#‘wait. how do two guys. like. you know…?’

[yasminawayne]

PART II. 100 Object Boyfriends vs One Ex-Boyfriend

SYNOPSIS: Your ex is coming at 7:00 AM to pick up his stuff. Your object boyfriends have other plans.

TAGS: GN!Reader, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Protective everyone, Hurt/Comfort

tw. emotional abuse, gaslighting, physical violence, threats, controlling behavior, toxic relationship dynamics, implied past trauma

W.C: 7.4k | CHARACTERS: Dorian, Dirk, Hanks, Cabrizzio, Hector, Cam, Tony, Dante, Volt, Daisuke, Timothy/Timmy!

PART I

AO3: yasminwayne Ko-Fi: buy me a coffee!

"…Who is that," Curt muttered, the curtain rods creaking as he leaned forward, squinting through the window glass. "Tell me that is not who I think it is."

There was a lazy shuffle from the sun-warmed ledge, where Rod was curled. He cracked one eye open, lifted the curtain with two fingers, and blinked slowly.

"Who we peepin’?"

Curt’s arms folded tight. "That dude."

Rod didn’t even lift his head. "What dude."

"Him!" Curt flailed a hand toward the street. "Tall, dark, emotionally constipated. That one."

Rod tilted his head, squinted. "Man…Nah. Noooope."

Curt thumped the windowsill with his palm. "Ain’t no way. That ain’t him… Oh, hell no! Not the motorcycle. He still riding that loud-ass tin can like it don’t got three recalls and a damn parking ticket?"

Rod finally leaned in, catching sight of the figure. A wheezy laugh escaped as he shook his head. "And look! He still got them damn glasses!"

Curt frowned, leaning closer for confirmation. "Them glasses ain’t even prescription. Man out here choosing to see blurry. Blind to red flags, blind to closure, blind to everything but his own bullshit."

Rod kept watching, head tilted. "I still don’t get how he pulled them."

"I know, right?" Curt threw his hands up. "Our baby. Sweet, hot, emotionally competent baby. And him ?"

Rod snorted. "Still managed to score. Got more game than you, apparently."

Curt turned with mock offense. "Wow. So I’m catching strays now?"

Rod raised both brows. "If the shoe fits, Casanova."

Curt glared at him, then looked back out the window with narrowed eyes. "But come on. You think it’s the cheekbones?"

Rod huffed. "Fuck no."

“Yeah, me neither.” Curt’s grin spread slow, mischievous. He gave his turquoise drapes a flick. “Think if I whip these open fast enough, I could smack him with ’em? Like—shmack! Right across the nose?”

Rod grinned too—lazy, mean. "You try it, I’ll drop the curtain rod. Straight to the dome. He won’t even know what hit him. We’ll blame it on Hector. Say it was a gust of fall air, tragic freak accident."

Curt opened his mouth to reply—then yelped.

"OW—hey! Buddy, off!"

Curt glanced down, already wincing, just in time to catch the culprit red-pawed—Sprite. Mateo’s little wire-made cat was pawing mercilessly at the hem of his beloved drapes, one thread already snagged and dangling loose.

Rod barked out a laugh and bent down, scooping up the wiry little menace like it weighed nothing. Sprite’s legs wiggled in the air, metal paws still swiping at the fabric like it had unfinished business.

Holding the squirming cat midair, Rod called over his shoulder, “Hey, Mat! One of your little goblins is acting up again!”

In the living room, Mateo didn’t look up. He was still kneeling by the couch, a folded blanket resting across his arms.

"Sorry, guys! I’ll come get her in a bit. She’s just exploring."

Mateo stayed focused, quiet in that way he always was when he was being careful. He folded the softest blanket twice over, smoothing it across the couch, checking the corners and tugging it gently into place.

He didn’t say much, but it was obvious what he was doing. He was getting the space ready, just in case your ex ended up coming inside.

Because if that happened, if you were going to feel even a little shaken, or small, or cold, Mateo wanted comfort to be waiting for you.

So he placed the blanket exactly where he wanted you to sit, right between Dante and Hector. 

Dante was busy flickering softly behind the grate, nudging at his logs with gentle warmth. Hector hummed low from the vent in the wall, sending out soft, warm air. Together, they made a quiet pocket of comfort at the edge of fall.

He wasn’t the only one moving around the house. It didn’t take long after that. With your hurried footsteps and rushed breathing echoing through the house, the others caught on quickly.

Needless to say, news of your ex’s impending arrival spread fast. And they were worried.

You hadn’t told them everything. You didn’t need to. They saw it in the way your voice dipped when you said his name, in the way your shoulders flinched at sudden footsteps, in the tension that never really left your body. 

Of course they noticed! They were made for you, after all.

That was the thing about being objects, they weren’t just things. They were yours. Your comfort, your routines, your love made real in whatever shape they could take.

Strange, not-quite-human companions tucked into the bones of your home. They’d long since adapted to their in-between state; Half here, half not, bound to objects. Not human, no. But still able to do things for you. 

They could still offer what they were made for.

Mateo’s blanket is never far, always finding its way over your knees the moment the room begins to chill.

Daisuke’s cup seems to know when you're reaching for it, the handle quietly turning to meet your hand, like it’s been waiting all morning.

Timothy’s alarm softens on the mornings after a hard night, letting you wake slow and safe instead of startled. 

Dorian opens a little wider when you come home late. He once told you that he can’t sleep until you’re inside.

Cabrizzio never lets you eat alone if he can help it. Even leftovers end up plated like fine dining.

Skips draws shadows across your room when it’s time for bed, like hands pulling sleep around your shoulders.

Volt and Eddie give the faintest zaps to your fingers when you get too close to the fuse box. Just enough to make you stop and think twice before you hurt yourself. 

Cam rarely moves through the house, but he always manages to tidy up after you. Wrappers, receipts, stray socks, all scooped away before you even notice they’re gone.

Hector leaves notes near every vent, tiny curls of paper with scrawled affirmations or half-written love stories just for you.

They all move with the house’s old bones, like ghosts with warm hands. 

They’d been shaped by you. By your routines, your comfort, your heart. Everything you needed, they became. And right now, what you needed was someone watching your back. 

They couldn’t touch your ex. Couldn’t throw him out or bar the door, (though Dorian would’ve loved to try), but they were there. 

You open the door slower than you mean to.

That early morning hush hangs thick in the air, the sky behind is still washed in that gray-blue blur just before the day begins. It’s the kind of hour where everything feels half-formed. 

And Iseul is standing exactly where you hoped he wouldn’t be.

You look up, and for a breathless second, the sight of his face catches you off guard.

He’s too tall for your porch. Too sharply dressed for the quiet of your street. Too much, always too much. 

And for a moment, all you can do is stare.

God—He’s still beautiful. Devastatingly so. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a jaw cut from diamond. 

He hasn’t changed much. Or maybe that’s the problem. That same impossible elegance, untouched by time, untouched by your heartbreak.

Iseul smiles. Like your stunned silence is something he’d been waiting to hear.

"Oh," he says softly, like your appearance surprises him, even though it obviously doesn’t. "There you are. Finally, I was beginning to think I hallucinated the whole agreement."

You blink, voice dry in your throat. "You’re the one who scheduled this. For seven."

He grimaces in mock offense, placing a hand lightly over his chest like you’ve said something terribly cruel. "And already, I’m being punished. Deservedly, of course. Don’t worry. I’m not here to fight." A beat. "Well. Not with you, anyway."

You don’t respond to his joke. Just shift slightly, the weight of the box in your arms suddenly awkward.

He watches you, eyes dragging slowly across your face, over your hair, your clothes, your bare feet in the doorway. There’s nothing lewd in it, not exactly, but the weight of it lingers.

Then he exhales, soft and low. "You didn’t even get a chance to wake up properly. God, look at me, barging in like this. I’m such an ass."

You shake your head before you even mean to. "No, it’s… really, it’s fine."

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just shifts his weight, adjusts the set of his shoulders like he’s trying to make himself look smaller, even though his presence is anything but. 

‘"I didn’t sleep either," he says, almost thoughtful. "Kept thinking about how I left things. How I left you. Which…" He trails off, glancing down at the wood beneath his feet. A bitter little laugh escapes him. "Yeah. Not exactly my proudest exit."

You press your lips together, not trusting your voice. Because he’s right, and you hate how your chest tightens in response. How the ache of it feels familiar. 

He looks back up, and his expression is so gentle it’s almost cruel. "I’ll be quick. You don’t even have to let me in. I just…" He hesitates. "God… Baby, I wanted to see you. That’s selfish. I know."

He reaches for the box, hands brushing against yours as he takes it from you. His fingers are ice-cold, visibly raw at the knuckles, skin flushed deep red from the cold and chapped enough to crack. 

His hands, gloveless, tremble just faintly as he shifts the box under his arm. He says nothing about it. But he watches your face as you notice, his eyes catching the flicker of concern that passes through you like wind through a curtain.

A part of you wonders, not for the first time, if he did it on purpose.

That’s all he needs.

"…Unless you’d rather I wait out here," he says, adjusting the box slightly. Iseul makes sure to exaggerate the shaking of his hands. "I’d understand. Honestly. I mean—Look at me. Such a fucking mess."

He smiles, and it’s perfect. Crooked and bashful. His box of things is tucked neatly beneath one arm, but he makes no move to leave.

From the edge of your vision, you catch the faintest movement. Dorian’s hand settles slowly on the back of the door, his brows drawn in tight concern. Everything in him pleads for you not to let your ex in.

But then your gaze falls again to Iseul’s hands.

Skin too pale in the joints where circulation’s gone slack. He hadn’t even worn gloves. The sight of it hits you in the gut. That familiar, terrible pang, sharp and hot and blooming just beneath your ribs.

You know it’s a trap. You know how this goes. But guilt is already slipping past your guard, whispering that you can’t just leave him like this, not in the cold.

"…Okay," you murmur. "I’ll make you some coffee. But then…" your voice falters. "Then you have to go."

For a split second, Iseul’s mask slips. You catch the flicker of something triumphant just beneath the surface, just behind his eyes.

Then his smile spreads, slow and easy, all teeth and charm like a wolf who knows exactly where your throat is.

"Of course," he says brightly, as though your offer were the most natural thing in the world. "Lead the way."

You step back, and he follows, footsteps soundless. The second Iseul crosses the threshold, the front door slams shut behind him with a sharp, echoing crack that rings through the house like a warning.

You flinch, the sound jolting straight through your spine, but you don’t turn around. You can feel the heat of Dorian’s anger behind you.

Iseul glances over his shoulder at the door, his expression soft with confusion that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, lips curving into something light, almost amused, as if none of it touches him at all.

 "Huh," he says, the laugh he lets out thin and breathy. "Strong winds around here, I guess."

"Yeah," you say quickly, the words tumbling out as you turn on your heel and head for the kitchen. "I’ll, um—I’ll make you something to drink. You can warm up by Dan —by the fireplace!"

You nearly fumble, the syllables wobbling on your tongue before you smother them in motion, moving too fast and speaking too brightly. "Won’t be long!"

As your footsteps vanish down the hall, Iseul lets the act go.

The pleasant curve of his mouth disappears like mist in the cold. His shoulders settle, not from exhaustion, but from relief. 

That mask, the careful arrangement of charm and softness, the version of himself that you could still stomach, takes effort to maintain. Even now, after all the wreckage he left in his wake, you still need him to be palatable.

He exhales through his nose and drops the box of old things to the floor with a dull thud, not sparing it a glance. His gaze drifts across the room, slow and feline. He doesn’t expect to find much. You were never good at hiding the things that mattered.

His gaze lands on the blanket that Mateo draped across the back of the couch, something heavy and hand-knit, worn soft with use. He steps closer and lets his fingers trail across the weave, the faintest grimace tugging at his mouth. 

The fabric is wrong. The texture, the color, the way it slumps, this wasn’t chosen with him in mind.

From the far end of the room, just past the curve of the armchair, Mateo stands still as stone, cradling Davi against his chest.

You told Mateo once, in the lull between conversations, when you still couldn’t quite meet your own eyes in the mirror, that Iseul had hated soft things. Fuzzy blankets, plush rugs, anything that looked too lived-in or too comforting. He said they made your apartment feel cheap. You’d stopped buying soft things after that. Stopped keeping anything cozy within reach. Curated your home to keep him calm, polished it smooth so nothing could catch and spark.

That blanket, the one in Iseul’s hands now, doesn’t belong to that past. You bought it the week after the breakup. You wrapped yourself in it that first night alone and wept into its threads until the shape of you pressed into the fibers. 

And that’s why Mateo loves it. Because it loves you back. 

Davi shifts faintly in his arms as if the little creature can already sense the air turning heavier. Mateo sighs and soothes a hand along the top of his head. 

"Stay calm, cariño," he whispers, voice warm with love and low with knowing. "Don’t worry. They’ve been through worse than this… and they’re not alone anymore."

Iseul continues to drift through the space, his gaze sweeping lazily over the familiar angles of the room. When he reaches the coffee table, he pauses. 

A tea set rests there, simple and carefully arranged. Two handmade teacups sit side by side, slightly uneven, imperfect in shape. They’re not expensive, not delicate bone china, but they carry a quiet kind of care.

He lifts one cup between his fingers, turning it toward the light. The surface is smooth with no cracks and no chips. It’s beautiful, he can’t deny that. And maybe that’s why it irritates him.

His grip tightens, just slightly.

CRACK.

A hairline fracture splits along the handle. A satisfied smile creeps on his lips and he sets it back down too gently, like nothing happened.

From across the room, Daisuke flinches. His hand lifts to his upper arm, where a thin line now splits the surface of his form. He draws in a sharp breath but doesn’t cry out. Instead, his eyes snap to Iseul, dark with something quieter than fury. It isn’t the pain that gets to him. It’s the intent. 

The cups hadn’t been expensive. They weren’t part of some matching set. Just a pair of handmade pieces from a pottery class you took during one of the rougher months. One handle sat crooked, the glaze had pooled too thick at the base. But Daisuke had loved it from the moment you handed it to him.

On the mantle, Dante watches closely as Daisuke retreats into the kitchen, his posture rigid, every movement clipped with restrained anger. The faint clink of a glass being set down echoes from beyond the doorway.

Iseul shifts a step closer to the fire and Dante’s eyes narrow. A low, warning scoff crackles in his chest, the sound dry and sharp as ember-crushed charcoal. No warmth rises to meet the man. The flames in the hearth flicker once, then shrink, curling in on themselves. 

Iseul pauses in front of the fireplace, head tilted slightly. His eyes narrow as he watches the way the flames flicker and pull away from him, guttering low. For a moment, one flame flares sharp and fast. It looked almost like a face, twisted and bared.

Dante feels the heat surge, that old instinct to lunge, to reach out and scorch the skin clean off the man who once hollowed you out. But he pulls it back, swallows it down, chains it to the pit of his fire. 

The flames gutter. Iseul blinks, and the snarling flare is gone.

"Right," he mutters to no one. "Losing it already."

He assumes the fireplace simply hasn’t been stocked and turns to look for a heater, anything that might explain the biting chill still hanging in the air. His gaze catches on a vent tucked high near the ceiling, and just below it, three sticky notes cling to the wall. The edges are curled, the paper yellowing slightly, as if they’ve been left there long enough to become part of the room.

Without thinking, he reaches out and peels one free. The handwriting is careful, pressed deep into the paper like the words had weight.

"If I am to haunt this world, let it be only in your shadow. Let me linger on your skin, let me rot behind your walls so long as I am near you still." —H.

Iseul’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t mean to pick up the next one, but his fingers move before the thought can catch up.

"I loved you before I had the words for it. I will love you long after language or the air I give you to breathe fails me." —H.

