anything. Maybe it’s for cramps. Maybe the thong was a gift or something—”

Chris snapped, “Then why hide it?”

None of them had an answer.

Matt sat on the edge of her bed, stunned. “Dude… she still watches cartoons on Saturday mornings. She cried when her favorite jeans ripped last week.”

“She begged me to braid her hair three days ago,” Nick muttered.

Chris shut the drawer slowly, like putting the lid back on something they weren’t ready to see. “She’s still our baby sister.”

“But she’s not,” Matt said quietly. “Not anymore. And we didn’t even notice.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Nick said, “What do we do?”

Chris sighed hard. “We don’t yell. We don’t accuse. We ask. Calm. Like grown-ups.”

Matt gave him a look. “We’re barely grown-ups.”

They waited until Y/N got home later that evening. She came in laughing, holding a leftover milkshake from her friend’s dinner, and stopped when she saw all three brothers sitting on the couch.

“…What’s going on?” she asked slowly.

“Can we talk?” Chris said gently. “Just us. A quick second.”

Y/N’s smile faded a little. “Okay…”

They sat in the living room — all quiet, all looking at her like she might break.

Chris was the first to speak. “We were in your room earlier. Looking for my charger. And… we saw something.”

Her eyes widened just slightly. She knew exactly what.

Nick jumped in. “We’re not mad. We’re not here to punish you. We just… weren’t expecting it.”

Y/N’s shoulders tensed. She stared at the floor. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then help us understand,” Matt said softly.

She took a breath. “The pills are for my period. My cramps have been horrible. Mom knows. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be embarrassed.”

“And the…” Chris hesitated. “The underwear?”

“It was a dumb joke gift from my friend. I haven’t even worn it. It’s still got the tag.”

Chris let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay.”

Y/N looked up at them, eyes a little glassy. “I wasn’t trying to hide from you. I just didn’t think you’d get it.”

Matt reached over and took her hand. “You’re right. We don’t. Not all of it. But we’re trying.”

Nick leaned back. “You’re still our little sister. But we know you’re growing up. Doesn’t mean we’re ready for it. But it does mean we love you enough to listen.”

She smiled through watery eyes. “Even after the thong?”

Chris groaned. “Please don’t say that word again.”

Y/N laughed, wiping her face. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too,” all three of them said — at once, no hesitation.

And for the first time, they didn’t feel like they were losing their little sister.

They just realized they were gaining a young woman.

⸻

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter thirteen

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some. (please be responsible and avoid fics that contains warnings that can trigger you.)

note: reblogs and replies are highly encouraged. i truly appreciate your messages to me. it keeps me going. please leave comments and tags when you reblog! thank you so much, stay safe and ily!

eeunoia 2025 © all rights reserved.

Your eyes stings from crying too much. What happened last night kept lingering back in your mind. How Sunghoon just shot that poor man dead with no mercy. You couldn’t help but to blame yourself. It was you who asked for his help.

Sunghoon was inside your room while you pretend to be asleep. It was mid night when you heard the faint sound of the room’s door opening. Fear instantly took over you and decided to just act like as if you are fast asleep.

He was silent. It was pretty hard to tell if he’s still inside the room since his movements are very quiet. It took him a few minutes before he approach your bed and pull your sheets up to your shoulder. He didn’t do anything else, just that.

After he left, the terrifying scene haunted you 'til morning. It was impossible to fall asleep as it only takes you back to what happened back at the restaurant. The face of that poor man breaks your heart. The way his eyes flashes fear and slowly drains out of life.

You shut your eyes and rests your head on your knees, tears once again streaming down your face.

The door then suddenly bursted open making you jump on your place, pulling you back to reality. You scooted closer to the bed’s headboard when you realize that it was Sunghoon. He’s wearing his white polo, eyes looking dead cold.

“G-Get out!” you screamed right at him.

He’s not surprised. Sunghoon expected this type of behavior from you. He knew that what you just witnessed was probably too much for you. His sweet angel... You’re surely ain’t prepared for that one.

He’ll be honest, he felt a pinch of regret from what he did. Not because he felt bad for killing that man, but because it terrified you. He can’t help but to blame that old man for being too nosy and laying his hands on you. How dare him?

He kept silent, doesn’t really want to make the situation worst of to terrify you even more. He sighs and signalled something to his men.

Your eyes looked wary, attented on what’s about to happen.

A maid then entered holding a tray of food. Your eyes trailed back to Sunghoon and he’s still staring right at you. He doesn’t seem bothered or even regretful of anything. It makes you wonder how evil this guy is. To actually not feel anything after just ending someone’s life is alarming.

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll be leaving for work.” he says. You remained silent and just kept your shooting glares at him.

“Don’t even think of trying to escape since this mansion is full of security.” he warned.

Your jaw clenched, “Or else what? You’re going to kill me too?” your sarcasm filled every words.

Sunghoon kept his stares and then tilted his head over to the side. He scoffed with no humor that sent instant chills down your spine.

“You know I’ll never hurt you.”

He said it with so much sincerity, but after what you just witnessed last night, the fear for your life is your main concern.

Sunghoon wanted to approach and kiss you, but he thought it may be too much for now so he just left the room.

The moment he stepped out from the same room you finally started breathing properly. Whenever he’s around, your chest feels heavy and fear just takes the most of you.

“Miss, you should have your breakfast.” the lady that entered holding your food caught your attention.

The tension from a while ago is too much to bear that you even forgot that she’s still here. You glanced at the food and can’t find the appetite to eat.

“I don’t want to.” you glanced away and just stared blankly outside the big windows of the room. The weather looked fine and if its normal days, you would’ve want to be outside and walk around. But your heart felt heavy, eyes starting to burn once again.

—

“You what?!” Jake’s frantic voice filled the room after hearing what just happened.

“So it was you last night...” Heeseung’s smirking while reaching for the cup of coffee that Sunghoon’s secretary just prepared for them.

“Last night? What’s up last night?” some of their eyes darted at the door when Jay entered. As usual, he was running late.

“Sunghoon hyung went crazy and shoot someone dead.” Sunoo says and sighs. He’s not totally surprised about it, just a little disappointed.

Jay scoffs as he takes his sit, “What’s new with Sunghoon going crazy?”

Jungwon shakes his head with a small smirk on his lips, “How is she? I’m sure she didn’t took that well.”

Sunghoon sighs and throws his head back before shutting his eyes close. He already knew that, but now that his friends are rubbing it to his face makes him feel a bit dumb for his actions.

“Dude, Aelia’s life is very different from ours. Its not normal for her to see guns and all these. You have to take it easy.” Jake says, trying to lecture his friend.

“Jake’s right, Sunghoon. It took a while before Bri even got used to it.” Heeseung added.

“Wait wait wait...” Jay stood beside the chair he was suppose to occupy. He glanced over his friends then continued talking.

“You mean Sunghoon did all that in front of that girl?” he asks, trying to confirm the issue.

Jake rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for being late.” he commented silently that Jay ignored.

“She has a name and its Aelia.” Sunghoon spat like its the most important thing that needs to be addressed.

Jay chuckles, a little bit amused. He’s the only one who seemed to be enjoying what he just heard.

“You just found her and already scaring the shit out of her? Man, that sucks.” Jay commented that made Sunghoon glare at him.

“I know I fucked up. What do I have to do?” he asks clicking his tongue.

Jake can’t help but to purse his lip and take time to sink in what he just heard from his friend. Is he really asking for advice? That’s not so him.

Usually Sunghoon will not even give a damn for an adivise. He will just carry on to what he thinks is best to do at the situation.

“Give her time, hyung.” Jungwon.

“You know I’m impatient.” Sunghoon throws right away, fingers tapping nonstop on the table.

“You managed to wait for her for years without being sure that she actually exist. It won’t hurt to wait for her now.” Jake.

The other guys agrees with him and even tells Sunghoon to calm down. They know their friend too well. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he gets reckless. That’s the last thing he will want to do at this situation.

He remains silent, but his breathing were heavy. Heeseung smiles and rest his cup on the table. “I know you’re probably feeling so excited now that you’ve found her, Hoon. Don’t let this overwhelming feelings be the reason for you to lose her.” his words strung deep inside Sunghoon.

He was silent. Just letting his friends advices sink deep to his system. He’s not really the type to listen from other people, but they are his friends. If there are people who knew him the best, it would be them.

Also this is the first time he will deal with someone he actually wants to keep in his life other than his friends so he really needs their help. All he’s good at is scaring people out and getting rid of them, but he doesn’t want to do any of that with you.

He nods his head as an answer and to let them know he understands. Jake smiles then clap his shoulder once before diverting the topic into something else. Despite the start of another conversation, Sunghoon’s thoughts are all filled with you.

—

“Miss...” your eyes drifted over the two maids that walked inside your room.

The look of concern over their faces are evident. Its been a whole day and you’ve declined eating any food. They are worried and at the same time scared of what the consequences may be, not for you but for them.

