#walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn

[gerlionrise]

A Game Within the Game P3

Hwang In-ho (player 001) x reader Synopsis: In-ho heals your wound, tells the truth, and tries to make you completely his own. This is part 3. Part 2 is here.

You woke up in a bed. It was soft, far too soft, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. The room was dimly lit, a warm glow from a single bedside lamp casting long shadows across the luxurious furniture. The sheets were crisp and expensive, the kind you’d only ever seen in catalogues or movies. Your body ached—sharp pain lancing through your side as you tried to sit up. You froze, memories flooding back. The games. The chaos. The sound of the gunshot.

Your breath quickened as panic clawed at your throat. This wasn’t the dorm, wasn’t the arena, and certainly wasn’t anywhere you recognized. Where were you? Were you dead? 

The door creaked open. 

You turned sharply, your muscles protesting the sudden movement. There he was—001. But he looked different. This man stood tall, composed, and sharp, dressed in simple black sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt that highlighted a lean strength you hadn’t noticed before. His face was calm, but his eyes… they were heavier now, like they carried the weight of a thousand secrets. 

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice gentle but unsettlingly firm. He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“What is this? Where am I?” Your voice came out shaky, trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“You won,” he replied, walking closer.

His words landed like a punch to the gut. You blinked, your mind scrambling to piece everything together. “What do you mean I won? What happened? Where—where is everyone else?”

“They’re gone,” he said simply, standing at the foot of the bed now. “It’s over. The games are finished.”

Your stomach twisted. “The last thing I remember—there was a mistake. I made a mistake. I should be dead.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “No,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up fully now, ignoring the sharp protest of your body. “You’re not making any sense.”

He sighed, his calm demeanor slipping for just a moment. He looked almost… tired. “I need you to know something,” he said, more to himself than to you. 

“I need to know what?” Your voice rose, cracking with desperation. 

He hesitated, just for a moment, before meeting your gaze head-on. “My name is Hwang In-ho,” he said, his tone steady. “I’m not just Player 001. I’m the Frontman, the Host of these games, of all of this,” he said pointing his finger around, hinting that we were still in the territory where the games take place.

The words didn’t register at first. They hung in the air, heavy and incomprehensible. “What?” you whispered, shaking your head. “What are you talking about? Are you joking with me?”

“I’m not,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve been the host of these games for years. I was there before you ever signed up.” 

Your blood ran cold. “This is mad,” you said, your voice trembling. “No, that’s not possible. You were with us. You were in the games. You—”

“I joined the games for you after the first game,” he interrupted, his tone sharp now, cutting through your denial. “You were the reason I entered.”

The room spun around you. “You’re lying,” you said again, but the conviction in your voice was gone. 

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I made sure you survived. Every step of the way, I was there. Guiding you. Protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” you repeated, your voice rising in disbelief. “You killed people! You let them die!”

“It’s my job.” His voice was cold now, his eyes narrowing. “Just like yours was to play the games.” The anger burned through your veins, hot and undeniable. You forced yourself to your feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in your side. Before he could react, you raised your hand and slapped him, hard. The sharp sound echoed through the room, and for a brief moment, his head tilted slightly to the side, his cheek reddening. 

Hwang In-ho didn’t retaliate. He didn’t flinch. He only sighed, meeting your gaze with calm, unshaken patience. 

“You’re a murderer, a fucking psychopath” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“I didn’t use you,” he replied evenly, his tone quiet but firm. “You chose this.”

“Chose this?” You laughed bitterly, gesturing wildly at the room, at him. “I didn’t choose to trust a monster! I trusted you. I cried into your shoulder, told you how scared I was, and you—” Your voice cracked as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill. “You were the reason for it all.”

“I won’t apologize,” he said, his voice unwavering. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you hissed, stepping back as though the distance could somehow dull the betrayal you felt. 

“I understand why you’re angry,” he said, his posture as calm as always, “And I expected this. I knew you wouldn’t take the truth easily, but I didn’t want to hurt you. That was never my intention.”

“Then what was your intention, In-ho?” you demanded. “Why let me go through all of this? I saw good people, people I liked, get killed!”

“To keep you alive,” he said simply. “To make sure you won.”

You shook your head, disbelief twisting in your chest. “And what now? What happens now? I'm sure I'm here for a reason right now, am I?”

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “I want you to do more than just take your winnings. I want you to stay here.”

You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. “What?” 

“I want you to become a co-host of these games” he said, his tone steady. “To work with me. To help run the games.”

Your stomach churned. “You want me to help you kill people?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped even closer, his expression unreadable. “You’ve seen it for yourself,” he said cupping your cheek with his hand. “How people turn on each other. How they’re willing to destroy one another for money. You’ve seen how disgusting humanity can be. You’ve felt it.”

You opened your mouth to argue but faltered. His words hit a nerve. The memories of what you’d witnessed—of the desperation, the betrayal, the violence—flashed in your mind, unbidden. 

“I’m not like you,” you said quietly, moving away from him.

 “No,” his gaze steady. “No, you’re not,” he left something unsaid.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered. 

“But you stayed. You fought. And now, you’ve won.”

You stared at him, your anger faltering as his words sank in. 

“You don’t have to decide now,” he said after a moment, his tone softening again. “You’re hurt. You need time to recover. And while you’re here, you’ll have plenty of time to think. You’ll see for yourself that there’s nothing for you out there.”

“There’s no point in going back?” you said bitterly, repeating his words.

“You know it’s true,” he replied. “You told me that yourself one night — you had nothing. No one. That’s why you joined the games in the first place. Out of boredom, out of hopelessness.” 

You flinched, the truth of his words hitting harder than you wanted to admit. 

“Stay,” he said softly, stepping closer yet again. “Stay, and I’ll show you that you don’t need to go back. You have everything you need here.”

Tears stung your eyes as the weight of his words crushed down on you. “Why?” you choked out. “Why would you do this? Why would you let me go through all of that? Why did you let me live?”

His expression softening. “You remind me of someone,” he said quietly.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. "You’re delusional if you think I’m that person." 

He didn’t say anything to this. 

Finally, you mustered the strength to ask the question that had been burning in your mind. “Why did the guard shоot me? You said you were protecting me. Then why did it happen?”

His expression hardened for a brief moment, but then he sighed. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “It’s been handled. Now rest,” he turned around to leave the room

You stared at him leaving, a storm of emotions swirling inside you. The room was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid.

—

For the next two days, you didn’t see Hwang In-ho at all. The only people you encountered were the silent guards in their oppressive pink uniforms, coming in at scheduled intervals to check on your recovery or patch you up when necessary. Each time they entered the room, you felt a wave of panic, memories of the last game rushing back—how one of them had pointed a gun at you and shot. 

You tried asking them questions, trying to understand what their purpose was, why they were here, and how they could participate in something so monstrous. But their silence was infuriating. They didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge your words. It was as though you were speaking to statues. 

In the meantime, you explored the space where you were being kept. It looked like an apartment, sprawling yet suffocating, with no windows. The walls were sleek and minimalist, the furnishings modern and expensive. It felt more like a gilded cage than a refuge.

Every day, fresh clothes were brought to you. You could tell they were expensive, tailored to your size and style, but you didn’t care for most of them. You stuck to a simple outfit: black shorts that hugged your legs comfortably and a matching black V-neck top. It was practical and unassuming, the only semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

You asked the guards repeatedly where In-ho was. “Where is your host? Where is he hiding?” you’d say. The only response you got was the vague assurance that he had “things to do.”  

“Things to do? For days?” you muttered angrily, frustrated by their cryptic responses and his absence. You couldn’t understand why he would leave you alone here.

---

On the third day after you had been shot, you found yourself in the kitchen. It was like the rest of the apartment—sleek black counters, matte surfaces, and every kind of appliance imaginable. You busied yourself by rummaging through the cabinets, not because you were hungry, but because it gave you something to do. 

Then, the door opened, and In-ho walked in. 

He was dressed casually, in black slacks and a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His presence filled the room instantly, his calm yet commanding energy unsettling you. He glanced at you briefly before walking to the counter. 

“Where have you been?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended. 

“I was finishing up the games,” he replied without emotion, opening the refrigerator to pull out a bottle.

“Getting rid of the bodies?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he busied himself preparing a drink, the soft clink of ice breaking the tension in the air. You could feel his quiet disapproval of your tone, but it only fueled your frustration. 

You hopped onto the countertop, as you watched him. If he wanted to act nonchalant, you would make it harder for him. 

“How did you become the host?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do you enjoy this? Watching people die for your amusement?” 

His answers were dry, measured. “I have my reasons,” he said simply. “It’s necessary.”

“So, what do you do when you're not running murder games? Read? Knit? Take long walks around your crime scenes?" 

"I manage... everything. It’s not all death and drama, you know."

"Oh, sure. Just a side hustle of ruining lives." 

He smiled a little and glanced at you, “You’re quite good at sarcasm." 

You didn't answer him and continued your interrogation. "Why black? Is it just your vibe, or are you secretly colorblind?"

"Black is practical. It hides blood,” he replied by taking the ice out of the mold.

"Romantic. You ever think of wearing pink? Really lean into the theme here."

Now he chuckled, “I think I’ll leave pink to the guards."

Finally you asked, “When can I go home?” 

He glanced up at you briefly before returning to his drink. “When you’re ready.”

"What do you even want from me? Besides… whatever this ‘partner’ thing is."

His gaze flickered to you again, lingering this time. You noticed the way his eyes traveled down, taking in your posture, the curve of your body in the simple outfit you had chosen. There was something unreadable in his expression—calculated, yet almost… appreciative. 

"I want you to see what I see. To understand why I did this."

Then, he moved toward you, closing the space between you both in a few deliberate steps. 

You blinked in confusion as he stopped directly in front of you, standing between your legs. Even like this, with you perched on the counter, he was taller. His presence was overwhelming, his proximity setting your nerves on edge. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice faltering slightly.

He reached past you, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he opened the cupboard behind you. “I need a glass,” he said smoothly, his voice low.

You leaned forward instinctively so he could open the cabinet behind you. For a brief moment, you were pressed closer to him, your breath catching as you realized how little distance was left between you. 

He stepped back after retrieving the glass, returning to his drink as if nothing had happened. You watched him carefully, your heart still racing. There was something about the way he moved, so deliberate and composed, that both irritated and intrigued you. 

When he finally finished, he turned back to you. “Have you decided?” he asked.

“Decided what?”

“Whether you’ll stay with me. Whether you’ll join me.”

Your laugh was bitter, humorless. “You already know my answer. I’ll not join you. And as soon as I can, I’m going home.”

Something flickered across his face—disappointment, perhaps, but it was gone too quickly to read. He nodded once, setting his drink down on the counter. 

Then, before you could react, he came up to you again and placed his hands on your waist, lifting you off the counter with surprising ease. You tensed, ready to protest, but his grip was steady, grounding. 

“I want to show you something,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle and his dark eyes catching yours. You tried not to stare, tried not to acknowledge how ridiculously good he looked in his perfectly tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms.  

You hesitated. There was no reason to trust him, no reason to believe this wasn’t another one of his manipulations. But there was something in his tone, something that made you curious despite yourself. 

“Fine,” you said finally, your voice laced with defiance. “But this better not be another one of your twisted games.”

He smirked faintly, a shadow of amusement crossing his face. “I think you’ll want to see this.” But before leaving he asked, “How’s your wound?” voice low, steady, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity.  

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, a little too quickly. “Why do you care?”  

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he replied simply, his words cutting through the air. 

You shrugged, trying to seem unaffected, but your body betrayed you. The memory of that gunshot, the panic, the pain—it all came rushing back in flashes. “I said it’s fine.”  

He didn’t believe you. His gaze dropped to your side, where the faint outline of the bandage peeked out from beneath your fitted black top. Without asking, he reached out, his fingers brushing just above the wound, careful but deliberate.  

You flinched, not from pain but from the sheer heat of his touch. It wasn’t fair—how could someone so infuriating have hands that felt this warm, this careful?  

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, his lips quirking into the faintest hint of a smirk.  

“Yeah, well, you’re a terrible human being,” you shot back.

With that, he guided you toward the door, his hand resting lightly on your back as you walked. For better or worse, you were about to find out what he had planned.

PART 4 is gonna be loooong and very good. Buckle up and be ready!

tag list: @carrotjuicepdf @wwastro @lucinda-reads @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @kripr2 @raideyo @kushnovice @ft-winnow @grliealibi @r3va-dwme @fantasylovestoryme Want to get tagged in the next part? Drop a comment.

[s4kura-tr3]

Hello, is there a way you could do something like they saw us working out and they saw we had like... smexy muscles... (Wiggles brows)

ESPECIALLY WITH TOJI RAH

Definitely not my best work 😞

Tw: cursing, suggestive.

Gojo satoru — Gojo Satoru strolled into the room, his usual carefree energy radiating from him. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he froze, the sight before him wiping any thoughts of mischief or banter from his mind—well, almost.

There you were, mid-workout, your muscles taut and flexing as you pushed through your last set of reps. Your tank top clung to your body, damp with sweat, and the way the light caught your glistening skin made you look absolutely radiant. Gojo’s hand immediately went to his blindfold, tugging it down with a dramatic flourish to get an unobstructed view. His vibrant blue eyes gleamed with interest and something deeper as he leaned casually against the doorframe, taking his time to admire you.

“Holy hell,” he finally said, his voice low but undeniably teasing. “Did I just walk into an exclusive workout show? Because, wow, you’re putting the rest of us mortals to shame.”

You glanced his way, panting slightly from exertion, and shot him an unimpressed look. “Gojo, I’m busy.”

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering closer with that signature smirk plastered across his face. “Busy looking absolutely illegal. Seriously, you’ve got to warn a guy before you start flexing like that. My poor heart can’t take it.”

Rolling your eyes, you set the weights down, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. But Gojo wasn’t letting you off that easily. He circled around you like he was inspecting a masterpiece, his gaze lingering on every inch of you in a way that made your skin flush under the heat of his attention.

“You know,” he continued, his voice dropping into a huskier tone, “it’s almost unfair how good you look right now. The sweat, the muscles, the determination—ugh, it’s honestly too much. You’re going to give me a complex. How am I supposed to compete with this level of hotness?”