His lips curl, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. 

Of course. You already had someone else.

You always were starved for affection. The kind of person who’d fall in love with anything that looked at you too long. A sad little sponge, he thinks, soaking up the first drop of attention like it was holy.

Another note waits beneath the vent, edges folded inward, like it wanted to stay hidden. He unfolds it anyway.

"You are my first thought. The one I bleed into morning, still tasting you on the cusp of sleep. And my final sin at night, when the vents groan and the air turns too still with the silence thick with the ghost of your warmth. I ache where you once pressed your name into me. A lie I forgive with trembling hands, because I cannot bear the truth of a house where even the air refuses to forget you." —H.

This one, Iseul crumples.

Behind him, unseen, Héctor grips the edge of the vent with both hands. His knuckles bleach bone-white from fury held tight beneath his skin. The metal groans in protest like it might tear away from Wallace just to mirror the rage building in him.

Frost begins to spread across the grille in delicate, violent veins, blooming outward like rot in reverse. A sudden current tears through the room and hits Iseul square in the back.

The man shudders at the sudden drop in temperature but doesn’t turn around. Instead, his eyes fall to the space beside the armrest of the couch. An open book lies face down, its spine creased with use. 

A romance novel. Its title in Italian, the cover soft and worn at the edges. He picks it up slowly, brows drawing together in mild confusion. You never liked this genre.

But as he flips through the pages, he finds margin notes scribbled in looping cursive. Passages are underlined. Tiny hearts, faintly highlighted, bloom in the corners of certain lines. The handwriting isn’t yours. The language isn’t one you speak.

His lips twitch into a humorless smile. "Some European lover boy, huh?"

He lingers on the page, thumb digging into the spine. “You always did bend yourself into whatever shape someone else found beautiful. Guess it only took the loudest voice to drown out the rest of you.”

Before he can read any further, a cabinet door slams somewhere in the kitchen. Iseul lifts a brow, head tilting just slightly as he sees you shuffle past the doorway, heading toward the sound. You disappear from view, but your voice carries low. It sounds like you're comforting someone.

Interesting.

With a hum, he slides the book back into place, just slightly off-center from the pillow beside it. Then he straightens his coat, adjusts the lay of his collar, and exhales through his nose.

So your new boyfriend is hiding in the kitchen. 

Noted. 

He’ll be sure to pay a visit later.

Cabrizzio was still buzzing, tight and coiled like a kettle seconds from screaming. His hip slammed against the counter as he helped Daisuke ease into the chair.

“Che bastardo,” he spat, teeth clenched. “Breaks you like you’re nothing.”

Cam rolled in from the sink, arms folded like steel. “Please. You know him. Give that guy anything good, and he ruins it—just to see what crawls out of the wreckage.”

Daisuke said nothing at first. He sat motionless, the fine crack down his arm gleaming like a scar etched in porcelain. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm as ever yet edged.

“He has not changed. Still rot beneath a fresh coat of paint. Still, I am… displeased he laid a hand on me.”

“Displeased?” Cam’s brow shot up. “Displeased is what you say when someone scuffs your finish. This?” He scoffed. “If I had fists, I’d be swinging.”

Cabrizzio circled behind Daisuke, movements gentler now. “Coward with a poet’s mouth and a spine made of string. Twists words into honey, then watches you choke on it. That’s why they stayed. That’s why they still tremble.”

The soft scuff of feet drew their attention. You stood at the threshold, teetering. Red-eyed, hollowed, holding yourself like something fragile. And tucked just behind you, Tony, carrying a repair kit in one hand, a bottle of ceramic-safe glue in the other.

"Don’ you worry, baby," Tony said, one gloved hand running firm and slow down your back. "I’m gonna get him fixed up real nice. Betta than new, eh? You’ll see. Like he never even chipped."

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Just that look. That quiet guilt spilling out of your posture, pooling in the space between you and Daisuke.

Cam clocked it instantly and made a sharp, disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. If you apologize for that shitstain’s tantrum, I swear."

"I should’ve—" you tried, voice cracking.

"No."

Daisuke’s tone was soft but absolute. "You should not have had to."

Tony pressed a kiss to your head as he passed, then knelt beside Daisuke with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. He set the repair kit down and began sorting through his tools.

" Hey. This ain’t on you, alright ? You didn’t break nothin’. You just—" he gave a sharp sniff, working the cap off the glue, "—got stuck cleanin’ up after a stronzo who ain’t got the balls to own what he ruins."

Daisuke inclined his chipped side slightly toward you. "I am fine. Please. Let us not make too much of a fuss about this. You are already shaken as it is. There is no need to add to the pile."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Cabrizzio was already stepping in, holding a tray in both hands. His eyes found yours gently, earnest and sure.

"Here," he said. "Vai, amore. You have what it takes to get him out of here. Of this, we are certain."

"The blue mug, it is yours," he continued, gesturing lightly. "The other…" He gave a little, almost theatrical shrug. "That one is for him . It’s one of Kopi’s—how you say—special blends. Very strong. Very… unique."

You arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder to see Kopi stifling a laugh, steam coiling up around her like a mischievous spirit.

"What?" she said, grinning. "You think I wouldn’t doctor the brew? Please. That man needs something stronger than coffee."

Cam muttered from the corner, dry as ever. "And maybe a boot to the head."

Tony, still crouched by Daisuke’s side, didn’t look up. "Save the boot. I need both hands for the glue."

The tension, brittle just moments ago, had begun to thaw. Cabrizzio shifted closer and gently set the tray into your hands. His voice dropped, sincere beneath all its velvet.

"Va bene," he said. "We hold the line here. But you… you go face your ghost, tesoro."

By the time you return, the tray balanced carefully in your hands and the mugs of coffee cradled in both palms, your expression is already betraying you. There’s guilt in your eyes poorly hidden beneath the thin mask of a smile.

"Sorry," you say, voice too light, too rushed, as you set the mugs down on the coffee table. "The coffee machine was acting up. Took forever to heat."

Iseul nods, faintly, but his attention isn’t on your words. He’s watching you. The twitch in your fingers. The way your shoulders won’t quite relax. The way you avoid his eyes.

He hums like he’s listening, but he’s not.

His gaze drifts, catches on the mark just beneath your jaw. A bruise, dark and fresh, blooming where someone else had their mouth on you. It lingers there a moment, unreadable, but too still to be nothing.

Last night. Maybe this morning. Someone else got close. Close enough to touch, to make you laugh. The way you used to laugh for him.

Then his eyes land on the jacket draped around your shoulders. Oversized, deep green, a bold stitched H on the chest.

His jaw shifts.

In his pocket, his fingers close around the crumpled love note he swiped earlier. He doesn’t need to unfold it—he remembers the signature.

H.

His eyes narrow. He feels it now, that familiar heat building in the back of his throat. A greedy kind of ache. The sick, sour taste of something being taken from him. 

"Iseul…?"

He blinks slowly, shoulders rolling back as he forces out a breath and smooths over his reaction with something charming, almost bashful.

"Trouble with the machine, huh?" he says, eyes still locked on the bruise like it’s the only thing in the room. "That happens. You always did have a complicated relationship with appliances."

You can’t see many of them right now — the dateables. Not fully. Some seem to be giving you space, hiding just outside your field of vision, not wanting to crowd you. But their presence is still here. 

You laugh, awkward and light, trying to fill the space. "Yeah… never really did get along with them." 

You hear the soft rustle of a curtain shifting in offense, the faint clink of a teacup being set a little too hard on wood. You catch low murmurs, indistinct but annoyed, a collective grumble of affectionate protest.

You bite back a smile. They heard that. They didn’t like your little self-drag. And as always, they’ve got your back.

After handing Iseul his mug, you sink into the spot Mateo so clearly prepared for you, the cushion still warm, the blanket tucked and draped just right, soft as breath against your skin. 

Kopi’s coffee steams gently in your hands. You take a slow sip and exhale through your nose. It’s perfect, of course. She always knows exactly how you take it.

Isuel takes a sip of his own drink, eyes still fastened to your throat like he’s trying to memorize the bruised skin. His expression twitches, the blend clearly not to his taste. The bitterness punches through first, and his lips pull into a faint grimace.

You giggle at the look on his face, and almost on cue, the room begins to warm.

A quiet hum stirs from above, followed by the low, comforting sigh of heat drifting from the vents — Héctor. At the same time, the fireplace flickers to life, a lazy, gentle flame rising without fanfare. Dante, as always, never needing to be asked.

Only then do you realize how cold the room had been when you first came in.

You glance toward the hearth, searching for answers, but Dante pointedly avoids your gaze. You hide a small smile behind your mug.

Yeah. They don’t like him. Not one bit.

It’s been thirty whole damn minutes.

You’re tense, shoulders tight, knees drawn close, as you watch Iseul take his goddamn time with the coffee. He swirls it like a food critic, savoring it as if it’s aged wine and not a rushed brew from a coffee machine.

He glances over the rim of his mug at you.

"So," he starts, voice low and falsely casual, like this is just any other day. "Still living on your own?" 

He takes another sip before setting the cup down with deliberate slowness. Shifts on the couch. Something about it clearly doesn’t sit right with him. After a beat, he stands.

A slow step forward.

“You always said you liked the quiet,” he murmurs.

You don’t answer. Your lips part slightly, but nothing comes out. Your grip on your mug tightens.

He steps even closer, and the heat of him creeps into your space. "But too much quiet? That starts to feel lonely."

Your body pulls back before you even realize it. Your spine presses deeper into the couch, legs curling tighter, breath caught in your throat. The moment’s too close, too familiar. His words feel like fingers trying to pick a lock in your chest. You wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders, wishing you could disappear into the fabric.

Then the window slams open.

BANG.

A gust of wind bursts through the room like a thrown punch. Curt’s turquoise curtains fly up, sharp and sudden, catching the draft like sails in a storm. They whip straight into Iseul’s face with the kind of precision that feels personal.

"Ow—what the hell?" He stumbles back, arm flailing, mug sloshing dangerously. The curtains wrap and slap around his head like they’ve got a score to settle.

You jolt upright, clutching your own mug as you watch the scene unfold. Just as Iseul manages to peel one curtain away, the rod above gives up entirely. It tears loose from the wall and crashes down with a sharp, metallic thunk.

Right on his head.

He yelps again, the sound half-muffled by fabric, as the rod bounces off his shoulder and clatters to the floor. 

Silence follows. 

You glance over at Curt and Rod. Rod was still sprawled out on the floor, and Curt was still draped over Iseul, both of them laughing like idiots. Clearly proud of what they just caused.

And even with the knot still tight in your chest, their laughter is infectious. You feel it bubbling up before you can stop it. You duck your head behind your mug, trying to swallow it down. But it’s there, warm and bright at the back of your throat. You laugh. Loudly.

Iseul hears it.

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve had it!”

His mug slams down on the table, coffee sloshing out in a sharp arc. The crack of ceramic on wood snaps. Then he’s moving, crossing the space with all the weight of a storm breaking loose.

You barely set your cup aside before he’s on you.

Strong fingers twist into the front of your tank top. He yanks hard, dragging you upright. Your spine jars against the couch. Your breath catches. And suddenly, he’s right there. Face contorted, jaw clenched, eyes no longer pretending.

“You think you’re better than me now?” he snarls, voice rising. “That what this is? One taste of someone giving a damn and suddenly I’m beneath you?”

“Iseul—” Your voice trembles. “You’re hurting me.”

He leans in. Sneering.

Your hands push against his chest, trying to create space, but he doesn’t budge. His grip only tightens.

"Only thing you were ever good for was serving someone else . Smiling real nice, keeping quiet, doing what you were told. That’s what he likes, right?" His gaze drops to your neck, to the bruise there. His mouth curls. "Bet you make it easy for him. Real easy."

His grip tightens again, and you cry out, short and sharp.

"You think you’ve got power now? You think this is yours ? You think this quiet little house makes you strong?"

The light above flickers once. Then again. Then again.

The air shifts. Thickens. The hairs along your arms stand up. The room hums in energy. But Iseul doesn’t notice.

"I fucking built you!" he shouts, spit flying. "I was the only one who saw you when you were nothing! You’re useful. That’s all you are. And when he’s done using you, you’ll come crawling back just like you always do—"

SNAP.

The lamp beside you explodes in a shower of sparks.

A searing bolt of electricity arcs from the socket and strikes Iseul directly in the shoulder. The sound is blinding, a sizzling pop followed by the sharp smell of burning fabric and ozone.

Iseul screams, a real scream this time as his body jerks from the force. His hand rips from your shirt and he stumbles backward.

Smoke curls from the seams of his jacket. His fingers twitch, convulsing slightly. His mouth works soundlessly for a second before breath finally claws its way out of him.

You're frozen, heartbeat hammering in your ears, until you feel a hand, Mateo’s, press gently against your back. A blanket falls over your shoulders, warm and grounding, as he eases you away from the couch. His voice is quiet in your ear, his hands snaking up to cover your eyes.

He guides you out of the living room just as Curt and Rod snap the blinds shut, one after the other. A moment later, Dorian turns the lock on the front door with a click.

Iseul’s head snaps upward.

His eyes flick wildly across the room, darting from shadow to shadow, searching for something that makes sense of what just happened. But nothing answers. 

From the corners of the room, shadowed tendrils begin to unfurl along the walls, crawling slowly. Electricity crackles wildly through the air, lightbulbs pulsing in rapid flickers. The vents scream to life, spewing blasts of blistering heat. At the same time, the fireplace surges upward, flames roaring with such intensity they seem desperate to claw their way free from the stone.

Then the voice comes. One thAT does not belong in any human throat.

It is low and massive as if spoken through bone and ash. The sound slithers through the room with a crushing weight that makes the walls creak.

"You dare lay hands on my penumbra?"

The words strike Iseul like a blow. His chest seizes. His breath falters. His feet scramble for purchase, slipping on his spilled coffee and the mess of his own panic.

From the darkest stretch of shadow near the hearth, something begins to rise.

Claws drag against the floorboards as the figure pulls itself upright. It straightens slowly, body is nothing but thick, writhing shadow, built like smoke given mass, trembling at the edges where reality tries and fails to reject it.

Horns curve back from its head, the bone chipped and darkened with time. The creature’s jaw hangs open in a twisted grin, and beyond it lies nothing but blackness, cavernous and unnatural, rimmed with glinting teeth that don’t belong to any animal that ever walked this earth.

It steps forward once.

Iseul stumbles backward, mouth open, lips shaping a scream that never comes. It dies somewhere in his throat, strangled by fear. 

The voice returns, softer now.

"You think this house is yours to haunt?" it rasps, almost gently, though the fury hasn’t left. "You think they are yours to hurt?"

Then, from somewhere else, a second voice cuts in. “Oh, dear… you’ve really done it now.”

A crack of blue light splits the ceiling, blinding as a camera flash. Electricity tears through the air, hissing like a live wire. It strikes without warning, snapping at Iseul’s feet, then coiling up his limbs in spiraling arcs of white-blue light.

Then the shadows come. They pour in fast, fluid and wrong, slithering out from corners, crawling from beneath furniture. One clamps tight around his ankle. Another coils around his wrist, then his throat, then his chest—Iseul is yanked upward an inch from the floor. 

Then, everything goes black.

You’re nestled in Mateo’s arms, wrapped in the soft cocoon of blankets and his warmth. He holds you close, his chest rising and falling against your back, and every now and then he leans down to press gentle kisses to your cheek.

Betty and Dirk are curled up beside you, equally content. Betty snores lightly at your other side, her arm twitching every so often in some lazy dream, while Dirk is sprawled across your stomach. He lets out a little grunt when you shift but doesn’t move.