“You have to eat. Mr. Park strictly told us not to starve you.” desperation leaks through her tone. One familiar emotion flashes through her eyes. Fear. Is that how everyone around Sunghoon looked? Scared?

“Do you want anything? Any food you want perhaps?” one even encourages.

You pursed your lips. “I w-want to go home.” you mumbled so lowly, enough for them to hear.

The two maids exchanged glances. They do feel bad. Looking at your state, they feel bad. They wanted to help, but what can they do? They cannot risk their own life to save yours.

“I’m afraid w-we can’t grant that, Miss.”

Of course they can’t. You gulped and teared your gaze off of them. Why did you even say those words? Obviously these people are in no position to help you in any way. Well, they can try but that will cost them their life.

You should’ve learned already. What happened last night should not happen ever again. It was so cruel and traumatizing. You can’t afford having somebody else' life gone because of you.

An alarm blaze from outside the mansion and spending a few days here already familiarize you of what it means. Their heads whipped at the direction of your window faced in front of the mansion.

The color on their faces drained as you hear the faint sound of the main gate opening.

“It’s the boss.” one mumbles while her fingers visibly shaking.

Your heart swells, feeling totally guilty that they will be punished because of you.

“Just tell him that I’m the one who refused to eat.” was what you blurted, making them look at your direction.

They don’t seem amused or relaxed of what they heard from you. Its like it won’t solve anything. Who are you fooling? You are as powerless as them.

“W-What will we do? We’re in big trouble.” she panics, the younger one. Her eyes shakes and visibly tremble.

Her eyes darted at you and for a split second you saw how it glared at you. You gulped, feeling so bad now that they will definitely shoulder your stubborness.

“I’m s-sorry.”

The older one pursed her lips and remained silent, though you can still see that she’s as scared as her. The one beside her clenched her fists and opens her mouth, about to say something when the door bursts open.

You jolted and hugged your knees in a balled position once again. Eyes fixed at the entrance waiting for him to walk inside. Two men entered first and then Sunghoon.

The two maids bows their heads looking very terrified. Despite the fear from this gorgeous man, you’ve had the urge to stand up for them. It was you who refused to eat so there’s no reason for another person to shoulder it once again.

His eyes are darted at you, cold and hard to read. No words came out from his mouth, but instead his eyes moved over to the tray of untouched foods.

Terror flickers through the maid’s eyes.

“W-We tried to make her eat, Mr. Park.” the younger one already said it even before he can ask something.

His eyes moved towards her and they were terrifying for her. Colour drains off of her face as she grew paler, head lowering while fidgeting over her trembling hands.

“I’m t-the one who refused to eat! Don’t take it against them.”

You are afraid of him. That’s not even enough to describe what you feel towards the gorgeous man in front of your bed. Great. He’s so evil and yet you still manage to call him gorgeous. You’re really going insane because of him.

Sunghoon glanced at you and contemplates. His friends' words of advice flashing through his mind for a moment before he tries his best to calm down. They are all right. He should take it slow. If he wanted you to keep you, he needs you to slowly absorb this lifestyle. Its a lot, but he won’t give you any other choice.

“Alright.” he says shortly.

The two maids raised their heads in surprise. Did they really heard their boss obey somebody?

On the other hand, even if you’re caught off guard that he really did listened to you, it didn’t made you fear him less. He’s still the man who just randomly gunned someone down last night.

Sunghoon then instruct them to leave and give you two some privacy. As they disappear one by one, you panicked. The last thing you want is to be left alone with him.

Words didn’t come out from your lips. They were sealed shut as you try to stop them from shaking. Your eyes left the door after the last bodyguard closes it and then your gaze diverted towards Sunghoon.

His intimidating eyes are watching you already.

“Why didn’t you eat your food?” he asks, tone sounding strict.

You refused to talk and felt your eyes slowly watering.

Realizing that you ain’t going to respond to him, he strains a heavy sigh.

“Its useless to be stubborn, Aelia. You are stuck here with me.” his eyes pierced right through you, letting you know that nothing will ever change that.

“So you either start accepting your fate or test my patience and see where things can go.” it was surely a threat. He said it so calmly, but you felt threatened.

“I don’t w-want any of these! I want you to let me go! I want to go back to my family! I want to see my parents! I want to go back to my normal life! I want to go home!” you screamed at him, tears streaming down your face.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. The fact that you’re rejecting him and thinking that you can get away from him pisses the hell out of him. Why would you think he will ever let you go? Never.

Regardless, he pulls his shit together and decided that he needs to leave you be for tonight. He doesn’t want to lose his patience and cause you more damage.

“This is your home.” he says with a stern and cold voice.

He stared at you for a while before he turns his back to leave you be for tonight. You burst into tears as you hugged yourself that night.

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[thesweetestapplepie]

I love your writing and umm if you're doing requests may I please request essentially the reverse of the fwb ones, where she and arthur are partners in crime and they're super sweet and couple-y best friends but are NOT together even though everyone in camp is like 'are they seriously not fucking???' And they're just mutually pining like idiots for years on end. I hope that made sense sorry if its weirdly specific i probably need therapy lol.

wc: 1.9k

tags: FLUFF!! pining Arthur.

Comfortable. Too comfortable. It was almost suspicious. Those were the exact words Susan Grimshaw would use to describe the pair of lovebirds that bumbled around camp as if completely enamoured in their own worlds. Those lovebirds not even being the crude Sean and babbling Karen or even Mary-Beth and the stuttering, nervous mess which was Kieran. No. It was the mere sight of you, the silver tongued bandit with her heart on her sleeve being so shamelessly sought out by the brooding, enigmatic man Arthur Morgan. To be completely fair on Grimshaw’s part, it wasn’t only her who held suspicions on the end of her finger when she would constantly wave it in front of your nose. The very close friendship the pair of you had knitted together came tangled with the inquiries of not only the women of camp, who bargained gossip for gossip by their washboards, but the men in camp who would throw sneaky, offhand remarks at the wind over a drink or game of poker. And yet, not much to everyone’s surprise that the pair of you would deny, deny, deny.

And who can blame them? It had become an almost domestic frame: the pair of you couldn’t help but to give in to the simple pleasures. Simple distractions. Mornings became rich in the same scene of Arthur trailing behind you to your routine which in return had become his routine. Knowing he would be gone on a job for most of the week, he prepares himself for the long departure in his own endearing way. Trailing behind you with ears low tucked behind his hat, he follows you to the glistening shores of Clemen’s Point the very mornings before departure. He’d sheepishly blush and sit on a rock nearby where you had already begun to wash your face in the cold, relieving sting of the water. With a palm tucked under his scarred chin and elbow resting on his knee, his body lumbered over to intently watch you. The use of conversation was pointless in the of quiet elysium which was the Clemen’s point waters so early in the morning that the moon still forged itself to the blue sky–so early in the morning it traps the pair of you in a capsule where no one else seemed to matter or intrude. When he can’t avoid your tickling suspicions, he scratches the back of his neck and hopes you didn’t think of him as any less of a man.

“You’re up early.” You draw first to jab at him.

“Gonna be busy today.. Coffee’s good when it’s hot.” He hides his real reason behind coffee beans and hot water, tipping his hat for extra perseverance.

“Really now?” You’d respond to him with conviction for his dishonesty and he shrugs. You pulled yourself up and rang water from your skirt.. “Could you get me a cup then?”

“Ain’t your dog, woman.” He’d mumble with no real bitterness, walking with a slow lumber towards the campfire where he lets his feelings for you swallow him up in his pathetic attempts to make you smile.

Caring for you had become a part of Arthur Morgan’s character. The aspect of grey clouds contorting you to anything but the carefree, happy woman who read to him on quiet nights and splashed in puddles on rainy days leaves him feeling utterly ashamed and bastardized. Arthur doesn’t know exactly when he realized it hurt so much to see you as anything but content and well fed, yet he succumbs to your rule and seems to crush himself beneath your thumb.

“You’re gonna get yourself sick like that.” He scolds you when you prance through the streaking, silver pelts of rain. You chase the rushing chill past the front steps of The Loft, stopped by the simple yearning to play with the riches of nature. If Ambarino could offer Arthur one thing, it was the ability to see you bask in the background of green and meadows of blurred wildflowers.

“So?” Water trickles down your back and seeps through the stitchings of your clothing and much to his prediction you push down the sting of cold with brilliance.

He laughs half-heartedly at that. “So? You whine like a dog for days with a stuffed nose, you ain’t foolin’ me.” He crosses his arms over his chest as if it’ll stagnate the humming in his body. He forces his head down to avoid the sting of his yearning for you. And yet, even when you pull him by his hands into the blur of pelting water he feels nothing but warmth in his vain attempt to preserve your health. And in the end, he’d rather it be both of you sipping hot stew in the quarantine of his tent than you by yourself in yours.