“Compete?” you asked, arching a brow as you took a sip of water. “Pretty sure you’re just here to distract me.”

“Distract you?” he repeated with mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “Me? Never. I’m just here as a very supportive observer. You know, the type who notices how insanely toned your arms are. And your legs. And… wow, is that a new muscle definition I see? Babe, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t let him see how much his words affected you. Instead, you shot back, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you join me for the next set.”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm. “Oh, trust me, I’m tempted,” he murmured, his voice velvety smooth now. “But watching you like this? It’s honestly better than any workout I could ever do. You’re just… stunning.”

The rare sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that mischievous spark that made your heart skip a beat.

“Careful, Gojo,” you warned with a smirk of your own. “Flattery might make me think you actually want to work out with me.”

He chuckled, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours. “Oh, I’d work out with you any day,” he murmured, his tone dripping with flirtation. “But let’s be honest—if we’re sweating together, I’d much rather it be… another kind of workout.”

Your jaw dropped at his shameless comment, and you shoved him away, your laughter mixing with his. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet, you love me,” he teased, dodging your swats as he leaned in again, planting a quick kiss on your temple before pulling back with a wink. “Now, finish up, gorgeous. You’ve got me all inspired to work up a sweat later… with or without weights.”

Gojo walked off with a smug bounce in his step, leaving you flustered, exasperated, and, of course, completely enamored.

Geto Suguru — Geto Suguru wasn’t planning to linger when he walked into the room, but the moment he saw you working out, every other thought left his mind. The rhythmic movement of your body, the sharp focus in your expression, and the way the sweat clung to your skin caught him off guard. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

For a while, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching you in silence. There was something mesmerizing about seeing you like this—so determined, so powerful. He wasn’t the type to gush, but there was no denying that the sight before him was stirring something in him.

When you finished your set and set the weights down, panting slightly, his deep, smooth voice broke the quiet. “You know,” he said, his tone casual but with a teasing edge, “this might be my favorite version of you.”

You glanced over, startled to see him there, his lean frame relaxed against the wall and that damn smirk plastered across his face. “Suguru, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he replied smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He pushed off the wall and began walking toward you, each step deliberate and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Watching you like this is… fascinating.”

You grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from your face as you raised an eyebrow at him. “Fascinating? I’m literally just working out.”

“Oh, it’s much more than that,” he countered, stopping a few feet away and tilting his head as he let his gaze sweep over you unapologetically. “The way you move, the strength in every motion—it’s impressive. Beautiful, even.”

His words caught you off guard, and you tried to brush off the compliment. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to stay in shape.”

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Trust me, I don’t exaggerate. Watching you like this? It’s like seeing art in motion. Strong, determined, completely in control. You’re incredible.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Well, enjoy the show, I guess,” you said dryly, reaching for your water bottle

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, a playful edge lacing his tone. “But I’m warning you now—I might get addicted to this view. You’re going to have to let me watch you work out more often.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of water and trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you. “You’re ridiculous, Suguru.”

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his smirk softening into something more genuine. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he spoke, his voice quieter now. “You’re amazing, you know that? The way you push yourself, the way you carry yourself—it’s impossible not to admire you.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself meeting his gaze, your breath hitching at the intensity in his eyes. “Suguru…”

His lips curved into a softer smile, his voice warm and teasing as he broke the tension. “But don’t let it go to your head. You’re already impossible to resist—I don’t need you getting cocky too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you swatted at him with your towel. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” he said smoothly, catching your wrist with surprising gentleness. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch warm and grounding. “Though, if you really want me to stop, you’re going to have to teach me how to keep my eyes off you. Because right now? I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, and you shook your head, pulling your hand away as you turned back to your workout gear. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

Suguru chuckled, his rich voice filling the space as he moved to sit on the bench nearby, his gaze never leaving you. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

You didn’t respond, but the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away. And as you picked up the weights to start your next set, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and unwavering, his presence a steady reminder of just how deeply he admired you.

Nanami kento — Nanami Kento wasn’t someone who indulged in distractions, especially during his rare moments of downtime. He valued efficiency and order, even in his personal life. But when he returned home earlier than expected and heard the faint clink of weights in the other room, curiosity got the better of him. He loosened his tie and set his briefcase down quietly, walking toward the sound.

He paused in the doorway. There you were, mid-workout, sweat dripping down your brow, muscles flexing as you pushed through your reps. Your focus was sharp, completely unaware of his presence, and something about that made him stop and watch.

Nanami wasn’t the type to ogle or make unnecessary remarks, but he couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered, admiring the strength and determination in your movements. You had always impressed him, but seeing you like this—powerful, resilient, and utterly in your element—it struck a chord deep within him.

When you set the weights down and reached for your water bottle, his voice broke the silence, calm and steady as always. “You’re working hard.”

You startled slightly, turning to find him standing there, his tie undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

“Kento,” you said, catching your breath. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, stepping into the room. His gaze flicked to the equipment before settling back on you. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about this.”

You wiped your face with a towel, shrugging lightly. “It helps me clear my head. And, you know, staying in shape isn’t a bad thing.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, the kind that was easy to miss if you didn’t know him well. “It’s impressive,” he said simply.

The straightforwardness of his compliment caught you off guard. “It’s just a workout, Kento.”

He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded you thoughtfully. “It’s not just a workout. It’s discipline. Focus. You don’t do things halfway, and it shows.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the genuine admiration in his tone. “I didn’t think you’d care about something like this.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “I care because it’s you. Seeing you like this… it’s a reminder of how remarkable you are.”

The warmth in his words made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, trying to play it off. “You’re making it sound like I just climbed Mount Everest or something.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, but unmistakably genuine. “No, but the effort you put in is no less admirable.”

You hesitated, then shot him a playful look. “Are you sure you’re not just saying this because you feel guilty for coming home late all the time?”

His smile widened—just barely—but it was enough to make your stomach flip. “If I did, would it make you feel better?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe.”

Nanami stepped closer, his presence calm and grounding as always. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice softer now, “I mean every word. You’re extraordinary, whether you see it or not.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes leaving you momentarily speechless. “Kento…”

He straightened, clearing his throat as if to reestablish his usual composed demeanor. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your workout,” he said, his tone professional again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Though, if you ever want a partner, let me know. I’d like to see if I can keep up.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart racing and a small smile tugging at your lips. Nanami Kento didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words. Somehow, his quiet admiration and steady presence were more than enough.

Toji fushiguro — Toji Fushiguro didn’t mean to interrupt when he walked into the room, but the sight of you mid-workout stopped him in his tracks. For a moment, he just stood there, leaning against the doorway with a lazy smirk, watching you as you pushed through your reps. The muscles in your arms flexed with each movement, sweat dripping down your brow, and the sheer focus on your face made something stir deep in his chest.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of your workout music. “If I’d known you were hiding this in here, I might’ve shown up sooner.”

You didn’t even look up, finishing your set before setting the weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “Toji, don’t you have better things to do than bother me while I’m working out?”

“Better things? Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening as he pushed off the doorframe and strolled into the room. His green eyes swept over you unabashedly, taking in every inch of your glistening, toned form. “You look good like this. Strong. Focused. Kinda sexy, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” you shot back, taking a sip of water and ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Toji chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he dropped onto the bench across from you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving you. “C’mon, don’t play coy. You’re out here showing off those muscles—you can’t expect me not to look.”

You wiped the sweat from your face with a towel, throwing him a pointed glare. “I’m working out, Toji. Not putting on a show for you.”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging, though the playful glint in his eyes didn’t waver. “But it’s a hell of a show anyway. Seriously, you been hiding this from me? Those arms could probably knock someone out. I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, almost. You’d have to spar with me to really prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself. “Right. Like you’d play fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” he shot back, his grin turning sharper. “I’d let you win. Maybe.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to your weights, but you could still feel his gaze on you, heavy and heated. “If you’re going to sit there and stare, at least make yourself useful. Hand me the heavier dumbbells.”

Toji barked a laugh, standing and grabbing the weights with ease before setting them down in front of you. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“I can handle it,” you said, your tone firm as you picked them up.

“Oh, I know you can,” he said, his voice dropping as he watched you lift. “You’re tougher than most people I know. But seeing you like this? Pushing yourself? It’s… something else.”

The shift in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced at him. For a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

“You’re impressive,” he said simply, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “Strong, determined, and hot as hell. I’d be an idiot not to notice.”

You paused, his words sinking in, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Toji…”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, the grin returning to his face. He reached out, brushing a bead of sweat off your temple with his thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you set the weights down. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stunning,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice low and steady. “Now finish up. If you’re this strong now, I wanna see what you can do with a real challenge. Sparring session, tomorrow. You in?”

You met his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you promise not to hold back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk turning downright predatory. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before turning to leave. And as you picked up your weights again, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the workout.

Sukuna Ryomen — Sukuna wasn’t used to being surprised, but when he materialized in the middle of your workout, he found himself pausing, an amused smirk curling across his lips. You were focused, muscles taut as you pushed through another grueling set, sweat glistening on your skin and making your form all the more striking. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and that only added to his amusement.

He leaned lazily against the wall, crimson eyes gleaming with interest. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he remarked, his voice deep and smooth, cutting through the quiet.

Startled, you looked up, your breath hitching when you saw him watching you, that familiar smug grin plastered on his face. “Sukuna,” you said, wiping the sweat from your brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Appreciating the view,” he replied, his gaze shamelessly roaming over you. “I didn’t know you had this in you. A little warrior hidden beneath all that charm. Makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up your water bottle, taking a long sip before answering. “I’m not hiding anything. And I doubt you came here to flatter me.”

“Flatter you?” he echoed, his smirk widening as he pushed off the wall and sauntered closer. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and allure, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. “I don’t do flattery. I state facts. And the fact is, you look… enticing like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Enticing? I’m covered in sweat and exhausted.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, stopping just a few feet away. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in every detail of your appearance. “There’s strength in you. I can see it. Feel it. It’s… intriguing.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him fluster you. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who usually likes to mock me.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “Oh, don’t mistake this for kindness,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m just fascinated. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for. I like that.”

“Should I be flattered?” you asked dryly.

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “Or maybe you should be concerned. Strength like yours… it makes me want to test it.”

You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a defiance that only seemed to amuse him further. “Test it how?”

His grin turned sharp, revealing his pointed teeth. “Sparring, fighting, maybe something else entirely,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re strong, but how far can you push yourself? How far can I push you?”

Your cheeks flushed, though whether it was from his words or the way he was looking at you, you couldn’t tell. “You’re impossible, Sukuna.”

“And you’re fascinating,” he countered, his tone softer now but no less intense. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, tracing the curve of your muscles with a deliberate slowness. “All this power, all this potential… it suits you. But don’t get cocky. I’d still crush you in an instant if I wanted to.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away. “I’d like to see you try.”

His laughter filled the room, dark and rich, as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Careful what you wish for, little one,” he said, his grin wicked. “You might not like what you find.”

But there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that told you he wasn’t just teasing. He respected you—your strength, your determination—and that respect, coming from someone like Sukuna, felt like a victory in itself.

Megumi fushiguro — Megumi wasn’t the type to barge into a room without reason, so when he stumbled upon you working out, it wasn’t intentional. He’d been looking for you to ask a quick question, but the moment he saw you, he froze. You were mid-set, muscles flexing as you moved, sweat dripping down your skin and making your determination all the more captivating.

His face immediately heated up, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze, though his feet stayed rooted to the spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

You glanced over your shoulder, spotting him in the doorway. “Megumi? What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to act like he hadn’t just been staring. “Uh… nothing. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll… come back later.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your weights down and grabbing your towel. “You’re not interrupting. What do you need?”

He shifted awkwardly, his gaze flickering to you briefly before he fixed it firmly on the floor. “It’s not important,” he said quickly. “I didn’t know you were… busy.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his obvious discomfort. “Megumi, are you embarrassed?”

“No,” he said immediately, though the redness in his cheeks deepened. “I just—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you worked out like this.”

“Like what?” you teased, walking closer.

His eyes darted to you for a split second, taking in the way your skin glistened, the subtle definition in your arms and shoulders. He looked away just as quickly, his jaw tightening. “Like… seriously. You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Thanks,” you said, amused by how flustered he was. “It’s not that big a deal, though.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Most people don’t push themselves that hard.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something genuine in his tone, a quiet admiration he wasn’t very good at hiding. “Are you impressed?”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the doorframe. “Maybe,” he muttered.

You grinned, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet away. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Megumi finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something there—respect, maybe even awe—but it was quickly buried beneath his usual stoicism. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Too late,” you teased, tossing your towel over your shoulder.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it. Just… don’t overdo it, okay? You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

His words caught you off guard, the unexpected softness in them making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Megumi,” you said, your tone gentler now.

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice low and hesitant. “For what it’s worth… you’re doing great.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, a warm smile tugging at your lips. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t one for big gestures or obvious compliments, but his quiet support spoke louder than words ever could.

Yuji itadori — Yuji Itadori was never one to hide his emotions, and when he walked into the room and saw you mid-workout, his reaction was immediate—and loud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he froze in the doorway. “You look amazing!”

Startled, you paused mid-rep, glancing over at him. “Yuji? What are you yelling about now?”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you. Your muscles were defined, your skin glistening with sweat, and the sheer determination on your face left him staring. “I’m yelling because you look like a total badass!”

You laughed, setting your weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “It’s just a workout, Yuji. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Are you kidding me? Look at you! You’re like an action movie hero or something!”

“An action hero?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He shook his head furiously, his pink hair bouncing with the movement. “Not at all! I mean, you’re strong, you’re focused, and—” He gestured at you with both hands, his cheeks turning pink as he stumbled over his words. “You’re, uh… really cool-looking right now.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “Thanks, Yuji. But you’re kind of embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t care!” he said with a laugh, plopping down on the floor nearby and watching you with wide-eyed admiration. “Seriously, how often do you do this? You’ve got muscles I didn’t even know existed!”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spread through your chest at his genuine excitement. “I work out a few times a week. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” he insisted, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands. “You’re so strong! I bet you could bench press me if you wanted to.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Yuji.”