The Hanks have claimed every inch of your room that isn’t bed. The boys are stretched across the floor, perched on chairs, hanging off the dresser. At least two of them are attempting to build a fort using your laundry. 

They’re loud and ridiculous and refuse to let the heaviness settle too deep. Jokes fly across the room. Laughter spills over itself.

Downstairs, the sounds change. You hear Volt’s low, crackling growl, Eddie’s deeper rumble, Skip’s voice cutting through every now and then, and under it all, Dorian’s voice echoes.

A sudden shout erupts and you flinch before you can stop yourself. Mateo notices and pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

His voice is soft in your ear. "Don’t worry, mi vida. They’ve got it."

You just nod and let your head rest back against Mateo’s shoulder, the warmth of him grounding you in a way that nothing else can right now.

"Babe, watch this!" one of the Hanks calls out and when you glance over, you see Hank 4 trying to do a handstand in the narrow space between the dresser and the door.

He manages to hold it for maybe two seconds before toppling over in a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter, knocking into Hank 2 on the way down.

"Bro!"

You shake your head with a quiet smile, the corner of your mouth tugging up despite everything. Absolute idiots.

You must have drifted off at some point, but when you wake, there’s a stillness to the house. There are no more raised voices echoing from downstairs. No snarls. No low growls vibrating through the floorboards. 

Then, the door creaks open, quiet and cautious.

You lift your head from Mateo’s shoulder to see Curt and Rod stepping in. They hover in the doorway for a moment like they’re not sure if they’re allowed. Curt offers a small, tentative smile as he approaches.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple, lingering there for a second longer than usual.

Rod trails behind him, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. His shoulders are hunched, his jaw set tight.

“We just came to say that we screwed up,” Curt says at last, his voice barely more than a whisper. “We never meant for it to get that far.”

Rod nods, stepping forward slowly. "We thought pissing him off would throw him. Knock him off balance so he wouldn’t try anything. But it backfired. He zeroed in on you." His voice wavers. "And you got hurt. Because of us."

Curt sits on the edge of the bed beside you and gently brushes his knuckles across the back of your hand. "We love you, okay? We were trying to protect you — in our own dumb way. We didn’t think he’d snap like that."

You shake your head, not in anger but in exhaustion. "Guys, it’s okay. Really. I’m just glad it’s over. Iseul has a temper — you didn’t make him like that."

"You’re too good to us, baby," Rod says quietly, a guilty smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He lets out a slow breath, then tilts his head toward the hallway, listening. 

"Um. So... what’s going on down there?" you ask, hesitant, a twist of anxiety in your stomach.

Rod’s lips twitch into a smirk. "Oh, they’re jumping him."

“ Were jumping him,” Curt mutters, elbowing Rod sharply before glancing at you with a flash of guilt.

“It’s fine now, though!” he adds quickly, trying to sound reassuring. “They’re just doing cleanup. Hoove, Kopi, Wyndolyn—everyone’s on it. They’ve got it handled.”

“And he is not coming back here again, baby,” Curt says firmly as he strides across the room. With a little flourish, he yanks open the bedroom curtain. “See for yourself.”

You twist in Mateo’s arms and peer out the window. Down on the street, Iseul is scrambling across the lawn, blood on his collar and panic in his step. He throws one last look over his shoulder before kicking his motorcycle into gear. The engine screams as he peels away, tires skidding across the pavement before disappearing into the night.

Behind you, Curt mutters, "That’s what I thought," under his breath.

You exhale, slowly, like the last of the tension is finally allowed to leave your body.

Rod flops down onto the foot of the bed with a familiar, lazy grin. "Anyway, there’s a lot of people asking for you."

You groan, burying your face deeper into Mateo’s arms. "Let me guess. House meeting?"

"You bet," Rod says. "Mayor Celia’s already planning it. Full agenda and everything."

You sigh again. "Everyone’s going to treat me like I’m made of glass."

"Well, duh, babe," Hank 5 says, raising his eyebrows like it’s obvious. "You almost got hit by your nerd ex. We’re not just gonna not worry."

"Facts," Hank 1 calls from the closet, digging through a pile of hoodies. "You're the house baby now. Minimum of five check-ins a day from us!"

"They’re  already our baby," Hank 3 grins, popping his head up from behind the couch. "I’ve just been waiting for everyone else to catch up."

You roll your eyes. "You’re all idiots."

Curt smirks, flopping beside Rod. "Certified, baby. But we’re your idiots."

Mateo chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. "I swear this is all coming from a place of love. You’re not alone in this. Not for a second."

From your stomach, Dirk snores loudly.

"See? Even he agrees, babe." 

thanks so much for the love you all showed! sorry i couldn't include everyone :( next chapter will, however, be full on comfort! each datable will have their own little scene with you! i will try my best to add a lotta them!

[muliwamm]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro loved when people did things for him.

He loved when fans gave him gifts. He loved getting gifts during holidays. And he especially loved getting free samples from food establishments—he thinks the samples were deliberately put out for his enjoyment.

"How did you know I love raspberries?" Toji would smirk, winking at the innocent cafe worker before grabbing one three more samples and walking away.

But Boxer!Toji Fushiguro did not like doing things for other people. The only people he's ever willingly helped in his life was his mother, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Doing things for people meant you were below them and they were above you and that was not Toji's way of life.

Doing things for people showed you cared—which shows vulnerability which then gives the other person the impression that you like them and Toji does not like people.

Especially if he's not getting anything out of it.

So why, you ask, was Boxer!Toji Fushiguro following you around Tokyo, carrying your shopping bags as you shopped to your hearts desire?

On his card, of course.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro blames himself for this, honestly.

when he asked if you were single, your hand slowly raised, preparing to land a harsh smack to his cheek.

"Wait, wait, wait, okay hold on," He pleaded.

"Look, I'm-" he runs a hand through his hair before sighing.

"I'm sorry, okay? I was being an asshole, let's- let's restart okay? Hi, I'm Toji," he said as he put a hesitant hand out.

But before you got a chance to give him your two cents, fans came crowding asking for autographs and pictures, which was when you put the dots together and realized he was famous.

You smirked, and patiently waited until the crowd cleared out, watching the way Toji switched from sad puppy to ladies man in a matter of seconds.

"You want to make it up to me?" You question, crossing your arms.

Toji nods.

"You have officially been graduated to my personal butler for the day," you give his a sweet smile, dubbing him with a banana on each shoulder before turning and making your way to the register.

so now Toji is here, bags from various clothing and shoe stores adorning his arms as he follows you around Tokyo like a lost puppy.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro was the best butler you could ask for.

He carried your bags, gave his opinion on the different blouses and jeans you picked out, and he paid for everything.

"What do you think about these jeans? Do they make my butt look big?" You say as you exit the dressing room, turning in the mirror to examine the fit.

Toji huffs, not looking up, "they're fine."

"You're not even looking," you pout.

He huffs louder, forcing his eyes away from his phone to focus on you. Well—your ass.

He takes a goooood second, admiring the way the jeans hug your ass perfectly.

"They look good, ma" he finally says.

You raise your eyebrow at the nickname before turning to go back in the dressing room.

"Oh!" You say, poking your head from behind the curtain.

"They're thirty six thousand yen, is that okay?" You ask in a honeyed tone.

"Thirty six thou- wait hold on-" Toji says stunned before you cut him off.

"Kay, great!"

He huffs, slouching in his chair, wondering why he even agreed to this.

Even though he's spent almost all his money on a person he just met, he enjoyed the time you guys have been spending together over the course of 3 hours.

You talked, had a cute little date at a secluded cafe after you practically dragged him inside when you saw they were selling cat shaped cakes.

He told you more about his boxing career and you told him about how life has been after moving to Japan. You both talked about everything and nothing, and Toji wished that moment could never end.

Until it did.

Because you saw a pair of shoes you wanted and he lost another 200 dollars.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro let out a sigh of relief when you got a call from your neighbor, informing you that your pet chickens, marlo and bean, escaped into her backyard again, meaning your little shopping spree had to be cut short.

"I think I'm broke now," Toji grumbles.

"You'll manage," you say, giving him an affectionate pat on the arm.

"Well, I should get going now. You can just put those in the trunk," you gesture towards your car before walking past Toji and getting inside.

He just stands there, mouth gaped in disbelief, yet again.

But for some reason he found himself complying. Which he hated himself for.

When he finished he made his way towards the driver side, crouching to meet your gaze.

"So, apology accepted?" He asked hopefully.

"Hmmm..." you ponder, tapping a finger on your chin while playfully smirking at him.

"I guess," you conclude.

"Can I at least get your number then? I mean I deserve a reward after chasing you around all day," Toji dramatically huffs.

You laugh at his antics, pulling your phone out and handing it to him.

"As long as you promise to respond," you say.

"I'll always respond, doll," Toji says once he finished putting his number in, handing you your phone back.

"Y'know you're real sweet once you get your way."

You roll your eyes and laugh before turning on your car

"I'll see you?" Toji asks.

"Mhm," you nod

"Good," he says in a low tone, bringing your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb and pressing a barely there kiss on your forehead.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro had never met anyone like you.

You were so nice yet you never hesitated to speak your mind.

You didnt care what people thought, stating that "we're all going to die anyway. Why waste life on worrying about what some rando on the street thinks?"

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro thinks that was the moment he folded.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro texts you later that night, planning to win back his pride and peace of mind after losing it all in the span of 4 hours by a single person.

His slap on the face was already trending on twitter, Shiu had been busting his chops, calling and texting him non-stop—to which he ignored every one, and Toji decided that he needed to show you why every man across the nation feared him, and why every woman wanted to fuck him.

He is Toji Fushiguro.

Rich Boxer Dude 🥊💴 4:24 pm - you save your chickens? Read

Mamacita 😛 (you) 4:30 pm - yup they're safe in my back yard now 😭

Rich Boxer Dude 🥊💴 4:32 pm - cool cool 4:33 pm - so wyd now

If you couldnt already tell, Toji is struggling to execute his plan "to win back his pride and peace of mind".

Mamacita 😛 4:37 pm - also I didnt say it earlier but Ty for today 4:37 pm - you could have said no, i was js rlly pissed off 😭

Rich Boxer Dude 🥊💴 4:40 pm - nah dw abt it 4:41 pm - I wanted to 4:41 pm -even if I'm broke now

Mamacita 😛 4:45 pm - okayy 4:46 pm - how about I treat you to lunch as a thank you? 4:46 - I'll wine and dine you nd treat you reeeealll nice 😌

That was suppose to be his line.

Rich Boxer Dude 🥊💴 4:50 pm - isnt that suppose to be my line?

eventually, after tedious planning and excessive flirting on your end, you guys planned a date at the park after Toji's upcoming boxing match on Sunday.

You both agreed that you would bring lunch and he would bring dessert, where he suggested he just bring himself if he's bringing dessert.

Mamacita 😛 5:23 pm - what? Why would you do that? then we wouldn't have any dessert 5:24 pm - Just bring cake from that cafe we went to today 5:26 pm - I love cake

The joke completely flew over your head.

It's safe to say Toji left that conversation with an even more damaged pride (of whatever was left of it) and failed flirting attempts.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/n: pookie is in such high demand 😭 and two fics back to back WHO IS HERRR

also 36,000 yen is equivalent to about 250 usd and 376 aud. Dont ask me why a person would drop 250 on some jeans I would

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @moncher-ire @sugarphoric @blitziwitch @starmapz @astrasworldsblog @yamadramallamaqueen @emi311 @cam-ilaaaa @naammiii @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @saitamaswifey @xylov @suckkuna @gringardsreagent @coralbae @makeitrainonsomehoes @onecrafterr @cccccccccccleo @kentoslvr @p1nkfl0wers @aldebrana @aiicpansion @seulbeomie @a1zennn @posttraumaticscribblez @aldebrana @satorupied @shigamiryuk @nanamisbbygirl @summrriot

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@ll0rona @kailovsun @aksqui

[strawberryys-stuff]

WHERE IS MY SPANISH ROMANCE? | LN4

a short smau

tatemcrae and yourusername

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INSTAGRAM MESSAGES

quadrant wants to send you a message!

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— Team Quadrant

yourusername posted a story!

[caption: ✈️✈️]

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[caption 1: @mclaren, caption 2: peekaboo]

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[caption 1: we named her Shelly, caption 2: Shelly's mum]

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[goorgeousz]

summer flame | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader summary: you develop a crush on the middle aged dad during your summer trip.  content/tw: nearly drowning on a swimming pool (it wasn’t more than 30 seconds but you get it), panic, objectification of hotch’s body (oh well), reader wears a bikini, protective!hotch, hotch saves the day once again, lmk if i missed anything! word count: 3.2k a/n: requested by the gorgeous @deceasedream69 , thank you so much for the idea!!! it was such a fun one to write, i truly hope you like it! also, i do have a spicy part two in mind if you guys are interested... 💗🪽 dividers @uzmacchiato

masterlist

You were so entertained by your book that you didn’t even notice when the fine man you’ve been stalking walked in with his son, at 2:20 sharp and settled on the table on the corner of the community pool, like he’s been doing every day for the past week.

During summer, you liked to get away and rent a place by the beach to spend your days worrying about nothing but your tan and catching up with your books. Which was exactly what you were doing now, adding ‘hooking up with the middle-aged fine ass man without a ring’ to the list.

This time you chose a house complex a couple blocks from the beach with a community pool. You didn’t really care about the pool, since you never really learnt how to swim, but it was nice to have a place to cool down after burning under the sun – without letting go of the border goes without saying. It was a nice setting, and since you were on your own, safety was more important than extra space.

Five days ago, when you first saw him, you were on the exact same spot: tanning by the pool, deeply invested in the sugary romance you picked up on your way here. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment they walked  in the community pool, not really paying attention to the background movement, but you know exactly how your eyes first laid on him.

Just when the main couple were about to sleep together for the first time – after exactly 231 pages, mind you –, you felt cold. With a squealed yelp, you jumped on your sunlounger, more startled by the droplets of water on your body than actually cold.

“Jack, come on. This is not nice.” you hear a rough voice scold. Even though it was loud, since the kid – Jack, you assumed – was laughing uncontrollably on the water, the man sounded incredibly soft. Before you could turn around to explain you were just fine, you were startled – again – by the person kneeling beside you.

You widened your eyes at the proximity, and then widened even harder when you saw his face. He was gorgeous. His jaw was sharp, clean, his lips pressed tight as if he was reprimanding himself for something. You couldn’t see his eyes since the man wore a pair of sunglasses, but you could tell his eyebrows were pinched together by the way his forehead creased. You wondered why he was so worried. 

Just then it hit you: he was worried about you.

And this wasn't you being cocky, it was you realizing he was speaking to you, repeating the same question for the second time, at least.

“Are you okay?” You nodded fiercely, overcompensating for the time you spent ignoring him – his words, actually. All of your attention was turned to him.

“I’m good, yeah.” you assured, and he nodded once, composed, and stood back up, going back to the border of the pool to wait for his kid to get out.

The little blond boy walked over to you, his hair wet and messy from the pool. You tried not to smile at the squelchy noises of his float as he walked.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized, his big doe eyes watching you expectantly, his lashes long as he battled them in your direction like a little angel. You smiled at him.

“It’s okay. How’s the water?” At that he smiled back, his eyes shining excitedly at his new friend.

“It’s cold. But you just have to swim a little.” he explained, moving his arms up and down at a poor mimic of a swim. “I’m Jack, what’s your name?” When you answered, he walked away repeating your name to himself afterwards. You smiled at his dad, who stood awkwardly by the pool, waiting for his son to come back and trying to not look like a creep staring while making sure little Jack wasn’t dealing with a predator. As soon as his kid was back on his arms, he nodded at you, the tight line of his lips twitching at the corners as an attempt of a smile.

