#so i know what to include in future books

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Hi.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drift into that sort of sleep that makes your head hurt. Even as you detach from consciousness, you feel the tempo in your skull driven by the pulse of your fatigue. The void behind your eyelids is painted in dull hues in splotches and smears. 

The residue of stress from your waking hours remains. It coils your muscles and knots under your shoulder blade. Just behind the curtain of sleep, it waits for you. A flight, your family, all that mess. 

You groan as you wake slowly. You shift as the blankets lay heavily over you, almost holding you down as you try to stretch out the stiffness. You arch your back and stop as you feel a firm prodding against your ass. 

You slap your hand down on the arm hooked around your middle. No way. Lloyd squeezes you and draws himself flush until you know exactly what he’s pushing against you. Ew! 

You jar away from him, ripping his arm off as you bounce and sit up in disgust. As you do, the blankets slip off his torso and he grumbles. His naked arm and shoulder bulge.

You huff and clutch your head. “Jesus, Lloyd, what are you doing?” 

“Mmm,” he curls his arm over his head, “shhhhh.” 

“Are you drunk?” You accuses. 

He giggles, “a lil.” 

You roll your eyes and reach for your phone. Your hand hovers over the night table and you frown. It’s gone. 

“Where the hell is my phone?” You hiss. 

“I unno,” he babbles. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you poke him, “where the heck is my phone? It was right here, now--”  

Your eyes skim to his side of the bed and pinpoint on the digital clock. Your heart drops. What the hell? You leap out of bed in a panic and rush around to the table, grabbing the clock as you whine. 

“No, no, it’s-- I missed my flight! Lloyd,” you slam down the clock, “what did you do with my phone?” 

“If you must know, I plugged it in. For you.” He raises a hand groggily, his eyes still closed. “I was being nice.” 

“Nice?” You spin and search around. 

You spot the cord plugged in beside the television. You don’t fail to notice the empty samplers of whiskey either. You storm across the room and pick up your phone. You tap the home button and it stays black. You gnash your teeth and push the power button on the side. The boot screen flashes on. 

“What-- you shut it off! You made me miss my alarm and my trip out. Everything else is booked up!” 

“Family sucks,” he gurgles. “You’re not missing much.” 

“That’s not fair,” you snap. “You don’t know my family, okay? Not everyone came from a cult of spoiled rich kids.” 

“I’m not spoiled,” he argues and stretches, the blankets slipping further down. 

“Oh, because that’s what’s important right now,” your anger spikes and you shake. You aren’t emotional. You do your best to repress everything, for your own good as much as his, but you’re at the end of your rope. After last night and now this, how can you not be enraged? “Ugh, are you naked?” 

“Can’t sleep in clothes. Gotta let it breathe,” he spreads over the bed with a yawn. 

You stand speechless, staring at him, helpless to the flurry of emotions coursing through you. Disgust, rage, disappointment, frustration, every last stitch holding you together snaps. You drop your head and sigh. 

“Fine, I’m just going to go home.” You surrender, “I give up.” 

You shake your head and traipse away. You go into the bathroom and shut the door. Before you resign yourself to the long journey back, you just need a moment. 

You sit on the edge of the tub and stare at the tile. You feel foolish. You don’t know why you came all this way for such an ungrateful brat. He might be your boss, you might need your job, but you deserve better.

Well, you don’t always get what you want, do you? No, it's people like Lloyd and his clan that do.

The handle turns and before you can react, the door swings open slowly. You look up and gasp as you raise your hand to block out Lloyd’s lower half. He shamelessly stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame. 

“Hey, Pixie Puff, it’s okay. How about we drive up to see the family? Me and you? We could make a road trip of it.” 

“Drive? You mean me? You’re still tipsy. Plus, you are not invited,” you snarl and look down. You don’t know how you forgot, or how you managed to sleep in it, but the ring still clings to your finger. You tear it off as you stand. You stomp up to him and shove it into his chest. “It’s all just a joke. Or maybe I’m the joke.” 

“No, Pix, you saved me,” he slurs. “Really. Last night... was amazing. I’ve never seen you like that. Fiery.” He reaches to touch your cheek and you dodge him. You grab his hand instead and put the ring in it. 

“I wasted my time,” you let him go. 

He watches you silently, swaying on his feet as you turn to the sink. You unwrap the sample-sized toothbrush and uncap the mini tube of toothpaste. You try ignore him as he looms in the door. 

“Please don’t leave,” he says. “You can’t Pixie pie. Please,” he staggers forward and you turn your face away before you can see everything. “Look, there’s Christmas brunch today and I can’t go alone.” 

You spit a mouthful into the sink and rinse it away, “well, you’re going to.” 

“No way,” he argues. “Mom’s been blowing up my phone and dad left me a long voicemail. I’m in trouble.” 

“It’s not my problem.” 

“But, but—you're my assistant. I’m your boss.” 

“And I’m not your fiancee.” You counter. 

“I demand it, I—I--” he blusters as he braces the sink. “I’m in trouble, Pix. I’ve been a bad boy.” 

The words make your insides crawl. How can he be so pathetic in both the most revolting and most pitiable way? You've never seen him like this and you never really wanted to. It’s embarrassing. 

“Like I said--” 

“No, no,” he grabs your wrist and you flick foamy paste onto him. “I’m not asking. You do this or—or you’re fired!” 

You stare at him. You weigh the consequences. It might be nice to be free, yet then again, you’ve been applying for jobs since you started working for him and haven’t gotten anything better. Only jobs with lower pay and menial work. 

“You want me to beg? I can beg,” he says. 

“Can you put some pants on?” You tear away from him and grab a towel. You throw it at him and go back to brushing your teeth. 

“Pixie,” he pouts. 

“I want a raise.” 

“Fifty cents.” 

“Fifty-- Five dollars at least. And a Christmas bonus. And vacation days,” you rinse the brush then your mouth. You use the hand towel to dry off. “And I want it in writing.” 

“What? You don’t trust me?” He challenges. 

“You lied to get me here. Then you sabotaged my alarm.” 

“I was helping--” 

“You know what you did.” 

“Christ, Pix, when did you get so mouthy? It’s making my balls hurt.” 

“That’s gross,” you avert your eyes to the ceiling, “cover up. I can’t focus.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he wraps the towel around his waist. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before. Probably not any as big but--” 

“I want to know why you’re doing this.” 

“You met my family, you know they’re a handful,” he crosses his arms and shrugs. His chest bulges and the thick hair brushes against that on his arms. 

“There’s another reason.” 

“No,” he denies unconvincingly. 

“I’m not going to go along with this dumb play if you don’t tell me. Don’t you think I deserve to know? If you keep me ignorant, than how can I be convincing, huh?” 

“You’re smart. Sneaky even,” he unfolds one arm and points at you. “Alright, cards on the table.” He drops his other arms and adjusts the towel around his waist as he grimaces. “That inheritance my sister mentioned. It’s... substantial. And I want it.” 

“Okay, but... wouldn’t that mean someone needs to die?” 

“Nah, the old bat’s been dead forever,” he sneers. “I get it when I get married. Well, a portion of it. Then the rest is all mine once I pop out a mini Lloyd.” 

You squint as you take in his explanation. It still doesn’t make sense. 

“Right, but you’d have to present legal papers. And a child. That’ll be harder to fake.” 

“Yeah, almost impossible.” He agrees and flutters his fingers over his mustache. He stares at you. Intently. 

Heat creeps up your back and across your shoulders. It curls around your nap and crawls up your cheeks. He can’t mean-- 

“Absolutely not,” you yipe. “You really are out of your mind. We are not getting married and I’m definitely not.... not doing that other thing.” 

“It’s just a piece of paper,” he says. 

“Just-- no way. No!” You wave your arms vehemently. “Not in a million years.” 

“Ouch,” he frowns, “you know, that hurts my feelings.” 

“You’re my boss, alright? It's just... deranged.” 

“I can be,” he shrugs. 

“Lloyd! Mr. Hansen,” you have to calm yourself before you continue, “I’m not going to sell myself because you want some trust fund--” 

“I’ll give you a cut,” he says suddenly. “How about it? Then you won’t even need a raise because you’ll be rich.” 