Though, you show you care for him as well, in sweeter and considerate terms of affection. When Arthur Morgan fails to take care of himself in negligence or in carelessness, you make up for it with not a word spoken in between them. With a bowl of fresh stew lightly garnished with creeping thyme personally plucked by you, you take it upon yourself to bring the moping man a meal when he’s too stubborn to grab one himself. When another robbery only left them with a quarter and law men too close to camp, you remind Arthur that he isn’t the cold steel of a gun but he was human.

“You ain’t gotta do that fa’ me.” Yet, when his thumb firmly brushes your hand in exchange, it speaks all the thank yous to you with the life in his eyes coming back.

He speaks thanks especially when he knows you need it. It isn’t uncommon for Grimshaw to have you fold the same 3 loads of laundry at the beginning of every morning, or force you to stick your nose to the mat and collect the dust through your nostrils and a broom. When the days begin to wax at you and you melt over the boil of your pot, Arthur knows he isn’t a smoothtalker yet he pats himself on the back for his saving grace.

He’ll bound up to you, confident with a chest puff of ash and yarrow pollen. Sometimes he’ll find you atop of a discarded barrel, you were already helping Pearson peel at potatoes, fingers tough and printed with the blunt side of the blade; But that thief needs to steal some more of your precious time.

“Put’chu shoes on. Need you to run an errand with me.”

“You busy? Could use a saddle warmer.”

He’ll almost always ask you with hands looped on his gun belt, naval tilting up as if to downplay his own request. However, on occasions where he is self-serving enough to pry you from the comfort of your tent, he’ll ask you to accompany him for no real particular reason. Well, of course he has his reasons. But who were you to say no to that handsome man.

Once in a while, when the brilliant summer sun would even dare to outshine your golden smile, he calls you over just by the banks to serve him in your musical lull. Pulling his sleeves up to the curl of his bicep, he swings an axe overhead with a thunderous strike of lightning and the logs of wood splinter effortlessly in his control and he only pauses to call your name from the crowd. Finger pointing a spotlight to you as you make your way. “You.”

“Me?” You make your way over with a fluttering skirt and the breath of lilac that calls your name in its aroma. “What about me?”

“Need you to read for me.” An awkward hand gestures to the book safely tucked under your arm and with a hell of a lot better to do such as washing and cooking you sit down in a shady patch of lime grass and flip to page 25 of your book. There, with the trees swelling at every gale of bird songs and the smell of oak and cedar, you read to him from your spot where your skirt pools on the floor and makes his heart tick with endearment. When he fails to force his face down into the heat of his work, he allows himself to sneak fleeting glances of you and your pretty skirt. Capturing you in his mind was no different than a fully realized photograph, he knew you well enough to not have to remember which way your hair parted and how you liked to wear ribbons in your clothing. When you do catch him looking, he ducks his head with an apology too quiet for you to hear but just for him to save his pride. And you laugh, because the shades of red that paint his stubble face wasn’t due to the pounding sun in the sky but the drumming of his heart.

Arthur Morgan’s criminality didn’t leave him much room for care and domesticity. The soft blazing skin of a woman had become unfamiliar and alien to him as dreams of Tahiti or god knows what. Death’s waiting arms was by far going to be the closest thing he’ll get to a white lacy wedding, yet when the noose slips and it tightens it’s hold on him, a nagging itch in his body tells him your boot isn’t fitting as it usually did or you’ve been losing track of your rings and dainty necklaces that seem to only fit your perfect skin. And heaven knows he cannot even imagine death's eternal sleep if you were not properly looked out for.

It wasn’t the prettiest sight, though he has to admit it to himself, to tear away trinkets and gold from the hands of anyone unfortunate enough to ride down his trail. With a sinful thumb he wipes sweat lining the indents of his forehead and dismounts with a heavy footfall directed towards your yellow starched tent canvas. He pulls open the canvas but not before announcing his entrance like the gentleman that he was.

And yet, when he’s able to string together enough money he buys you those new amber shaded boots with dark rose embroidery running along its stump. Once in a perfect pale moon he cobbles together enough to buy you a new necklace to replace the one you left in Valentine, and the embellished swelling of your already tinted pink cheeks makes the blood in his hands tingle when he gives you the delicate items. He is adamant on doing it to serve you, to make your life a little easier in the light of the coming summer. Even when you kiss his cheek and whisper your thanks and praise, he dares to let his smile show any more crooked teeth. His reasons are albeit, a little more selfish than he cares to admit.

“Look at that face, Morgan! She gave you a good one this time, ain’t she?” Sean croons from his spot at the table like a crow with a face kissed red in liquor.

“Gave me more than what you’ll get in 10 years, fool.” He deflects with a dismissive hand when he b-lines for his tent. Despite all the accusatory remarks and comments, he bounds to his tent with a smile on those thinly curved lips, because something about everyone assuming you were his as he was yours had only fed into his hopeless desires. Arthur Morgan knew he was out of his mind for yearning for you, but he had lost half of it to the violence. And lord knows he deserves to lose the rest of it to love.

[multiheadcanons]

THIEVING ASS MERCS

scout: depending on who you like more, scout is the best crook on the team. and there is a difference. scout is talented in many ways of crime, particularly of the thieving ass hoe department. the same way he can put his ski mask on and load his gun and rob a place blind is the same way he can slip in and out of a crowd, digging hands in pockets is the same way he can be a vital and key member of a heist is the same way he’ll drug you at a bar, get you home safely and take every single thing you own in the process except the mattress and sheets he put you down on. scout truly can do it all in the world of crime. the only issue is scout’s mouthy. but his ultimate strategy of “don’t get caught” usually works out for him!

soldier: the worst. don’t ask this man to sneak, creep, snag, steal, or anything else that may require a volume level lower than four. he makes big noises and big movements. if you’re gonna put him in a heist, he is distraction. bait, even. but subtleties are indeed something soldier lacks in copious amounts. he takes things by force. he is more a robber who is armed and dangerous and attacks without warning than he is a slippery little thief. he’s good at hotwiring cars though. give him sixty seconds to cover his ass from police and he can rack up quite the tab and quite the list of charges.

pyro: the second worst. pyro is one of the most baffling criminals to exist. it’s like the joker but actually funny. nobody knows why pyro does the things they do or how they get away with it until you are relaxing in your room with an item you particularly covet and out of the corner of your eye you see a rubber glove reach for it. and you tell them no and it slinks away. then it tries again. and you say, sternly, “pyro, stop.” and it slinks away again. then it just strikes and snatches the item. and when you sit there, pondering whether or not attempting to engage pyro in what could potentially flare and become a volatile situation is worth the item, you realize exactly how pyro gets away with it. nobody wants to be burned to a crisp. and pyro has shown time and time again that there is genuinely no telling what measures they’re willing to take to get what they want.

demo: the third worst, but for a very specific reason. demo doesn’t steal things. demo asks to borrow them and then never gives it back. and that’s his biggest tell. if you have an item demo particularly wants, he will ask, beg, and urge you to allow him to use it. and demo, a man of general good faith and reliability, is generally allowed to borrow what he needs. because he does normally give it back! it’s when he’s insisting that he’s going to return it as soon as he’s done with it. once he gets to the third time of saying “i’m going to give this back”; if it’s already in his hands, you’re not getting that item back. so all of that to say, technically, yes he is a thief. but at least he’s nice enough to lie to you about it.

heavy: contrary to his staggering size, heavy is proficient in most tasks that require subtlety and sleight of hand. his biggest issue is heavy is an easy man to realize is gone. he’s better with a partner to distract while he slinks away. another man with a penchant of playing dumb, and a prominently trustworthy man on the team, most would never suspect him. and they don’t because they feel as though they would’ve… caught him, if he stole something, right? he’s just too large to miss. and heavy wouldn’t dirty his hands like that, right? these assumptions (along with pockets big enough to fit a human head into) allow heavy to fly under the radar when it comes to his thievery.

engineer: engineer has had his fair share of thievery, and he’s rung up quite the price tag in his youth. it’s not really something he has to do anymore, but the skill never left. a particularly talented pickpocket, it is always a good idea to pat yourself down when the texan “accidentally bumps you”. it’s an almost shameful practice he indulges in, and he’ll chuckle and return what he took with a charming smile. you’ll be so flattered you won’t notice your card is missing. so what, he’s privy to stealing a wallet here and there! he’s resolved himself to only stealing big ticket items when he’s in desperate need. he is almost never in desperate need anymore, so he gets an itch to snag a couple small things here and there. he wouldn’t call himself a kleptomaniac or anything, it’s just been one of his harder habits to break.

medic: medic is not a good thief because he’s technically not a thief. like demoman, our belemoman, the doctor will “ask to borrow” an item he’s particularly coveting. what sets them apart is while demo at least asks, the doctor will tell you what is going to happen. he’s going to try this on. he’s going to take this. he needs that item for a moment, you may get it back. note how much heavy lifting the word “may” is doing in that sentence. and he’s a blur with it. he’s in and out of the room in seconds, to the point you barely notice what’s occurring until he’s already gone with the item he wanted. then you have to go track him down. and if he’s really banking on keeping that item, he’s going to play dumb, but his stare is icy. he’s daring you to push the topic. and the doctor, a man of general bad faith and mediocre social reliability, is hard to take at his word. but most aren’t willing to push him more than he’s willing to push back.