“No way,” he said, grinning. “You’re a total powerhouse. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he said, standing up and flexing his arms dramatically. “I mean, I’m strong, but you’ve got this whole ‘unstoppable warrior’ vibe going on. It’s inspiring!”

You snorted, throwing your towel at him, which he caught with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But I mean it. You’re awesome, and I’m lucky I get to see you like this. It’s motivating!”

“Motivating?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Yeah! I’m totally working out with you next time,” he said, his eyes shining with determination. “I need to level up if I’m going to keep up with you.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright, Yuji. You’re on. But don’t complain when I make you do squats.”

“Deal!” he said, holding out his hand for a high five. When you slapped your hand against his, his grin grew even wider. “This is gonna be awesome. You’ll see—I’ll be your workout rival in no time!”

Somehow, you doubted that, but his infectious energy made you laugh all the same. Yuji Itadori was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, and having him around made everything a little brighter—even your workout.

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 11]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.1K

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of sleeping pills.

As the sun was starting to set, you called it a day. You didn't want to do too much and make a big mess, plus there were things you needed that you didn't have with you. After washing your hands, you caught sight of a maid bringing a broom out to the garden.

"Let me help you!" You ran forward to her. You didn't notice that there were people in the living room.

"No need, miss. I can do it. Don't worry." The maid smiled, shaking her head when you tried to take the broom from her. She walked out with you behind her.

"Ah... but I created the mess, the least I can do is help you clean it up." You insisted.

"(y/n)." Hongjoong called you, distracting you momentarily.

"If you're done, I would like to speak with you." He spoke. You looked at the maid, who was sweeping up the dirt and soil on the stone pavements, the mess you made.

"I'm sorry for creating the mess. Thanks again." You said to the maid with an apologetic smile. She shook her head and bowed as you left.

"Yes, Hongjoong?" You blinked as you re-entered the house. Now, you saw all 7 of Hongjoong's brothers in the living room, spread across the arm chairs and sofas. They were all dressed so well, compared to yourself. You fiddled with your fingers awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable with all their gazes on you.

"I wanted to introduce you to my other brothers. You've briefly met at the funeral but I guess since you're going to be around a lot more, I should introduce you." Hongjoong explained.

"Oh, okay. Nice to meet all of you, I'm (y/n)." You bowed. They were basically your bosses so you had to be respectful.

"I'm Seonghwa."

"Wooyoung."

"San."

"Yeosang."

"Mingi."

"Jongho."

"You already know me, I'm Yunho. If you need anything while you're here, feel free to let us know. " The tallest boy with a charming smile sent you a friendly wave. It was a lot of names that you'll have to get used to. They seemed nice but intimidating at the same time.

"Okay, that's out of the way. Would you like to stay for dinner?" Hongjoong offered.

"Oh, thank you but I shouldn't overstay." You forced a smile, shaking your head. Honestly, you were taken aback by his invitation, you weren't expecting it at all.

"You're not overstaying." Yunho assured.

"But don't feel forced to. I'm sure you must be tired." Seonghwa stood up and headed to you. You nodded slowly.

"Let me get out driver to send you back. It's the least we could do. Get the chauffeur." Seonghwa said, raising his hand to the butler before you could protest. You grabbed your bag and bowed.

"Thank you. Have a nice evening." You said quickly and headed to the door where the butler was.

"Bye, (y/n)." Hongjoong nodded and you gave him a small, yet apologetic smile.

"You guys are cornering the poor girl. There was no way she was going to stay for dinner. She's formally meeting us for the first time and we're all seated here, staring at her. She's probably scared out of her wits." Seonghwa said to Hongjoong and Yunho the moment you left the house, rolling his eyes.

"I was just trying to be nice. Make her feel more comfortable around us." Hongjoong defended with a shrug. Seonghwa shook his head with a sigh and facepalmed.

"I don't think that's happening any time soon. She was so scared when she saw San's beat up appearance." Wooyoung said.

"That's why we need to prove to her or show her that we're... normal..." Hongjoong trailed off.

"Hyung, why are you trying to keep her close?" Yeosang tilted his head.

"I don't even know how to explain it to you guys. But at some point, I need to know about my mother and she has that information. It's the only way I can get some sort of closure." Hongjoong sighed.

"That's true." Seonghwa nodded in confirmation, supporting his best friend's decision.

"Sure but take it slow. She's nice and all but she looks like she'll be scared off easily." Mingi stated and the rest nodded.

"Can we continue this conversation while we have dinner? I'm hungry." Jongho requested. The 8 men stood up from their seats and shuffled into their dining room, the 8 of them naturally sitting in their designated seats.

"Please enjoy your dinner." The butlers and maids bowed once each of the men had their own trays of food. They then filed out of the room, only one staying behind in case any of the 8 needed anything.

"For the ball, I want everyone in black shoes. Whatever style you choose is fine but black, not white." Hongjoong announced.

"But I bought new white chelseas." San said.

"Wear them next time. And only silver or white gold hardware, no gold." The captain added, he was just that particular about the way they looked at events.

"Yes, captain." The 7 nodded obediently. After that, they gave each other little updates on their work.

"The casino should be 95% done next week and we can go for a tour then, before the grand opening." Wooyoung smiled gleefully.

"That's good. And you both have the staff trained and ready for the grand opening?" Seonghwa asked. Wooyoung and San both nodded their heads.

"The manpower has been settled. It's only 95% done because of minor things like the wrong light bulbs for the carpark. And the curtains that were ordered did not meet our expectations so we have a new batch coming in. Don't worry, everything will be perfect by opening day." San assured.

"Yes, I'm having the invites sent out this weekend." Wooyoung added. Opening night was an 'invite-only' event, as per usual.

"Alright, make sure the governor and president have theirs hand delivered." Hongjoong reminded.

"That has already been arranged. We finally decided on our investors and partners too so we'll have their invites hand delivered too." Wooyoung nodded his head.

"Good job, boys." Hongjoong praised.

"How many valets will you have there?" Mingi asked.

"Opening night will be around 5? We are expecting that the guests will be in chauffeur driven cars anyway. On the regular, we're only hiring 3." San replied.

"Sir." The chauffeur stood at the entrance way of the dining room. Hongjoong stopped the conversation and waved for him to enter.

"The miss has been sent home safely. I walked her up myself." The chauffeur informed.

"Good to hear. Thanks. You are to ensure she is picked up every time she comes to the house for work." Hongjoong nodded in approval. The chauffeur bowed to him and left the dining room. Yunho and Seonghwa raised their hands for another potion of meat as the work conversations continued.

"No other worker has ever had the privilege of being picked up by our chauffeur before, hyung." Yunho teased. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, ignoring the taller.

"Shut up and eat." Hongjoong glared.

"Defensive~" Wooyoung sang. Seonghwa sent Wooyoung a look, the younger could always dish it but not take it.

"So, now that San hyung is out of the fight club. Can I go?" Jongho raised his hand. San rolled his eyes, mumbling in disatisfcation being benched from fighting.

"I thought you didn't want to enter the ring anymore?" Mingi asked.

"Yeah but I've been training in new fight techniques I want to try." Jongho shrugged, looking expentantly at the oldest two.

"Sure, Jongho. Whatever you want to do." Hongjoong sighed, he knew he couldn't really stop them either. The boys can do whatever they want to do.

"Maybe I'll join you. Stop competing in the motorcycle races for a bit. Seonghwa hyung always beats me anyway, it's not fun anymore." Yeosang leaned back on his hands. Seonghwa smirked proudly, no one could take his titles away from him.

"You guys are too competitive." Hongjoong shook his head.

"You do know that we get it from you, right hyung?" Yunho raised an eyebrow. Hongjoong scoffed.

"They're right. You're just too busy now to do anything remotely competitive." Seonghwa added on. Hongjoong nodded in agreement but now, he had no desire to get back to competing.

"Told you to go to the race tracks with us~" Mingi sang.

"If I go tonight, will you guys stop bothering me about it?" Hongjoong asked with frustration.

"Yes!" They all replied.

"Oh, hyung. You're going DOWN!" Wooyoung declared.

After the driver walked you up to your house, despite you insisting that he didn't need to, you closed the door and immediately slumped into your couch.

"That was way too weird." You mumbled to yourself as the events of today sunk in. Looking at the time on your phone, you hauled yourself off the couch and went to cook dinner, which comprised of leftovers from the day before. You thought about how awkward it would have been if you stayed for dinner.

"Ah, damn." You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't realise that your food was close to burning.

You turned off the flame and left your food there before going to take a quick shower so your hair could dry while you ate.

'Kim Hongjoong|'

As you ate, your fingers typed on the search bar of your computer. You knew that Hongjoong and his family probably lived extravagantly, judging by their house, but you were curious.

'CEOs of AURORA Corporation makes huge donation to the new hospital wing for paediatic heart surgery.'

'CEO of AURORA Corp, Kim Hongjoong, was seen as one of guests at the grand opening of...'

'Governor seen at christmas charity auction hosted by AURORA Corp.'

There were so many articles, all linked to Hongjoong, his brothers and AURORA Corp. They seemed like a big, rich company with a lot going on.

You never got that vibe from Mrs Kim, that her son or family was this affluent. Maybe she was just good at hiding it. But it made you wonder if you really knew the real her or did she fake an image and that was the person you knew?

It pained you to think that, you thought you knew her well. She was the best mother figure you had, was it all a lie this entire time?

"Ugh, my head hurts." After your dinner, you did the dishes and closed your laptop, you didn't want to look at it anymore. You headed to the bathroom to wash up and go to bed.

"Thank you. Please come again." You bowed to the customer with a smile as you handed the lady her bouquet.

*DING*

"Mrs Kim. What are you doing here so early?" You grinned, going over to help her with her bags. She had a lunch bag in her hands with containers of food in there.

"Early? My dear, your lunch is way overdue." She clicked her tongue at you. You checked the time and realised how late it was.

"Oh no, you're right. Let me close the sign for lunch." You placed her bags on your work table and went to flip the sign.

"Tea?" You offered as you walked back to where she was seating. She nodded and you poured her a cup, placing it down in front of her as she dug through the lunch bag. She laid out all the glass containers across your work table, placing two containers of rice, one in front of you and one in front of herself.

"You're always bringing me lunch. You don't have to." You said sheepishly.

"I know. But I want to. You're already keeping me company for lunch and tea, the least I can do is provide the food." She raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea.

"I can always keep you company, even if you don't cook. You know that, I enjoy your company too." You smiled softly.

"Ah, just eat and stop complaining, my dear." She chided.

"Eat more. I cooked a lot." She encouraged as you both dug in. The food was a good, a homecooked meal from a mother, something you never experienced before.

"These vegetables are so good." You complimented, taking some to put onto your rice.

"You are the exact opposite of my son. He doesn't like vegetables, hates it so much. Getting him to eat vegetables was like asking him to eat poison." Mrs Kim laughed behind her hands as she ate.

From that flashback dream, you sat up in bed, running your hands through your hair. Never did you think you would meet Mrs Kim's son, the one she always spoke about, without her. You let out a long, exhausted sigh and laid back down to try and go back to sleep.

"Ugh." Hongjoong woke up. He always has a hard time sleeping, his brain just doesn't think he needs any sleep.

"Every single night..." He got out of bed and headed to his office. The first thing he did was pour himself a drink, maybe the alcohol would put him to bed.

"Hyung? Why are you awake?" Wooyoung poked his head in, having seen the lights in Hongjoong's office turned on.

"You just got back?" Hongjoong asked back when he saw how well dressed Wooyoung was.

"Mhmm. Has a meeting after the race." Wooyoung smiled. He entered the captain's office, removing his jacket and draping it over the chair. He pulled his hair into a neat ponytail.

"Here." Hongjoong handed him a glass of his own.

"Thank you." Wooyoung smiled, clinking glasses with the older before they each took a sip.

"You're still having trouble sleeping?" Wooyoung asked again with a tilt of his head, going to the question from before.

"It's a norm for me now. I don't seem to need much sleep... My brain just wakes up." Hongjoong sighed. There was always so much going on in his head, it was hard for him to turn it all off. They didn't lead normal lives whereby they can just switch themselves off when the sun sets, they were always on alert.

"You should try to sleep more. Sleep deprivation isn't good for anyone, even us." Wooyoung said with raised eyebrows. Hongjoong nodded his head, he knew.

"That's why I'm hoping this will put me to sleep." He shook the crystal glass in his hand.

"Want some help?" Wooyoung asked.

"No, I suffered so much from the side effects of those things, I'll never take them again. Why do you even have those? You sleep just fine." Hongjoong asked with a small frown.

"They're not the street kind. They're legit just for sleeping or calming down, Mingi's guy got them for me." Wooyoung informed.

"Why?"

"In case of situations like this. You never know when any one of us would be plagued by nightmares." Wooyoung shrugged. Hongjoong nodded in agreement, everyone had nightmares every now and then.

It was common for them, with the horrors that they see everyday, it was normal to be haunted by some cases. Even if they look and act like they are okay with it, deep down, it still bothers them. Taking lives and spilling blood isn't a walk in the park.

"Let's get out of here. The office is stuffy." Hongjoong said. Wooyoung went to get the crystal carave with the whiskey and skipped behind Hongjoong.

"Shh, you'll wake the others up." Hongjoong shushed the younger.

"They always pass out after a race." Wooyoung waved the captain off with a mischievous grin.

"By the way, I had to rush off and didn't properly congratulate you on your win. You still got it." Wooyoung chuckled, making Hongjoong roll his eyes.

"Of course I do. You make it sound like I'm old or something." He scoffed. Hongjoong was always a good racer.

"You should do it more often then. Secure more wins for us." Wooyoung nudged him.

"I know what you're doing and nice try... I'm way too busy to be racing like you guys. And you make it sound like you guys can't win without me. Because judging by the stack of money on Hwa's dresser, I know that's not the case." Hongjoong raised an eyebrow as he drank his whiskey.

"Hwa hyung wins to motorcycle races." Wooyoung pointed out. Seonghwa doesn't like driving cars, so he has never competed in the driving races.