What an odd man. You wanted him, bad.

The following days were pretty much the same: right after lunch you were quick to change into bikinis and grab your stuff: snack, sunscreen and a book, and made your way towards the pool. You made sure to get the exact same sunlounger, look effortlessly beautiful and not check the time too much – you wouldn’t want to be caught on your phone just as he walked in, it would ruin your image. 

It was a challenge: you wanted to look sexy, not enough for him to stop bringing his kid around, but enough for his eyes to dart towards you. Just like the script you wrote in your mind, everyday just half an hour after you, he and his son arrived at the community pool. The little blond boy skipping excitedly with his swimming UV clothes and the two little floats wrapped around his arms. Grabbing his hands, his – delicious – father walked with swimming shorts – that never got wet, unfortunately – and a plain shirt, usually neutral colors. In his free hand, he carried one of those neon-colored reusable supermarket bags full of supplies.

You usually didn’t acknowledge them at first, seeming too focused on your book, and them being on the opposite side of the space. Eventually, you would close the book to grab your bottle of water or change positions, and you would face each other and exchange a polite nod. Jack, on the other hand, always ended up running to your side of the pool to chitchat, sometimes asking about what you were reading, sometimes to talk about the water, sometimes he just sing-songed your name while he marched around the perimeter.

Because he was always wearing sunglasses you weren’t completely sure, but you were positive you once caught him staring at you – Jack having to yell an annoyed ‘Dad!’ from the pool to get his attention while you reapplied sunscreen on your thighs.

Today was another one of these days, everything was just the same but every time more exciting than the last time. Even though you literally didn’t have eyes for anyone else beside that man and his kid, the pool was never empty. It wasn’t too crowded either, but at least four other tables were occupied.

In fact, you were so oblivious to the other people around you, it took one of them literally stepping in front of you and blocking the sunlight for you to notice their presence.

“Hi!” the elder woman said, her smile bright as she held a puppy in her arms.

“Hey…” you smiled confused, not knowing if you were supposed to know her. You sat up and pulled your glasses down to your nose, hoping that looking directly at her would help you figure it out. It didn’t. 

Exchanging your names, she started to explain “I was just wondering, since you always stay here for hours,” you try not to blush from realizing your activities were so noticeable to others “you wouldn’t mind watching over Prince for me, right?” you started to open your mouth to explain you had absolutely no idea what to do with a dog, when she raised one of her hands to stop you “I have to run to the drugstore, I ran out of my medicine and I have no one to leave him with.” as if on cue, the little dog in her arms tilted his head, his bulged eyes blinking up at you “It will be quick.” she said, approaching you and dropping the animal to the ground.

“...Sure.” you agreed unnecessarily – the woman was already handing you his leash, a bottle of water and a package of treats.

“Thank you, dearie.” she said, pinching your cheek and walking away. You sat there watching her go, blinking slowly and trying to breathe the situation in. To his defense, Prince sat obediently by your side, watching you with his tail wagging. You scratched the back of his ear, warming up to him.

At first, you just sat still, not knowing what you were supposed to do with him. But he just stayed there, laying on the ground enjoying the sun and watching the pool, so you just relaxed again, putting your sunglasses back on and resumed your reading – sight-seeing the man play with his kid.

The day was a little emptier than the rest, the only sound being small chattering from the other occupied tables. So, when that gorgeous man of yours leaned down to the cooler to pick up a beer, you could hear the sound of the can being opened. Your mouth watered, and it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

Drinking a single can of beer by the pool wasn’t exactly an announcement that you were single and ready to mingle, but it did make you look approachable – at least more than if you spend your entire summer babysitting your kid without even flirting with the young woman tanning across from you.

You wondered if he wanted company, and how would you approach him. Should you pop open a beer too? Or would it be too obvious? You didn’t bring any, so going back to the rental just to get one would be a little ridiculous.

Completely oblivious to your intern plotting, Prince felt the moment you loosened your grip on the leash, and took it as a once in a lifetime opportunity, and ran fast like a lightning away from you. You were standing faster than your mind processed the situation, but before you could get a hold of him he jumped right into the water.

Without a second thought, you threw your book on the ground and jumped head first into the swimming pool. It was deeper than you thought, but you were focused on getting the dog. Prince, you noticed, didn’t need your help. As soon as you clumsily made yourself close to him, he patted his paws perfectly away from you, getting to the border like a professional dog swimmer and got off without any help.

Before you could feel any betrayal towards the little cute bastard, chlorine water filled your nose and mouth, and you were harshly reminded that you couldn’t swim. Letting yourself sink for a moment, thinking that you could at least get an impulse from the ground. Realizing that even then you couldn’t touch your feet on the bottom, you started to full-on panic.

You swayed your arms up and down, trying to breathe, but doing that you couldn’t move further, so you stayed struggling on the same spot in the middle of the swimming pool. People tried to teach you how to swim over the years, but you never really got it. There was a time you managed to move a little, but the lack of practice got the best of you, and your mind blanked every movement you learnt.

At that point, your lungs were starting to hurt, and your arms and legs started to ache with the effort, so you tried to float. The problem was, the first step to float on the water is to relax, which in the moment that word meant nothing but a mix of letters, and you started to make peace with the fact that you were going to die (sad) saving a dog (heroic) that knew how to swim all along (embarassing).

When your legs started to give out, and your body was fully under the water, you weren’t seeing nor hearing anything. Your eyes were shut close, the only sound being the strong, erratic and maybe last beats of your heart.

Surprisingly, only a second past before two strong arms surrounded you, holding you close and pulling you up to the surface. As soon as you reached fresh air, you inhaled deeply, followed by a fit of coughing. The two strong arms carried you to the coping, lifting you with ease and placing you seated on the ground. Only then you rubbed your eyes open, your lungs burning as you coughed up all the water you managed to swallow.

Behind you, your saviour quickly followed you, lifting himself out of the pool and settling by your side, gently brushing your damp hair from your face and holding it for you in a makeshift ponytail, while his other hand rubbed circles on your back.

The chlorine scratched your throat unpleasantly, your eyes burning as tears streaked out of them. The man on your side kept whispering praises and instructions, patiently helping you. You heard him talking to the few other people there, ordering them around like a boss, his tone completely different from when he was directing to you. They grabbed fresh water, held the dog, and got her a towel.

When breathing finally stopped feeling like a knife to your lungs, you sat properly, wiping your tears and your mouth as you faced the man who helped you.

“Are you good?” he asked, his chocolate brown eyes scanning your entire face worriedly. For the first time he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and you immediately understood: they were hypnotizing. You just stared at his figure. His hair, usually gelled up like he was ready to be called in for work, was damp, messy and glued to his forehead, so rumbled it made him look boy-ish. His cheeks were red, and you didn’t know if it was from the sun or from the moment.

He had a very subtle stubble on his sharp jaw, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand on it to see if it would spike. His white shirt was your personal hell. The water made it look transparent, and you could see almost perfectly his entire torso underneath it. The muscles on his shoulders, his biceps clinging and flexing from holding his weight. His chest was broad and strong, you caught yourself licking your lips as you watched it moving up and down as he breathed, your eyes shifting to the softness on his stomach before it reached lower. That day, his swimming shorts were black, and cling to his hips and his thighs like you would if given the chance, and only then you realized you straight up eyed the man up and down, and there was no way he missed that.

As if answering your thoughts, as soon as your eyes were back on his face you caught the twitch on the corner of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically “Are you good?” You finally snapped back to reality, sitting up in a swift movement and accidently moving even closer to him.

“Prince?”

“Huh?”

“Prince, the dog. Where is he?” you asked, panicking. He just nodded to your side, and you turned to look for it just to find Prince just a couple feet beside you, his leash wrapped around the foot of your chair, laying down on his back, his eyes closed and his tongue darting out as he napped under the sunlight. “You traitor.” you muttered, reaching closer to scratch his belly.

You heard the man clearing his throat behind you, and you turned back to him. “Thank you…”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron.” you said his name tasting like candy on your tongue “Thank you, Aaron.” he nodded again. You told him your name, and he repeated it just like his son.

“Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?” he asked, still worried.

“I’m good, thank you.” you smile weakly “How embarrassing was it, on a scale from one to ten?”

He ignored your question, shaking his head once like it was a ridiculous question “You don’t know how to swim?” you sighed, not loving how he didn’t want to lighten the mood.

“I tried, but I never really learnt. Now I think it’s time.” you try to joke again, but he just nods in agreement.

Aaron – and how delicious it was to finally know his name – ran his hand through his hair, tousled it even more and looked over to Jack, just to guarantee he was safe, before turning back to you “Are you staying here all summer?”

“Yeah. I’m on 103-A.” you explain, trying not to read too much in his question. “You?”

“We’re on 110-A. I’m staying too, but Jack’s leaving for summer camp next week.” he says, and you swear you can see his lips twitching just a little bit. You feel your cheeks warming, but since you were already sunburnt it wouldn’t be too visible.

“Oh, I loved summer camp when I was his age.” you beam, looking at the kid “Waited all year for it. Me and my parents, actually.” you leaned closer to him, using your hand to cover your mouth like you were telling him a secret “I was a bit of a troublemaker.”

He chuckled, his dimples showing and knocking the air out of your lungs at how beautiful he looked “I can tell.” he gave you a knowing look, and while your mouth still hang opened in surprise, he kept talking like nothing happened “I will miss him but I definitely can use the rest.” he confides, looking over at the boy who now laid side by side with Prince, giggling and talking to him like they were best friends. You swoon at how soft his expression is while watching his kid, and you can tell he’s Aaron’s whole life. “Jack is  a full time job.”

You laugh, watching amused at the scene “Jack is an amazing kid, you’re doing an amazing job. But it’s understandable. Especially being a single parent and all.” you stop abruptly, only then noticing what you just said. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you looked back at Aaron, who had one of his eyebrows raised and a teasing smirk, and if it wasn’t noticeable before, now the blush on your face and neck was definitely full-on display. 

Clearing your throat, you shake your head as if erasing your last words “Shit– Sorry, I didn’t want to assume.” you ramble “Is it just that you don’t wear a ring, so…”

Again, it took you hearing the words that left your mouth for you to realize how bad it sounded. “Oh fuck.” you muttered under your breath, grimacing. Aaron, on the other hand, looked absolutely way too pleased with himself, his smirk turned into a whole grin, dimples on display, and the twinkle in his eyes making you want to crawl under your own skin. “You should’ve just let me drown.”

He laughed — fully, heartily laughed — and the sound made your embarrassment soften slightly. “Listen. You do need to learn how to swim. If you want to, I can teach you.” he offered, shrugging.

You bit your lower lip, eager to spend more time with him — shirtless and wet, especially — but you didn’t trust yourself enough to guarantee you’d behave in that scenario. Nonetheless, that was his problem alone, so you tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes at him “For free?”

“Absolutely not.” he said, his tone sarcastic. “In return, you can let me take you out for dinner.”

“I might need lots of lessons, then." you offered, joking along. He smiled easily, his tone always soft but laced with something else.

“Lucky for you, I have a list of restaurants I want to visit.” he confided and you giggled, the butterflies in your stomach throwing a fit. Later, after he asked you to join them on their table, carrying all your belongings in one hand, you made sure to give Prince an extra treat.

taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna @bernelflo

[yintual]

 ㅤ( 🍀 ) ㅤ O7.O9PM; ㅤ𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆

jungwon thinks you need a break from studying 𖹭 749% > ﹏ <。 𝗰𝘄 # kisses ﾟ glasses bf ! won +PHYSICS mentioned

if there’s one singular flaw you have, yang jungwon finds himself thinking, it’s that you study a tad bit too much.

from his seat directly across you, he’s been watching you mumble about physics formulae for close to 3 hours. the library, too, is now almost completely empty save for the two of you. 

it’s not that he wants you to stop—jungwon’s more than aware of how important the assignment you’re working on is. so of course he wants to be supportive. which is why he’s tagged along with you in the first place, after all.

but hell, a guy gets tired of waiting, alright?

especially when his girlfriend just so happens to be sitting right across him—in hand holdable, and even, dare he say, kissable distance.

and you refuse to make it any easier on him with how cute you look when you pout at the page of numericals in front of you. it’s like you don’t even care about his sanity.

he rests his chin on his palm as he watches you furiously scribble something and erase it immediately after. 

tone flat, your boyfriend finally breaks the silence. “you know you’re looking at that worksheet like it personally offended you, right?” 

you answer without even sparing him a glance. “ugh, shut up. i got the sign convention messed up again. and i hate differentiation.”

“hmm. well maybe, and hear me out here ... what if … the universe is telling you to take a break.”

you don’t answer. he wonders if you even registered the words he’s just said.

“orrr …” jungwon leans forward, attempting to catch your eye to no avail, “maybe spare a glance towards your attention starved boyfriend? i promise he’s more interesting than electrostatics.”

that gets a giggle out of you, which admittedly does make him momentarily proud. but in mere seconds you’re back to locking in. he can’t help but mentally curse the education system for bringing him to this position. because god. this is tragic, really. 

with a sigh, he finally decides to take matters in his own hands. without a second’s hesitation, he’s pushing back his chair in favor of getting up and walking over to you.

“baby. i’m talking to you.” 

“alright, gosh, i’m—” but you apparently hadn’t taken into account the change in his position. you blink, confused, and realize after a minute that you feel a soft warmth behind you. 

and as you turn in your chair to face him, you find his arms caging you in against the table. 

“... i’m listening.”

jungwon leans in closer, his expression oddly smug. “don’t you think you’ve practiced enough questions for today?” 

“i just— there’s only a few more chapters i have left to go over ..” you’re not fully sure if it’s the close proximity that’s making you flustered.

“no. i think you’ve done enough.” 

you want to argue but the finality with which he speaks makes you reconsider your own words. 

“we don’t want you getting burnt out, yeah? you need some time away from physics.” 

you can barely think to formulate a reply to that as he dips his head down, placing a short kiss to your lips as if to emphasize his point. all you can do is smile into it, kissing him back with a hand resting on his chest to steady yourself.

“think we can both agree my idea was better, hm?” jungwon mumbles, peppering a few short peck along your jaw for good measure.

you pull back slightly, though, much to his displeasure. “well, mr. boyfriend, if you’ve had enough attention, then … i really do need to finish at least one more page.”

“... who said i’ve had enough?”

and then he’s taking off his glasses in one fluid motion before his lips are back on yours swallowing any protests you might have had. gone is the sweet, soft boyfriend who’d been giving you company all this while. 

(seriously, he picks the worst times to do these unfairly attractive things.)

the edge of the table digs into your back ever so slightly but you’re much more busy processing how sweet he tastes against you—of desperation. it’s a gorgeous color on him.

you vaguely think you hear his glasses fall to the floor with a soft clink. but with how intent your boyfriend seems upon robbing you of your coherence, you can’t say for sure. 

doing physics numericals is overrated anyway. you’d honestly rather just kiss your boyfriend, instead.

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 @amatariki @i-am-not-dal @liyahhhh620 @elleetlalune @luvvchn @s0shroe @wensurr @unhakies @starniras @calabaeri @athenaisonlinee @weepingsweep @itsactuallylina @puma-riki @starniras ⋆

        𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖱𝖠! [ <3 ] do we like layout. yes or yes. + gais i finally understand what timestamps are. its when u write a drabble and don't know what to call it!