sniper: a solid contender for third best, you won’t notice the thing is missing until you go to hunt for it. sniper is very proficient at picking targets, at formulating plans, and then executing them. he’s got an eye for victims and good quality items. and he’s quite successful in talking people out of their things. he can only do this if he’s not thinking about it. the moment he starts trying to actually use his brain most people see through what he’s doing. snipes is quite a personable guy. most people get along with the australian unless you’re on the wrong end of the rifle. he’s a trustworthy guy! so if he slips into your apartment while you’re gone because you happened to give him a key to house sit about five years back and you meet him at the wrong stage of his life… you might come back to some missing valuables and a broken window. and he will be right there to help you find the culprit! as soon as he’s done at the pawn shop. snipes doesn’t do this much anymore. but if he’s in tight straits he’s gonna do what he has to. sorry about it.

spy: depending on who you like more, spy is unarguably the best criminal on the team. and there is a difference. spy is a phenomenal criminal. but he’s more white collar crimes than he is truly a dirty handed crook. spy can embezzle with the best of them. spy hasn’t filed an honest day’s worth of taxes in his life. spy is collecting a minimum of five checks from five different countries and storing them in offshore accounts in different countries. the man is slick, and cold with it. and he has no mercy for the people who fall for it. get smarter. be better. and spy has never gone down for a single crime he’s ever committed. it’s almost sickening. people want to see him fry and they never will. he laughs about it to himself when he thinks he can be nasty without consequence.

[dawn-iscozy]

“ like a cat in a sunny spot ” ♡ vii ♡

SERIES PLAYLIST: “ swim ” - chase atlantic ♡ “ honey (are u coming?) ” - maneskin ♡ “ the summoning  ” - sleep token ♡ “ soft spot ” - keshi ♡ “ bubbly ” - colbie caillat ♡ “ kiss me ” - ed sheeran ♡ “ cotton candy ” - yungblud ♡

SERIES WARNINGS: poly, eventual ot8, named oc - “Rora”, derived from “Aurora” (soooooo original, I know), who is basically a self-insert (i’m still on the brink of denial about it). loooots of nicknames/pet names, and even more as the fic progresses (if you read the “a little warmth in winter” you’ll know most of the names already 🤭). things move pretty quickly in this, and it may stray vaguely into soulmate au territory but, like, I’m a sucker for these men and for the way I’ve written them and I just can’t stop.

apologies in advance if the timeline doesn’t make any sense, I’m going purely on vibes and my affection for these 8 men. idk if it deserves a warning, but scents are mentioned a lot in some parts and kinda littered through the rest of the fic (using scent profiles from a perfume/fragrance site that has a line of scents called “Smells Like a Hug From Ateez” and very limited knowledge of fragrances the members may have previously used/just the vibes they give off)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS: food, woo in the kitchen (yes, this needs a warning), hongjoong thighs, hongjoong eyebrow slit, woo is unbearably horny 24/7 apparently, and joong knows a few ways to control him, kinda mxm but not really?? (joong kinda degrades woo and woo likes it, but we been knew), tears-ish, spicy-ish pictures, lots of affection, alcohol consumption (just barely),  big group discussion, polyam relationship discussion/negotiation, safe word discussion (it’s very to the point and unrealistic, probably, but i have no experience with anything like this and it’s fiction soooooo)

TAG LIST: @kaleigh-2002 (if anyone else wants to be added, drop a comment or a message and i'll gladly add you!)

♡ 18+ - no smut, but still MDNI ♡

vii: cooking something up

Wooyoung didn’t give her time to be nervous, shoving a few bags into her hands and ushering her inside the building. Nobody was even there, yet. Not even the ones who inhabited the apartment were there, the lights off and the atmosphere entirely too quiet. Hongjoong flipped on the lights as they all walked inside, and she toed off her shoes, looking around at the apartment that she hadn’t even realized she missed. And it was so weird that she missed being there. Right? She had only been there one other time. Granted, it was basically for a whole weekend, but she shouldn’t have held any form of emotional connection with the place. Yet, as soon as she walked through the door, she was flooded with comfort. 

Rora wasn’t sure how to make sense of it, but she decided not to question it any further. Instead, basking in the feeling, allowing herself to enjoy it as she walked further into the apartment on socked feet. The bags in her hands rustled, a reminder that she was in the middle of something, and she turned to stare at Hongjoong and Wooyoung as they slipped out of their respective shoes. 

There was a grin plastered on Wooyoung’s face, one so bright she couldn’t help but mirror it. “I thought someone would be here, at least,” she said, following behind Woo as he walked past her to the kitchen. “But I’m kinda glad everyone is gone.”

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked, setting the bags in his hands on the counter and then doing the same with her own. A body pressed in beside her, more bags rustling as a hand with black painted nails reached around her to set them beside the others. Warmth flooded the side of her face, Hongjoong’s breath brushing passed her ear before he stepped back. 

She tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the thrumming of her heart in her chest at the move. “Yeah,” she admitted.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Hongjoong piped up.

“Correct,” Wooyoung said, busying himself with getting everything out of the bags. He looked up at her, pretty eyes locking with hers, wide and sincere. “There really is nothing to worry about. But I can understand why you might be feeling anxious. It’s going to be a big talk, you’re meeting lots of new people, and it's only been a short amount of time. It’s a lot of change.” 

Hongjoong snorted, and she felt him lean against the counter behind her, his arm brushing against her back just enough to send a jolt up her spine. “You sound like Seonghwa,” he murmured. He shifted behind her, and she turned around to see him lifting himself to sit atop the counter. His legs spread as he got comfortable, and his knee brushed against her arm. 

“Who do you think I learned it from?” Wooyoung laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist to set his chin on her shoulder. “It’s almost word for word how he helped me calm down when I was deciding whether or not to apply for the dance instructor position at work all that time ago. Don’t tell him that, though.” 

She hummed, taking in the sight of Hongjoong in front of her and the feeling of Wooyoung pressed against her. His thighs looked so strong. Supple. She wondered what it would feel like to stand between them, to knead her fingers into them, to nip and nibble at them. Painted nails tapped on the counter just beside them, stopping only when they swept along the surface so that Hongjoong could recline back.  

Wooyoung hummed also, straightened up to wrap his arms around her shoulders instead, head leaning against hers as he inspected his friend. “You look good up there, Joong,” he said, his words rumbling right into her ear. “You gonna stay up there the whole time?”

“Not if you want me to,” Hongjoong said, leaning fully back on his hands, his head tilting back even as he was looking down at them. It did wonders for his features, sharpening them, his eyes looking fierce from the angle and the makeup rimming them, drawing her in immediately. 

“I want a lot of things. For example, her,” he bit at her ear as he spoke, and she yelped in surprise. “I don’t care if you stay there or not. Just don’t be surprised if my knife slips in your direction a time or two.” 

Wooyoung paused, and she felt his gaze on her. He chuckled. “It seems she might want you to stay there, though,” he said, fingers coming up to slide along her jaw teasingly. 

Rora shivered. “He looks good up there,” she said, looking away from both of them. 

Hongjoong sent her a smile that just about bordered on cocky when she glanced up at him again, a brow ticking up behind his glasses. The move brought her attention to a fading x there, caused the shadow on his lids to glitter in the kitchen lighting. “Thanks, love,” he said, head tipping down just slightly so that he could maintain eye contact with her, and she was left breathless. 

Wooyoung snickered and stepped away from her. “Well, eyes away. It’s time to start cooking. We have a lot of food to make, and we don’t need any accidents happening in the meantime.”

So, they did. Hongjoong continued to sit on the counter, playing music from his phone and occasionally pulling them into a conversation. It was nice, and she even worked up the courage to lean her head on one of his thighs when she took a moment to bend over the counter. Initially, she was stretching her back, still a little tight from her period, even if it had already ended. But she also was enjoying his warmth, the soft firmness of his thigh beside her then beneath her cheek. 

His hand came down to brush her hair back almost absentmindedly, eyes looking up briefly from his phone, head tilting in question as he lifted the device. “Can I take a picture?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said, unable to stop the smile of appreciation from growing on her face even as his gaze locked back on his phone.

“Can I share them?” His fingers repeated the motions of smoothing her hair, and her eyes fluttered closed at the motion, breath puffing from between her lips as she let herself relax into the situation.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

 The soft moment, however, was interrupted by the sudden playing of a rock song, causing her to jump up and away from Hongjoong. They made eye contact, and both burst into giggles at having been startled. 

Wooyoung made a noise of disapproval, hand swatting at her behind lightly. “Quit slacking off,” he admonished, though he was laughing, too. 

“Don’t spank me,” Rora whined, moving back to her spot beside him. 

“Like you don’t like it.” 

“That’s not the point,” she murmured, cheeks burning as she focused on chopping the rest of the vegetables Wooyoung put in front of her. 