"I dare you to say that in front of Yunho and Jongho." Hongjoong challenged and Wooyoung gulped at the leader's words.

"Fine! Just get out of your office every now and then." Wooyoung threw his arms up in exasperation.

"I do leave my office. I'm not a hermit." Hongjoong gave Wooyoung a flat look.

"Oooh I know. There's now a motivation for you to come out of your office, especially since there's a pretty little gardener to talk to." Wooyoung sang. Hongjoong hit the back of his head.

"Shut up. I only spoke to her to make sure she felt comfortable working here." Hongjoong excused.

"Sure hyung... Sure~" Wooyoung teased.

"You're drunk." Hongjoong flicked his forehead, making the younger male yelp. Luckily it was dark or Wooyoung would have seen Hongjoong's slightly pink cheeks. He didn't think so many people would have seen him come out to talk to you today.

"She's a weird one, hyung. From what I saw." Wooyoung said, leaning against Hongjoong's shoulder, snuggling against him. Wooyoung was generally affectionate but this was a sign he was drunk.

"Not weird. Just different, she's normal." Hongjoong let out a soft sigh, pouring more whiskey into his glass.

"Are we not normal...?" Wooyoung drowned out.

"Far from, Wooyoung. We're not normal. After all that we've done, we'll never be normal. (y/n)'s normal, she doesn't know our world." Hongjoong said with dismay.

"She's not normal. Or else, how would she know your mum?" Wooyoung stated.

"Maybe my mum was normal to her." Hongjoong shrugged. Wooyoung laughed at that, sounding like he was in disbelief.

After the whiskey was emptied from the cerave, the two headed in for the night. Hongjoong had Wooyoung's arms around him, guiding him to his room and making sure he was tucked into bed. Being slightly intoxicated, Hongjoong fell flat onto his own bed. He groaned at the slight throb in his head.

"Note to self, don't drink with Wooyoung again." He mumbled to himself as he pushed himself up.

"What the..." Hongjoong felt something in his sweatpant pocket. He dug in and saw a pack of pills that were not there before, he knew Wooyoung must have secretly slipped them in.

He was good at doing that, considering how he usually does the pick pocketing or slipping of information to people secretly.

"Rainy day." He let out a long sigh and threw the sleeping pills into his drawer before getting under the covers, hoping the alcohol will help him stay asleep this time.

~

Series masterlist

[miniseokminnies]

waste a moment —- w.jh

❅ pairing: wen junhui x gn!reader ❅ theme: fluff, strangers to lovers ❅ w/c: 5k ❅ warnings: mentions of food, stressful work environment, mentions of death (not plot relevant) ❅ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! every writer involved is so extremely talented! send over some love! shout out to @tusswrites and @haologram for keeping me sane and beta reading! ❅ tags: @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, @seungkw1, @myhimbomingi, @crab-ranjun, @heechwe

The only sound you can hear is your own steps on the pavement as you run to your bus stop, you are late,  so late.  You knew the ninth time hitting snooze this morning was too many, but of course, you did it anyway.  The weather outside is slowly getting colder and gloomier as the world prepares for autumn to come, so what could a few more moments in your warm bed hurt? 

As it turns out, your feet, the concrete was unforgiving and your flat-soled shoes provided little cushioning.  Pushing the last few blocks to your stop your lungs were starting to burn, running was not typically something you took joy in.  Rounding the corner, something felt out of place.  

The early morning haze was interrupted by the glow of a neon “open” sign affixed to the window of the only permanent building near the bus stop shelter.  This building never stood out to you, it was always quiet and dark when you got on and off the bus.  Every morning and every evening, without fail whoever owned the building got there after you and left before you.  The smell of spices wafted out of the door and almost made you stop before you realized this all meant that you were even later than you thought you were.  The bus you usually take was long gone by now and you didn’t even know the schedule well enough to know when the next one would arrive.  

Sighing, you accepted your fate and moved toward the shelter and squatted in front of where the stray cats always play.  A small orange kitten was playing with the weeds growing out from the cracks in the sidewalk.  You reached out to pet him, and as soon as his attention settled on you, he flopped to the side and tried to playfully bite your fingers as you wiggled them. 

You heard the bus approach the kitten trotted away toward the restaurant.  Once settled in your seat on the bus you check your watch, 7:45 am and still another 15 minute bus ride to work.  You sigh and prepare yourself for the reprimand you will surely get once you arrive.      

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Ms. Lee,” you bowed your head apologetically, “I missed the first bus…I had to wait for the next one.”  Ms. Lee, the head nurse of your unit, swiveled around in her chair.  

“Well, you could have called,” she gestured to the phone at the nurse’s station, “Eunbi had to stay after her night shift to cover for you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Just don’t let it happen again,” she stood up from her chair, “Get changed,” she began to walk away and turned back to you briefly, “Oh, and Y/N?” You nodded, “I’m sure you won’t mind staying late tonight to even out the shifts for Eunbi, hm?” 

“Of course not,” you muttered, a certain dread settled in your stomach as you walked to the nurse’s changing room.  By staying late tonight you will run into the same problem you had this morning.  You don’t know the next bus after your usual one.  You shuffled into the room and caught sight of Eunbi slipping into her coat.  

“Good morning, Y/N!” She smiled at you.  

“Eunbi, I’m so sorry for making you stay late!” You slumped against your locker, “it was a total accident I missed my bus and-”

“Woah!” She laughed and reached out to smooth her hands over your arms.  “It’s totally okay, it happens, you’ve covered for me before.”  

“It’s just that…Ms. Lee,” you started.

“She’s a crotchety old bat,” she rolled her eyes.  “We all think so, no one else here is mad at you.”

“Thank you,” you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, “but I’m still covering the first 45 minutes of your shift tonight, don’t try to tell me no.”   

“Alright, alright, see you at shift change.” She smiled and squeezed your arms before leaving you alone in the quiet room.   After changing as quickly as possible you made your way back to the nurse’s station to catch up on what you missed.  

“Mr. Kang in 304 has been looking for you all morning,” Ms. Lee informed you as she pushed his file into your hand, “he will only take his medication from you if you could help him right away.” 

Your knock on the door of room 304 echoed down the hallway.  It was still early so the quiet of a hospital before a day begins was generally still intact.  You pushed through the door to see Mr. Kang propped up on his pillows, smiling at you.  

Mr. Kang has been in your care since you started at this hospital a few months ago.  You work in the long term care unit, so it isn’t uncommon for patients to form attachments to nurses here.  He was an old man, probably old enough to be your grandpa, who became a widower years ago.  A week or so before you started here he had a terrible fall at home, breaking his hip.  

“Good morning Mr. Kang!” You mustered a smile.

“Good morning, Y/N.” He smiled softly and attempted to sit up straighter.  You moved to his side quickly to help him with the pillows.  

“So,” you sat in the chair near his bed when he was settled, “I hear you aren’t taking your pills from  Ms. Lee or Eunbi?”

“Is that what Ms. Lee said?” He chuckled, “it’s not that I won't, it's just that I’m used to it being you in the morning, and when it’s not, I have trouble.”  

“Be that as it may, you still need your medication, Mr. Kang.” You informed him before moving to retrieve the medication.

“It’s a bit late now,” he started, you sighed thinking he was going to try and get out of taking the medication, “but could you take me to the big windows to watch the rest of the sunrise?” 

“Tell you what,” you begin to divide the pills into small cups, “take your pills, no complaints, and I’ll take you.” Mr. Kang eagerly agreed.  You helped him into his wheelchair and the two of you made the short trek to the back of the wing where the big windows were.  

Mr. Kang told you about how he and his wife used to watch the sunset every Saturday morning while they ate breakfast together.  These mornings were the highlight of his week, he was so happy to just have moments with his wife where time didn’t matter, just the two of them.  Every time he tells you this story, or something similar about his wife, you are struck with the fact that you never have the time to do anything like this. Since graduating nursing school your life has been scheduled out to the minute.  This morning at the bus stop was the first time in months that you felt the urge to go against that schedule.    

“It’s going to snow soon,” Mr. Kang pulled you out of your thoughts. He pointed a crooked finger at the dark clouds overhead.  “Be careful going home tonight, I remember how unreliable those buses can be.”   

The cold winter air stung your cheeks and whipped your hair.  Mr. Kang was right, it would snow today, the day you had to stay late and miss your bus.  Because of the weather the buses weren’t running on schedule, you waited for almost an hour at the bus stop and no one ever came.  You had to walk home.  

The snow swirled around you and made it difficult to see, you knew that you were almost home, or at least, it felt that way.  You were soaked and freezing to the bone, you’d be lucky if you woke up with just a cold tomorrow.  Just as the shelter of your bus stop was starting to materialize through the snow you felt your foot catch the curb in front of you. You attempted to catch yourself but there was no use, you were falling. When you open your eyes to assess the situation you realize you fell into an alleyway and were lying on the ground staring up at a few trash cans.     

Just as you decided that maybe you should just lay here and die, you hear the door of the building to your left open.  A man is yelling in a language you don’t understand, is he yelling at you? Before you had any time to think about that you felt a hand on the back of your coat, pulling you up off the ground.  

“Oh,” the man blinked down at you, “it’s you.” With that he pulled you inside.  He placed you in a corner near the front door.  “Stay there.” He instructed you and held his hands out as if he was taming a wild animal.  He backed away from you slowly for several steps then turned on his heel and ran into a back room.  You heard him rifling through things for several minutes.  

Beyond that the only sounds in the small room were the dripping of melted snow off your coat and on to the floor.  You took in your surroundings, slowly dethawing.  The room was actually a small restaurant, with tables crammed into the small space. The room the man disappeared into was near the kitchen, judging by the location of the window behind the counter.  

“You must be freezing,” he emerged from the room with a stack of clothes, “why didn’t you take the bus in this weather?” He was scolding you like you were best friends for years.  

“I’m sorry? Do we know each other?” 

“No, not really,” he blinked at you.  

“Then…” you searched his face.  

“You get on the bus when I get off,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “and in the evenings, you get off the bus when I get on.”  He held the clothes out to you again, as if to remind you why you’re in his restaurant.  “You’re dripping on my floor.” He mumbled.  

“Oh!” You gasped and began searching for a place to hang your coat. He placed the stack of clothes on a nearby table and helped you out of your coat.  

“Take them,” he gestured to the clothes with his elbow, “the bathroom is back near the kitchen, change and warm up.” You nodded at the strange man’s kindness and headed to the bathroom to change.  

You peeled your wet clothes away from your skin, grateful to be rid of them.  In the kitchen you heard pots and pans clanging and soon there was a spicy aroma engulfing the entire building.  Once you were ready you walked back into the main dining area.  The clothes he lent you were far too big for you, the sweatpants were dragging on the floor and you felt like you were swimming in the oversized hoodie, but you were thankful to be warm.  

“Have a seat anywhere!” He called through the window from the kitchen, “it’s almost ready!” You had no idea what he was making or why but you would be thankful for a warm meal after the day you had.  The chair scraped across the floor of the otherwise quiet restaurant.  Now that you could feel your toes you took another look around the space.  The neon sign that you remembered from this morning was turned off, and the windows had their blinds closed.  It was like the entire building was shut off from the outside world.  Seeing it this way from inside was strange, as it usually was buttoned up like this when you saw it waiting for the bus.  Which would make sense, you realized, if what he said was true, that you were on the opposite side of the bus schedule on a normal day.  

“I made soup,” he emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two bowls.  He sat the tray on the table in front of you and contemplated sitting down for a few seconds too long for someone who made two bowls, clearly for the both of you.  Finally, he plopped into the chair across from you and passed you a spoon. He moved one of the bowls from the tray so it was in front of him.  You watched as he took a large spoonful, blew on it lightly, and popped it into his mouth.  His eyes closed and he was obviously proud of the dish.  

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he stared at you.  “Do you like spice?” he asked around the soup in his mouth, sounding muffled and panicked.  You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing.  His eyes grew wider than you had seen them all night and he swallowed his mouthful.  

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to control the giggling, “yes I’m fine with spice.  Is this spicy?” 

“Oh, yes,” he nodded enthusiastically, “it’s called Hulatang which literally means peppery and spicy soup.  It’ll clear your sinuses.”

“You didn’t poison it, right?” 

“What?” He looked at you bewildered.

“Well, you picked me up out of the trash,” you bring your spoon to your lips, “and I don’t even know your name.” You put the spoon in your mouth.  The flavor blossoms on your tongue.  

“Junhui” 

“Okay, Junhui.” You nod, “can I have a glass of water?”  He scrambled behind the counter to find a glass.  He returned quickly.  

“Is it too much?” He asked, sitting back down, “I handle spice well, so I can’t tell.”   

“No, no,” you sipped your water, “it’s good, so good.” He smiled and went back to his meal.  The two of you ate in silence until the bowls were empty and you felt warm from the spicy broth.  

“I thought you were a raccoon earlier.” He blurted out of the blue as he was clearing the dishes from the table. “The raccoons always get in my trash, I was surprised they would be out in this weather though.” He continued, “I do worry about the cats though…” 

“First snow of the year, and it’s brutal,” you agreed, “wait, you’re the one who feeds the cats!” You exclaim over the sound of the water turning on.  You follow him back to the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to yell.  

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from his task, “if I didn’t, who would?” He moved the pot he used to make the soup into the sink.  You smiled to yourself, remembering the kitten you played with this morning.  

“How long have you been feeding them?” You asked, helping him move glasses from the side into the sink.  He smiled at you.  

“Since I started renting this building,” he thought for a moment, “Almost three years ago.” 

“That long?” You gasped, “I’ve only been living in my apartment near here for a few months.  I just graduated nursing school and I got a job at the hospital.” 

“Oh I live near there,” he nodded, knowing exactly where you were talking about, “we live near each other’s work places.” He pointed out.  

“Suppose we do,” you smiled.  

“What’s your name?” He asked, turning off the sink.  

“Oh my God,” you blushed realizing you never told him, “Y/N.” 

“Y/N.” He repeated softly as if tasting the new information on his tongue.     

It has been four days since you met Junhui at his restaurant.  You made sure to look for him while getting on and off the bus.  He always smiled at you, no time to talk so smiles do just fine.  You never did get the chance to ask him why he was still out that night.  