ㅤㅤㅤ© YiNTUAL ♡ 2025

[lucygraysboy]

“blair? are we seriously still talkin’ about blair? come on, lucy gray,” he exhales, but not with annoyance just surprise because it never really crossed his mind that she might be worried about his ex. “of course, she’s out of the picture. do you think i’m livin’ a double life? one with you and one with blair?” dark brows inching closer together, voice dripping with confusion rather than anger as billy quickly does the math in his head — he reconciled with lucy gray in memphis early in september, broke up with his girlfriend a day or two after, then lucy gray visited him in new york city in december and they spent christmas together in their hometown, and new year’s eve… and it’s late spring now. almost summer, really. and she’s still worried about blair? “it’s been almost a year since i last spoke to her. you have nothin’ to worry ‘bout. you have no competition, lucy gray.” he’s tempted to retaliate and ask about her exes just to show her how hurtful such questions can be, but refrains, trying to be more considerate and less hot-headed. “and it’s not like i’ll be workin’ all the time. alright, maybe we won’t see each other as often, but… i don’t want to wait until we both retire to be with you.” if there’s a will, then there’s a way, as the old saying assures. “sweaty cuddlin’ is fun. you need to give it a try,” he laughs, but not how he used to laugh before. the sound lacks its usual warmth because now he’s wondering why she can’t just take a leap of faith, why she keeps bringing his past relationship up… maybe she thinks he’s not the kind of guy who can keep it in his pants? which is hurtful because he hasn’t been with anyone since that night in memphis. “s’mores are the best part of any campin’ trip.” he has a very strong preference on how he likes his s’mores done — the marshmallow has to be caramelized, have that slightly burned flavor, the chocolate has to be hershey’s milk chocolate, and the crackers have to be graham crackers, not ritz or oreos or some other variation. “well, that’s ‘cause i know what i want. you know what i want so it’s not a mixed signal comin’ from me. i want to be with you. i’m not leadin’ you on, kissin’ your cheek one second and growin’ cold the next,” he insists, wondering if what he’s saying is making any sense to her. it’s making plenty of sense to him.

once on the shore, billy wraps a towel around his waist and begins to dry off, every now and then glancing towards lucy gray to make sure she’s okay. “you good out there?” he calls out, reaching for his underwear, which is in lucy gray’s bag because he didn’t bring his backpack out here, instead they packed everything together. that’s when he sees her phone, the screen lighting up every few seconds. he should just grab his boxers and ignore it because it really isn’t his business but what if it’s her mama? maybe lucy gray’s forgotten to call her and now she’s worrying herself sick. that’s what happened in virginia. he picks up the phone, the towel hanging low on his hips, and taps on one of the messages. it takes him to the imessage app, chat bubbles popping up, gray and blue alike, and the contact name… river. it has his heart dropping to the very pit of his belly. he reads through the entire conversation, unable to help himself, his hands shaking with nerves. is that why she’s hesitant about the idea of dating him? because things between her and river aren’t over? is that why she keeps worrying about him cheating on her with blair? she’s projecting. she’s still in touch with her ex, doing god knows what, and worrying he might be doing things with blair? is that it? his cheeks turn red with a combination of anger and shame and betrayal. what a fool he is! and lord, why is his vision suddenly so blurry? he doesn’t want to tear up and yet that’s exactly what’s happening…

“no, i don’t think you’d cheat on me billy. i’m just sayin’, relationships require time and how will we be givin’ one another that? and that girl you was with? she’s really out of the picture?” softly stressing all of her worries, he has no lingering feelings for her? what if he does but too blinded by her and regrets later not getting to try things with the other girl? “i can’t even see you cheating, i know you’re not this type of boy— believe me, i get it.” that last time she just got upset and it all looked wrong, she knows he never actually cheated and still can’t see him doing it. “you like sweaty cuddlin’,” she teases, smiling amusingly to herself, “i could get used to it, too. it’s pretty fun and sweet when it’s just us. s’mores was really good too.” her belly almost wants to grow for another, but too bad s’mores is over with for the night. “hey how’s that fair? you can finally give me a cheek kiss but earlier it was illegal and called mixed signals.” she teases him, hating to admit her heart flutters insanely when she feels his lips on her cheek. “yeah go ahead, goofy boy,” playfully rolling her eyes, saying thank you for the hair wash before dipping under the water to cleanse her strands from all the product. popping back up, smearing water out of her eyes, keeping her back turned towards the shore so she doesn’t see any naked images of billy. phone in her bag glowing through the open part of it, vibrating and dinging each time a new gif or text from river is sent. ���where are you’, ‘hello, north carolina’. ‘where did you go.’

[weoris]

엔하이픈 ⦂ 박성훈 ‎ ‎ ‎ CAN’T FEEL MY FACE ━━ P SH

❪ 勇 ❫ but𝒾𝐥ove𝒾𝗍

❛ 𝐂𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 ❜ sunghoon x 𝒇! 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌. ༝༚༝༚ 𝗱𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗵𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝘄𝗰. 2OOO 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 𝗈𝖿 𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒

REBLG﹠LIKE ˵

MIDNIGHT━━━━now your first good nights rest since the breakup.

you knew saying someone like sunghoon would create tension in your life. he was the exact opposite of the ‘dream guy’ he looked like, sunghoon was rather like the ‘troublemaker delinquent ’ in every young adult movie.

he may be a looker, but that was about it. you remember the cycle.

the long, messy, passionate cycle.

he was such a romantic. a new bouquet of flowers every day; gifts and gifts galore; obsessed with touching you; all the social media stories and posts about you, when he rarely used it.

“You look so gorgeous— c’mere..” sunghoon whispered, holding your jaw with his feather light touch, as you brought your hands up to prevent him from ruining your hair — with the petals of your corsage slightly scraping his cheek.

It may have been your sister’s wedding, but sunghoon was sure he wanted you and him to be up on the alter.

You giggled, putting your hand on his chest — just finding it unbelievable how straightforward and needy he was, you had only just gotten out of the closet two seconds ago..

Sunghoon growled slightly, gritting his teeth when you didn’t let him kiss him. yet a little chuckle left his lips as he softened a bit at the sound of your giggles.

“No, I’m serious.. please doll..” he mutters, half of his words muffled as he pressed his lips onto yours gently. “N—no.. hmp—you’re ruining my makeup.. stop..!” you spoke against his lips between little giggles.

A laugh left his lips, he shook his head and nuzzled closer to you, teasingly kissing you harder. “Mm—mm..”

unfortunately, his kisses had to come to an abrupt ending as suddenly all the bridesmaids were called (and he did end up almost falling asleep on your uncle’s shoulder and snoring several times during the ceremony, making you look around awkwardly, disappointed and embarrassed..)

the doorbell rang, as sunghoon stood outside your door, waiting for you to open the door as he squinted and blinked his eyes harshly against the bright sun rays.

“Good morning, doll.” Sunghoon says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he kisses you immediately, pressing the little bouquet against your chest.

the bundle of both lavenders and kisses first thing in the morning was not what you were expecting, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise.

“Lavenders?” You say, looking down at the bouquet and glancing back up at him, as he held your waist against his hip. “What? You said you were wearing purple today! I thought it’d be nice to match!”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, patting his chest to calm him down. “Ok, ok! Thank you,” you mutter with a playful pout, pecking his cheek gently and wiping off the lip gloss from his cheek. “I’m very grateful~”

sunghoon’s grumpy front disappeared, a cheeky smile, as he bent his knees to wrap his arm around your thighs below your rear, carrying you up suddenly. “Well, why don’t you show me your gratitude, princess?”

but under that fiery, romantic persona, maybe you weren’t enough to store all of his affection.

“You piece of shit! How could you do this to me?! After all we went through??!” Your voice echoed throughout your dorm, pacing around the living room while scolding the boy who was sitting on your couch.

Sunghoon had nothing to say, couldn’t apologise, defend himself, give excuses — just nothing.

“I’m sorry..”

“You should be!”

“I was drunk.. you know I wouldn’t do that, baby-”

“BUT YOU DID!” You interrupted, too angry to even listen to any part of his explanation.

Sunghoon sighed and bit his lip, looking down and basically just letting you rip him apart for cheating on you.

for his constant lack of respect for you when he’d blatantly flirt with other girls, or let them dance on him at parties he’d just always have to go to..

And for the next few days, you could only sit in your bedroom and cry. What did you even expect from him? Why did you even for a moment — think he would be loyal, respectful and honest?

maybe because he was so stupidly charming, so terribly handsome, and so so so romantic.

and throwing away all the flowers, the stuffed animals, his shirts and hoodies, your Polaroids together …

sleepless night after sleepless night, you stayed up late reminiscing everything.

each item you were cleaning out felt like a stab in the heart, and each memory of him was the knife twisting.

overeating ice cream tubs while stalking his profile through your secret account became a routine — as you watched him party and throw himself from girl to girl.

after about two weeks of endless sobbing, you could finally spare a night of not crying yourself to sleep on the couch..

KNOCK KNOCK

only to be disturbed by the knocking of your front door.

you tossed and tumbled in your bed, trying to ignore the banging, thinking it was just in your head.. until your phone started ringing, the buzzing vibrating your pillow.

a groan escaped your lips, turning off the ringing immediately. but it didn’t stop. “Oh for gods sakes..” you muttered, finally answering the unknown caller with your eyes still closed.

“Yes..?”

“Ah.. baby.. open the door please..” the sluggish voice spoke, sweet as honey intoxicated with alcoholic toxin.. your body stiffened, immediately waking you up.

was it..

“i miss you so much.. so much, please you have to let me in..” he muttered. and you couldn’t be mistaken — it was the voice you wished to hear an apology from, longed to hear you call baby again, yearned to hear any word from..

you propped yourself up on your elbows against the couch. “S-sunghoon?” you whimpered a little, as a chuckle left his lips from across the phone.

“Ha.. hi, baby.. oh that voice.. you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for it..”

a scoff left your lips, as you brushed your messy hair back. all you wanted to do was just talk to him like you used to, but you knew you had to be stronger than that..

“Are you a fool? You can’t cheat on me and expect me to welcome you with open arms..” you muttered groggily over the phone, hanging it up quickly.

“N-no, angel..” Sunghoon let out a groan again, his back crashing your front door, the piece of wood acts as his separation and your hurt. Your heart still ached the same when you heard him whining and calling you ‘angel’..

and his banging didn’t stop.

his palm on the door, loud slapping noises were heard as he tried to get in.

Pet names left his lips as he whined, trying to get your attention — the attention of his old safe space. the safe space that he had tainted red with his lustful, wandering.

the consequences of constantly searching for new shiny toys was finally crawling back to him. now he was yearning for that familiarity again.

dark walls, beer cans scattered, a beating heart. you couldn’t feel your face. your thoughts only consumed with the cries outside your door..

“B-baby..” sunghoon gasped in surprised, the words leaving his lips in a raspy, hushed voice.. looking up at you with tears in his eyes, almost tripping with the door slammed open.

he climbed up, leather jacket already off on shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your hips and kneeled in front of you, holding you tight.

“I missed you so much, honey..” sunghoon says, his drunk-affected fragile legs shaking as he got up.

you scoffed and pulled him in the house, locking the door behind. “Shut up. I’m only doing this ‘cause I don’t want you to be a nuisance to my neighbours.”

sunghoon knew that was an utter lie. even his stupid, idiotic, selfish, drunk mind.. could comprehend. he smiled, giggling slightly.

you put your hands on his shoulders, furrowing your eyebrows as you took off his jacket. your hands traced up to his red cheeks. “God.. you’re.. drunk out of your mind..”

“Drunk on youuu~” he cooed, puckering his lips and trying to lean down to kiss you. You huffs and leaned back, keeping your grip on his shoulders tight so he wouldn’t come at you again.

Sunghoon sighed and pouted, his eyebrows knitting in annoyance. “Whatttt? Let me kiss you!”

a groan left your lips. one of disgust of his drunken state, or of struggle to not give in, you don’t know. but your stomach was being hypocritical, leaping and fluttering just at the sight of him close again.

he stumbled on a box by your doorstep, stubbing his toe and using it as an excuse to slump down on you..

you hadn’t even bothered to throw the box out or call him to pick his things up, his belongings stayed compact in there, filled with either hoodies or t shirts of his that were neatly packed, or gifts that were ripped apart and turned into scraps.

sunghoon giggled as you turned around, your eyes rolling with a scoff leaving your lips. he hugging you from behind, cooing gently and finding comfort in the side of your neck..

“mm.. you still smell like me..” he whispered, closing his eyes as a cute smile graced his lips.

you huffed and paused.. you only wished you could smell like him still. you put your hands atop his, rolling your eyes with a sigh again.

“That’s yourself you’re smelling there.. gosh, how much cologne did you put on?” you coughed, waving your hand in front of your face to let some of the strong perfume out. he pouted and shrugged. “Enough for you to remember me..”

your hands stopped waving at his words, as you blinked twice. he was planning on coming here? he wanted you to remember him? as if you’d even forget but.. was he really missing you like he said? or was this just some other mind game to get you into bed..

but you couldn’t deny the speeding rage of your heartbeat, as you put your hands on top of his again, and sighed softly. “I could never forgot you.. you know that..” you said, a mere whisper, yet something intimate that you hoped he could comprehend in his drunken mind.

sunghoon opened his eyes, face still against the side of yours. he looked up at the skyline in front of you both, humming softly. his eyes trailed down to your lips again, as he pouted and hummed.

“C’mere..” he whispered, turning you around. his hands rested on your jaw, as he cooed and caressed your cheeks with his thumb. “Just one night, ok? Let me love you just one night..”

You sighed, trying to push him back. Yet, you couldn’t physically.. you only tried to push that feeling of wanting him again in your heart.

Sunghoon whimpered again, sitting down on your couch, hands holding your thighs and pulling you into his hold.

“I can’t even feel my face.. just let me stay again..” he whispered, his hands holding the back of your thighs, chin against your stomach as he looked up.

It was hard to believe that this.. vulnerable, desperate looking guy, was the same man who broke your heart and played around with the pieces.

one night stand after one night stand, he still came back to the place, he would spend all his nights in. the nights that mattered.

the nights where you didn’t cry yourself to sleep or wish his suffering. the nights where he’d coax you to sleep, burying you with affectionate kisses and cuddles.

you didn’t even realise you were tearing up until he was wiping your tears off, his rough hands soft on your skin.

“Mm.. why did you leave then? If you were going to come back.. do you even know how much I suffered because of you??” you cried out, voice muffled and interrupted with soft little sniffles and sobs.

Hoon’s heart ached, seeing you all vulnerable like this again.. sure, he was all drunk and he was dumb for breaking your trust, but the burning sensation in his chest couldn’t go away. He needed you, he yearned for you.

your sobs were silenced by his lips, as you sighed and whimpered into his kisses. he held your face delicately, as if he was unfamiliar with touching you again.

sunghoon’s eyebrows knitted, gently tugging at your chin down with his thumb, as he deepened the kiss with his tongue. his thumb raised to wipe your tears, as his other hand trialed down to your waist, pulling you into his embrace even more.

the feeling was so familiar, so burning. it felt like an addiction you knew you shouldn’t be feeding into, something you had fought against and struggled. but now you were giving up.

your mind was in distress, knowing you shouldn’t be letting him kiss you or touch you like this, so gentle, so delicate. but your body was moving on its own. your lips moved against his before you knew it, as your hands went up to his biceps.

that flutter rose up in your chest and stomach, wanting — no, needing for him again. your mind turned to jelly, your skin all fiery as you held onto his shoulders to stabilise yourself.

Sunghoon started to relax, eyes fluttering as he tasted you again. it felt familiar again, kissing you, touching you, listening to you. he had every part of you memorised, but he wished he could forget your tears.

he pulled back after a minute, looking down at you.. your eyes still teary, wet lips frowning.. but a different glint in your eyes. sunghoon wiped your tears again, pouting at you.