Hongjoong laughed. “He will fully bend you over this counter, spanking should be the least of your worries.” 

“Now that you mention it,” Wooyoung said, voice breathy and teasing. 

Her heart leapt into her throat when his hand pressed against the back of her neck until her chest met the counter, his other hand on her lower back, hips pressed tight against her ass. “It would be pretty fun, no?” he asked, voice rumbling right into her ear as he leaned over her. “Bend you over right next to Hongjoong, fuck you before the others get here. Leave you dripping with my cum for the rest of the afternoon. What do you think?”

“Youngie, there’s literally a knife in my hand right now,” she said, but her voice was breathless. Needy, even.

“Kinky,” he chuckled, nuzzling at her jaw. 

Rora turned her head to look up at Hongjoong, eyes large and pleading, prickling like there may be tears trying to build up. She blinked and found that her lashes were wet. She whined, a small, pitiful sound from the back of her throat as Hongjoong’s eyes raked over her and Wooyoung, phone raising in her direction once again. Her skin prickled at the sound of the shutter, burned under his gaze, and she was almost ready to say fuck it, to start begging Wooyoung to pull down her pants and pound her into the counter right next to his friend and his phone camera. 

Hongjoong sighed when Wooyoung started rubbing himself against her, placing his phone down, eyes and shoulders rolling as if he were exasperated with the situation. She shivered. He looked good when annoyed. He looked even better when he sat up fully, braced himself to lean forward. His thighs spread and muscular forearm contracted to hold him up properly as he fisted the back of Wooyoung’s shirt and pulled. 

She couldn’t see it fully, but she could hear the choked breath Wooyoung released as he was pulled off her back, could feel the press of something hard against her backside before she was left cold and wanting. She stood up straight, cheeks still burning as she turned to put her back to the counter. 

“You really can’t just keep it in your pants, can you?” Hongjoong tsked, letting Wooyoung’s shirt go. “The food is going to burn if you don’t stop acting like a sex-starved mongrel,” he said, pushing Wooyoung back until he was back across the kitchen, at the stove. “And Yunho has dibs on her.”

“How would you know?” Wooyoung murmured, voice petulant even as a shiver worked through him. She watched, thighs fighting to stay steady, to not clench as she noted just how hard he was in his pants, how one of his hands was fisting and unfisting the material of his black jeans. 

“You literally said it in the car earlier. Plus, I’ve been keeping the chat updated,” Hongjoong said, turning his phone screen to them. Her eyes caught briefly on a picture, her head resting on his thigh, those pretty hands in her hair, the black of his nails. Something about it made her heart stutter. Then another that quickly followed, of Woo pinning her across the counter, his arms flexing to keep her in place, hips arching into her ass, his dark hair falling free to frame the sharp features of his face. They were good pictures. In fact, she never knew she could look so good in pictures, could feel so sexy. Her gaze lingered even after Hongjoong turned his phone back to himself. “Mingi also says to keep your dirty paws off.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, and turned away from them, going back to finish what they were doing. As they cooked and talked, the others finally started to trickle into the apartment. First came Yunho and Mingi, bags of desserts in hand. They put the treats away, pressed kisses to her cheeks, then went to sit in the living room. Yeosang came next, looking shy but brightening up when she greeted him. He pulled a disgusted face almost immediately after when Wooyoung tried to kiss his cheek. She was giggling at the two scuffling around the kitchen when Jongho came in, and he wasted no time in wrapping fully around her, chin on her shoulder as he watched Wooyoung torment Yeosang and Yeosang do little more than complain about it. 

Rora was stirring the bubbling soup, Jongho still hanging from her frame, when the door opened for the last time. San’s wide shoulders came through first, his hand wrapped around a taller man’s wrist, tugging him into the apartment. The unknown man’s eyes darted around the space, and he paused when they fell on her. His eyes went wide, sparkling in the lighting of the apartment, glossy lips parting into a shy smile, cheeks dusted with pink. He was pretty. So fucking pretty. Long dark hair framed his face perfectly, curling behind his ears endearingly, bringing attention to his gorgeous eyes and softening his features, even as half of it was pulled back into a small ponytail. He was dressed in a simple sweater and baggy cargo pants, yet he looked equal parts cozy and elegant. 

She must have been staring for a little too long, because Jongho cleared his throat and squeezed her a little tighter. She turned to him, noticing a devastating pout on his face. She giggled, unable to stop herself from squishing his cheeks together. “Jealous, bear?” she cooed. 

He didn’t respond, just let her do whatever she wanted, letting his eyes drift over her face until she pulled away to focus back on the others. If her heart sped up under his perusal, that was only for her to know. The self-satisfied hum that vibrated his chest let her know that he, at least, knew too. 

As she looked around, she caught Seonghwa giving her another shy glance, those pretty eyes sparkling under his lashes and lips spread into another devastatingly pretty smile, and he looked so adorable that she had to look away, turning in Jongho’s arms to hide her face in his neck. A whine was stuck in her throat and her cheeks burned as Jongho’s chest vibrated with silent laughter. 

“Why are you suddenly so shy?” Wooyoung asked, pushing her away from the stove to take her spot, amusement dripping from each word. She peeked around Jongho’s shoulder to pin Wooyoung with a pout that had him laughing as he finished up the food. “You’ve been so bold this whole time, even with Hongjoong around. What’s changed?”

“Too many people?” Jongho suggested, hand smoothing down her back.

“Is Seonghwa too pretty to handle?” Wooyoung asked loudly, not giving her the time to reply, likely to fluster both her and Seonghwa in one go, the menace that he is. And it worked, dammit. Rora felt the warmth in her face as he glanced up from the stove, hands settling on his hips. “Color me jealous. You never flustered that easily for me,” he teased.

“Like you would give me the time to actually be flustered,” she quipped back with a playful roll of her eyes, like she wasn’t just flaring with enough embarrassment to power the whole apartment. 

“Touché,” he murmured, taking the simmering food from the stove even as he pouted. He moved carefully, brushing by them and taking slow steps to the living room. He looked so comfortable and domestic, bending down to settle the pot atop a folded kitchen towel, his hair falling over his eyes as he did so. He looked beautiful in a way that made her want to kiss him silly. 

Jongho’s soft laughter filled her ears, his breath puffing out over her cheek, and she leaned further into him. He hummed, nosing at her temple, letting his thumb brush over the nape of her neck as he shifted his hold on her, one arm around her waist, the other comfortably across her shoulders.

“Stop hogging her,” Woo butted in, walking by to grab some more food. “She’s supposed to be helping me with the food, not canoodling with you.” 

She blew out an amused breath through her nose and untangled herself from Jongho’s hold. Spying the dishes stacked together on some shelves over the sink, she walked over to gather plates and bowls for everyone. Jongho trailed after her, helping her carry whatever else she couldn’t carry and some glasses to the living room. 

San helped her settle the various bowls and plates on the table when she reached the living area, Seonghwa rising from the sofa to help Jongho with the cups in his hold. She stood back, unsure of where she was supposed to go, releasing a sigh of relief when Yunho grabbed her hand and coaxed her through the crowd of men. She brushed past them all, fingers laced with Yunho’s, glancing up when she stepped by Seonghwa. The smell of his perfume washed over her - something akin to a coffee shop that specializes in desserts but with a dark kick that had her hooked and curious. Sweet and warm and just a little spicy but soso comforting. She wanted to latch onto him and never let go.

Everyone gathered around as Wooyoung set the last dish on the table, squishing together in a way that might be uncomfortable to others but looked more than cozy and common for the group. Like the last time she was at the apartment, Rora found herself between Jongho and Yunho, shoulders brushing their own and her back against the sofa. San and Hongjoong sat on either end of the table. Mingi sat directly across from her, Seonghwa between him and Hongjoong and Wooyoung on his other side. Yeosang was squished in between San and Wooyoung, a playful annoyed look on his face as the two men smothered him with attention and pressed as close to him as they could. 

She let herself relax, pulling her knees into her body, watching the others talk while Wooyoung served everyone. She grinned at him when he gave her a portion, the smells of the food finally settling in, her stomach tightening with hunger she hadn’t been aware she was feeling until just then. 

They ate in relative silence, interrupted only by hushed questions for more of certain dishes or alcohol and murmured praises. When she was full, she leaned back into the sofa behind her, letting her head lean on Jongho’s shoulder, her drink balanced on her knee. He hummed at the touch, but remained nonchalantly eating his food. She didn’t mind, luxuriating in the press of his body against her own and the warmth that had begun settling in her chest from the alcohol.

“Are we gonna start this big talk or not?” Wooyoung asked when nearly everyone was done eating. Someone choked on a drink and upon discovering that it was Yeosang, several of the men sent Woo glares. He looked unrepentant at the abruptness of his question, rubbing Yeosang’s back briefly before leaning back on his hands, strong forearms supporting him as he looked around at everyone. 