You go quiet. It’s fishy. You know you can’t trust him. He already lied to you a dozen times over. Besides, giving you a fair share means cutting you loose. Is it that much money? 

“How much?” You ask. 

“Ten thousand.” 

“All this for ten thousand? Sure. It’s more. I know it. So you give me at least a million or I’m going to fill up my tank and go home, right now.” 

“A million--” he coughs. “You drive a hard bargain for someone making less than 100k.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort. “I want a million and I want that notarized.” 

“Notarized?” He whines. 

“Fine, can’t lose what I never had--” 

“Fine, fine, you can have it. I’ll get it notarized,” he nears and offers his hand, “but it’s Christmas and I think everything’s closed so... shake on it?” 

“I’m not having a kid. We’re going to a courthouse then I’m getting mine and going.” 

“We can do a surrogate--” 

“No kid.” 

“Adopt--” 

“Don’t push it,” you grab his hand and shake. “One million and I will suffer until the New Year.” 

He grins triumphantly, “you know, Pix, I always appreciated that about you. You always got my back.” 

“Go. You need to sleep off the Jack Daniels,” you retract your hand sharply. 

“And I’ll dream of all that money we’re going to get,” he giggles and rubs his palms together. “We’re going to be rich, baby.” 

“Lay down before I change my mind.” 

“Too late, we shook on it,” he winks and backs up. The towel catches on the rod next to the door and you quickly turn as it slackens. He lets out an oops as it falls off and you avoid looking back. “This show’s for free, baby, don’t worry.” 

“Get out,” you say. “I’m gonna need some coffee if I’m going to deal with you all day.” 

“Grab me some too, pookie? Pweez,” he taunts, “oh, and if they’re serving bacon, I’ll have at least a dozen strips. The grease is good for my hangover and once that hits, I’m gonna be a baby.” 

“That’s great,” you mutter dryly, “coffee and bacon. Now please, give me some space.” 

“It won’t be that bad, Pixie stick. Trust me. You got me.” 

“Not making it better,” you turn to the sink and lean on it. “Please.” 

“Right, okay, I’m going,” he picks up the towel and slowly pulls on the door. You sigh. “I’ll be in bed if you need me.” 

You shake your head. The door clicks and you look at your reflection. Are you really doing this? It feels like you’re selling your soul. You should’ve asked for more. 

You finally find your strength. You go out into the suite and grab your bag. You pull out your sweater and throw it over your head. You ignore Lloyd as he lays on the bed. 

You take your wallet and the room key. You don’t bother with your phone. You might just leave it there for the day because once your mother finds out you missed your flight, you’ll be in for an earful. You already feel rotten enough. 

As you find your way down to the dining hall, your anger returns. He did that on purpose. He spoiled your plans all for his stupid selfish ploy. The payout might be hefty but you’re already regretting this. Still, he as good as backed you into a corner...right? 

You get the coffee, two cups on a tray, and some muffins, and a greedy handful of bacon. You’re not hungry, you just need caffeine. You head back up to the room, basking in the silence of the mostly empty hotel. Everyone else did what you should have and hit the road by now. 

You make a sluggish return. The only thing you have to look forward to is the coffee and you’re sure that hotel fare is not gourmet roast. You balance the tray and slide the card in the lock. You enter the room, roiling in your thoughts. 

You’re too distracted to notice the noise before you get too far. You put the tray down as your ears prick at the dulcet groan. You glance over at Lloyd as something moves beneath the blankets. Is he-- 

“Oh god!” You exclaim and spin on your heel. “Jesus!” 

You race out of the room and slam the door as you enter the hall. You lean against and stifle a scream. What is wrong with him? Well, you know exactly what’s wrong with him. Daddy issues, mommy issues, sister issues, and maybe even uncle issues. He’s entirely corrupt and you just made a deal with him. 

This is going to be a nightmare. 

[pityroadart]

Here's my piece for the @mcspirkevents Big Bang! I was paired with the excellent @twinkboimler and their fic Jim Kirk's Guide to Delivering the Goods, which you can find here (E, AOS McSpirk, 60k)

Summer just started, and Jim is bored out of his mind. The courses he needs to take aren’t being offered until the second half of the summer, so he has an entire month to bother his roommate Bones. At Bones’ suggestion to get a job, Jim fixes up a motorbike and starts making deliveries to people in town, including a cute Vulcan professor named Spock. But when Jim is beaten up while making a delivery, it’s Spock who delivers Jim back to the apartment he shares with Bones. After the meet-cute from hell, Spock and Bones start dating… and so do Jim and Spock. With neither roommate aware they’re both dating the same man, there’s only so long that things can go well for them before the other shoe finally drops.

Also as part of my Big Bang offerings, I made a fic playlist (below) — partly a love letter to McSpirk, partly a love letter to myself and Fletcher's overlapping music taste.

Thank you again to Fletcher @twinkboimler for working on this project with me, it's been an absolute joy!

Until the Birds Return on Spotify

Tracks and choice lyrics below the cut (contains vague spoilers):

Astronaut | Future Crib

I wanna be an astronaut Fly into space I wanna see Mars from Venus I wanna go to that place And if you come with me They'll be room in my ship I'll take you up there with me It can be just you and me

Afraid of Heights | boygenius

I never rode a motorcycle I never smoked a cigarette I wanna live a vibrant life But I wanna die a boring death

Day by Day | Old Sea Brigade

Time and time again, I think I'm falling through space And I wake up in my bed just sweating in sheets

... Then I think of you growing old and it breaks my heart

Factories | Autoheart

When you found my body by the lake You wasn't sure if I was still alive

You and Your Friend | Snake River Conspiracy

Must we go run through our lives with our eyes closed To the loving happiness that we can share I think I'm in love with you and your friend

My Gal, My Guy | Darlingside

My (guy) he's the bluest ocean, (he) Waits under the bluest sky for me I belong to (him) When I'm in the water

Santa Fe | Autoheart

Heaven sent You were like a present I should not have kept A sticker on your forehead saying 'breakable And I broke you bad

Coat on a Hook | The National

Two days, we're still not talking You're the opposite of an open book Come back for me

Top to Toe | Fenne Lily

So I'm changing all my days To make your nights It's just not right

Pigeon Song | Patrick Wolf

Now the pigeons gather 'round my feeding hand And we talk 'til the evening fades I have learnt how it goes What you wait for never shows And what you least wanted, holds you down like a stone

Hornets | The National

But I don't wanna leave And I don't wanna hide I just don't wanna run Into you tonight

Tea, Milk & Honey | Oh Pep!

If you stick with me, I'll make sure your time is all right If you don't understand where I am now, it's better if we leave it

The Spiritual | Jukebox the Ghost

We might have kissed a bit too soon I could feel what was coming and I didn't mean to hurry you I just knew that time would find our fingers linked, through and through Forgive me, I'm human too

Bike Dream | Rostam

Two boys, one to kiss your neck And one to bring you breakfast Get you out of bed

Don't Go | Yazoo

Can't stop now Don't you know I ain't never gonna let you go

Jenny | The Mountain Goats

I hopped on back of the bike, wrapped my arms around you I sank my face into your hair And then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could You were sweet and delicious as the warm desert air And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon We were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on 900 cc's of raw whining power, no outstanding warrants for my arrest

Old Old Fashioned | Josh Ritter (Frightened Rabbit cover)

Oh let's get old fashioned Back to how things used to be If I get old, old fashioned Would you get old, old fashioned with me?

[soulc-hilde]

Arcane, Season 2... I had to stop everything I was doing, because I am irritated.

Arcane: League of Legends as the entire show has been beautifully written - outside of S2's ACT III, I better see some fix-it fanfics like y'all's name is Felix. And despite all of the things to list about ACT III that has been rushed, a totally different thing has caught my eye and my irritation.

Caitlyn Kiramman's character arc from Season 1 - Season 2 shows us how she evades the legacy of her family only to be forced as the leader of her house's name after the murder of her mother and how she grieves while trying to understand her way through the politics of her new role.

From the jump, I did not like Caitlyn. She is beautifully written and the way her character spirals is written well. The reason I do not like Caitlyn is what she reenacts and that's because it is a part of my daily life as a black woman.