“Don’t cry, princess.. let me love you again, I’ll wipe your tears away, ok? I’ll take care of you again, ok?” sunghoon whispers again, leaning closer to you with his nose against your cheek.. as he kissed that sweet spot under your ear.

a whimper lift your lips again, you couldn’t reply or push him off. you knew you should’ve retaliated, but you had tried hard enough.. you could only sigh into his touch, and bask in the addicting feeling. “Ok.. t—take.. care of me.” you whispered, making sunghoon smile against your neck, hands going under your thighs and picking you up effortlessly.

“Finally..” he whispered, his fangs showing as he grinned up at you, before nuzzling his head into your face and leading you to bed.

© weoris | tumblr.

신 🐇 xin comeback ! hope you all enjoyed ♡ @enhablr @kflixnet @kwritersworld @sgz-net

❪ taglist open ❫

[darklucielle]

Breaking her

StayC Isa x Manager POV

Tags: Gangbang, Degradation, Violence, Drugs, Masturbation

I got a call from by the High Up's CEO at his office. He said that he wanted to talk about Isa's attitude problem.

"Sir. I tried my best. I told her that her attitude affects everything in STAYC. She still didn't listen."

"I know you did your best. Maybe solving this problem in just talks is not the best way. I need to think if terminating her contract will solve the problem."

"Kicking her out of the group, sir?"

"Yeah. we don't have a choice. don't we? Isa is valueable asset in the group. Pretty and talented but her attitude now is not helping the group at all. She isn't like that before. Fame got her."

"I have a plan, sir. But first, I need your approval."

"You do? Well... I'm listening."

I told the CEO about my plan. I planned to take this further. Through violence and sexual humilation, Just to teach her a lesson. The CEO stayed silent for a while then nods.

"Alright. Do what you want. I'll make sure there will be no evidences of this."

"Thank you, Sir."

NEXT DAY

Another rehearsal for their upcoming fanconcert. They're working hard.... except her.

Sieun scolded her for being late then intentionally messing things up. They took a break right after. Isa went to the corner of the practice room and starts doing whatever she does on her phone.

That's it. That's the cue.

I went towards to her then grabbed her phone away from her hands. Before she can even react, A slap strikes her cheek. It was so loud that the rest of the STAYC members froze. They're shocked that I slapped her.

"WHAT THE FUCK!? HOW COULD YOU..."

Another slap. It made her fell down to the floor. I gripped tight her hair then keeps slapping her face. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six times a row.

The members are still stucked on their place. They don't dare to come and rescue their crying member.

"Look at me, You bitch." I snarled. Yanking down her hair then my other hand grips her face roughly to look at my eyes.

"I had enough of your bitchy attitude. Everyone had enough. Your members, staffs and even CEO. If you wanted to stay as an idol and member of STAYC, Accept your consequences and learn your damn lesson."

Without waiting for her answer, I pulled her up. Making her stand then dragged her out of the practice room.

"Arghh! Manager-nim! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She pleads. She keeps sobbing hard as I dragged her out.

It's hard to drag a sobbing mess along the way but after a while, I finally arrived at the men's bathroom. I kicked the door open then pushed her down to the tile floor.

Pulled out a tape from my pocket then forcefully tapes her wrists together. Does the same on her ankles.

I pulled out my phone and called someone. Isa heard me calling for some people here. "Manager-nim! I'm so sorry, Truly I am! I promise to be good person now! I will practice along with the members! Please have mercy!"

"It's too late now. No one will come and save you here. Your members are too scared. You're on your own."

Moments later, Someone knocked the door. I opened it and five High Up male staffs went inside.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. I got a green light from the CEO. Do whatever you all want to her. That will teach her a lesson." I said.

"No! No! Please! Have mercy! Don't do this please! I swear I'll behave!"

Nods at them to start Isa's punishment. The sight of Isa being tied-up and helpless, Surely it turns them on. They all removed their pants and let their raging cocks loose. They walked towards to her like a bunch of hungry hyenas.

"No!! Please!! Stop! Stop!" She cried but still can't do anything to defend herself. Two guys went to tore her shirt to expose Isa's bare breasts. Not big nor small, Just perfect size for her body. These two guys are busy pinching her nipples roughly as they gave her delicate skin some bite marks.

Other two went tore her pants apart to expose her thighs. I guess they're too hunrgy for her. Last one went to her feet and sucking her toes. Obviously loving it.

Isa doesn't have a choice but to scream for help. Her voice became ragged from shouting. The first pair are now suckling her nipples.

"No... stop... stop biting my nipples.." her voice became weaker and weaker.

They bit and trying to pull it out. They did it many times before they went to forcefully kissed her lips. Isa doesn't want to as she keeps her mouth shut but the two men are too eager to taste her mouth.

As they succeed invading her mouth. They took turns of violating her mouth. They even licked her whole face. Making Isa feel disgusted.

Second pair decided to feast at her holes. First one went to devour Isa's wet cunt while the other one is busy at her ass.

The last one took advantage of the situation by using her feet to jerk off his cock.

The first pair stopped kissing her lips and proceeds to make her suck their cocks. She still resisting but the two are too determined to break her defenses.

Finally, they're able to fuck Isa's mouth. They're facefucking her like there's no tomorrow. Harsh and messy. Her saliva leaking from her mouth and drips down to her breasts. Creating a slimy mess on her own body. They took turns of abusing her mouth and throat. They don't care about her at all. They don't care about her as an Idol. To them, Isa is their fleshlight. Their cum dumpster.

The sounds of skin slapping skin and lewd noises from her own mouth fills the whole room.

The fourth guy who's busy eating her ass, starts putting his cock between Isa's thighs and maniacally thrusting it. The third guy puts two fingers inside Isa's tight virgin pussy and fingering her roughly.

The first pair decided that they should put their cocks inside her mouth at the same time. Surprisingly, it fits. Together, they fucked her mouth in that way.

Seeing Isa surrenders and just let these horny men do whatever they want to her body, makes this mission successful.

She's now broken, mess and violated. Surely she learned her lesson now, isn't she?

The third guy keeps fingering her pussy until Isa squirts. Her whole body twitches a lot.

"Damn! She squirts like a fountain!"

"Please.... no... more...." her voice muffled because of the two cocks thrusting inside her mouth.

The last guy keeps using her feet as his fleshlight until he came a lot. The first pair simutaneously shoots cum in her mouth. The overwhelming amount and taste makes Isa gagged but she doesn't have a choice but to swallow it.

The second pair forced their cocks into her wet cunt and tight butthole. It made her scream out loud but still ragged. It took them a while before theit entire length pushed inside of her. They started to thrust hard and deep.

The sensation of two cocks tearing her inside apart, filling her up and simutaneously violating her surely it's too much for her to handle. All she can do is to cry and beg.

It didn't take long until they filled her insides. I looked at my watch and it took over an hour to finish.

"Gentlemen. This needs to be finished by a golden shower."

They nodded in unison. They proceed to piss Isa's face and body. Degrading her to the lowest point.

To these men, they're all spent but overly satisfied. The idol that they used to admire, now a weeping mess on the bathroom's floor. Clothes torned apart, Her face and body are forcefully used for sexual desires, Her dignity is broken, Her precious virginity is now lost. She's coated by a mixture of sweat, saliva, piss, blood and cum.

But my job is not done. I pulled out my phone and turns the phone camera to her. I pulled her up by her hair.

"Wake the fuck up, Bitch. Answer my questions. Understood?"

She weakly nodded. "Yes....."

"Tell me your name. Your full real name."

"Lee.... Chae-young..."

"Why are you here and suffering?"

"Because..... I was rude.. to everyone. It's all... my fault... I deserved... this..."

"What lesson did you earn from your punishment?"

"Not to be... rude to everyone... I'll be... behave and helping the... group more...."

"This won't be the last time, Isa. Get ready."

FEW DAYS LATER

After the successful fanconcert. They all went to their dorms except her. I told her to follow me to the vocal rooms where I pushed her to enter.

"Why are we here, manager-nim?"

"Strip off your clothes. Everything. Everyone is watching you." Points at the web camera of the PC.

It didn't take long until she's all bare naked. I pulled out a syringe and a small vial of the strongest aphrodisiac. Immediately shots at her forearm.

It didn't take long until she got the effect of the aphrodisiac. She felt hot and horny as she starts touching herself infront of the camera. I pulled out some sex toys for her to use.

Behind the web camera, The people watching her pleasuring herself is the CEO, Executives, Shareholders and even CEOs from the other companies.

They all watched how an seemingly innocent idol turned into a slut.

The members of STAYC swore that they will be quiet about Isa getting sexually abused. The Isa that they used to know is back and they're happy about it.

-End-

[kwittuwi]

★ Night Routine —

— Saja Boys x M!Manager!reader ૮꒰◞ ⸝⸝ ◟꒱ა ᶻ𝗓𐰁 ♡

▍𓉸⋆ྀི ༘ summary, how the six of you get ready to go to bed.

▍𓉸⋆ྀི ༘ content, fluff.

Your favorite part of the day was night time. Not only was it calm and quiet it was also the time you spent the most with the Saja Boys, not as their manager but as their boyfriend. Currently you were sitting on the couch waiting for Mystery to come out of the shower, you had agreed to go after him.

Baby and Romance had already taken theirs and now they were sitting with you watching whatever you had put on. Abby was in your guys room finding something to sleep in because his shower was after you. Jinu was taking care of his two pets on the balcony. It was peaceful, a time where the stars shimmered while you all unwind in your own ways.

But you soon had to get up because Mystery was done and now sitting down besides Romance. You slowly took the clothes in your lap not wanting to get up. When you reached the shower you turned the knob to make the water warm, not too hot and not too cold. After undressing you got in the shower letting the water trail down your skin.

After finishing your shower you were too lazy to dry your hair so you went back to the living room with a towel around your neck. Abby was on the floor laying on his stomach propping his head up, and Jinu was sitting besides him. Once Abby noticed you he jumped up ready to take his shower.

“You just gonna let your hair be wet?” Romance asked. “I don’t feel like doing it,” you answered. “Then let me,” he said before motioning you to sit in between his legs. Slowly you sat on the floor with your back to him. He grabbed your towel putting it over your head, soon rubbing the towel all over your head. Once he lifted the towel off your head Jinu laughed, you could only assume the state your hair was in.

Romance kissed you on the cheek then got up. “Wait here.” He walked into the hallway probably to get something to fix your hair. You laid your head back to look at Mystery and Baby. Mystery looked down at you before petting your head. He looked so nice like this. His three sets of dangling earrings turned into one set of studs, and his outfit turned into one of a big shirt and sweatpants.

The two of you just smiled at each other till Baby interrupted your moment. “Is that my sweater?” You forgot you took his pink sweater to change into. Stumbling on your excuses and words he leaned towards you to pat your head. “Little thief,” he said before sitting back in his spot.

Romance soon came back sitting behind you with a brush. You faced forward knowing he was going to brush your hair. It felt really nice and calming, if you could you’d fall asleep here.

An hour later Abby and Jinu finished and now you were all filtering into your guys room. You laid down in the middle of your guy's giant bed. Abby climbed in behind you wrapping his arms around you before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Mystery pecked your lips then snuggled his face into your neck. Baby and Romance both crawled over Mystery to give you their goodnight kisses before laying behind Mystery.

Jinu turned off the lights then kissed your forehead before laying beside Abby. Romance with the help of Jinu pulled the blanket over the six of you. You snuggled closer to Mystery as you felt Abby’s chest rise and fall. “Night night,” You said before closing your eyes, your brain slowly slowing down. The others all said their good nights before you all fell asleep holding the other tight.

[stories-i-guess]

Here we go ig

Rumi walked into the tower, expecting to just take the elevator up to her floor, like usual. Instead, she was met with both Zoey and Mira, waiting for her like puppies. This, of course, surprised the poor girl. “What are you guys doing?” She asked, tugging at her collar for a moment.

“Waiting! For you!” Zoey responded, cheery as always.

Mira’s eyes flicked away as she responded. “I dunno. We just wanted to make sure you were safe is all.”

“Okay, that’s nice of you, but I can handle myself on a twenty minute run!” Rumi put her hands out, expressing her confusion.

Unbeknownst to Rumi, a man was walking up behind her, trying to get a picture. The trio was used to paparazzi and creepy fans, that came with the business. They would just smile and wave, sign whatever they were handed, and slip off as soon as possible.

But this time, Mira and Zoey didn’t handle it so well.

“Hey! Back off, creep!” Mira shouted at the man, causing Rumi to turn around quickly, trying to figure out what the man did to make Mira so upset. Nothing. He was just like normal paparazzi. She didn’t know what the issue was.

“Okay, what is going on with you two?!” Rumi almost shouted out as they were alone in the elevator, especially since they were standing just a bit too close for comfort. She may be able to show her patterns now, but she was still not used to that much skin to skin contact.

“What are you talking about?” Zoey questioned, eyes wide and curious as she fiddled with her fingers.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Mira spoke in the same tone that Zoey always said reminded her of a “Rosa Diaz” but neither Mira nor Rumi knew who she was talking about, so they just assumed she was right.

Rumi took in a deep breath, trying not to yell too much. “What’s wrong is that you guys suddenly started acting like you’re afraid I’m gonna suddenly drop dead! You’re being way too… weird!” She sighed. “I don’t know, something is feeling off about things. You yelled at a random guy for acting like almost every fan out there, you were waiting at the door for me like Mystery waits for Zoey sometimes, yesterday you were sitting really close during dinner, you guys keep asking me how I’m feeling, and you guys are seriously in my personal space right now!” She waved her hands exasperatedly.

Zoey started talking in a panicked tone, “Sorry! It’s just that-!”

”Zoey, no!” Mira warned, glaring at her friend.

“Zoey, yes! I need an explanation before I lose it!” Rumi responded.

Mira put her hand over Zoey’s mouth. But that didn’t stop her. “CELINE TOLD US ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE IDOL AWARDS!”

Mira groaned and hid her face in her hands. Rumi’s eyes widened as she remembered what she had said and done then. “Oh…”

The elevator dinged and they all stepped out. Rumi rubbed her shoulder a little out of nervousness. Mira couldn’t hold either Rumi or Zoey’s gaze. Zoey’s fidgeting got even faster and bigger. No one knew what to say.

“I’m… going to my room.” Rumi said, quickly rushing off before they could stop her.

Zoey broke the silence between herself and Mira, saying, “That… could have gone better…”

Mira sighed before she spoke. “Yeah. It could’ve.”

. . .

During rehearsals that day, Rumi couldn’t focus. She kept worrying. She thought that Mira and Zoey had started acting like that because they didn’t trust her. Zoey couldn’t stop bouncing or fidgeting nervously. She thought that Rumi was mad at them for what they had said that night. Mira messed up her own dances almost as many times as Rumi messed up the lyrics. She thought Rumi was scared that she and Zoey would get mad at her for acting like that.

Eventually, when it became clear that they weren’t going to get anything done that day, Bobby let them all take the day off. They all stepped out of the studio together, made eye contact, and all spoke in unison.

“I’m sorry!”

“Wait, what?” Rumi said first. “What are you all sorry about? I’m the one who almost doomed everyone!”

“We’re the ones who made you think you shouldn’t live!” Zoey exclaimed.

Mira was too stunned to speak for a moment. She quickly recovered though. “We were the ones who pulled out our weapons against you! You have nothing to be sorry for!”

“Yeah!” Zoey continued, “You were already scared and panicking, and we just made everything worse! When we found out you tried to kill yourself, we felt SOOOO guilty! It was our fault for sure!”

“But I-“ Rumi began.