Yunho cleared his throat, phone in hand. “I made a list of questions to help the conversation along,” he said. His ears went red as everyone turned to him, and he shrunk back a bit at the attention. “What? Mingi and I did some research.”

The others jeered and joked at his expense, and he waved them away even as his ears went red. Hongjoong, thankfully, took mercy on him, hushing everyone back into relative silence with a simple raise of his hand and a cocked brow. She marveled at the relative control he had over them all, thinking back to how Wooyoung called him the dad of the group. She could only watch on in awe as he then waved at Yunho. “Get us started, Yun. What’s the first question?” 

“What do we each want out of this?” Yunho asked. “I know that some of us aren’t really in the situation, and you may not want to be outside of becoming friends. Now is the time to speak up about these kinds of thoughts. Not knowing yet is also a valid response.”

“Pretty sure Joong wants in on all the fun,” Woo said. 

“Am I supposed to feel called out?” Hongjoong asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. “Of course I want in.” His gaze fell on her, burning over her skin until she flushed and looked away from him, hiding her face in Yunho’s shoulder. 

Yunho laughed, hand cupping the back of her head, fingers massaging her scalp. “Yeosang?”

“Yes,” Yeosang’s sweet voice filled the air, that adorable lisp warming her, even as she hid in Yunho. 

“Yes?” Yunho prompted.

A soft sound filled the room, and she pictured his cheeks turning pink. “I’m okay with anything she wants,” he said, voice low. Shy. 

“Wanna take you on a date, Sangie,” she said, peeking up at him from around Yunho’s frame. “Non-platonically.”

He giggled, a flustered smile taking over his face. “Okay,” he said, looking down shyly.

“Seonghwa?”

Silence filled the room again, and she turned to find Seonghwa looking at her, head slightly tilted, those eyes scanning over her with an intensity she wasn’t quite prepared for. Her brain stopped, and she could only blink stupidly at him as his expression morphed right into the sweetest smile she had ever seen. 

“Let’s start with a date and see where it goes,” he said, rocking in his spot, side to side until he stilled himself with his hands on the coffee table. 

She agreed, shrinking back into Yunho’s shoulder, causing everyone to laugh. 

“What about a joint date?” Wooyoung said. “Yeo and Hwa can both get time with her, and it’ll get them both out of the way.”

“Me too,” Hongjoong piped up. “I wanna spend more time with her, too.” 

 “Do we all have time tomorrow?” Seonghwa asked. 

Rora peeked out to see the three men looking between each other before looking at her. She giggled and nodded. “Sounds fun,” she said, wrapping her arms around one of Yunho’s. The fingers of his free hand pressed into her belly in retaliation, and she giggled, curling into herself at the ticklish feeling.

“Back on topic,” Yunho finally said. “Those who are already involved, I know this situation is still very new to everyone, but what would you want out of it? What expectations do you have?”

“I need communication,” San began. “And that comes from a need to establish mutual respect and trust. It’s the same with all the relationships I pursue - romantic, sexual, or platonic. I’m also quite affectionate and need intimacy with my partners, whether that be sexual or otherwise. The direction that this relationship goes is entirely up to you, darling. Just talk to me - talk to us - about it when you come to a conclusion, hmm?”

She nodded, preened under his soft smile and warm eyes. 

“I very much want a romantic relationship out of this,” Woo jumped in next, gaze steady on her, dark eyes intense enough to have her cheeks flushing. “And I expect my partners to share my affections and to give me the same respect that I give them. I like to do things for my partners or give gifts. But I can struggle with receiving love and affection in the same ways that I offer them, so I need to know that I’m appreciated and that my efforts are appreciated in the relationship.”

Her heart thudded against her chest at his words, and she hoped he could see how appreciative she was for his openness. She smiled, nodded, even sent him a little air kiss that had his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

No one offered anything after Wooyoung, and she sighed when collectively, they all looked at her. She fidgeted, pushed her fingers through her hair, straightened her back. “I don’t have any expectations that I can really put into words right now,” she said. “I just ask that we all understand and respect each other, and that we’re all kind about differences and when working through issues. Communication can be difficult for me, especially when the person I am trying to talk to is acting aggressively or yelling at me.”

A warm hand rubbed down the length of her arm when she stopped speaking, and she took a breath, willing her heart to steady as someone else began speaking.

“I sometimes need space, and I would prefer no unexpected visits into my space. But I also need quality time. Friends or otherwise, I want to be able to cherish the relationship and spending time with them is the best way for me to do that. We don’t have to do anything, just spend time together. Preferably romantically, but I’m also alright with a more casual friends with benefits, nameless type of situation.”

She nodded and sent Mingi a smile before letting her gaze drift to one of the men sitting beside her. His shoulders rolled back, and he straightened up as his other friends also turned to look at him. “Jongho?” she prompted lightly. 

“I hate that all I can say is that I don’t know,” he murmured, and she placed a hand on his thigh. “I just ask for understanding and quality time, really.”

Her fingers squeezed the plush of his thigh lightly, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Of course, bear,” Rora murmured. “And if you think of anything else you need or a label you do or don’t want, just talk to us. Or me. Or anyone, hmm?”

He nodded, relaxed. “I think I do want something romantic,” he admitted lowly, his eyes wide as they took her in. 

“I want that too,” she said, laughing when his cheeks went pink and he was suddenly avoiding her gaze. 

The others cleared their throats, and she looked around to see them all suppressing smiles and laughter, their eyes filled with adoration for their youngest friend. 

“Anyone have experience?” Yunho asked, tipping his head to press his cheek against her hair briefly.

She sat up, forcing herself to focus better on the conversation. The silence in the living room was loud, and she took a breath. It seemed she would have to be the first to talk this time. Someone cleared their throat, and she deflated in relief. 

“I’ve dabbled,” Hongjoong spoke up. 

Noises of disbelief filled the room. “Your jealous ass?” Wooyoung exclaimed

Hongjoong chuckled, raking a hand through his hair. “I know what I can and can’t offer my partners,” he said. “It’s been a while, but I’ve had an open relationship or two in the past. I never had many issues with it unless the communication wasn’t being prioritized. It was mostly my partners at the time seeking what I couldn’t offer to them when I was busy. But I…” he trailed off, wet his lips, ruffled his already messy hair with a sigh. “As Woo so aptly stated, I get jealous sometimes, and knowing what’s going on and what to expect really helps me work through that.” 

“Would weekly meetings to discuss among ourselves be helpful?” Yunho asked lightly.

“I think so,” Joong breathed. 

“We should work out some form of schedule or shared calendar,” San suggested. “That could help us work around everyone’s schedules and ensure no one is feeling left out or being pushed aside.”

She nodded her agreement, letting her eyes trail to him appreciatively. “I agree. A schedule or shared calendar would be incredibly helpful,” she said. “I want to get to know you all more, but I don’t want to feel like I’m offering someone more attention over another or for anyone else to feel like that’s happening.”

“We can have the meetings at the cafe,” Yunho suggested. “It’ll be a more neutral place to talk, and frankly, it has more space than any of our apartments.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the living room, and Yunho lit up with pride. “Anyone else with any experience?” His eyes fell on her, and she swallowed, nodded.

“I don’t have much experience with anything like this other than what’s already been happening. There was a threesome with a partner and friend at the time, and that was purely for sexual exploration. But when we branched into new relationship dynamics, it didn’t end very well for any of us.” She paused, cursing the alcohol in her system for bringing her emotions to the forefront, tears pricking behind her eyelids. She sniffled, shifting to wiggle into Jongho’s side, even as a hand stayed touching Yunho. “I’ve always been drawn to the idea of non-monogamy or exploring different relationships, but I haven’t had the opportunities to really do further exploration.”

Seonghwa smiled kindly at her from across the table. “This will give you all the opportunities to explore, then.”

She returned his smile. “I hope so,” she said. 

“Well, everyone already knows that Sannie and I don’t mind sharing,” Wooyoung said. “We’ve never thought to actually date the same person, and we’ve never shared while one of us was exclusively dating someone.” 

“I’ve thought about it before,” San said, looking over at his closest friend. “But I didn’t think my partner at the time or you would have been okay with it.” 

“I’m down for almost anything, dude,” Wooyoung said, reaching around Yeosang to push San’s shoulder. “You should know this by now.”

San simply shooed him away, his cheeks pink but those devastating dimples on full display. 

Mingi piped in before Wooyoung and San could start bickering. “Yunho and I have dated the same chick before,” he said casually. 

The room went quiet, everyone looking at him, then at Yunho. “When?” Wooyoung asked incredulously. “How did none of us know about it?”

“A few years ago,” Mingi said with a shrug. “No one asked, so we didn’t tell. And she didn’t really wanna tell many other people.” 

“Did research my ass,” Wooyoung scoffed.

“Technically, we did do research. Just didn’t say when or how we did it.” Yunho replied with a cheeky little smirk that she wanted nothing more than to kiss away. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s circle back,” Hongjoong said before anyone could ask anymore questions. “We should probably discuss exclusivity and what it might look like to each of us.”