Now, I'm not ranting because of her actions. I'm genuinely pissed at the ignorance some folks have towards this and I wanna sit you on your ass as I tell you this.

Yes, folks can divert the fantasy from the reality. However, if you are an actual writer or have studied creative writing (not your typical English Literature classes) under someone who has published books then you know that an author finds inspiration in everything that includes the scars of history told and untold as well as the current disasters our society faces in the present.

Hell, we unconditionally have the power foretell whenever the government decides to pull some bullshit out on us [The overturning of Roe v. Wade and The Handmaid's Tale + Many More].

Caitlyn's actions are not to be excused just because her mother died in a terrorist attack. They are not to be excused because she's a lesbian. They are not to be excused period.

Everyone in the damn show are war criminals. The point of the show is to describe just how far everyone will go to even the scales and find balance within their own beliefs. It also covers that there is no distinct hero and its villain. Everyone just wants to live. That's all they want.

Which is insane to me because that's a typical dystopian theme in every book/film - which by the way, genres like dystopia are based off of reality. They are based off of the actions of the past and the present and what type of future they can conjure for us and our descendants.

It sickens me that a lot of you think that Caitlyn's blatant ignorance and fascism towards Zaunites is just a thing the writers had pulled out of their asses when it's a dark belief that people still carry to this day and teach their kids. Caitlyn and Vi should not have gotten together at the end because of Caitlyn's actions towards Zaunites and the hell she drug Vi through.

No one is excusing Jinx's actions or Ambessa's. As I said, everyone is a war criminal. The only difference is ... Caitlyn came out with her home in tact and with the girl as if she's some fucking hero.

And I can guarantee that the lot of you who hold this mentality are the exact white women who favor the beliefs of Taylor Swift [White Feminism] and will continuously endanger the lives of women of color, but when shit hits the ceiling all of a suddenly it's a 'we' problem.

Y'all are so attached to consuming brain rot or content that contains no form of substance other than to people please that when a bomb ass show with an even greater story comes out with a purpose y'all will say the most dastardly thing ever. No wonder why good shows and even better writing is so few and rarely seen nowadays because no actually listens to the story.

You all just want sex. A poor excuse of "representation" that's just of another white cisgendered couple with an opposites attract trope or a doomed / romeo & juliet trope. You are boring, you are flat, and folks like you suck the creativity - the art - out of people's writing.

[thehollowwriter]

I've always found it so interesting how Vil describes himself and his actions as ugly, not his appearance. I'm tired af rn so I can't really put it into words, but it's very striking that Vil, at least to me, doesn't seem to believe in outward ugliness. In fact, he simply calls people potatoes. Not ugly. Potatoes. As some analysis' pointed out, it seems to be because he seems them as spudlings who haven't yet reached their potential. Like Quartz said, he doesn't want to change everything about you. He wants you to be the best you can be.

He is, as also Quartz said, a very selfless character and he seems to strive to be more than what he's been typecast as. That's part of why he had such an extreme breakdown from his actions and called himself "ugly." He was a villain. He was behaving just like others assumed he would. And if he's no more than the roles he's been trapped in, how could he possibly defeat Neige?

But in book 6, he had his "hero" moment. What he did was a huge sacrifice to make, especially when you consider what Vil risked. He risked literally his entire future and his reputation.

There are some fans who poke fun at him for being "shallow" crying about his appearance, but... wouldn't you?

Firstly, there's Vil's career. Remember, Vil is an actor and a model. He works in two industries that are centred around beauty. You can't have wrinkles, you can't be fat, you can't be unappealing for even a second. You must conform to beauty standards at all times. That includes not just your appearance, but what you eat and what activities you partake in, since certain eating habits and hobbies are associated with certain appearances (e.g ugly gamer).

Now that he's like this... who's going to want him as a model? Who's going to want to cast him in any role outside of an evil old hag, if they want him at all? How will his fans, the faceless masses who fixate on his appearance, react? Is there any guarantee they'll stick around?

Vil's entire future has potentially gone up in flames. He's been acting and modelling since he was a small child. What else could he possibly do?

Secondly, there's the fact that Riddle just got white hair, while Vil got all of his youth sucked out of him. He was not old just in appearance, his body was old. That's his entire future suddenly severed. He's human, and humans don't live for very long compared to fae.

From Vil's perspective, the decades of life ahead of him are gone. Now, in this frail body, who knows how much time he has left? Who knows what health problems might start ailing him and taking him early?

Well gee, no wonder he's crying! He might lose everything and he might also die much sooner than expected. I hardly find that shallow.

I find the comparison of Vil to a stereotypical mean girl overall very weird. Mean girls purposefully bully and tear down others to lift themselves up. When they insult people's fashion or appearance, it's not because they think they can improve. It's because they view those people as below them. Sometimes the outfit itself isn't even bad. It's just "poor people clothing."" Mean girls are also very manipulative and will tear others down to climb up the ladder and come out on top, even if they have to cheat and lie to do so.

Vil isn't like that at all. He doesn't insult, he criticises. And like I said, he sees people's potential and wants them to live up to it. His goal is not to tear them down and make himself feel better. As far as fashion goes, Vil knows different styles work on different people, and with how his character is, he's most certainly not going to hate or bully someone for using a "poor brand" or whatever.

Vil literally refuses to cheat!!! He does not want to win against Neige through cheating, because he knows that's not truly a win. He wants to earn that win. When he tried to poison Neige, that was a complete mental breakdown and he immediately regretted it.

So yeah. Vil is a harsh, but nurturing and actually very kind and selfless guy. Leave him.

(If I got anything wrong pls forgive me I haven't read book 5 in a while. @v-anrouge you're the Vil expert pls lmk if there's anything to add or correct)

Vil yap session

[theheartoftheheir-if]

The Heart of the Heir

DEMO // CHARACTER INTROS // BLOG INFO

status: currently writing & coding

To the Members of the Ton,

It is so nice to be able to come to you for another social season. I can already hear the air buzzing with anticipation on the new couples and the everlasting ties that they will bring to our strong community. People are already parading around like gallivant horses to impress the masses as well as the royal family. It is truly a sight to behold. However this year, my fellow Ton, the tides have changed. This year, instead of the members of high society fighting out in the field for love and marriage opportunities, the King and Queen are announcing their child, the new heir to the throne, to be the one whose hand is up for marriage.

This comes as a bittersweet surprise. After the recent and devastating passing of the King and Queen's first child, the high society’s dazzling Emerald, it would have seemed that the line to the Crown was at stake. To lose a precious jewel is a true defeat. But with every wondrous heir, there will be a spare to fill in the shoes of our perfect Crowned Royal. Our Emerald’s younger sibling will finally have a place to shine in the Sun.

This is a change that no one expected. The Royal Family doesn’t deal with the social season to this caliber. Instead of watching from the sidelines, they will be front and center. It will be interesting to watch and see if our new heir is the right pick for the Crown and the high society that we have all built. Will this new heir be our diamond in the rough or will this be an example of a stone with none of the shimmer and shine that is needed to sit in the throne?

Throughout the season, there will be thoughts and gossip to gather, and I will be your humble servant in the collection and distribution of any and all information I can get. My darling members of the Ton, everything I know, you will know. That’s a promise. Enjoy this season, and to the heir, remember to shine like the gemstones of the past, or you will sink like a pebble in the Thames.

Until we meet again,

The Royal Record Holder

Inspired by Bridgerton and The Pride and Prejudice, the interactive story The Heart of the Heir, is a historical romance that takes place in the Regency Era. You, a young royal and the second and younger child of the King and Queen, unexpectedly become the next in line for the throne when your older sibling passes away. Without the knowledge your elder sibling has gotten, you are trusted into the world of high society and must navigate through the social season. Besides the expectations of being a future ruler, you are expected to find a suitor by the end of the season to lead by your side. You, the heir, must balance the future responsibilities of your nation while staying true to your heart. Will you be what the kingdom expects of you or will you lead by example and break away from tradition that was planned for you?

The Heart of the Heir is an +18 interactive fiction that includes topics of death and grief, substance use (drugs and alcohol), and skippable sexually explicit scenes. This is a romance book, romance will be the focal point. If that isn’t your cup of tea, you have been warned!