You rolled over in bed and checked your phone.  It was 10:40 am on your day off and you couldn’t stop thinking about the man who runs the restaurant down the street.  It would be lunch time soon, maybe you could convince yourself to make the short trip over.  To eat, certainly not to see him again.  

Without a second thought you were out of bed and fixing your hair in the mirror.  Once satisfied with how you looked, you threw on your coat and went out the door.  The walk to your bus stop is short and relatively easy.  The weather today was much nicer than the last time you found yourself inside Junhui’s restaurant.  

The bell above the door twinkled at your entrance.  You shifted awkwardly at the entrance of the building as the only other patron shot you curious glances.  

“One moment!” You heard Junhui call from the kitchen.  Soon, he appeared from the kitchen holding a tray similar to the one he brought your soup on a few days prior. He stumbled and almost dropped the tray when he saw you in the doorway. The other man in the room laughed and said something teasingly in a language you didn’t understand. Junhui glared at the man and then glanced back at you.  “Y/N, do you speak Mandarin?”  As soon as you confirmed that, no you do not, Junhui was uttering what you could only assume were curses at the other man.  He set the plates of food on the table. “You can have a seat wherever you like, I’ll be right with you!” He smiled at you.  

You selected a table near the kitchen, the other man was at a table near the only window in the building.  The two of them continued to bicker in Mandarin for a few minutes.  You smiled to yourself, Junhui seemed close with him.  Eventually, he broke away, and made his way to your table.  

“Hi,” you smiled at him.  

“Hi,” his lips broke into a small smile, “I’m sorry about him, he’s my best friend, we’ve known each other for ages.” 

“No worries,” you assured him.  

“What can I get you?” He bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet.  He looked less tired today, his eyes were bright and his dark hair was tucked up into a beanie.  You eyed the menu he still had tucked under his arm.  “Oh!” He scrambled to grab it and all but threw it down on the table in front of you. 

“Any recommendations?” You asked, scanning the menu full of dishes. He took a deep breath and sat down across from you.  He started in on an explanation of the menu.  You struggled to listen to everything he had to say because you were busy admiring him.  He was so passionate about his recipes and the food he got to make. 

“This one is my grandma’s recipe,” he pointed to an item on the menu and looked up at you with expectant eyes. “It’s ground pork and egg basically.” 

“Oh yes, that sounds lovely,” you smile at him.  “Tell me how to pronounce it so I can ask for it by name next time.”

“Xiándàn zhēng ròubǐng,” he collects the menu and practically skips back to the kitchen with the promise of you coming back again.  You watched him go until he disappeared then you pulled out your phone to pass the time.  

“I’m Minghao by the way,” you looked up to see Junhui’s friend standing in front of you.  “I’ve heard a lot about you, I hope you keep coming around to keep him company.” He smiled at you before shouting Junhui’s name and telling him something in Mandarin.  Junhui responded from the back and with that Minghao knocked twice on your table and turned to leave.

About ten minutes later, Junhui reemerged to clear Minghao’s table. He began clearing it of the dishes left behind.  

“Did he bother you?” He asked as he passed your table with dishes stacked in his hands.  

“Oh, no!” You assured him, “he just introduced himself.” You conveniently omitted the part about Minghao letting you know that Junhui had been talking about you.  

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “your meal should be ready in about ten minutes, I’ll be back then.”      

As promised he returned with the food you ordered and a glass of water.  He set the food on the table and sat in the chair across from you.  “Taste,” he told you, he could hardly contain the giddiness he felt.  It was bubbling in his chest and he bounced his knee under the table to expel some of the extra energy he felt.  

“Have you eaten?” You asked, picking up your spoon.  

“Hm?” He blinked, “oh, no, not yet.” 

“Get a spoon,” you pointed toward the counter, “we’ll share.” He smiled widely at you and quickly retrieved a spoon.  The two of you split the meal, getting to know each other as you ate.  You told him all about your job at the hospital and your trouble with Ms. Lee.  Junhui made a disapproving noise when you told him about what happened on the day you showed up in his trash. 

“She sounds horrible,” he mumbled around a mouthful of rice.  

“She is!” You threw your hands up, “we all think so, even Eunbi, who is the nicest person there.” 

In turn Junhui told you about how he ended up owning a restaurant at a bus stop thousands of miles from where he was raised.  He was feeling stuck in the monotony of his job, which he found extremely boring, in China.  So he set out to find something new and he ended up here. He tried finding a job but ultimately decided to open up this restaurant which is like a tiny slice of home for him.

The bell above the door rang out, ultimately stopping your conversation.  Junhui looked up at the customer now standing in his restaurant.  He shot you an apologetic look, to which you shook your head and shooed him away so he could take care of the woman.  

He greeted her as you began to stack the dishes up for him.  You gave a small wave as he was getting her seated.  He glanced at you and held up a finger, as if to ask you to hold on for a moment.  After the woman is settled in he jogs back to the room near the kitchen and comes back with his phone clutched in his hand.  

“Not to be weird,” he smiled sheepishly, “but could I maybe get your number? I’d like to continue talking to you.”           

Over the last week Junhui texted you a few times, mostly to send pictures of the cats.  Every so often the two of you would update each other on how things are going.  On one occasion Junhui requested you come retrieve leftovers from him on your day off so you had lunch for the following day.

You placed said leftovers in the microwave of the staff lounge, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your scrubs as you set the time.  You were taking lunch later than usual today so you figured it was Junhui checking in on how the food reheated after he finished up the lunch rush.  The screen lit up with text messages and notifications as you pulled it out.  

Junhui: today sux 

Junhui: this guy just came in DURING A RUSH and screamed at me that there wasn’t a table

Junhui: i hope the congee tasted okay reheated 

Junhui: can’t talk more. people are the worst!! 😾

The microwave beeps, making you jump.  You opened the door and sighed, you knew that there were bound to be days where things got to be too much for him.  You were no stranger to bad days, even when you’re passionate about what you were doing.  It was one of those days when you met Junhui, you knew how he felt.

As soon as your shift was over you were flying out the door.  You wanted to make it to the convenience store on the corner before your bus came.  Your left shoe felt like it was coming untied but you didn’t stop to check, no time.  Filling your arms with jelly snacks, ramen, and a few drinks you made your way to the checkout.  

You made it to the bus stop with your haul as the bus was arriving.  Letting out a sigh of relief you paid your fare and found a spot to sit.   Feeling a buzz in your pocket you pull out your phone once more. 

Junhui: if i see another person today i might lose it 

Junhui: [Attachment: 1 Image]

You smiled at the picture, it was taken from the window of Junhui’s restaurant.  The neon sign is shut off and the blinds are drawn already.  Perfect, this meant that he was more than likely waiting for the bus already.  You could just grab him and drag him back inside.

Junhui was not at the bus stop.  You walk to the front door and turn the knob, it was unlocked.  His forehead was resting on the counter, he looked silly hunched over it like that.  He let out an annoyed groan hearing the bell above the door.  

“I’m closed,” he mumbled against the counter.  When he didn’t hear you leave he snapped his head up, “I said I–oh, hi.” His tone softened immediately when he saw you standing there with a plastic sack held out in front of you.  

“Hi,” you hazarded a few steps toward him, “is it safe? Or are you gonna bite my head off?” 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled airily, “it has been…a day.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I come bearing gifts.” You hold up the sack again, as a peace offering.  He held out his hands, looking slightly childlike.        

“Show me the haul.” The two of you go through the small store bought feast in the bag.  Once he saw the cup ramen at the bottom he trotted to the kitchen to put some water on the stove to boil.  

You set aside two sets of chopsticks as Junhui plopped the noodles into the pot.  He told you all about the people he saw today and about while he was grateful for the business some people could just be so draining.  You agreed, you loved your job but some patients were just too much to handle at times.

You watched as he tore open the flavoring packets with his teeth.  He sprinkled it over the noodles in the pot, but you were still fixated on his full lips.  You know that Junhui is handsome, it’s hard to miss.  But should you have been staring so intently? Probably not, right?  

That was what you thought until he turned and held your gaze for several moments.  He seemed to be just as frozen as you were, his eyes flicked to your lips and for a second you swore he was going to kiss you.  

“Ramen’s done,” he said, barely above a whisper.   

The day had been uneventful.  Your job was monotonous and boring, and to make matters worse you hadn’t heard from Junhui in several days.  You still saw him smiling at you from the bus stop but he seemed like he had been avoiding having a real conversation with you since that day you thought he might kiss you.  

You watched the city speed by out the window of the bus and wondered if you had done something wrong.  Did you read him wrong? Maybe he didn’t like you at all, you’re just some weird person that showed up in his trash one day.  That day wasn’t all that different from today, it was snowing again.  You were surprised that there was this much time between the first and second snow this year.  

Your fingers wrapped around the cord as you alerted the driver that your stop was up next.  You gathered your things and prepared for the cold walk from your stop to your apartment.  Junhui was standing in front of the bus stop shelter, you knew it was him by his height and the way he shrank into himself to look at his phone.  The blue light caught his features in a way that made him look almost dreamlike.  The brakes on the bus squealed to a stop, making him look up from his phone.   

You expected him to brush you off with a smile, just as he had every day for the last week.  However, he just stood there, waiting, until the moment your feet hit the ground in front of him.  

“Happy second snow!” He beamed at you.  You smiled up at him, just happy that he was talking to you.  “I’m sorry about the other day.” 

“For what?” The bus stop was clearing out quickly, no one was worried about whatever reconciliation was happening between the two of you.  

“I didn’t kiss you when I should have.” He stated plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He moved closer to you and cupped your cold cheeks in his warm hands.  Soon his mouth was on yours and you felt so warm that it could easily have been summer.  He somehow made all of the ice melt away and it was just the two of you in the world for this moment.  You wrapped your arms around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.  

He broke away from you and searched your face, “Date me?” He breathed.  

“Date you?” You whispered, your breath turning into fog that he breathed in as he connected your lips to his once again.  This kiss was more urgent, like he was trying to convince you to say yes.  

“Yes, me.” He mumbled against your mouth, “please?” 

“Like right now?” You reach up to kiss him again.  He hummed into your kiss.  

“Like right now, tomorrow, for the rest of your life if you’ll have me,” he swept his tongue across your bottom lip, which made you shiver.  You accept his tongue into your mouth for only a second before he breaks away again.  “Was that too forward? I just really like you.” 

“No, it was cute.”  You assure him.  A blush crept across his cheeks, already pink from the cold. 

“Cool,” he grinned, “So?” 

“Oh sure,” you rolled your eyes, “but could we maybe date inside, I’m getting cold.” He grabbed your hand and tangled his fingers with yours.  He began to drag you back toward the restaurant where this all started.  

 “Yeah, come on,” he looked back at you, “I made soup.”

[yourlittlegoblin]

{The Gift He Couldn't Ignore} Scaramouche x Reader

The way I giggled like a little shit at 4am when writing this is insane,,, anyways I hope you enjoy :) Fem!Reader but everyone is welcomed to read my posts!

Scaramouche is as sharp as the edge of a blade, his presence cutting through any room like a storm ready to strike. His words are quick and biting, his temper just as volatile. Many in his command know better than to cross him; even the boldest of the Fatui tread carefully around his wrath. A glare from him is enough to freeze the air, and his scorn lingers like a burn.

But you? You're the quiet ray of sunshine that somehow warms even his cold, stormy edges. You’re introverted and soft-spoken, but you have a calm presence that balances out his temper. There’s something about the way you carry yourself — unassuming, yet unwavering in your quiet kindness — that even Scaramouche can't deny.

It doesn’t take long for some of his subordinates to figure it out. When the air grows thick with tension, and Scaramouche's patience wears thin, they make a quick escape — to you. One by one, they appear at your door, frantic and desperate for refuge.

"Please," one of them says, out of breath and clutching their clipboard like it might shield them, "just let me stand here for a bit. He won’t yell at me if I’m with you."

You blink at them, slightly bewildered but not entirely surprised. “He won’t yell at you if you just get your work done.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” another mutters, shifting uncomfortably, “but he’ll find something to yell about anyway! We’re safer here.”

You sigh, but you let them linger, even offering them a cup of tea while you finish up your paperwork.

Eventually, Scaramouche storms in, his piercing gaze scanning the room. The Fatui scattered around you straighten like statues, their fear palpable. But when his eyes land on you, the fire dims, and something softer flickers to life.

You glance up from your papers, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

His sharp tone falters, softening into something that’s almost — almost — sheepish. “No,” he mutters, crossing his arms. He doesn’t acknowledge the others, though his gaze flicks toward them briefly.

The room is still for a beat. Then, with a low grumble, he turns on his heel and leaves. The tension dissolves instantly, and the subordinates slump in relief.

“You see?” one of them whispers, awe in their voice. “He can’t yell at us when you’re here. You’re our only hope.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” another chimes in, “but it works.”

They’re not wrong. Scaramouche may be a force of nature, but around you, his storm quiets — and that’s something they’re willing to bet their lives on.

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

Soon after, you find yourself standing outside Scaramouche’s office, gently knocking on the door. His sharp voice calls out, “Enter.”

Pushing the door open, you step inside, offering him a small smile as his gaze lifts from the paperwork scattered across his desk. “Good evening,” you say softly.

He arches an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “What brings you here at this hour? Surely, you don’t intend to lecture me about yelling at my subordinates again.”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Not this time.” Walking closer, you reach into your pocket and pull out a small, delicate trinket — a little bird carved from polished wood, its wings spread mid-flight.

“What’s that?” Scaramouche asks, his tone skeptical but laced with curiosity.

“I was wandering through the market earlier,” you begin, holding out the trinket, “and I saw this at one of the stalls. It made me think of you.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing slightly, though you notice the faintest hint of color brushing his cheeks. “A bird?”

You nod, your voice soft as you explain. “It reminded me of… soaring high. Of reaching for your goals, your ambitions. I thought it might be a nice way to convey my wishes for your endeavors to end in success.”

For a moment, Scaramouche says nothing, his eyes flickering between you and the trinket in your hand. Then, slowly, he reaches out and takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. He examines the bird closely, running his thumb over its smooth surface.