“Not buts. This time you have to accept it! You didn’t do anything wrong!” Mira pulled her friends into a hug, and they all sat there for a moment. Zoey was the only one who noticed how Rumi’s patterns began to glow a little brighter.

I just know Mira and Zoey would be so protective over Rumi post-Canon ESPECIALLY if they know Rumi asked Celine to kill her.

[g00d--m0urning]

Final Destination: Your House (CH. 6)

You finally get to the bottom about what's been going on with everybody.

(A/N: I'm going on vacay tomorrow and I'll be gone until Wednesday. I still plan on writing, but I don't know what we have planned, so just in case I'm too busy, I don't want to disappear)

(current list of planned in depth apology/make-up one-shots: Abel, Celia, Daisuke. Dorian, Curt&Rod (request), Eddie&Volt, Skylar, Tony, Jacque (request), Johnny (request), Hector (request), Betty (request), Mac (request), Tina (request), Kristof (request), Hanks (request))

The dateables wait and wait for you to put the dateviators back on, watching with bated breath each time you pass them, but you never do. Days go by without getting to speak with you and it’s killing them. 

Everybody knows they messed up and they want to make up for it! However, they can’t make up for it if you never speak to them again. There’s no telling who’s more distressed over the fact. Skylar is falling apart, Eddie and Volt have had several spark outs, Tony is breaking his back trying to fix things out of guilt, even Telly is starting to worry and he didn’t even do anything!

The house is falling apart and it’s your fault! Before you got those godforsaken glasses, everybody was perfectly fine without being acknowledged by you and now they can’t function without you. 

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

It’s peaceful without having all of your house alive. You almost forgot what it was like making breakfast without chatting up your appliances, or walking through doors without making some sort of teasing comment. It’s hard to tell how you feel about it. 

You’re loading laundry into Washford when the power flickers, nothing to be terribly concerned about, presumably a dead light bulb. It goes again, longer this time, as you get Washford started. There’s an annoying feeling of concern eating at your nerves and you can’t help but wonder if Volt and Eddie are ok. 

It happens two more times before you crack. The whole way up the stairs is spent debating whether or not you should be doing this; speaking with them might make things worse, if they even talk to you in the first place. 

You stand in front of the breaker box, dateviators clutched in your hand. With shaky hands, you turn them on, slowly settling them on your face. You step into the Breaker Box, looking around the deserted bar.

“Eddie? Volt?” 

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

The duo freezes at the sound of your voice, already choking up. They’ve never heard a sweeter sound. Immediately, they drop what they were doing, finding you in the main area. You’re really there, standing only a few feet from them.

“Livewire?” Volt steps out from the shadows first, a deep set frown on his normally beaming face.

Eddie follows shortly behind him, setting down the rag he had in his hands onto the bar, “You came.” 

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

“You flickered,” you shrug slightly, brushing their surprise off like it’s nothing, “It was kind of annoying… I… was also worried, so… Yeah.”

Your lips turn up just enough to clue them in on the fact that you’re teasing. It’s awkward and stiff, but it's something. “Are you guys ok?”

Both of them seem to deflate at the question, tension leaving their body by the minute. Volt gestures at the booth you always sit in, sliding into the left side, along with Eddie. You sit opposite of them, waiting for them to start.

“We’re ok,” Eddie is the first one to speak.

“No we’re not,” Volt corrects him, shooting his partner a look you can’t decipher, “nobody is.”

“What do you mean ‘nobody’?” you ask, head turning side-to-side in search of somebody else in the bar, expecting somebody else to pop up, out of the shadows. 

“You don’t see it, do you?” Eddie scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “How could you? Considering you haven’t put those dumbass glasses on in days.”

Volt stomps on Eddie’s foot, making the wire man grunt, elbowing Volt in retaliation, “What Eddie means, livewire, is that the house is a mess without you.”

Guilt burns the back of your throat like the nasty oil you guzzle with Hoove; you figured they’d all be fine without you around. They were before, “I’m not going to apologize,” you finally tell them. You’re tired of apologizing.

“No one expects you to,” Volt nods, setting his hands on the table, yearning to reach for you.

“Good,” you nod, eyes flitting from his hands to his face. You don’t take them. “Why?” is all you ask, looking between the pair. 

“That’s not for us to answer, spark. It is our wrong doing to apologize for, though. And please know, we are truly sorry,” Volt answers, placing his hands in his lap.

“... I’m sorry, livewire,” Eddie whispers. His eyes gleam in the low light with what you’d guess tears, if you didn’t know any better.

“I need time,” you respond, swallowing the lump in your throat, sliding out of the booth, “but thank you.”

Both of them stand up with you, nodding their heads solemnly, “That’s more than alright, livewire,” Volt assures, stepping forward before realizing what he was trying to do, taking a half-step back. 

You smile half-heartedly, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to each man’s cheek, “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

The kiss seemingly lights a fire under them, smiles gracing both of their faces, “Of course, spark. You take care too,” Volt says first, Eddie echoing the sentiment soon after. 

There’s a weight off your chest when you leave, feeling less like you have to drag your feet the whole way. With a renewed pep in your step, and a mission to get to the end of this, you set out for Celia’s office. If it’s not Eddie and Volt’s to share, then it has to be her’s. 

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

Word spread quickly that you put the dateviators back on, so Celia has been prepping her speech. She’s thrown out idea after idea, but nothing feels right. One apologizes too much without addressing the problem, the other does the opposite. Nothing feels right.

The door to her office opens, revealing you standing in the doorway, “I’ve been expecting you,” she tells you, pulling a chair out for you, not stepping back until you’re settled.

Celia sighs softly, sitting down in the chair next to you, facing you head on, “There’s someone else who I think needs to be included in this conversation,” she tells you, leaning over her desk and requesting Florence to send in her guest.

Skylar walks in, unable to meet your eyes as she sits down in the chair next to Celia, “Hi,” she murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Thank you for joining us, Skylar,” Celia says, smiling politely at Skylar, “Would you like me to start or shall you?”

“I want to say it,” Skylar whispers, finally looking up at you. She’s been crying, her eyes puffy behind her glasses, “I’m so sorry, everything that’s happened has been my fault.”

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

You’re unsure how to react when Skylar drops that bomb. Is it her fault? What’s she mean it’s her fault? She holds her hands up, signaling for you to let her continue before asking questions.

“I’m the reason everyone’s been avoiding you. It was my idea; after movie night, I got so freaked out over the documentary that I suggested we all leave you alone, so you wouldn’t get hurt,” she says through sobs, gasping as she tries to compose herself, “Please don’t hate me.”

There’s a lot to unpack there and you don’t know where to start. It’s shocking to learn that everybody’s behavior is partially Skylar’s fault- she can’t take the entire blame, everyone played a role in this. Especially over something as trivial as a… “Documentary?”

“Yes, documentary. You can save us the lecture, however. Telly has already informed us that our intentions, while well meaning, were… A bit misplaced,” Celia cuts in, setting a hand on Skylar’s back.

The world fades around you, a faint buzzing filling your ears. You bend over, shoulders shaking slightly, “Oh, my god,” you mumble. All of this, the panic attacks, everyone’s behavior is because they thought Final Destination was a documentary. 

You can’t tell if that makes the situation worse or better. On one hand, they were doing it to protect you, on the other, nobody even thought to talk to you.

“Are you laughing or crying?” Celia questions, eyeing you worriedly.

“I don’t know,” you exclaim, pressing your palms into your eyes. It’s both: you’re crying and laughing, “I need to go,” you tell them, standing up.

“Please don’t go,” Skylar pleads, grabbing your arm, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, we were idiots.”

“You were! None of you talked to me! Did you ever plan on telling me or were you just going to let me think you all hated me?” you ask, yanking your arm from her grip.

“We thought it was for the best!” she retorts, reaching for you again, but you don’t let her grab you again.

“I get that, I do, but you thought wrong,” you yell back, wiping your tears off with your sleeve, “I need time to think about this, Sky. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Promise,” she steps back, biting down on her lip to keep it from trembling.

“Promise,” you confirm, taking the dateviators off after.

You stagger to your bed, collapsing onto the mattress in a mess of tears. All of this, over a movie, over a grade-A miscommunication. 

Tomorrow. It’ll be fixed tomorrow, for better or for worse.

[lillilybells]

Maybe it’s me, but I think I would’ve loved in family dinner chapter IV Stephanie and Barbara reaction finding out basically they broke Damian and reader up in the alt ending, whether it goes back to them back together like angst to happy ending or stays as angst with their reaction and guilt. Idk maybe it’s me but it’s like they got no consequence ya know??? Either way LOVE YOUR CHAPTERS!!!

thank you!! And so many people have asked for this lmao😭 but you just gave me like such a good idea for how I wanted them to makeup and I wasn’t planning for like this ‘alt ending’ to go anywhere but I wanted to give yall some closure💔

this is not officially a part of the ‘family dinner’ series!!

Alternate ending II:

Damian stood in the cave with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, jaw locked, eyes burning with a sting he refused to acknowledge. He blinked hard, furiously wiping at his face before storming up the stairs toward the manor.

Tim spotted him first. “Hey, Damian—your girlfriend just stormed outta here like she was ready to take on Bane.”

Damian didn’t respond. His jaw clenched tighter.

“Did something happen?” Jason asked casually, raising a brow. “Did you guys get into it?”

“She didn’t seem like the type to argue,” Stephanie added offhandedly, twirling her bo staff. “Quiet. Sweet. Honestly kinda surprised she even raised her voice.”

Barbara nodded. “Yeah… she didn’t strike me as someone with a temper.”

Damian froze mid-stride. Slowly, he turned to face them, and when he did, his eyes were practically glowing with fury.

Dick stood from the couch, sensing something was off. “Are you guys okay?”

“No, Richard. We are not okay,” Damian snapped, striding toward Stephanie and Barbara with sharp, clipped steps. “We had a fight. A bad one. And guess what? You two lit the fuse.”

The girls exchanged a look, suddenly very aware of the shift in energy.

“Wait, us?” Stephanie blinked. “Damian, we didn’t even know she was your girlfriend at first.”

“You interrogated her. You knocked her out. You tied her to a chair—then you made her cry, then you told her she wasn’t my type. You told her she was normal.” Damian’s voice cracked slightly. “Why would you even say that?”

Barbara held up her hands. “Damian. We honestly didn’t know who she was. She showed up alone in the cave in pajamas—”

“And what, that makes it okay to insult her?” he shot back. “She was already scared. Then you humiliated her. You made her feel like she didn’t belong—and now we might be done.”

He stormed past them, heading straight for the manor’s upper floors. “So thanks for that.”

Jason whistled low. “Damn.”

“Wait—break up?” Tim echoed, standing abruptly.

“You two made them break up!?” Duke turned to glare at the girls. “What the hell did you even say to her?”

Barbara winced. “You don’t want to know.”

Stephanie crossed her arms. “Okay, it wasn’t that bad—”

Dick stepped forward, his voice sharp. “No. You need to fix this. Now. Damian’s barely socializes on a good day, and this girl’s the one thing that actually makes him act like a person.”

Stephanie and Barbara exchanged a nervous look.

By the time you got home, your face was a mess of tear tracks and red splotches. You barely mumbled a word to your concerned parents before disappearing into your room. You flung yourself onto the bed, clutching the stuffed animal Damian had given you, and pulled the blankets over your head.

You didn’t expect the Batcave interrogators to show up again so soon.

“(name)?” Stephanie’s voice cut through the quiet as you peeked out from under the blanket to see her and Barbara standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you croaked, voice hoarse from crying, though there was no real venom in your tone.

“Just hear us out,” Stephanie said gently, walking over and lightly resting a hand on your shoulder. She guided you to sit up between her and Barbara, both perched on the bed now.

Barbara started, voice softer than you’d expected. “We’re really sorry. Truly. Don’t take what we said earlier out on Damian—he doesn’t deserve that.”

You sniffled, wiping at your face with your sleeve. “But… you were right. I’m just some normal girl. I don’t fight. I don’t come from some League of Assassins bloodline. I haven’t died and come back to life— I’m not like the rest of you.”

Stephanie opened her mouth to object, but Barbara beat her to it. “That’s not what we meant. We were wrong to say it.”

“We didn’t know who you were,” Steph added. “And yeah, we went a little... overboard on the whole ‘interrogation’ thing.”

“You think?” you mumbled, voice wobbly.

Barbara offered a sad smile. “We’ve seen Damian closed off for years. But with you? He lights up. We were just... caught off guard, but we were also being jerks.”

“Yeah. Seriously,” Steph nodded. “Flatline was cool and all, but she also, like, literally killed him once. I’d take you over her any day.”

You let out a surprised snort through your tears, eyes darting down to your phone as the screen lit up—a picture of you and Damian, arms linked, his face pressed into your hair.

You stared at it for a long second. Then sniffled. “I should probably call him, huh?”

“Yeah,” Barbara said softly. “You really should.”

[p3terparker]

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: clark insists love island is stupid, until you catch him watching it.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.7k

𝗮/𝗻: this was a cute little idea i had in my head i love when boyfriends act like they don’t like their girlfriends shows just to end up getting just as into it as them 😭

it was friday night and you and clark had just got home from a long day working at the daily planet. all you could look forward to was getting to lay on your couch and watch the newest episode of love island.

as you settled into your couch and turned on the latest episode, clark groaned from behind you in the kitchen.

“you’re not seriously watching that crap right now, are you?”

“hey! for your information, it’s not crap, it’s quality tv. and if you don’t like it, you’re free to go to the room,” you said as you put the volume up louder to tune him out.

the episode continued playing and you noticed that clark never went to the room. instead, you could feel him lingering behind you as you laid on the couch. you turned around to see what he was doing, and caught him watching the show.

“i thought this was crap,” you snickered.

“it is! i was just looking while i waited for our food to finish cooking.”

“our food is literally ready. the oven beeped 10 minutes ago.”

upon being caught in a lie, clark bashfully went back into the kitchen to serve your plates of food and returned to the couch.

he could feel you looking at him with a smug look and quickly defended himself by saying, “i’m not sitting out here to watch the show, i’m sitting out here so i can spend time with you.”

“sure you are,” you giggle and return your attention back to the show.

you two continued to eat while your eyes were focused on the screen. that’s when clark began to ask questions.

“that guy right there is so full of shit. he’s attacking amaya for no reason,” he says as he points to ace.

“i know, right!” you laugh out loud.

the rest of the episode continued with him giving his opinions and saying how all of the guys on there are losers and that the girls deserve better men. you refrained from making fun of him because you genuinely enjoyed getting to watch the show with him.

a couple of days later, you two were in the kitchen making something together when he got a notification on his phone. you were closest to his phone, so you grabbed it to hand it to him. that’s when you saw what the notification was.

“clark!” you exclaimed and immediately burst into fits of laughter.

“what?” he says, confused and also endeared by the smile on your face right now. you turned the phone to face him and showed him what the notification was.

“oh…um,” he says, trying to come up with something.

“you seriously downloaded the love island app so you could get notifications when voting is open?” you say before bursting into laughter again.

“stop laughing at me! i had to vote to get justice for amaya!”

“next thing you know, you’re gonna be participating in twitter discussions,” you laugh.

“…i already am.”

[inseobts]

Stubborn Hearts

takashi mitsuya x fem!reader

all you do is bickering, so everyone forces you to confess to each other.

a/n: aaaaaah hope this isn't cringe T.T

words count: 5.7k

tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst to fluff, teasing, bickering

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You have exactly three problems in life:

1. Your friends are idiots.

2. Toman is full of gossiping middle schoolers disguised as delinquents.

3. Mitsuya Takashi exists.

The third one is the biggest problem.