Yunho nodded. “That was actually the next question,” he said, putting his phone away. “I’m personally chill with anything, open or closed. But I’m more likely not to seek anything outside.” 

Mingi made a sound of agreement, and looked at her. “What about you, doll?”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing anything outside this group, either,” she said, shyly. “It honestly sounds like too much work for me right now, especially with how new this whole thing is. And so far, I feel pretty fulfilled with what’s going on. But,” she paused for a moment, hands twisting together in her lap under the weight of the eight expectant gazes. She swallowed and forced herself to continue. “It’s worth mentioning that I do also like women and feminine-presenting people, and it could become something I want to explore further in the future.”

A murmur filled the room, and she looked up to see them all nodding at her words. 

Jongho shifted beside her, and she turned to look at him. His brows were furrowed and his hands were in fists on his thighs. “I don’t think I would be comfortable with you looking outside of us, either,” Jongho said, voice soft and shy. He looked unsure of what he said, and she reached out to smooth one of his hands flat, folding hers over his own. “The idea of it is…I don’t like it.” He sounded more sure with that statement. “But I also think that given time and communication, I could…I don’t want it to feel like I’m holding you back from something you might need in the future.” 

His words trailed off, and she pushed her face into his neck, kissing his jaw affectionately. “Don’t push yourself too hard, bear,” she murmured. “It’s not even a thought for me right now.” 

He visibly relaxed at her words, his hand turning beneath hers to lace their fingers together. 

“It would probably be best to start out with just us,” Hongjoong said. 

“I agree,” Seonghwa said. “It’ll be easier to figure everything out first then come back to this later.” 

“I agree, too,” San said. 

Woooyoung and Yeosang made their own sounds of agreement, and Seonghwa nodded. “It’s been alluded to but not quite mentioned, but let's talk about them specifically and get them all out in the open. What are your boundaries? Again, as Yunho mentioned before, being unsure is okay and we can talk again at a later time or as things come up.” Seonghwa said, leaning forward on the table, pretty hands framing his beautiful features. “Rora? Do you want to start us off?”

“I mentioned it before but I can get overwhelmed without knowing it sometimes, and it has led to some less than desirable situations for myself and the people I care about. So, I do need to prioritize a bit of downtime for myself on occasion.”

Everyone nodded, and she bit her lip, eyes closing as she tried to formulate the words she needed to say next. “I also can’t do just sex,” she said, breathing deeply and refusing to be ashamed or embarrassed. Her needs were important, and they were all asking for them. Her needs were important to them. She took another breath and continued. “There doesn’t necessarily have to be romance attached, but I can’t handle absolutely no connection. And I need aftercare after sex. It can be as simple as cuddles or talking or even from someone else. I just need something from someone.”

Yunho’s arm came around her waist, and Jongho’s hand found her hair. “With eight of us, I’m sure there will always be someone available to take care of you, honey,” Yunho said, and she blushed as murmured agreements immediately followed.

Everyone settled back into silence, looking around to see who would speak next.

“I just need to know when someone has an issue with anything so we can talk about it and figure something out,” San piped up. “You guys already know that, but with a new person and a new dynamic in the making…” he trailed off, and she noticed Yeosang’s hand settling on San’s thigh and Wooyoung’s arms reaching across Yeosang to settle on San’s shoulder. 

Wooyoung looked away from his friend and let his stare settle on her. “I know I can be alot to keep up with sometimes and I tend to invade personal space to get closer to someone. If I do that too much, tell me. Just don’t start pushing me away or ignoring me. I can’t handle cold shoulders or silent treatments,” Wooyoung said, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. 

The sincerity in his voice and the sadness in his eyes made her stomach flip, and she wanted to crawl over to him. She nodded, sent him a soft smile, letting herself relax back into the warmth around her when he sent her a smile back.

“Anyone else with a hard boundary?” Seonghwa asked.

Mingi’s hand popped up after a bit of silence, and everyone focused on him. He shifted nervously, but when he spoke, his voice sounded casual and matter-of-fact. “I said it earlier, but I think it’s worth repeating in a boundary sense, too. I need some time to myself on occasion,” he said, glancing at her with a look she couldn’t quite identify. “And I can’t really do unexpected visits. Stopping by the cafe is fine. The apartment is fine, too, cause I’m not the only one who lives there. Just not my room. I need a head’s up text or just a simple knock on my door.”

She nodded, letting what everyone said sink in as she looked around at them all. Warmth filled her, comforted with the knowledge that they were taking this seriously and were willing to talk this all through with each other and with her. That they cared about her. About her thoughts. Her needs. Even though she was still a new person in their lives. 

Yunho cleared his throat when no one else moved to speak. “There’s one last thing,” he said. “In my research, I came across a person who mentioned having a safe word in their relationship for when something gets too much and they need to step away. Do you think that would be helpful?”

“That’s something we should probably do, too,” Hongjoong said. “For the overall relationship, but also to keep sexual situations safe for everyone.”

His gaze fell to her, and she nodded. “I agree.”

Jongho hummed, let his arm sneak around her middle, fingers sneaking under the hem of her shirt to brush against the skin of her side. “Why don’t you do the honors and pick one for us?” 

“What about the traffic light system?” she asked, sneaking a glance around at everyone before her suggestion made her feel too shy. “Green, yellow, and red?”

Yunho hummed next to her. “I don’t see why we can’t use that one,” he said, hand falling to her knee, rubbing soothing circles there with his thumb.

“What does everyone think? Does that sound good?” Hongjoong asked, nodding when everyone agreed. “Then that’s settled. Is there anything else to talk about?”

Yunho looked at his phone for a moment, flipping through a document that she couldn’t quite see before he shoved it into his pocket. “That’s all that I had,” he said.

“How about finishing the night with a movie, then?” San suggested.

The television was turned on before anyone could agree or disagree, the remote held tightly in Wooyoung’s hand, a look on his face that suggested that no one else was going to be taking it from him. 

[sash4esk0]

ׂ╰┈➤No Names, Just Handsੈ♡⸝⸝��༘⋆

Pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: brothel AU, emotional intimacy, bath scene, soft smut, angst with comfort, hurt/healing, nameless connection, post-Act 2 Caitlyn, poetic prose, reader POV

Minors/Ageless blogs DNI, you will be blocked!

Summary:

After abandoning Vi to chase ghosts through the underbelly of Zaun, Caitlyn finds herself at a quiet brothel with no name, no plan, and too much weight on her shoulders. You see her before she says a word—Piltie, proud, and shattered—and make sure you’re the one who ends up with her for the night. She doesn’t want conversation. She doesn’t want names. But in the steam and silence, she lets you touch what no one else has. Just for a moment. And then she’s gone. Still broken—but not as alone.

Velvet curtains parted like a whisper slipping through waiting lips. A shrouded figure stepping into the flickering candlelight of your room of the brothel. It took you a long moment and a few fleeting glances to even realize that this figure was in fact female. From the wide, sharp angle of her caped shoulders to her absolutely mind boggling height. She had an almost masculine power to her, commanding the room as soon as she entered, a sort of grace that screamed Piltover. Too clean, too straight spined, too careful not to let her eyes linger on one girl too long. Her coat is still damp from the humid night air, inky tendrils of hair clinging to her neck, her face cast in a warm orange glow from the candles, yet not even the gentle kiss of fire dancing across her sharp features managed to soften the deep scowl present on her face.

She stood in the draped doorway for a moment, turquoise blues darting around the space as if she wasn’t really sure where she’d fit, her jaw clenched tight like she was bracing for gunfire instead of silk and honeyed words. Scanning the room not for escape routes, but for something softer,. Something to hold her together.

That something came in the form of you— wrapped in silk and lace and delicious lies— nimbly stalking over to her, eyes narrowed like a predator eyeing its prey yet with a voice as soft as freshly melted butter. You offer your name. Your working name. And to that she barely reacts.

“I’m here for quiet” she huffs, her accented voice clipped and brittle. Like she was already fed up with the idea of being in such an establishment.

“Then you’ve got the right girl.”

Later, after a few exchanged words and a thick envelope passed in the manager’s hand, you’re leading her up the stairs. Her boots echo with each step like she’s walking toward a firing squad.

“You can tell me what to call you,” you say gently, as you run her a bath.

She hesitates. Her fingers twitch as her scowl deepens abit.

“…Matilda.”

It’s a lie. You both know it, but neither of you say anything.

The room is dim, lit only by a soft orange glow spilling from salt-crystal sconces and a few flickering candles set into wall nooks. The air is thick with warmth, curling like smoke around your skin. You’ve already lit the incense—amber and myrrh, slow-burning and rich—and it mingles with the subtle sweetness of rose oil warming in a shallow dish by the bath. Steam curls lazily from the tub, filled with saltwater and crushed petals that tint the surface with faint pinks and reds, like a wound just beneath healing.

Caitlyn—Matilda—stands stiffly in the doorway, watching you like she doesn’t know what to do with her own body.