A customizable main character including gender, pronouns, sexuality, physical appearance, a skill fit for a royal, your sibling’s gender, family dynamics, and basic morals for your character to start on.

Decide on what type of ruler you want to be: do you lead with compassion and the knowledge that your kingdom comes first? Do you march to the beat of your own drum? Do you wish that you didn’t want the responsibility of the crown?

Navigate the tight community that comes with the Ton. Don’t lose yourself in the hushed secrets that hide behind cups of tea, the art of conversing via fan, and the walk around the lake.

Get courted by one of the four romance options: your royal match, your childhood best friend, the mysterious newcomer, or the lover who lost it all?

Romance Options:

The Royal (Duke/Duchess Edward/Edwina Drake of Exeter): In the eyes of your parents and the Ton, they are the picture perfect suitor for your hand. E was born and bred to be a royal, your partner. Extremely smart, poise, dedicated to their country, E fits the bill and still has amazing qualities. They’re perfect through the rose tinted glasses. But just like you, they have baggage. The expectations to be the best and to prove themselves worthy of their title and their name. The phrase heavy is the head that wears the crown rings true for both of you. The level of perfection that weighs on both of you, could break and destroy the hardest of stones, and to leave them in a disarray. But if you both were there to burden the stress and build each other up, it wouldn’t be all that bad. If you two crumble, at least it will be together.

Trope: Marriage by Convenience.

The Widow (Victor/Violet Clarke): The one that lost a love too. Planned to marry your older sibling, you’ve always seen V as someone respectable and honest. You’ve watched how their and your sibling’s love has blossomed and how their mutual love and understanding for each other stood rival to only your parents. So when someone you both loved died, pieces of your sibling, and their love, died with them. No one can understand the loss like you do. To lose your best friend, your sibling, or your better half, your lover is a level of pain no one should endure. Navigating the hardships of death and grief can be a lonely time, but thankfully you have each other. A budding companionship is on the horizon, or is there a tie of romance that bounds these two mourning souls?

Trope: Second Chance at Love.

The Knight (Helena/Henry Barnes): From birth, it always seemed like you and H were destined to be with each other in some way. H’s father served under yours, and now H serves under you as your right hand, protector and best friend. They’re the most active person in your life, besides your parents. H has always been supportive and protective of you, both as a requirement to the Crown and because no one knows them the way you know them. H knows your next move, your witty comments, and all the minute details even your parents couldn’t pick up. When you look at them, you see yourself in someone like you: dedicated to the role they were given. When they look at you, there’s a great level of fondness, respect and admiration. But is that all, or is there something deeper behind the gazes they give you?

Trope: Childhood Friends to Lovers.

The Outsider (Sayyid/Safiya): A sponsorship. Since the Viscount and Viscountess Beaumont have no heirs to their name, they decided to send word to an old friend to sponsor for the season. As the new arrival to the Ton, S made a name for themselves as the new and allusive candidate for your hand in marriage. The only issue is, you don’t like S. They don’t follow the customs you’re used to, and have no need to fit in. Their forward thinking and bold personality clashes with you, and you’d be damned to have someone mess up your new reputation. S always itches at your patience, and seems to get a rise out of you. It’s infuriating, annoying. They’re like a gnat. Then why do they challenge you to the point where they swarm your mind? Is the level of combativeness something you seek? Is this what you want?

Trope: One-sided Enemies/Rivals to Lovers.

[jaydove-writes]

I have been working on this series for a while now

So I want to share my stories but I have bills to pay. However I feel guilty about charging to read unpublished stories that are not in book form. Would you read a story about teens in space trying to collect magical artifacts and fight demons? Here's book 1 of Starbourne. Completely free. I do plan on charging a small fee for books 2 through 9. (I plan on making the series a trilogy of trilogies) Just like 6 US dollars. One for each of the Aurora Hearts from book 1.

[batsplat]

Jerez 2006

[It] was certainly within the four walls of that gym, between rep after rep on different muscle groups, that the 'LorenShow' was born. There was a time when only Rossi used to put on a show, but even that has become a rare event. 'Now he only does it on certain occasions,' says Jorge. 'The World Championship was losing a bit of sparkle. Other riders were trying things but they weren't funny, especially in 125cc. There was a time when Melandri tried to imitate Rossi but he never managed to make it as funny.' Jorge had been thinking for a long time about how he could offer his fans something extra after a win. A lot of people saw him as too serious, but he wanted to show that he cared about them, that he enjoyed what he did and that he was affable and good humoured, as well as imaginative. He needed an ingenious plan because he had a clear objective: to celebrate the World Championship title in style. 'We wanted to do it in style, go mad,' recalls Dani Palau. That seemed a long way off, back in the summer of 2006, but once the crises of Turkey, Shanghai and Le Mans were behind him the dream of beating Andrea Dovizioso was alive again.

Strictly speaking, the first episode of the 'LorenShow' was at the Spanish GP in 2006. It was his first victory in the 250cc class and Jorge got off his bike, took off his helmet and started shouting at the fans. 'It was pretty spectacular and it was the first time we used the word "LorenShow",' he recalls. 'Palau and I used to put together a ten-page magazine of our own after each Grand Prix and on the front cover of that particular edition we put a photo of my celebrations and the headline [in English] "Welcome to the LorenShow!" That was awesome, really different. I have always been creative and I fancied doing something special after I won, so I decided to give it a try!' The design of the magazine, by the way, was similar to GQ. 'Well, not similar exactly. We kind of copied it! We were worried about getting into trouble for copying it but I hope they don't hit us with a lawsuit now ... it was only for us!' he laughs.

March 2007

After his victory at Losail Jorge pretended to skip like a boxer, as he'd done for so many hours in the gym with Marcos. It was a spontaneous, intuitive celebration and an early turning point for his season. After such a morale-boosting performance during and after the race, why not celebrate all his victories from now on? 'In Qatar I did the skipping-rope thing but I never thought that in the future I'd be using props to celebrate my victories!' The preparation that went into each episode of 'LorenShow' was a simple but elaborate process. Generally the original idea would come from Jorge and, often with the help of his computer, Palau would fill in the details. It became something of a team effort at Motorsport48, where almost everybody began to join in the fun. Everybody except the boss: Dani Amatriain kept his distance. He didn't like or dislike the celebrations but he preferred to leave them to Jorge as a bit of innocent fun. Out of the blue came another idea, this time from Marcos. Once again, it was an idea born in the gym. 'You are a warrior. You have to reclaim the championship, right? But what kind of a conqueror doesn't have a flag?' Jorge's eyes began to twinkle. 'It has to be something really visual,' Jorge told Palau, taking on the idea. 'Imagine that in each race I stick a flag into the ground, as if I have conquered that land. Like Christopher Columbus when he arrived in America!' The design process was short, with Jorge's X-fuera logo the obvious choice, set on a black background - the colour used by pirates. And written in English, so that it would be understood all over the world, not just in Spain, would be those now famous words: 'Lorenzo's Land'.

The day of its first unfurling soon arrived. It was the Spanish Grand Prix at Jerez, known as 'The Cathedral' by local fans. Dani Palau headed for partisan territory - the section of track that features the 'Angel Nieto' and 'Peluqui' corners, where he would meet his friend if he won the race. 'I had goosebumps. You should have heard the noise from the crowd when Jorge stopped!' he recalls. There were 140,000 people packed into the grandstands at Jerez that day and they had been treated to an outstanding 250cc race: 'la carrera de los cuarenta y dos adelantamientos' ['the race with forty two overtakes']. Jorge Lorenzo savoured the moment. As he had done in 2006, he removed his helmet, got off his bike and punched the air to celebrate his second victory at Jerez. Then the flag appeared by his side. He took it and drove it deep into the gravel. Jerez had been conquered, the first circuit to be claimed as 'Lorenzo's Land'. A few weeks later he won again, in China, and again he planted the flag. However, unlike Jerez, this victory was his first in Shanghai. Nobody was going to stop him now.

"Now what's happening with Lorenzo? Oh, he's going to plant the flag, I think. Here we go! Or he's going to throw the flag. He's going to do something, but, eh... All the script we have in front of us, all the timings, goes out of the window when Lorenzo wins a 250cc race... so you can just, rustle up your papers, any scripts you've got, what's coming up next, disappears, because he delays everything. There we are. Plants the flag..."