“It’s… fine craftsmanship,” he mutters, though his voice has lost some of its usual sharpness.

You smile, rubbing your eyes as a small yawn escapes you. “I’m glad you like it.”

At the sound of your yawn, Scaramouche’s gaze snaps to you, his expression shifting. The faint shadows under your eyes and the way your posture droops don’t escape his notice.

“You’re tired,” he states, his tone firm but quieter than usual.

“I’m fine,” you say with a slight wave of your hand, though your body betrays you with another yawn.

“Don’t give me that,” he snaps, though there’s no real bite in his words. He sets the trinket carefully on his desk before standing and stepping around to your side. “Wandering the markets, running errands, and now coming to see me? Do you even know when to stop?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the glare he gives you silences whatever excuse you were about to give.

“Go to bed,” he orders, crossing his arms as he towers slightly over you. “Now.”

“Scaramouche, I’m fine—”

“Do I need to carry you there myself?” he interrupts, narrowing his eyes in challenge.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

Scaramouche’s sharp eyes follow your every move as you rub your eyes and yawn once again, prompting an exasperated sigh from him. "You're hopeless," he mutters, setting the bird trinket carefully on the corner of his desk.

Before you can protest, he waves a hand dismissively. "The subordinate quarters are too far, and knowing you, you'll find an excuse not to rest anyway. Sleep here, on the couch."

You blink at him in surprise, glancing over at the modestly cushioned sofa tucked against the wall of his office. "Here? Are you serious?"

He gives you a look, one eyebrow arched in that signature Scaramouche way that screams do not argue with me. "Yes, here. Or do you want me to watch you stumble through the halls half-asleep only to collapse somewhere?"

You hesitate, fidgeting slightly. "I don't want to intrude..."

"You're not. Sit down before I make you." His voice is firm, but there's no harshness in it, only a strange undercurrent of care he’s trying desperately to hide.

With a small sigh, you relent, removing your coat and draping it over your shoulders like a makeshift blanket. The couch is surprisingly comfortable, and as you settle in, you hear him grumble, “I doubt you’ll actually sleep.”

“Watch me,” you murmur softly, already feeling the warmth of the room seep into you. The day’s exhaustion catches up all at once, and before you know it, your eyes grow heavy and drift shut.

Scaramouche leans against his desk, arms crossed, watching as your breathing evens out. “Idiot,” he mutters under his breath, though his gaze softens ever so slightly. He picks up the bird trinket once more, his thumb brushing over its polished wings as he glances between it and your peaceful, sleeping form.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, his office feels a little less cold.

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

When you wake up, a comforting warmth envelopes you, much cozier than your thin coat could ever provide. You blink groggily and glance down to see Scaramouche's thick fur coat draped over you, its plush fabric soft against your skin. It carries his unmistakable scent—subtle hints of sharp spice and something faintly sweet, undeniably him.

For a moment, you’re caught between surprise and a quiet flutter in your chest. Carefully sitting up, you adjust the coat, its weight still lingering over your shoulders like a protective embrace.

Your gaze shifts toward Scaramouche, seated at his desk. His usual frown is gone, replaced by a calm, almost contemplative expression. He holds something small in his hands—a few of the trinkets you’ve given him over time. A bead here, a charm there, and even a tiny polished stone you had insisted would bring him good luck during one of his more ambitious missions.

He turns them over one by one, his gloved fingers tracing each object with uncharacteristic gentleness. It’s a rare sight, one that tugs at your heartstrings in a way you can’t quite describe.

You watch in silence, your heart growing warmer with every moment. Despite his sharp words and cold demeanor, this little glimpse of him—his quiet appreciation for the small things you’ve shared—makes all his rough edges seem a little softer.

You pull the coat tighter around yourself, smiling faintly as you silently decide to treasure this fleeting, tender moment for as long as you can.

Then Scaramouche looks up, startled to find your eyes on him. His surprise is brief, but it’s enough to break the tranquil moment. “How long have you been awake?” he asks sharply, though his tone carries a hint of embarrassment.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, still wrapped in his fur coat. Your gaze drifts back to the trinkets scattered on his desk, and without thinking, you say softly, “You kept them.”

He scoffs, turning his head slightly as if to hide the faintest flush creeping up his neck. “Of course, I kept them. What do you take me for? I’m not someone so lowly as to toss away gifts given with sincere thoughts behind them.”

Despite his words, there’s a subtle defensiveness in his tone, almost as if the notion of doing otherwise would be an unthinkable affront. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a huff, and adds, “Honestly, you’re such a fool sometimes, thinking I wouldn’t.”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction, though the warmth in your chest only grows. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Don’t get used to it, idiot,” he mutters, looking away but making no move to reclaim his coat from your shoulders.

[9haharharley1]

Bdsm prompt: experienced kinkster and first time actually doing anything kinkster. Bonus points if the dom is the newbie.

Take this messy thing away from me before I add more nonsense to it!

Featuring a Jack who has been part of a BDSM lifestyle in the past and Pitch who is very much curious.

---

"Is our sex life really so boring that we must submit to such base desires?" Pitch didn't so much as sneer as he said it, but he may as well have for how he turned his nose up at the riding crop laid out innocently on the bed.

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's not base," he said, barely holding back a groan of annoyance. He'd explained this a million times already. "And our sex life isn't boring. Far from it, and know it!" He crossed his arms, feeling a little self-conscious as Pitch held up the crop with one hand to better examine it. "It's just..." He couldn't look at the man, glancing at the closet door as he tried to avoid gold eyes that turned back to study him. "I just need something different every now and then, alright?"

"You want me to hit you," Pitch deadpanned. Jack held himself tighter.

"Yes." He chanced a look at the older man out of the corner of his eye. Pitch had an odd look on his face; one part repulsed, one part curious. He swung the crop down by his side, fast enough that Jack could hear the displacement of air on the other side of the room. It made his cheeks burn hot. "I'm not asking you to beat me, Pitch," he tried to explain once again. Pitch had expressed interest when Jack had first brought it up a week ago, but the tone of his lover's voice now was putting him off. "What I'm asking for is controlled. Methodical, almost. You like that kinda thing, right?"

"Yes, but I'm not interested in hurting you, Jack," Pitch stated firmly. He smacked the crop against the palm of his opposite hand as if to prove his point, but all it did was make Jack's pants feel awfully tight. He shifted in place.

"You're not supposed to put all your strength into it," he explained, rolling his eyes to hopefully mask his sudden arousal. He walked over, holding out his hand. Pitch handed over the crop. "It's a sensory thing." He tapped it gently against his lover's exposed chest. Pitch stood a little straighter, but otherwise, he didn't react save for the curiosity in his eyes. Jack ran the flat leather tip down the center of his chest, nudging his partially unbuttoned shirt out of the way to stroke it against a nipple. Pitch shuddered, pupils dilating a little, and Jack tapped the crop against it just to watch him squirm. "A few smacks is enough for me." He pulled the crop out of Pitch's shirt to run the leather down his stomach. Pitch stood very still, hands behind his back in parade rest. "Hard enough to sting and leave a mark." Jack ran pliable leather over the half-hard cock in Pitch's slacks. He couldn't help but smirk up at the man. "Just enough to know who's in charge."

Pitch's gaze was smoldering as he gazed down at Jack. "And who is in charge, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. He held the crop loose in one hand, looking away from his lover. "Don't know yet. But if you're really not interested, we don't have to do this. This is supposed to be something fun and new, but if you're just gonna be mean, then I'm not interested either." He flipped the crop in his hand, holding the braided handle out for his older lover. He stared hard up at Pitch from under his bangs. "I need you to be my Dom, not a dick."

Pitch slowly reached out to take the riding crop. Jack let him have it, crossing his arms back over his chest. Pitch's fingers flexed around the handle, and Jack had to look away. His face felt flush, and he really hoped Pitch had the good grace not to be a dick about all this later.

He jumped when thin leather smacked his arm. It wasn't enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention, the sound loud in the quiet room. Jack turned his head back to stare down at it, eyes wide. It then moved up, rustling the fabric of his shirt, until leather curled under his chin and urged him to lift his head. He did so as though commanded even though neither of them had spoken, and he was embarrassed by how red his face must be when he finally met Pitch's eyes. Pitch stared down at him, one arm still held behind his back, gaze almost impassive. Curiosity shone deep in gold eyes, studying Jack's reaction to the crop, and the younger man swallowed thickly.

"You seem to have forgotten who's is charge here," Pitch murmured, and Jack whimpered at the authoritative tone. He hated how quick Pitch caught on sometimes. Leather ran down his neck, but Pitch held his gaze. "Allow me to remind you." He tapped Jack's chest with the crop. "Strip for me. And get on the bed."

Jack couldn't get his clothes off fast enough.

He practically ripped his shirt off, throwing it across the room as he did. Pitch tutted, and Jack froze as he worked his pants down his legs.

"So eager," he murmured, and Jack shivered at the dark tone of his voice - the one that only came out when Pitch was particularly demanding in the bedroom, the tone that made Jack want to introduce him to this side of himself after all their time together. "Go slower for me, darling. Let me see you."

Jack swallowed nervously, but he obeyed, removing his pants at a slower pace. He put a playful little bounce to his movements, shaking his ass as he slid his underwear down, earning a soft groan of approval. When he stood back up, his cock stood at full attention, and he couldn't meet Pitch's eyes.

A firm tap of the crop met his thigh, and Jack jumped. He couldn't stop the moan that slipped past his lips.

"On the bed," Pitch reminded him, a warning in his tone. "Don't make me ask again."

Oh, that...

That was fucking perfect.

Jack was trembling as he stepped toward the bed, his face on fire as he knelt on the edge. He wanted to ask how Pitch wanted him, but he was too turned on and embarrassed to do so, so he simply climbed up on hands and knees, ass on display for his lover. It had been a long time since he had last been in such a position, and it was embarrassing to display himself so lewdly to Pitch of all people, but he trusted him; trusted him more than anyone he had ever met, so he swallowed down his shame and arched his back, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows. He wanted to share this side of himself with Pitch, and he was going to share every damn bit of it.

Pitch sucked in a sharp breath behind him, and Jack couldn't help the little grin that came to his lips at the noise. He breathed out a shaky breath and finally let himself sink into that blank space he had been craving for months now.

"Is this okay, Sir?" he asked quietly, peeking over his shoulder, and he was gratified by what he saw.

Pitch's mouth had fallen slack, brow hiked up. His eyes had glazed over some as he ran them over Jack's exposed body, the crop dangling uselessly from his fingers. His black slacks were tented with obvious arousal, and Jack bit back a laugh. He shook his ass, teasing his older lover.

"Sir?" he asked, a little louder. Pitch snapped his mouth shut.

"Oh, I was not ready for that..." he mumbled, still looking a little dazed. Jack snorted. He shook his ass again, earning a gentle smack from the crop. "Stop that."

Pitch was kind enough to wait for his laughter to die down. "Sorry, sorry!" He looked back again to see the older man just watching him, running his eyes over every inch of his body. He was equal parts admiring, dazed, and calculated, and Jack's blush returned. "Do you want to stop?"

Pitch's eyes darted up to meet his. "Do you?"

Jack slowly shook his head. He licked his lips. "Green."

He watched Pitch exhale shakily. "Safe words. Right." He swallowed but adjusted his grip on the crop. "Green." And Jack watched his whole demeanor change, going from his unsure and hesitant lover to the hardened military strategist he had met what felt like a lifetime ago now.

His fingers curled in the duvet under him as he shivered with anticipation.

Firm leather brushed his ass, making Jack trembled in place. It ran over first one cheek and then the other, ghosting down his center until it pushed against his hole. He whimpered.

"None of that," came Pitch's hardened voice, and Jack struggled to comply, but all he wanted was to fall face first into the bed and beg the man to touch him. "Needy little things like you don't get what they want, even if they do make such sweet sounds." He rubbed the crop more firmly over Jack's entrance, and he had to stifle his moan into the covers. "I don't think I appreciate such disrespect." He pulled the crop away to tap against a cheek gently. "Do you agree, darling?"

Jack nodded shakily. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Hm." Pitch seemed to be struggling for dialogue, but Jack was so turned on by him playing along that he was willing to wait as long as he needed. It wasn't like they had hashed out a specific scenario to lead into this. He actually hadn't thought Pitch would want to jump right on in to begin with! Jack had thought they would need to ease into it all a little more, get his lover more comfortable taking charge like this, but Pitch was proving to be almost natural at it. Pitch's eyes on him alone was enough to keep him hard for hours, and, oh, they were going to have to talk about such a scenario at some point, weren't they?

Jack's cock was leaking between his legs, almost painful with how hard he was. He needed to move this along or he was going to have to safeword out, because this was almost too much too soon. "How can I make it up to you, Sir?" he murmured, glancing over his shoulder again.

Pitch was staring at him like he didn't know what he wanted to do to him first, and, fuck, Jack needed him to do something! He shook his ass, his arousal noticeably swaying between his legs, if Pitch's eyes dropping down to stare at it meant anything.

"I'm, uh..." Pitch swallowed, hands balling into fists at his sides, breath coming a little shaky. "Ye... Yellow."

Jack didn't move off the bed, but he sat up, turning his upper body toward his lover. His brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"

A shaky breath left Pitch, but his eyes remained glued to Jack's ass. Jack thought that might be a good sign. "I don't..." Pitch exhaled again. "I'm at a loss."

Jack pursed his lips. He turned around to face him. Pitch stifled a distressed noise at that, and he almost laughed at the older man. "OK. How so?"

"I-I don't..." Pitch ran a hand through his hair, scowling at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. I d-don't know how to segue into... hitting you." He sounded genuinely distressed.

"Do you want to stop?" Jack asked. His tone left no room for argument.

Pitch's brow furrowed. He remained quiet. Jack sighed quietly, and he tried not to feel disappointed.

"We can stop, Koz," he said quietly. He met Pitch's eyes when the older man finally looked back at him. He shrugged, offering a small grin. "It's really not that big a deal. I'm... kinda surprised you made it this far anyway." He chuckled a little.

"Jack..."

Jack hated how soft his voice sounded.