“You can sit,” you murmur, not quite looking at her. You’re busy swirling the oil into the bath, watching it fan out like golden silk. Tantalizing in the way it danced among the petals you’d scattered in.

Matilda makes a face as she watched your manicured fingers prance along the surface of the water, stirring up the oils and bath salts, Almost as if she’d tasted something sour before her expression settled into something more like grief, the worried line between her eyebrows softening as she busied herself with undressing.

She undresses with mechanical grace. You do not linger, yet glimpses catch your eye—faint bruises at her ribs, a scar just below the collarbone, a small and near-forgotten mole on her belly. And through it all, tension wound so tightly in her shoulders it seems a breath might undo her.

She slips into the water like it’s unfamiliar. Like softness might shatter her.

You kneel behind her on the padded mat, hands hovering just above the water. “Tell me if it’s too much.” you say. She gives a curt nod.

Your fingers dip into the water first—hot, fragrant, clinging to your skin like perfume. Then you find her shoulders.

She’s rigid.

Your thumbs move gently at first, circles into the slope of her neck. Her skin is warm from the bath, but the muscles beneath are iron, tense as wire. You press deeper, coaxing out the tightness like unwinding a knot. She exhales, barely.

“You don’t relax often, do you?” you say quietly, voice gentle as if not to disturb the delicate silence between you both, the understanding that this was purely an exchange between people, a service.

Her laugh is almost silent. Bitter. “Can’t afford to.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “ I would’ve thought a woman like you could afford anything”, you thought to yourself, letting the silence settle again. You pour a little oil into your palms, warm and slick, and glide them over her shoulders, down the blades of her back. She flinches. not from pain, but from the unfamiliarity of touch without risk.

The bath water laps gently as she shifts, her head tipping slightly forward. The tips of her dark, dark blue hair dancing across the surface of the steaming water. Trust, or exhaustion—you’re not sure. Your hands move with purpose, reading her body like a map. the shallow scar at her spine, the knot just beneath her shoulder blade, the subtle tremble when you brush the base of her neck.

Not sex. Not yet. But something far more dangerous.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The water has gone still again, rippling only when your hands move through the opalescent bubbles, hands moving with practiced ease as soft fingers traced the gentle angles of Caitlyn’s shoulders. Like a constant reminder that it was okay to relax. To let her guard down even just for a moment— but she stayed tense, tightly locked even in all of her vulnerability.

Caitlyn hasn’t spoken since that last whisper. She sits submerged to the collarbones, eyes half-lidded, jaw set like she’s bracing for something she hasn’t named. Her spine’s straight, even here. like she doesn’t quite know how to soften.

You set the oil aside, watching how it gleams faintly on her skin, tracing lines of gold across her back. And then you move slowly, wordlessly rising from behind her and slipping your silken robe off your shoulders letting it fall to the wooden floor with a dull ‘thud.’

The water welcomes you with a quiet breath as you step in.

Caitlyn tenses—but doesn’t stop you.

You settle behind her, knees bent around her hips, the insides of your thighs brushing hers. Your chest just barely touches her back. You hum low in your throat—an old song from somewhere warmer than Zaun, wordless and soft, something your mother used to sing when the world felt too cruel. The melody drapes around Caitlyn like a shawl, grounding her in sound and steam.

You gather water in your hands and let it pour down her shoulders, then reach for the washcloth soaked in rose and lavender.

“May I?” you ask, brushing your fingers lightly along her collarbone from behind, lips brushing against her shoulder as you tried your best to get a glimpse of her face, to try and understand how to help her in a way words couldn’t describe.

A pause. Then a nod, sharp but shaky.

You start gentle, stroking the cloth along her neck, her arms, her back. Then lower. under the water, your hands tracing the lines of her stomach, her hips, the insides of her thighs. Your breath ghosts across the shell of her ear as you hum, and beneath you, Caitlyn finally exhales like she’s been holding her lungs hostage in an iron cell.

Your hand lingers where the curve of her waist meets her hip. She jolts, just slightly, and her fingers snap around your wrist beneath the water.

You freeze. But she doesn’t push you away.

Instead, she guides your hand slowly. deliberately. along the path she chooses. You let her lead. She’s not ready to surrender, not really. She needs to be the one deciding what part of her crumbles.

The tips of your fingers finally brush her desperation, burning hot to the touch even beneath the warm water. Pointer and middle fingers swirling around where you knew her clit hid before parting her, spreading her open wordlessly.

Her grip on your wrist tightens. Not painful, but a reminder of who held the coins in this exchange.

You shift with her, your other hand splayed wide across her stomach, holding her close as you start to move again. Touching. Exploring. Reverent, not rough. Her breathing grows uneven, jaw clenched, like she’s furious at herself for wanting this.

The featherlight glide of your honeyed touch, she’s trembling each time you get too close to her clenching hole. You can’t see it, but you feel it. Like a heart thumping in the palm of your hand. Laid bare and bleeding.

But she does want it.

You don’t speak. Words would shatter this fragile permission she’s given you.

So instead, you hum.

You kiss the side of her throat—soft and open-mouthed—and feel her lean, just slightly, into your warmth.

In the steam, in the dark, Matilda ceases to exist.

But the woman trembling in your arms?

She’s real. And she’s letting you touch what no one else has dared.

Those two fingers eventually make their way back down to Caitlyn’s cunt. Pressing in gently, a strained grunt of repressed pleasure escaping her lips as her legs pushed apart further, pressing against the walls of the tub as her instincts fought between thrusting into and away from your awaiting palm.

“Guh-“

her head tips back against your shoulder, a low sound slipping from her lips—not a moan, not quite. More like surrender breaking past clenched teeth. Your mouth finds her neck again, lips parted, breath warm against damp skin. You kiss her there, then again, just beneath her ear—this time with intent. Possessive. Soft.

“You feel like silk.” You murmur against her shoulder as a breath loosened from your steam filled lungs, those same two fingers buried deep within her gingerly rubbing her velvety walls, wet– even beneath the water as you traced your initials into her insides. One by one until her hips were rutting into your palm for more.

“Would you like more, Matilda?-” you ask softly but the woman shaking in your arms abruptly fixes you with a shuddering order. “Cait-Caitlyn- yes- *Janna yes-”

“Shh- shh easy Caitlyn– I've got you.” you soothe, whispered words soaking into her skin like the liquid gold dancing along the surface of the water, your voice raspy from the steam curling through your lungs. Your other hand trailing smoothly down her taut belly until it joined the other, thumb circling her twitching clit as your finger thrusts remained steady and deep.

You slow down. Just a little. Try to draw it out, make her feel it. But she’s already gone—her body arches, spine curling like a bowstring snapping, and she cries out, loud and wrecked and whole. Her shoulders slam back into your chest, trembling, as the sob tears through her throat, raw and real and holy.

You hold her through it, through the aftershocks and the silence that follows.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She left before the water cooled.

No words. No goodbyes. Just the faint creak of the door, the rustle of damp clothes, and the scent of rose oil clinging to the air like memory rather forgotten.

You stay where you are, arms wrapped around your knees in the empty porcelain coffin, still warm from where her body had trembled against yours. Steam curling in the silence she left behind.

She came here a ghost—tired, hunted, hollow—and left still broken, but maybe a little less burdened. Maybe a little more real.

She didn’t give you her heart.

But she gave you everything else.

Just for a night.

And it was enough.

* Janna is a wind spirit and protector goddess of both Zaun and Piltover, Caitlyn saying it here is basically the Piltovan version of “Oh my god”— Incase it confused anyone :)

Authors note: heyyy guyssss… sorry I disappeared, totally underestimated how long this would take to write so I apologize for the major delay. I’ve been trying to improve my writing so I’ve been reading a lot more and life has been legit insane lately but here she is! My first 18+ work too!

[swordmaid]

magistrate astarion with an unknown drow woman. rumour has it that they’ve met each other at the night of the lumberg manor scandal and have been inseparable ever since. no information can be found on the drow… maybe she’s one of mamzell amira’s new girls?

anyway. more of the murder mystery au but this time with the hags 🙂‍↕️🤭 their whole plot is basically them planning to kill one (1) guy but accidentally unveiling this decades long city scale murder conspiracy

[nemaliwrites]

feligami this, felinette that - who is thinking about FELIBUG WITH ME

Félix and Sentibug… taking back their humanity together…making sure no one else is used and discarded like they were….their birth may not have been their own but their lives can be

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

his pronouns are they/them 😤

transparent version below!

[thoughtsofananon]

Could we get an avoid? You choose which flavor

help there’s been a shadow guy rotating in my mind constantly for (checks the date) FIVE MONTHS.

I exploded in the tags

[scionshtola]

rotating something in my mind about shtola having matoya as a mentor and then growing to see her as a mother figure vs erenville and cahciua distancing themselves by referring to each other as mentor/pupil

[weaselishmcdiesel]

.

[skid-the-mighty-poet]

[sapphicrot]

.

[zouisalmightie]

.