Le Mans 2007

Lorenzo, who designs his own logos and comes up with fun things like the pirate flag he sticks in the sand at the circuit where he wins to "announce to everyone" that he has conquered "that land" , says that preparing for these celebrations is just another way of coping with the hard training he does and, above all, having the best time possible. "Looking for ideas for the parties I have at the circuits encourages me to win ," he said yesterday after his excellent victory over Dovizioso.

The Mallorcan, who did not hesitate to admit his mistake on a line and apologize to Dovi for the push he had given him ( "I'm very sorry, I went out too wide on a curve, I wanted to regain verticality too soon, get back on the right line and I crashed into him" ), yesterday came up with nothing better than to dress up his soulmate, Dani Palau, as Jorge Lorenzo, with whom he shares the entertainment of festive designs and games. Palau appeared on the lap of glory and tried to get his two-and-a-half-litre Aprilia and, as they had agreed, Lorenzo told him to go away, that the bike was his and that he was the owner of the winning machine. "We wanted to make a joke, implying that the double, which was him, Dani, represented the Lorenzo who had fallen on Friday and that the real one, that is, myself, was the one who had won the race."

Mugello 2007

Jorge was coming up with more ideas for celebrations than he could use, and that was probably a good thing because some of them would have got him into more trouble than they were worth. Like the one that involved him wearing an Andrea Dovizioso mask. 'We've still got the mask but Andrea would have had to do something really bad to me to warrant getting it out ... though he'd better ‘watch it!' smiles Jorge. Another one that failed to get past the ideas stage was for Valencia, the final race of 2007. Jorge had already claimed the title and, after being criticised all year for using the 'Lorenzo's Land' flag instead of the Spanish one, planned to go completely over the top, using not only the Spanish flag but dressing up' as a bullfighter. Maybe it was a good thing he only managed seventh. The celebrations he did get to use became ever more elaborate and meticulously planned. He would scour the circuit for the best comer, with the best camera angle and the best view for the fans. Jorge had decided that each celebration should have something to do with the country he was in, and in Italy a friend, Jordi Ohva, who worked for Dorna [the commercial and television rights holders for MotoGP] gave him an idea. 'In Italy they've nicknamed you "Spaniard". The commentator on Italian television has started calling you that.''"Spaniard"? Why?''Because you are like a gladiator and that's what they call the main character played by Russell Crowe in the movie Gladiator.' Maximus Decimus Meridius was a Roman general born in Merida, Spain. He lived in the second century and since this was the second year of domination by a Spaniard in the 250cc class then what better way for Lorenzo to celebrate victory in the Italian GP than by dressing up as his namesake? 'In fact, the idea of doing something historical came after watching 300 with Marcos,' explains Jorge, 'We watched the film again with Palau, the three of us talked about it and we decided we wanted to do something related to the Battle of Thermopylae. It was while we were looking for a King Leonidas suit that we came across a Gladiator outfit. That coincided with me finding out what [Italian television commentator] Guido Meda was calling me.' The wheels were quickly put in motion. like any good media relations manager, Pere Gurt sourced an exact replica of the costume worn by Russell Crowe in the film, which was owned by an agency in Madrid. It cost 600 euros a week to rent and the sword was extra. It was kept in a corner of the garage at Mugello, where Dani Palau devoutly guarded it from the inquisitive eyes of journalists who were already wondering what Lorenzo had up his sleeve if he won this one. On race day Palau headed for the comer where they'd agreed to meet if a miracle should happen. Jorge was starting from 20th on the grid, but he still had his sights set on victory. Everybody knows what happened next. On the big screens around the circuit, Palau watched his friend slide into the gravel after colliding with Bautista. He jumped onto his scooter and raced to fetch him, sword, breastplate, helmet, 'Lorenzo's Land' flag and all. The Italian fans spotted the props and, despite Jorge's popularity there, Dani could hear them laughing and shouting insults. The mediocre can be unforgiving when a winner falls from his perch. 'The preparations were perfect, but unfortunately the race wasn't!'

Catalunya 2007

You have to be very confident in your abilities to appear on the starting grid, having previously asked two friends to dress like you, to wait for you at a strategic point during the lap of honour and to take out some guitars so you can emulate your favourite band in front of 112,600 spectators. That was how Jorge Lorenzo celebrated his fifth victory of the season at Montmeló, giving a concert on the track and another one off it, microphone in hand, as a tribute to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and to make up for his fall at Mugello a week ago. This time, the Mallorcan needed two stunt doubles at his side for his performance, and those who dressed as him were Dani Palau, his webmaster and the same one he used at Le Mans, and Ricard Cardús, a CEV driver and Carlos' nephew.

Looking back on his performance, it could be said that the most critical moment was the start, when Thomas Luthi had taken the lead on the first corner. 'Por Fuera' did not back down, he lived up to his nickname and made an epic outside turn. That was the only thing that really cost him, or so it seemed from the sidelines, because he later said that it had been a difficult race. Maybe he said that because he still had in mind the blunder in Italy, that fall on the last corner when Álvaro Bautista overtook him. Whatever the reason, he was exultant and at the end of the podium ceremony he dared to take the speaker's microphone to address the public. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asked from the top of the podium. And he continued: "I know that some of you liked me and others didn't, but I don't care. You are Spanish like me and I love you! Thank you."

The trio completed a recce of Montmelo on Thursday and Friday and performed a rehearsal at the corner of choice, in front of the stadium section. I told them, "When we're playing here, I want you to jump around like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Go on YouTube, have a look at the videos and learn the dance moves," ' recalls Jorge. 'But the bastards ignored me!' For one magic moment Jorge, Dani and Ricky were no longer Lorenzo, Palau and Cardus. They weren't even three Lorenzos, dancing and singing like maniacs in front of 100,000 people. They were Anthony Kiedis, Flea and John Frusciante. Only Chad Smith was missing on drums, otherwise they would have been the real Chilis. 'I wanted there to be four of us, like the real Chilis, and I was going to ask Ricky's older brother Jordi to join in but there weren't any more leathers in my size. Also, getting a drum kit onto the track would have been a nightmare!'

Donington, Assen, Sachsenring 2007

After Catalunya came the British GP and before travelling there they went to dinner with a racing friend, Xavi Ledesma - the owner of the Fortuna Team hospitality unit and one of Jorge's closest friends in 2005, as well as being the organiser of the Copa Aprilia when he first started racing Xavi told them that the tradition in England was to drink tea in the afternoon. No sooner said than done. They went out and bought a tea tray, complete with teapot, cups and spoons. Palau planned to sit at a table at the Melbourne Loop, dressed as a waiter in a tuxedo and crash helmet. All Jorge had to do was turn up, rest his feet and have a drink. Oh, and win the race. Unfortunately, the final and most crucial part of the plan started to go wrong in the warm-up because, as is well known, rain is as traditional at Donington as tea. Despite the heavy downpour, Jorge produced a great performance - he was having the best wet race of his career. 'Shall I go out or not?' thought Dani halfway through the race. His buddy was running in second place behind Dovizioso. He had to have faith. 'If you have any doubt, something is bound to go wrong,' says Jorge. 'Whenever I have felt sure I would win I have won, but if there has been any kind of doubt I've lost, come second, or something has happened. That is what the brain is like.' And just as Palau made his mind up and went to load up the scooter with props, Jorge hit the deck. That was one cuppa that was hard to swallow. Jorge's next celebration was enjoyed by the Spanish fans, although it was on a Saturday rather than a Sunday. The Dutch are a bit different in everything, even their racing, and since 1949 the TT at Assen has always taken place on a Saturday. Jorge knew exactly what he was going to do if he won. He wanted to copy the thousands of locals by riding a pushbike. They rehearsed their routine at two or three different comers. 'This place is best. How far will you ride the bike? Will you be able to cycle in boots?' Every minute detail was taken care of. 'We'd practised in that area where Valentino sat when he won the MotoGP race, the bit that looks like a target. I was going to leave my Aprilia and the pushbike would be in the middle of the circle. We thought of it before Rossi!' Suddenly, he changed his mind. On his return to the pit garage he realised that there was a stage, all set up right next to the track, because just by the final chicane that leads into the start-finish straight there is a VIP terrace. It was the perfect place - and not only that, there was a television camera directly opposite.