"Seriously, it's fine!" He forced a laugh, ignoring the tears that sprang to his eyes. "We don't have to go further! Just... come over here and give me some cuddles or something. I don't want you to feel like -"

"I want to bury my face in your arse," Pitch suddenly announced. Jack's face went scarlet, wide eyes darting up to meet blazing gold. Pitch's pupils were still blown so wide as he racked his eyes over Jack's body. "How I get to that point from here, I do not know, but this is... Frankly, this is torture. How do I get to that point?"

Jack almost spit for how sudden his laughter was. "You -"

"Jack, please," Pitch practically begged. "Am I allowed to touch you? Or does that come later?"

It took serious effort to stifle his giggles. They sounded near hysterical to his own ears, and he watched through watery eyes as Pitch stepped closer. "Pitch -" Jack cut himself off with more laughter, near doubled over. "Oh, my god, I can't -" he gasped in a breath, nearly losing it again when he caught sight of his lover's impatient face. "B-Babe, pfft - you're in control here! You can do whatever you want to me as long as I get the crop or unless I safeword out!" He reached out both hands for his lover, Pitch stepping in close until Jack could grab the collar of his partially open shirt and drag him closer. He shifted, lifting up on his knees so he could give the taller man a reassuring kiss, moaning when Pitch tried to follow him when he pulled away. Jack grinned. "The ass-whooping is my punishment; ass-eating is the reward."

"So it's to be a punishment, then," Pitch clarified. His voice went velvety dark as he said it, something in Jack's words seeming to click for the older man. It made Jack's face flush once again. Pitch grabbed one thin wrist in his free hand, pulling Jack away. "In that case -" he smirked wickedly " - green." He shoved Jack back onto the bed. Jack yelped.

Before he could catch his bearings and scramble back up, the crop came down on his chest - not enough to hurt, but enough to make an audible sound and leave a light mark on his pectoral. Jack gasped, dropping back down to his elbows, eyes clenched shut as tingles shot from the spot all the way to his groin. The crop dragged down to his belly.

"You are an absolute bloody menace." Another hit landed just under his ribs, Jack arching and crying out. He gaped up at the ceiling as Pitch dragged it even further down, tracing the seam of his hips. "And you think," Pitch ran the leather tip in a circle on the sensitive skin just below Jack's naval, "you can just tease me anyway you'd like?" He barely tapped it against Jack's weeping member, nearly making him sob when it bounced in place. He trembled. "I think making me wait is punishment enough. On your knees."

Jack couldn't move fast enough.

He scrambled back to his position from before, ass out and knees spread as he pressed his chest to the mattress, all but prostrating himself for his lover. Leather ran up from the back of his knee, tickling sensitive skin as Pitch dragged the crop up to his ass. He lay it flat to his skin, Jack shaking uncontrollably. He clutched the duvet in anticipation.

"How many do you think you deserve?" Pitch asked. He held the crop steady as Jack tried to wiggle his ass at him for more attention. Then he gave him a good swat.

"AH!" Jack's head shot up with the hit, the cry ripped from his throat in his shock. His cock was already dripping from how hard he was.

"None of that," Pitch ordered. He rested the crop on stinging flesh. "I think I've had enough teasing for one night. Answer my question, Jack."

Jack swallowed, burying his heated face in the cover. "F-Five..." he whispered. It was a number he had decided on before they started, something to ease them both into this. At the rate it was going, however, he might not even last that long.

Another swat stung his other cheek, and Jack nearly screeched, head jerking up in shock. His hips tried to rock uselessly forward.

"What was that, darling?" Pitch pulled the crop away. "I couldn't quite hear you."

Jack licked his lips, panting. "F-Five hits, S-Sir!" he stuttered a little louder. He couldn't bear to look over his shoulder at Pitch.

"Good boy, Jack. Five should do nicely. Are you ready?"

Jack didn't even get a chance to reply before the first real smack hit him just above where ass met thigh. A sound was ripped from him, somewhere between a screech and a moan, and he clutched the covers hard between his fingers. Tears stung his eyes, and euphoria threatened to consume him with the beautiful sting of pain.

"Is that what you wanted, Jack?" Pitch asked, voice gone dark with menace. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

Jack trembled where he lay. "Oh, god... Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir!"

"Don't you sound so pretty. Let's hear it again, hm?"

And he swatted Jack again, this time across the other cheek, and Jack squealed. His face was on fire, and he buried it in the duvet, tears soaking the fabric where he had his eyes clenched shut. "Oh, fuck, thank you, Sir!"

"This is a good look for you," he thought he heard Pitch say behind him. There was a fog rolling in, keeping him from paying attention to anything but the next hit. It came soon after, across the same cheek, Jack whining into the sheets. "Don't hide yourself, Jack. I'm doing this for you, after all."

"Y-Yes, Sir! Thank you!"

"So sweet." Was that a grin he could hear in Pitch's voice? Jack wasn't sure. He was too busy gasping for air as a sob threatened to escape his throat. "But I'm sure you can sound sweeter."

The next hit landed in the same sensitive spot as the first, where ass met thigh and lit up his nerves with fire. He screamed into the sheets, that sob ripped from his throat as his legs shook. His toes curled, back arching, and it took him longer than before to catch his breath again.

"Th-Thank you, Sir..." he hiccuped into the sheets. When Pitch didn't respond, Jack hesitantly shook his ass, and he heard a quiet groan somewhere behind him. "G-Green..." he sniffed.

"Gods, you're fucking gorgeous," Pitch suddenly growled. Jack jumped as the crop found his skin again, but all Pitch did was trail it gently along the painful spots on his ass - a mockery of a caress that made Jack's skin twitch and his muscles quiver. The crop dragged over his heavy sac to tap his member. "Look at you... You're dripping all over and I haven't even touched you yet." He continued to rub firm leather along sensitive flesh, letting pearly fluid catch on the end of the crop. Whimpering, Jack tried to thrust forward, to get even the slightest bit of friction on his cock, but Pitch pulled it away with a firm tap, making his length bounce and Jack nearly sob. "You don't get to come yet, Jack," he said darkly. The crop rubbed once more over his cheeks. Jack's back tensed. "I still owe you one more. Are you ready?"

Jack didn't even have time to respond or even just nod his head before he was screaming with the final hit across both his cheeks, rocking forward with the force of it, cock spurting with pre as unexpected pleasure ripped through him. He sobbed into the bed, fingers curled tight in the covers.

"Fuck!" he screamed, legs spreading even wider in an effort to rub himself on the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fu~uck! Thank you, Sir! Thank you - oh, god, I'm so close, please, Sir, I need it, I need you, I need - fuck!"

Two big, hot hands spread his stinging cheeks, thumbs pulling at his rim until hot breath and an even hotter tongue found his hole and plunged inside. Jack screamed, writhing on the bed as he tried to fuck back on that wonderful tongue, Pitch groaning obscenely loud compared to how quiet and controlled he had held himself until now.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get more inside him, all but sobbing when Pitch refused to give him what he needed. His tongue was searing in its heat, and Jack's tears soaked into the cover as he cried, shaking and desperate. He listened to Pitch's moans, feeling little vibrations of sensation shoot up his spine until he couldn't take it anymore, and he arched to try and catch a glance at the older man.

"P-Pitch," he sobbed, "Pitch, please, I can't - I need -"

That tongue was gone in the next instant, Jack gasping at the sudden emptiness, his hole clenching around nothing. He sobbed again, frustration making him thrust his hips for some kind of friction until a hard smack to his ass made him gasp and jump. The sting of a hand on flesh had his eyes clenching shut. Big hands took a firm hold of his hips, yanking him back to the edge of the bed, and with no warning, Pitch's long, hard cock was forced inside in one hard shove.

A guttural scream ripped from Jack's throat, tears soaking his cheeks, and he came untouched almost immediately, forcing himself back on the long cock inside him with every near painful spurt. Pitch held him in place, groaning loud and deep, and it took only a few thrusts before warmth flooded Jack's insides. He whined at the sensation, trying to meet every twitch of Pitch's hips, until all at once, his legs seemed to give out, and all that held up his slumped form was Pitch's strength alone.

Minute tremors ran through lithe muscle as Jack was lowered back down on the bed. He shook, tears soaking into the sheets as his ass stung in the cool air and his face burned.

God, what must Pitch think of him?

He tried to lift himself up, but his arms shook so bad that he could barely move them, let alone support his weight, and he collapsed back to the bed. He tried to hide his face, only to moan when hot hands found his skin, slick with some kind of lotion, rubbing it gently into his tender flesh.

"You did so well, Jack..." Pitch murmured from behind him, voice achingly soft and gentle. "You were so very good for me; so beautiful and obedient."

Jack sniffled, peeking an eye over his shoulder to meet Pitch's adoring gaze. "I-I did good?"

Pitch smiled at him, gold eyes gleaming with love. "So good, Jack. You were such a good boy for me." He rubbed the last of the ointment into Jack's skin before crawling up the bed, picking Jack up easily as he went to rearrange them both more comfortably at the head of the bed. He held the younger man securely in warm arms, Jack burying his face in his exposed chest as he clutched at his shirt. Pitch moved a hand up to card his fingers through sweaty white hair. "Thank you for being so patient with me, love," he whispered, placing a kiss to Jack's hair.

When Jack's shaking finally died down and he felt like he could speak normally again, he pulled away to gaze up at his lover, filled with nothing but love and adoration for the man. He placed a soft kiss on his chin. "Next time, I think I might ask you to go harder on me," he murmured, voice hoarse from screaming.

Pitch kissed his brow in return, fingers gentle on his back. His smirk was wicked when he met Jack's gaze, however. "Next time, I'm going to fuck you with the handle of that crop until you can't speak anymore."

Arousal lit up Jack's spine with a shock, and he moaned, his length twitching half-heartedly against the thigh shoved between his legs. He grinned back, eyes going heavy with desire. "Oh, yes, Sir, please..."

It looked like Pitch really would have no trouble taking up the title as Jack's Dom after all.

---

I'll clean it up and add it to ao3 later!

[animeyanderelover]

I'm almost through with the second season pf Vampire Diaries and whilst I would love to write something for Klaus already, I still know too little about him. Since I love rocky poly!relationships I decided to instead dip my toes into a little image with the Salvatore brothers when they find out that they both love the same darling.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, threats, g/n reader

Imagine this...

The rustling of paper cut through the thick silence hanging in the room, the unspoken tension crackling like fireworks about to go off. Blue eyes flew over the pages filled with elegantly written words, narrowing when he stumbled over a line or nickname so romantic that Damon felt the need heave. His hands tightened around the elegantly bound book, his jaw clenching as he felt a familiar feeling bubbling up within his chest. His gaze slowly darted over to the other pile of books placed right next to him, all filled with the same content that he knew would have him ripping apart everything within a frenzied rage if he were to continue reading.

Unable to read on and feed that growing burn within his dead heart, Damon slammed the book shut with more force than needed. Putting it away, his body leaned back against the couch. His eyes closed for a few seconds as he tried to stuff the uneasy feelings within his chest away. He could not do this otherwise. Footsteps circled around the couch he was sitting on, slow and apprehensive, before they paused right in front of him.

"Damon."

As soon as the older brother opened his eyes, he was met with the guarded expression of Stefan. Arms crossed over his chest, the younger brother observed him with a gleam of caution. That in itself was nothing new, Stefan had rarely welcomed him exactly with open arms since both of them had been turned into vampires. Still, perhaps Damon would have liked a more warm-hearted greeting. Especially since both brothers apparently had a new... should he call it passion, to bond over.

"Brother!" Damon exclaimed, his tone worringly enthusiastic as he stood up from the couch, a smirk on his face as he walked closer to his younger brother.

"Perfect timing! I was waiting for you. There is something that I really, really wanted to talk with you about."

Green eyes pointed a fleeting look at all the notebooks scattered across the couch before they met the blue eyes of Damon. Already Stefan could tell that this wouldn'e be an easy conversation. Not with someone like Damon.

"You know, whilst I was waiting for you, I found this," one of his hands grasped one of the notebooks laying around on the couch, “And I just couldn’t help myself but take a look inside. To see what could possibly be on my dear brother’s mind.”

His fingers flew across the pages in a quick tempo, his blue eyes still able to take in words and sentences. Stefan took one step closer to him, worried that any second now Damon would rip it apart. He knew his older brother after all. That chipper tone he used coupled with that foreboding gleam within his eyes never meant something good.

“Why you never tried your luck in poetry is above me, you know? I mean, the stuff that you have written down here is enough to make any poet envious. Joseph von Eichendorff and Friedrich Schiller would have been green with jealousy if they would have read this.”

Abruptly the notebook was taken out of his hand, Stefan’s fingers smoothing over the crinkled paper that had just been about to be ripped by Damon. He didn’t think it was a conscious decision, more a slip of strength from his brother’s side but it was that unpredictable impulsiveness that made him so wary of Damon.

“They’re not the ones green with jealousy right now,” Stefan replied after a few seconds, more bite to his voice than he had intended. The notebook was clutched protectively to his chest yet he stood straight, his gaze cautious yet firm as both brothers glared at the other. Damon tilted his head slightly as he inspected Stefan, his blue eyes revealing condescending surprise as he took in his younger brother’s words.

“Come on. Loosen up, Stefan,” Now it was Damon who started circling around Stefan with long and slow strides, his blue eyes ablaze with unspoken feelings, “You don’t have to be so uptight. I’m your brother after all.”

Stefan followed every movement of his brother sharply, the tendons in his muscles taut with tension as if he was expecting a sudden assault at any moment. At the mocking words of Damon he could only release a deep breath through his nostrils.

“I know that you’re my brother. That’s exactly why I’m worried.”

A wry smirk crossed Damon’s face as he was confronted with Stefan’s serious expression. “Now you’re just breaking your older brother’s heart.”

“Damon…” Stefan began, his voice hesitant as he searched his brain for the right words, “Please don’t turn this into your personal vendetta against me by dragging (y/n) into this.”

Within less than the blink of an eye Damon stood right in front of him, intense blue eyes clashing with Stefan’s green orbs. For one short second Stefan could see the way Damon clenched his jaw, the emotions of betrayal and hurt flaring up. Within the next moment his older brother hid it all behind that mocking smirk though, shaky as it was.