'We could sit down and have a drink,' Jorge told Dani. The fact he'd missed out on his cup of tea at Donington a few days earlier still irked him, so it was all hands on deck. The owners of the terrace had to be consulted and asked for permission. Initially they weren't too keen because there are no fences there and it is easy for people to get out and access pit lane. For that reason, a huge deposit has to be paid to hire the area, which the circuit organisers retain if there are any problems. In the end they realised it was a Lorenzo celebration and they went along with it. This time Jorge backed up his plans with a dominant victory. However, having left his bike propped against the fence before climbing over the tyre wall and on to the terrace, he was swamped by punters taking photographs and the television cameras lost him in the melee. 'On top of that, the bar owner was a complete opportunist and he got a bunch of people to hold up an advertisement! It was a disaster.' Even though not much could be seen on the television, it was clear that Jorge's double had returned and that they'd gone to have a drink together. But why? Jorge was happy to provide the answer in pare ferme. 'After the crash at Donington, somebody [Dovizioso] had suggested I was getting nervous. So I sipped on a herbal tea.' Some time later Dani Palau insisted that the initial idea was to drink a glass of water but, as at Le Mans, Jorge was thinking on his feet and he was eager to hit back at Dovizioso. 'Sometimes that happens to me. I get really good ideas on the spur of the moment. Other times I really have to think things through for them to work out. But sometimes I get a flash of inspiration.'

Jorge finished fourth in Germany but there were no plans for a celebration even if he'd won. He was worried about the joke wearing thin. 'You have to keep people guessing. It is good to have an element of the unexpected. If we did it every time it wouldn't be funny any more. The truth is that I like things to be complete and maybe I would have continued the celebrations race after race but I let them convince me. It was good to have a break.' The summer holidays were approaching and they wanted to leave the fans gagging for more. To be fair, I have to say that I can't always put on a big celebration because I need helpers and Palau didn't come to every race. For the ones outside Europe we had a much smaller group.' There were no celebrations in the Czech Republic either, but this time for a different reason. Nobody at Motorsport48 was in the mood for a party. Dani Amatriain's assistant, Esther Serra, had just lost her brother, Marc. Jorge won but conducted a silent parade of his now obligatory 'Lorenzo's Land' flag in honour of the family. 'The problem with the celebrations is that it gets harder and harder to come up with something original, with meaning, that isn't just plain stupid,' says Jorge. 'Ideas are finite. We had something planned for Portugal but I'd prefer to keep it to myself - I might use it in the future. We also wanted to do something with animals but are they allowed on the track? We planned to get Datil, my mum's dog, a set of made-to-measure leathers but imagine if we brought him out and he had a shit on the track! That'd cause a scene!' Jorge fell about laughing as his imagination took over. 'It's a shame Marcos doesn't come to more races because we could dress him up as Shrek! Ha, ha!'

Misano 2007

From that moment on, Jorge defended his first place, riding alone and maintaining a calm margin over the second, who ended up being the Japanese Aoyama, after first catching his teammate Kallio, who fell next, and then Héctor Barberá, who added his third podium of the year. Lorenzo is now 50 points ahead and celebrated by doing a lap of honour dressed as a Roman gladiator. De Angelis is second after finishing a disappointing fifth in what was his Grand Prix.

Jorge toyed with the idea of wearing his new outfit [the gladiator costume he had been mocked for at Mugello] if he won at the GP of Catalunya but eventually decided that revenge is a dish best served cold and it was better to wait. The season would give him plenty of opportunities to settle the score and the Italian fans would have no choice but to bow down before him like a Roman general. Every great film has unforgettable lines that are often repeated by film buffs. This one from Gladiator suited Jorge down to the ground. My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius . . . commander of the armies of the north . . . general of the Felix Legions . . . loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius . . . father to a murdered son ... husband to a murdered wife ... and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next. 'What a well-chosen phrase!' Lorenzo must have thought. Italy owed him one and he was going back to collect his dues. It wasn't to be in that first race on Italian soil, but he was determined to get his revenge in the second. He rented the outfit again, waving goodbye to another 600 euros, but this wasn't about the money. This was a question of honour. He didn't know the circuit, because there hadn't been a GP there since 1993, and although he had visited Misano once, when he'd signed for Derbi in 2002, he was only 15 then and not old enough to actually ride. None of that mattered now, because he went out and won. And on top of that, Dovizioso broke down. Jordi Perez and Cheni Martinez raced out onto the track to dress their man. They'd already discussed with Race Direction and the television directors where the best place would be for the celebration in terms of safety and maximum exposure. Jorge didn't want to take the outfit off - not when he stepped on to the podium, or when he sprayed the champagne. He even kept it on for the press conference. He clearly wanted to recoup his investment, but above all he wanted to enjoy the moment. He felt like the king of the world. ' "Now THAT was legendary," Guido Meda told me.' "

Sepang 2007

Dovizioso responded to remain in Lorenzo’s slipstream as the duo were caught by KTM team-mates Hiroshi Aoyama and Mika Kallio, plus Hector Barbera. The five battled until the penultimate lap when Dovizioso’s wafer-thin title hopes were ended as Mika Kallio took him out in an out-braking move. Hiroshi Aoyama inherited the lead and kept it to the flag from Barbera and Lorenzo. As Kallio remounted to finish fourth ahead of Tomas Luthi, Andrea Dovizioso remounted to cross the line eleventh. Meanwhile Jorge Lorenzo was celebrating keeping the 250cc world championship in a boxer’s gold-coloured gown and gloves, and picking up a fake championship belt in parc ferme.

Jorge won his second 250cc World Championship at the Malaysian Grand Prix with one race to spare, to top off an outstanding 2007 season. And what better way to celebrate in style than by looking way back to the very first race of the year in Qatar, when Jorge recovered the 'eye of the tiger'? His antics in 2007 had made him the leading contender for the title of paddock showman left vacant by Valentino Rossi in a season when the Italian had little to celebrate. It's clear by now that Jorge is up for a challenge and a second 250cc World Championship title was enough of an excuse for him to stake his claim, as the leading heavyweight in 'motorshowbusiness'. On this occasion it wasn't actually one of his own ideas, but he made it his own as soon as it left the lips of Marcos Hirsch. Having started the season training like Rocky Balboa and trying to recover the 'eye of the tiger', he took the title in Malaysia (coincidentally a country the famous Italian novelist Emilio Salgari referred to as the 'land of the tigers' ) and there was only one way to celebrate - as the new CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOOORLD! That box in the corner of the garage at Plulhp Island contained a story all of its own. Jorge and Marcos's initial idea was to set up a boxing match between the two of them, in which Jorge would knock Marcos out. The idea was that I had to beat a heavyweight. And boy is he heavy!' laughs Jorge. When I'd dressed as Jorge at Valencia the previous year, the message was that he had grown up,' explains Marcos. 'This time it was a case of demonstrating that he was capable of anything. Even knocking out somebody twice his height and weight, like me!' Another of Jorge's ideas was for Marcos to grow his hair like Don King, the world's most famous boxing promoter. In the end the celebration wasn't exactly as Jorge and Marcos had planned, partly because the Brazilian trainer was unable to make the trip to Malaysia.

The final idea came about after a conversation between Jorge and Marcos after which the 'celebration panel' of Jorge, Dani Palau and Pere Gurt set things in motion. They went on the Internet to download information about the Clint Eastwood film Million Dollar Baby and then researched other famous boxers like Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield, Oscar De La Eioya and Julio Cesar Chavez. Once they had decided on a look they set about sourcing the outfit. Esther Serra was sent to a fabric shop in Barcelona, which is where they encountered their first setback. They didn't have any gold fabric for the hooded cloak - only black - and if that shop didn't have it, it was difficult to imagine anywhere else that would. But necessity is the mother of invention and somebody suddenly remembered that the covers used to unveil Jorge's Apiilia RSW250 at the start of the season had been gold. Problem solved! Now it was a case of putting the whole outfit together. They'd found a blue cloak in a Barcelona boxing shop, and picked up a gum shield at the same time. There were some fruitless trips to fancy dress shops. It was time to get the family involved... Pere Gurt called his mother, Rosa Casas, and her friend, Carme Armengol. After much protest, which fell on deaf ears, the pair reluctantly accepted the assignment and, as a result, MotoGP ended up with two more avid fans - to the point where they would get up at 5am to watch Jorge race in Australia.

A world championship belt needed to be found at the same time, so the team got in touch with the Spanish Boxing Federation (FEB), who recommended 'Charlie's', a specialist shop in Madrid. Bingo! Not only did they have a belt, they also had a pair of golden gloves. The only problem was that the belt featured the Dutch flag, but Esther wasted no time in having the red, white and blue colours replaced with a logo designed by Dani PalaWeb that read: 'Loren Show II'. In the end Jorge didn't use the gum shield, but there's a little story about that too. When Juan Llansa saw it he said there was no point: 'That is a shit gum shield. You need one made to measure!' Juanito knew what he was talking about - he'd not only seen plenty of riders use them over his 20 years in motorcycle racing, but also his daughter, Zaida Llansa, was the 2001 Kata [a form of martial arts] World Champion. As soon as he landed in Australia he looked on the Internet for a martial arts shop near Phillip Island. He bought the silicone, warmed it in boiling water and made Jorge bite it for a made-to-measure gum shield. Lorenzo still decided not to use it for the celebrations, but Juanito saved it just in case Jorge decided he needed one for MotoGP. 'He never wore one in 125cc and 250cc but I've saved it just in case he really needs to grit his teeth in MotoGP!' Llansa laughed. Everything was prepared as quickly as possible because there wasn't much time. Jorge quickly became impatient: 'Pere, how's the cloak coming along?' 'Don't worry about it.' 'If it's going to be shit just leave it and we'll think of something else.' 'Trust me. I don't doubt your work, so don't doubt mine.' It was almost time to leave and everything was ready. Cheni Martinez picked up the outfit and went to meet Jorge at the Hotel Barcelo-Sants gym in Barcelona for a dress rehearsal. He had to try everything on before leaving for Melbourne. In the car on the way to the airport Jorge received a call. It was Pere. 'How is it?' 'Pffff. It's not that bad.' Pere Gurt hung up with a smile. 'We've done it,' he thought.

The box remained unopened in Australia, of course, but in Malaysia the surprise was unleashed. The hardest-hitting World Champion in racing was about to be crowned and the character of Rocky Balboa represented the strength he'd displayed to overcome his own limitations and fears. Jorge Lorenzo had not only clinched his second world title, he'd proved to himself and to the world that he could do anything, as a rider and as a person. And then he and the clan treated the public to their most memorable celebration yet. His friends, headed by Juanito Llansa, waited for him with the boxer's outfit that Lorenzo wanted to wear to mirror his battling performances on the track that season — the cloak, gloves and belt of a World Champion, made out of gold fabric and with a logo on the back, hand sewn by Pere Gurt's mother and her neighbour. It simply read: Loren Show II. World Champion 2007. The 'Lorenzo's Land' flag had fluttered at seven different circuits during the year, but this time it was the Spanish flag that an emotional Lorenzo drove into Malaysian soil, in the final turn of the Sepang International Circuit. The whole act had been Jorge's tribute to 'the eye of the tiger', the winning attitude of Rocky Balboa that he'd adopted as his own. All the knock-out blows to his rivals during the season had given him just cause for celebration. Celebrations are often forgotten the following day, as soon as the outfits and props have been returned, but not this time. The World Championship gown and gloves will always remain part of Jorge's life.. 'One day I returned home to find that my mother had prepared a surprise. She had redecorated my bedroom and there it was, my gold outfit, hung on the wall, looking magical.' Some people think Jorge Lorenzo is simply copying Valentino Rossi, the originator of post-race victory celebrations, in order to enhance his own image. Others feel that perhaps he takes things too far, or they may view the Lorenzo antics rather more favourably. Jorge will continue to hope they're accepted for what they are: harmless, innocent fun but always with a moral to the 'story'. There's no doubt, though, that he will have something to say if other riders start copying him...

Jorge Lorenzo and 250cc celebrations

Lorenzo is authentic, reject imitations (2007); Shanghai race commentary (2007); A recital by Jorge Lorenzo to forget about Mugello (2007); Lorenzo 'Gladiator' conquers Misano and caresses the title (2007); Sepang MotoGP: Jorge Lorenzo is 2007 250cc GP champion, Hiroshi Aoyama wins race (2007); Jorge Lorenzo: My Story So Far (2010)

[grapecaseschoices]

once again, i think it is so very fucking strange to include a route/path in an INTERACTIVE book and the maximum exploration of it is '????? welp i don't know! ???' in a scooby doo voice.

there is no reason why a resistant detective not be allowed options as to WHY they're resistant to start a relationship with N or F (and I say this as a huge F-fan who agrees when the narrative is like 'why am I doing this?' yes why are you resisting the hot adorable one??). If this journey is given, then I - as the player - should be allowed to explore it as fully as the game/writer's skills allow.

And I know this isn't as far the game/writer's skills allow, because we are granted variations on how to treat a past with Bobby and a future with Douglas, we can decide on our relationship with the Captain and the Mayor - side characters to varying degrees - but we CAN'T choose why the detective might be hesitant to start something as important as a ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP with MAIN CHARACTERS???

make it make sense to me.

please. i beg.

[gibbearish]

idk, its just. like. a person comes up to you with their heart cradled in their hands. says it is broken, says it hurts. places it in your hands, asks you to please make it stop and trusts you to fix it. wouldnt you be scared, too? wouldn't you be haunted by visions of you tripping and shattering it beyond repair, of driving the thing thats hurting them even further down so that maybe no one can ever get it out, of someone in their deepest darkest moment trusting you with their life and you fucking it up? how could that ever feel like anything but defusing a bomb? trust is such a valuable thing, a powerful thing, a delicate thing, and the more you have the more you get given and the more careful you have to be with it because what if someday you drop it and break it and it turns out you never should have been given it in the first place. wouldnt you be scared?

[floral-hex]

no see I WILL write something eventually, I haven’t been putting it off, I’ve just been uhhhhh cultivating the story for a couple of years yeah yeah

[hedgehog-moss]

Last spring my neighbour asked if I could let Pirlouit mow the grass around his barn from time to time, which Pirou was happy to do at first but if I left him there several days in a row he got pretty sad about being alone (lots of wistful, melancholy braying). So this year when my donkey was hired for this job again, I went for a different formula: for the past few weeks I've been bringing all the animals to the neighbour's barn for an hour of landscaping services now and then at apéritif time.

The fence is extremely not Pampe-proof so I have to have my apéritif while sitting on the road in a strategic position from which I can toss a stick in her direction if she tries to escape, but other than that I've been really enjoying this peaceful evening ritual, just sitting there reading and watching the animals while feeling like I'm doing my neighbour a favour. Pirlouit doesn't get all the grass to himself anymore but I've learnt that he prefers to be rich in friends than in food.

You'll notice that Merricat is present in every photo, looking alert. She too has been hired, but for the thankless job of Thought Police. She may look like she's just napping on the warm asphalt with not a care in the world...

... but she is working! Keeping an eye on the llamas, always.

I've discovered that in a specific context my three cats can act as precogs and warn me of Pampe's future crimes. My theory is that they developed this skill because of Poldine, who loves cats. Any cat who enters the pasture will soon be noticed and (lovingly) chased by Poldine, who wants kisses. Cats not only do not want llama kisses, they don't differentiate between individual llamas. They are all potential kissers. So even if it looks like she's all relaxed, Merricat is constantly monitoring where the llamas are and what they seem to be planning. If we are on the other side of a fence and Pampe approaches it a bit too slyly, Merricat will jump to her feet, ready to flee (and I will toss one of my anti-Pampe sticks, and say NON.)

Merricat and I are a very good team! We've foiled several of Pampe's plots, but we need to be on the road for Merricat to remain wary (if we were in the pen Pampe's escape attempts would involve getting away from us and the cat wouldn't care.) Cars are rare so it's okay (plus it's so quiet you can always hear them coming), and on the few occasions when someone showed up and asked why I was having apéritif on the road, I pointed at Pampe and they were like, "Ah! Didn't see her here. Good luck!"