“And why would I do that, Stefan? Go on, enlighten me.”

There was a hiss to that tone, the bitterness seeping through no matter how hard Damon was trying not to show it. This situation was too much of a Déjà-vu for him to remain nonchalant and Stefan knew this. He searched for something within Damon’s eyes, anything to stop this conflict from escalating.

“I don’t want us to be like this,” he confessed, refusing to weaken his tone so that it would sound like he was begging. Damon would only sink his fangs into his words if he were to plea after all.

“Really?” Damon taunted, his eyebrows arching up in false shock, “I don’t believe that.”

His index finger started jamming forcefully against Stefan’s notebook, the pressure strong enough so that the younger brother could feel it.

“Because based on what you wrote in here I’m pretty sure that this,” his other finger pointed back and forth between him and Stefan, “is exactly what you want us to be like.”

The shadow hovering over Stefan’s face disappeared as Damon pulled away, stepping away without removing his piercing gaze from his younger brother.

“And if that is how you want it to be, then I am more than prepared to play this game. Little warning for you though, I don’t plan on playing nice.”

Two pairs of hands yanked him forward, fingers curling into fists and gripping his jacket in a tight grip.

“If you want to be angry, be angry with me! But don’t drag them into this only to mess with me!”

The growling warning of his brother elicited a scoff of disbelief out of Damon, one corner of his mouth lifting up as he leaned his face closer to that of his younger brother.

“Being angry doesn’t suit you, Stefan. Did you forget? You’re supposed to be the good brother between the two of us.”

“Knock! It! Off!” Stefan hissed, each single word punctured by the way he shook Damon. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t get so worked up because this was exactly what Damon wanted. However, he couldn’t help it. Not when it involved you.

“Or what?” Damon growled challengingly, his own hands grasping the collar of Stefan’s shirt, “What is Prince Charming going to do if I act like I always have been?”

A brief flicker of something. Perhaps it was desperation. Perhaps it was regret. Perhaps it was something entirely else. Whatever it was, it was gone too quickly for Damon to decipher it. Instead he watched as Stefan’s expression hardened, dark veins appearing beneath his eyes as the next snarl of his lips revealed sharp fangs.

“Then I’ll make sure that you won’t get to even touch them! I won’t let you have your way with them, Damon!”

The same dark veins that had already appeared on Stefan’s face now blossomed on Damon’s, a snarl of his own tearing through his throat.

“Oh, I’d like to see you try that, little brother.”

[ozzgin]

i just wanted to say ur amazing, literally ur writing and drawings, literally so cool

Who would’ve thought that letting loose on tumblr would finally make me cool in someone’s eyes?

You’re too kind anon, I shall be wearing my new badge with pride. I’m a changed man. I’m a cool man. All thanks to you.

[cherryinterlude]

somebody sedate me he's too fine

[ir0nheir]

VARIOUS PHOTOS TAKEN OF JAMES STARK.

mutuals may like , comment & reblog.

[w1nch3strd]

VARIOUS STUDIES OF DEAN WINCHESTER. dyn. / bucky.

for @marvelmyriad / @vintertsarn to reblog only.

[coffeeallaloneandlord]

but circling back to lana del rey born to die.... if you weren't in high school in 2012/2013 you don't get it

[visxionaries]

who: @fromspringandfire when and where: king cedric of house tyrell visits the reach following the death of prince mors of house martell, with one particularly noticeable part of his entourage.

there had been a noticeable beat of silence that came in response to the question he had given her. the offer, which seemed so much more casual than it actually was. but that was the way in which he had always spoken to her, so casually when there was always something so much more beneath the surface. a suggestion, a chance, a game. this was no game, not this time; it was unheard of for the king of thorns and roses to ask for a woman to accompany him to another realm - especially a woman that held a personal connection to him.

this was not politics. this was the story starting again, the circle happening again. and he did nothing to try and end it.

for in the offer, it were clear. should she choose to accompany him to dorne of all places, there would come something else as a result of their choice. it was up to her to choose whether she were ready to put herself through such a thing again; for the illicit affair always maimed them both. but her? she were something special, in ways he could not understand. it was their fourth night in sunspear, and cedric tyrell had not called for laena oldflowers.

until he did. a servant had made the walks to her rooms to inform her that the king had wished to see her, just when the night had gone by ten. he had decided, silently that night, that it were time for the cycle to begin again. the doors opened, and she stood within the doorway, candlelight illuminating from her silverish curls that were also laced with gold. honey. amethyst hues he had seen drown in his own.

and as he crossed over to her, the night where they would finally give in all over again, his hand curved on one side of her cheeks. there were no whispers or a build up of tension that had not already happened the entire journey here. the nights spent looking across the dornish ballroom. and as his hands moved to begin to uncross the front of her nightgown, he used his other to remove the thin cloak she wore around her figure. "come here." he uttered.

[rex3o]

Doting wife p2

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.

Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.

During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.

Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.

He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.

His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.

-

You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?

Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.

The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.

"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.

Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.

"I miss you." he says.

"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.

"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.

"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."

He hesistatess before continuing.

"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."

You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.

"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.

"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."

He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"

As he rests his large hand over yours.

"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."

His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.

"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.

"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.

Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.

"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.

Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.

After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.

An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.

"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.

"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.

"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.

You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.

"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.

"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.

"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.

In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.

The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.

part 1

-

Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.

- R

[fict1onallyobsessed]

OKAY OKAY COULD YOU PLEASE WRITE SMTH ABOUT SEVIKA PROTECING READER BECAUSE OF SOMETHING LIKE HERE ON THIS PIC SHE PROTECTS JINX AND ISHA??

im sorry if i wrote something wrong but english is not my first language😭🙏

OF COURSE !!!!!!! I have an idea for this...

I got a little carried away and gave you more LOL sorry

Sevika x Fem!Reader

She grabbed you before you could process the fan being turned on. Thankfully, you weren't too far from the table that protected you both, otherwise you would have been swept with the air flow violently.

Your side hurt. The shot Caitlyn took must have not only pierced your skin but the force broke your rib too. Whatever the gun was made of was strong enough to go through the stone pillar behind you partially as well.

Safe to say it hurt as fuck.

You clutched your side and winced as Sevika crouched with you in front of her, the stone table keeping you sat up, but barely. Sevika's new metal arm grabbed onto the table and kept her put, the other going to hold your side with you.

You weren't sure whether your adrenaline was keeping you lucid or if the shot wasn't truly that bad. Regardless, you didn't want to hang around much longer.

You looked up at your girlfriend, head slightly bouncing off the stone behind you as you rested it. She looked worried, and although nothing but pain was filling your sense, you found the energy to sigh and show her a small smile.

Her hair was flying around with the wind, her face showing slight worry and mostly focus as she tried to keep you both behind the table.

"You'll be fine." She mouthed, and you couldn't do much more but nod. You trusted her. You believed her...but the blood slowly seeping through the cracks of your fingers, and onto her hand covering yours, it was looking more like you were not going to be fine.

The wind seemed everlasting and the longer you sat there, waiting for it to stop, the dizzier you became.

You wanted to see Sevika's face for as long as you could. Taking in her scowl of concentration, the barely noticeable glint of nervousness in her eye when she met yours, the shiny scar across her cheek.

You thought she was leaning down to get out of the wind more, but instead she leaned down to your ear and spoke through the loud fan.

"Don't look at me like that." She spoke it as a command as her hand squeezed your bleeding side.

"Like what?" You scoffed quietly, immediately feeling the burn in your rib.

"Like you're about to say goodbye. You're fine."

You hummed and looked back up at her when she pulled away, leaving no room for discussion.

She was so gorgeous, holding you, protecting you, as if you were about to disappear any minute.

Your head spun so much you didn't even notice the fan turn off. Sevika lifted you off the ground and instructed Jinx, who was also carrying a girl, where to go. It all came out as muffled to you though, as the blood loss slowly stared winning, and you passed out.

When you woke up, the first thing you saw was two heads looking down at you. Jinx's braids tickled your nose, while the other girls hair wasn't even long enough to reach her eyebrows. You groaned, immediately going in to hold your side as a reflex to find it bandaged.

"I told you to let her rest." Sevika's voice rung out in a disappointed tone as she walked in with a bunch of fresh bandages in her hand. Presumably for you.

You were in Silco's office, laid down on his sofa. The table was covered with medical supplies, alcohol bottles and jinx's crafts, but your eyes ended up laying upon Sevika. Her worried expression had you worried.

"How are you feeling?" Sevika asked, looking down at you as she put the obnoxious amount of wraps on the table.

"Trust you to get shot." Jinx scoffed playfully as she stared down at you, knowing damn well that bullet was meant for her. "Took it like a champ though!"

You chuckled back and attempted to sit up, but Sevika was faster and pushed you back down, shaking her head.

"I'm fine." You spoke, but Sevika wouldn't relent. She kept you laying down as she changed your bandages carefully. Your eyes fell from Sevika onto the little girl who was still staring down at you. "Who would have thought Jinx took in a stray. What's your name?"

"Her name is Isha. She's sticking around." Jinx replied matter-of-factly, a small smirk on her face as she said it. It made you giggle a bit.

"Alright, out." Sevika stood up from crouching beside you as she finished your bandages. Jinx took Isha and left, excited to show her some of her trinkets to get her mind off of...recent events. "She needs to rest."

"I'm alright." You spoke, reaching out for Sevika's hand to help you up. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough to have me worried." She sighed, sitting beside you and letting you lean on her.

"Sorry." You sighed back, almost identically. "And you know, thank you."

She wrapped her hand around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"Anytime."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

We NEED more soft!Rafe after the new season. He moved out and got a whole house to himself maybe he could ask his girl to move in? Becasue he wants her there and to be part of his life...his new life where he's a better person

Request: SOFT RAFE PLSSS

I don't know when I found time to write this, but enjoy soft!Rafe asking his girlfriend to move in with him! Feel free to send more requests, I'll write when I find time

Warnings: soft!Rafe, relationship moving quickly, mention of Ward's death

—

‘’Rafe, I truly can’t see. I’m not cheating,'’ you promised as you walked with Rafe’s hands over your eyes.  

He had picked you up in late afternoon and refused to tell you where you were going. Just that he wanted to show you something...and that you had to close your eyes during the whole drive. 

Rafe laughed a bit, trusting you. ''Okay, okay.'' 

You walked a few more steps, then he stopped and removed his hands from your eyes, revealing a large two story house. 

A frown formed between your eyebrows. ‘’Who's house is this?''

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘’Mine,'' he whispered in your ear, giving you a gentle kiss on your jawline. ‘’As of this morning.'' 

Surprise filled your face. ‘’You bought a house?’’ 

Every time Rafe showed up to your place after a fight with his family — most often his father —, needing a bed to crash in for a few days, you tried talking to him about getting his own place. It would solve a lot of conflicts. But Rafe always said he wasn’t ready to leave the family nest. 

Behind you, Rafe hummed. ‘’I bought it with a part of my dad’s inheritance money. Sharing a house with Rose is not possible anymore. Too much has happened...’’ 

You covered his hands with yours in silent support. You’d heard the ugly stories about Rose and Rafe. He hadn’t always made the best decisions in the past, but Rose constantly blamed him for everything bad that happened to the family. Rafe may have deep personal issues, but it was wrong of her to villainize him.

‘’Do you want a tour?’’ he asked, his voice brimming with excitement, and the eagerness in his eyes made it impossible for you to refuse.

You followed Rafe up the steps to the porch of his new home. He fumbled briefly with the key before pushing the door open, but just as you were about to enter, he pulled you to a sudden stop.

“Wait,” he ordered, his strong arms wrapping around you as he effortlessly lifted you up.

You squeaked, startled by the sudden move. ‘’Rafe, we're not married, you know,’’ you said with a soft laugh, looping an arm behind his neck. ‘’You don't have to carry me over the threshold."

He set you down gently on the wooden floor of the entrance hall and shut the door behind him. 

Inside, the house felt big and empty, its openness accentuated by the sunlight streaming through the uncovered windows.

‘’I don’t know why, but I expected it to be fully furnished,’’ you admitted, glancing towards what you assumed was the living room. 

Rafe chuckled, his fingers lacing with yours as he guided you further in. ‘’Some people do buy them furnished, but this one wasn’t. You’ll have to help me pick out furniture because I suck at decorating.’’ 

The kitchen was massive and even had two ovens — a rich people thing. It was unfortunate Rafe didn’t cook. The backyard had a large patio where Rafe mentioned wanting to set a barbecue and a firepit, and maybe one of those large daybeds. He wanted his house to be cozy and feel like a home, not look straight out of a fucking magazine.

As he led you into the last room upstairs, the master bedroom, Rafe's voice grew soft. The words were burning on his tongue, but he didn’t know how to say them. 

‘’And here's our bedroom. I mean, the bedroom.’’ He made a mistake on purpose, just to see your reaction. 

You tried to hide the smile that spread across your lips, your heart beating fast in your chest. The slip of his tongue hadn't gone by unnoticed. Did he truly mean for you to live here with him? Was this why he took you to the house and insisted on making it a surprise? 

‘’There’s a big bathtub in the master bedroom, and—’’ Rafe continued, moving toward the bathroom to show you the bathtub, but you were not listening. 

Moving in with someone is a huge step in a relationship, not something you can decide on a whim. You and Rafe had only been together for a few months, so it felt a bit early to take that step. But then again, everything in your relationship had moved quickly from the start. He met your parents two weeks after your first kiss, and said ‘I love you’ after twenty-six days of dating — yes, you had counted them. 

When Rafe glanced back at you, he noticed you seemed deep in thought. ‘’Is everything okay?’’ he asked, an eyebrow raised in concern. 

You snapped out of your thoughts, shaking your head. ‘’Yeah, everything’s good,’’ you replied, smiling at him. ‘’I was just thinking of all the time it’ll take us to christen our house.’’ A mischievous grin curled on your lips as you walked toward him. ‘’Maybe we should start now. It’s a big house.’’ 

Rafe’s eyes flickered with surprise as he heard what you were implying. He expected you to refuse, to say it was too soon. 

‘’You’ll move in with me?’’ he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. 

You nodded, and a smile curled on Rafe's face. He's never been happier.

—

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