"Hedgehog-moss, you're exaggerating. Pampe can't be that—"

She is! She is. And she always seems to notice when Merricat is on a bathroom break and I'm absorbed in a book.

There was one evening though, when she got distracted by a fascinating new idea. I don't claim to know what's going on in this llama's head (except when she's looking at a fence, then it's easy) but as you can see, once I brought the animals to the barn Poldine started eating flowers, Pirlouit started eating grass, and Pampe started eating the wall.

After a moment she slowly circled the barn, then stopped and lay down right next to it, settling down in a comfortable position but with focused ears and her head still turned towards the wall. It was suspicious behaviour, but on the other hand she now looked so uninterested in the road that I decided to take a risk and run home to bring back some dinner—and she didn't move while I was away! I even brought Pandolf, who is usually banned from these soirées because he would disturb my Merricat alarm system. He was happy to be finally included.

It's unclear if Pampe was eating the wall, talking to the wall, or carefully examining various parts of the wall as Step 1 of 27 of a complex plan only she understands, but she stuck close to the barn all evening instead of lying in wait by the fence so I was able to have a picnic in the grass rather than on the road, which felt more bucolic. I know that "Pampérigouste has a new, mysterious project" is a worrying sentence but at this early stage (feasibility study) it felt to me and Merricat like a little holiday!

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[kathaynesart]

The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!

One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!

We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.

With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.

The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.

Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.

Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!

[occudo]

An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore

-beacuse of this ask

(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey

Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.

enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing

Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!

to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.

Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art

You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!

Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.

And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove

A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home

neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding

To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.

Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3

"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs

So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!

Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda

Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~

(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)

There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)

I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon x niece! reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter) smut please! Aegon has always been in love with her and manages to convince Alicent and Viserys to let him marry her. The reader is just as in love and when they get married, thwir wedding night is full of love and passion and 🫦. Aegon hugging her tight while fucking her and reader whimpering and moaning in his ear 🤌🏽

I received so many requests these past days and got inspiration for a lot of them (14!!), so expect more very soon <3 I'm trying to include everything (smut, angst, action)

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p + v, loss of virginity

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Standing in the Great Sept of Baelor, your eyes couldn’t stray from Aegon. Blood was dripping slowly from his bottom lip after being cut after being cut and smeared on his forehead. His frizzy hair had been tamed and the cold of his clothes made the blue of his eyes stand out. 

A dagger was handed to you to cut your palm with. You hissed slightly, watching as blood seeped out. You held your hand away from your pretty dress, not wishing to dirty it with blood, then passed the dagger to Aegon who did the same. He clasped his hand with yours, your blood mingled together as a blood silk was wrapped over your joined hands. 

Queen Alicent wanted Aegon to marry following the Faith of the Seven, but he insisted on Valyrian tradition as the bond by blood was unbreakable. 

‘’Blood of two, joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time or darkness and light,’’ the officiant said, reading from an old book. 

Aegon could feel his heart racing. He couldn’t wait to call you his wife, to walk around court with your arm looped around his. And to no longer have a chaperon following you everywhere. It was so annoying. The only times you were able to be alone together was when you would elope on your dragons. 

If your parents thought a chaperon would stop you from sharing kisses and letting your hands wander to places they should not be, they were mistaken. 

The officiant finally allowed you to kiss, and every part of Aegon ached to shove his tongue into your mouth and kiss the life out of you in front of everyone. But he restrained himself, settling for a kiss that would be just enough to make your cheeks flush. 

When the ceremony came to an end, everyone was bright back to the Keep. You rode a carriage with Aegon and your little brother, Joffrey, which you suspected was a scheme by your parents to make sure no sexual activities would happen in the carriage. 

Aegon's hand was resting on your thigh, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. ‘’This is so frustrating. They really did this on purpose, didn't they?’’ 

‘’It’s not entirely a bad thing. I wouldn’t want you to crease or stain my dress before the feast,’’ you said, smoothing the shimmery white fabric of your dress as you fawned over the gold embroideries. You had never seen a more beautiful gown.  

Aegon smiled smugly, thinking back to your last dragon ride together and the kisses you shared in the clearing…and his hand that slipped into your riding pants. ‘’Little does these fools know, we’ve played them before.’’ Smirking, he leaned in again. ‘’You know what kind of effect you have on me, wearing that dress. Especially knowing what's underneath.’’ He gave your thigh a little squeeze, his hand starting to move upwards just for a moment.

You quickly covered his hand with your own, stopping him. ‘’Stop it. Not here.’’ 

You looked over and saw Joffrey sitting on the opposite seat. Luckily, the boy was too preoccupied staring out the window to notice anything.

A sigh left your husband’s lips. ‘’I don’t want to wait until tonight. I won’t be able to.’’ 

Thankfully, the journey to the Red Keep was short. The doors to the carriage were opened and Aegon stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you out. He took a moment to let his eyes roam over your body, his gaze hungry. Before he could say anything, you pulled him towards the castle and to the throne room where the festivities would be held. Inside, the room was decked out with gold drapes and beautiful flowers — nothing less for a royal wedding. 

The music began as you and Aegon made your first entrance together, your arm linked to his. He had promised to not let you fall in front of the lord and ladies. The guests cheered as you both made your way down the grand aisle, to the large table where your families stood, waiting for you to begin the feast.

As the night went on, you danced and ate cake and indulged in more wine that you would allow yourself to help with the nerves later. You were dancing with Helaena and laughing when you felt an arm snake around your waist and wet lips on your neck.  

You leaned into Aegon’s chest and Helaena took this as her cue to find another dance partner. 

‘’Do you think they will notice if we leave the festivities early?’’ he whispered in your ear, having enough of this feast and wanting to be alone with you. 

You glanced around, searching for your parents. They seemed all involved in conversations with other lords and ladies, but one last pair of eyes was on you: Otto Hightower. Since he caught you kissing in an alcove when you were five and ten, he had been following you and Aegon like a hawk, disproving of your courtship.  

‘’If you can find a way to escape your grandsire, I’ll follow you,’’ you replied. 

Aegon’s laughter mixed with yours as you were running to Megor’s Holdfast where the royal chambers were. It felt like all the times you slipped away from court together to avoid being caught.  

As soon as the door of Aegon’s chambers closed, his lips were on yours and his hands were all over you, grabbing and pulling with a hunger that made your pulse race. The urgency in his movements left you breathless, your body responding instinctively to his touch. 

Clothes were taken off in haste, allowing your lips to kiss more skin. You threw your head back and moaned softly, nails sinking into Aegon's milky skin as he kissed down your neck and to your bared breasts, giving them the attention he's dreamed of. 

‘’Aegon, please,’’ you whimpered, feeling his erect cock prod at your lower stomach. 

He pressed a last kiss to your nipple and nodded, walking you back to his bed. You crawled up to the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Aegon joined you, hovering over you, and studying your flushed face for a moment, before he bent down to kiss your lips again.

You were thankful that your mother had opposed the humiliation of a bedding ceremony. You would never have been able to relax under the eyes of men standing around the bed, waiting for blood to mark the sheets. 

While you were distracted by his kiss, Aegon moved a hand between your bodies to play with your cunt a little, helping you relax and prepare you for his cock. His girth was larger than the fingers he’s inserted before and he didn’t want to hurt you. 

It would be a lie to say you didn't feel anything when he slid into you. The pain was unlike anything you felt before. Seeing the tears prick in your eyes and your pained face, Aegon was quick to sooth you with sweet words until the pain subsided. 

His first thrusts were slow and overwhelming. It was a kind of pleasure you never experienced before. 

‘’I love you, Aegon,’’ you said, seeing stars when he reached a particular spot.

He kissed you sweetly. ‘’I love you.’’ 

You hugged him tight while he moved his hips, his ears blessed by your whimpers and moans.  

A chill blew from the windows, refreshing the warm air after your entercourse. You shivered, clinging to Aegon under the sheets. He closed his eyes, ready for a night of sleep, when your voice stirred him.

‘’Can we do it again?’’ you asked in a whisper, your head resting on his chest while bathing in the afterglow.  

Aegon grinned at the ceiling, thanking the gods for giving him a wife that was just as horny as him.

—

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[smileysuh]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. ���What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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