Because, somehow, everyone in Toman has decided that you and Mitsuya are destined soulmates. Which is insane because he clearly hates you. He always sighs when you walk into the room, never laughs at your jokes, and acts like everything you do is some massive inconvenience.

So, naturally, you’ve made it your life’s mission to annoy the hell out of him.

And today? Today is no different.

The Toman hideout is as loud and chaotic as ever. You’re sitting on the couch with Emma and Hina, watching as Mitsuya helps Hakkai wrap a bandage around his arm. He’s focused, carefully tying the gauze, completely unbothered by the noise around him.

Which is unacceptable.

“Ugh.” You groan dramatically, slumping against Emma “Why is he always here?”

Hina snorts “Because he’s literally a vice-captain?”

“A vice-captain with an attitude problem.” You glance at Mitsuya, narrowing your eyes “I bet if he smiled too hard, his face would crack.”

Emma hums “Or maybe he doesn’t smile because someone keeps throwing french fries at his head.”

“That happened one time.”

“It happened yesterday.”

“Still a one time thing”

From across the room, Mitsuya sighs.

You whip around immediately “SEE?! He does it every time I talk!”

Pah chokes on his drink “This is painful to watch.”

“Yeah, this is getting ridiculous.” Smiley says, grinning “I mean, how long are they gonna keep this up?”

You frown “Keep what up?”

Before anyone can answer, Chifuyu suddenly drops onto the couch beside you, looking suspiciously smug “Hey, Y/N, quick question.”

You squint “What?”

“If you had to be stranded on a deserted island with one person, would you pick Mitsuya?”

“I’d rather drink seawater.”

“I’d rather swim into a shark’s mouth.” Mitsuya deadpans from across the room.

Baji nearly dies laughing “YEAH, SURE, OKAY.”

“See?!” You spin toward Emma and Hina, motioning wildly at Mitsuya “He hates me!”

They exchange a look. The same one they’ve been giving you for months. The one that makes you feel like you’re missing a really obvious joke.

“Right.” Hina says.

“Absolutely.” Emma agrees.

You narrow your eyes “…Why do I feel like you guys know something I don’t?”

Before either of them can respond, Draken suddenly clears his throat “Alright, enough. I can’t watch this disaster any longer.”

Mikey, who had been quietly eating dorayaki, finally speaks up “I say we lock them in a room.”

You freeze “Wait, what?”

Mitsuya’s head snaps up “Excuse me?”

Mikey shrugs, unbothered “Just until they confess.”

The room erupts.

“I love that idea.” Smiley howls.

“Let’s do it.” Baji grins.

Even Hakkai, the nice one, nods “It’d save us a lot of time.”

You shoot up from your seat “Confess what??”

Mitsuya groans, rubbing his temples “You guys are actual morons.”

“No, you two are morons,” Chifuyu corrects “We are just fixing it.”

You’re about to argue when Emma grabs your arm.

Hina grabs your other arm.

“WAIT—”

Before you can fight back, they drag you toward the nearest empty room.

You hear a loud thud as Mitsuya gets shoved inside with you, his voice sharp with irritation “Are you serious right now?”

The door slams shut.

Then they locked it.

“I’m going to murder them...” Mitsuya mutters.

You press your forehead against the door, horror settling in “Not if I do it first.”

The room is dead silent.

You and Mitsuya stand on opposite sides, both facing the door, both processing the absolute betrayal that just happened.

Your friends... your traitorous, nosy friends... have actually locked you inside a tiny room with Mitsuya.

And they’re not letting you out until one of you confesses.

Which is never happening since Mitsuya hates you.

After what feels like a full minute, you finally turn to him “…This is your fault.”

Mitsuya scoffs “My fault? You’re the one who keeps picking fights with me.”

“Because you hate me!”

He groans, rubbing his temples like you’re giving him a migraine “I don’t hate you.”

“You literally just said you’d rather get eaten by a shark than be stuck on an island with me.”

“Because you said you’d rather die first!”

You squint at him “So what? You just had to one-up me?”

“You started it!”

Before you can throw something at his stupidly calm face, you hear muffled voices outside the door.

“They’re fighting already.” Chifuyu says, laughing.

“Give it ten minutes,” Baji snickers “One of them’s gonna snap.”

You whip around and bang on the door “LET ME OUT, YOU BASTARDS.”

“Nope!” Emma’s voice is way too cheerful “Not until you confess~”

You can practically hear Hina smirking “Take your time, though. We’ve got all night.”

Oh, they are so dead.

You turn back to Mitsuya, eyes burning with pure rage “Okay. We need a plan.”

He raises an eyebrow “A plan?”

“Yes.” You cross your arms and whisper “We pretend to confess so they let us out.”

Mitsuya gives you a flat look “You want to fake confess?”

“Unless you have a better idea?”

He sighs, shaking his head “Fine. But they’re not gonna believe it if it sounds fake.”

You frown “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can’t just say, ‘Oh wow, I actually love you so much, let me out now’” he deadpans “They’re expecting that.”

You blink “…Okay, that was actually a really good impression of me.”

“Yeah, because all you do is yell.”

“See?! You do hate me!”

Mitsuya groans “Oh my god.”

Outside, the entire Toman gang is eavesdropping, fully entertained.

“They’re hopeless.” Smiley laughs.

“We might be here for a whole while.” Hakkai mutters.

Mikey hums, finishing off his dorayaki “Nah. They’ll break soon.”

Baji grins “Wanna bet?”

Back inside, you take a deep breath “Okay, fine. If we have to make it believable, let’s just, ugh... compliment each other.”

Mitsuya leans against the wall, arms crossed “Alright. You go first.”

You narrow your eyes “…Why do I have to go first?”

“Because this was your dumb plan.”

“Fine.” You huff, crossing your arms “Ugh. I guess… you’re good at sewing or whatever.”

Mitsuya blinks “That’s it?”

“What, do you want me to write you a poem?”

He sighs dramatically “Okay, my turn. You’re… not completely unbearable.”

You glare “Wow. Romantic.”

“We’re fake confessing, not getting engaged.”

“Whatever. Now let’s just—”

Suddenly, you hear whispers outside.

“They’re faking it.” Hina says.

“Obviously.” Draken mutters.

Mikey sighs “Alright. Plan B.”

Before you can even ask what Plan B is, a vent above you suddenly opens...

AND A WATER BOTTLE COMES FLYING THROUGH.

Right into Mitsuya’s head.

The silence is deafening.

Then Baji starts screaming with laughter.

Mitsuya just closes his eyes, inhales slowly, and mutters, “I hate all of you.”

You’re wheezing on the floor.

Mitsuya stands perfectly still, eyes closed, jaw clenched. The water bottle that smacked him in the head rolls across the floor.

You, meanwhile, are dying.

Clutching your stomach, you collapse against the wall, gasping between wheezes “I—I can’t—They sniped you!”

From outside the door, Baji is howling with laughter.

“Did you see that shot?” Smiley cackles “Perfect headshot!”

“Who even threw that?!” Hakkai asks, struggling to breathe.

“…Me.” Mikey answers, sounding vaguely proud.

Mitsuya exhales slowly, rubbing his temples “I swear to god.”

You wipe tears from your eyes, still grinning “Hey, at least you’re hydrated.”

He shoots you a deadpan stare “Do you want to die?”

Before you can answer, Emma’s voice rings from outside “Alright, new plan! If you two don’t confess in the next five minutes, we’re dropping more stuff through the vent.”

Hina hums “What’s next? A shoe?”

“A chair?” Chifuyu suggests.

Baji snickers “I say we drop Takemichi.”

“WHAT?!” Takemichi’s panicked voice echoes from somewhere in the back.

Mitsuya pinches the bridge of his nose “I hate every single person outside this door.”

You sigh dramatically “Welcome to my world.”

He glances at you “You are part of the problem.”

You put a hand over your heart “Wow. Just say you hate me and go.”

“I said I don’t hate you.” he groans.

“Oh? Then why do you always sigh when I talk?”

“Because you never shut up.”

You gasp, utterly offended “Wow. I’m actually hurt. Crushed. I might cry.”

“Good.”

You glare “You know what? Maybe I will fake confess just to get out of here.”

Mitsuya shrugs “Be my guest.”

You pause. Then, smirking, you turn toward the door.

“OH MITSUYA,” you call dramatically “I HAVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU FOR YEARS. YOUR SILVER HAIR SHINES LIKE THE MOON, YOUR SEWING SKILLS BRING TEARS TO MY EYES, AND EVERY TIME YOU IGNORE ME, IT MAKES ME FALL HARDER. PLEASE, TAKE ME NOW.”

The silence outside is deafening.

Then... Everyone BURSTS OUT LAUGHING.

Baji is SCREAMING. Smiley sounds like he’s choking. Chifuyu is wheezing.

Mikey hums “Sounds fake.”

Draken snorts “Zero emotion.”

Emma sighs “Yeah, that was a terrible confession.”

You scowl “Okay, rude.”

Mitsuya shakes his head “Told you they wouldn’t buy it.”

You cross your arms “Fine. You confess, then.”

He scoffs “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you got us into this mess!”

Mitsuya stares at you, incredulous “HOW is this my fault?!”

“You exist!”

“You threw a french fry at my head yesterday!”

You wave him off “That’s unrelated.”

Mitsuya groans, dragging a hand down his face “We are never getting out of here.”

Outside, the group listens with growing frustration.

“They’re actually so dumb.” Hina mutters.

Emma sighs “Alright, time for drastic measures.”

Chifuyu grins “Are we pulling the ‘fake love rival’ card?”

Pah nods “Yup.”

Baji smirks “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Back inside, you’re still bickering when suddenly...

“HEY, Y/N!”

It’s Chifuyu.

You blink “Uh… what?”

“I just wanna say,” Chifuyu continues loudly, “if Mitsuya doesn’t like you, you could always date me instead.”

You freeze.

Mitsuya’s expression goes blank.

The room is dead silent.

Then...

“…Excuse me?” Mitsuya says flatly.

Baji immediately jumps in “Yeah! Y’know what? I’ve always thought Y/N was cute.”

“Same.” Smiley adds, way too enthusiastically.

Even Hakkai joins in “Y-Yeah! A-amazing!”

You blink rapidly “H-Hold on! Fake or not, this is embarassing!”

Mitsuya’s entire aura shifts.

His jaw tightens. His usual calm expression darkens. And when he speaks his voice is low.

“Not. Funny.”

The noise outside dies instantly.

You swallow. Mitsuya isn’t smiling anymore.

“…Mitsuya?” you say cautiously.

He turns toward you. And for the first time, he looks genuinely, actually pissed.

Then he takes a step closer.

You instinctively step back “H-Hey, let’s not murder anyone… I didn’t even say anything!”

But he just keeps walking.

And suddenly, you’re backed against the wall.

Trapped.

Mitsuya places a hand on the wall next to your head, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch. His violet eyes lock onto yours, unreadable.

“…You really think I hate you?” he murmurs.

Your stomach flips.

“I—I mean, yeah?” you stammer “You never laugh at my jokes, you’re always sighing at me, and you just look like you hate me—”

Mitsuya exhales sharply, tilting his head “You’re actually so dumb.”

Your brain short-circuits “EXCUSE ME—”

Then before you can react he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

He just—MITSUYA TAKASHI JUST...........

Outside, you hear someone drop something.

“…WHAT?!” Baji’s scream shakes the walls.

“NO FREAKING WAY!” Chifuyu shouts.

Draken whistles “Well, damn.”

You, meanwhile, are still frozen.

Mitsuya pulls back, watching you carefully “…Still think I hate you?”

You stare at him, completely stunned. Your brain isn’t functioning. Your words aren’t working. Your body refuses to move.

You’re still processing the fact that Mitsuya just kissed you.

Mitsuya smirks, patting your head “Thought so.”

Then he turns toward the door.

“We’re done here,” he calls out “Let us out.”

Still in shock, you hear the click of the door unlocking.

Mitsuya steps out first, walking past a completely stunned Toman gang.

Baji looks betrayed. Emma and Hina are grinning like maniacs. Chifuyu has tears in his eyes.

You, meanwhile, are still standing in the room.

Mikey leans in “Hey, Y/N?”

You blink.

“…You good?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Then you promptly drop to the floor.

Mitsuya’s stupid smirk is the last thing you see before you die inside.

And now you are malfunctioning.

You’re still sitting on the floor of the tiny room, staring at absolutely nothing while the entire Toman gang loses their minds.

Baji looks like someone personally betrayed him “ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!”

Chifuyu clutches his chest, tears in his eyes “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Draken just nods “Yeah. That was smooth.”

Mikey hums “Mm. Approved.”

Emma and Hina? Squealing.

Meanwhile, Mitsuya is just standing there like he didn’t just destroy your entire existence.

And you’re still not breathing.

Mikey waves a hand in front of your face “Oi, Y/N. Earth to Y/N.”

No response.

Smiley snickers “She’s broken.”

Mitsuya sighs, crossing his arms “Oh, come on.” He looks down at you, unimpressed “It was just a forehead kiss.”

You snap back to life.

“JUST a forehead kiss?!” You shoot up from the floor, absolutely unhinged “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID?!”

He shrugs “I got us out, didn’t I?”

“BY SHORT-CIRCUITING MY BRAIN?!”

Mitsuya smirks “Worked, didn’t it?”

You let out an ungodly noise, somewhere between a scream and a strangled sob.

Baji grabs you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes “You cannot let this stand.”

You grip his arms “What do I do?”

Baji’s eyes darken “You fight.”

Chifuyu gasps “You flirt back.”

The entire gang nods, suddenly forming a revenge plan.

Mitsuya still completely calm “You guys are all idiots.”

You whip around dramatically “Fine. If this is war, then so be it.” You point at Mitsuya “From this moment forward, I will make you suffer.”

Mitsuya actually laughs at that “Good luck with that.”

You narrow your eyes “Oh, it’s on.”

The entire gang watches in pure excitement.

Baji claps you on the back “I believe in you.”

Hina grins “We will support this battle.”

Emma nods seriously “For justice.”

Mikey hums “This is gonna be fun.”

And Mitsuya just smirks.

“Go ahead,” he says smoothly “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Oh, he thinks he’s untouchable.

You crack your knuckles.

The war has begun.

The next day, Mitsuya strolls into the Toman hangout like nothing happened, all cool and collected, like he didn’t just completely wreck your brain with a forehead kiss.

“Morning.” he greets casually, looking around at the gang.

You smile sweetly, practically gloating as you walk up to him “Mitsuya, hey.”

He blinks at you, raising an eyebrow “What?”

You lean in, just close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath on his cheek “You look good today.” you say smoothly, with a mischievous glint in your eye.

The entire room goes quiet. Even the usually chill Draken looks up, clearly interested in what’s going on.

Mitsuya freezes for a split second, before narrowing his eyes “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” you reply innocently, flipping your hair and walking past him with a sassy sway in your step.

You can feel his eyes on your back, and when you glance over your shoulder, you catch him blinking rapidly. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

The gang is watching this entire exchange like it’s some kind of highly entertaining drama.

Chifuyu leans over to Baji, whispering loudly, “She’s really doing it. She’s flirting with him.”

Baji grins “Oh yeah, she is. This is going to be amazing.”

Mikey grins too “She’s not backing down. Mitsuya doesn’t even know how to respond.”

“Good. I’ve been waiting for this.” Draken mutters, a grin tugging at his lips.

The war is on.

Mitsuya, ever the cool guy, tries to act like he’s unbothered by your sudden flirty energy, but he’s not as cool as he thinks.

You notice his hand twitching every time you walk by him now. And when you catch him looking at you? He quickly looks away.

Perfect.

Later that day, you find yourself sitting on the couch, lazily flipping through the pages of a manga, when Mitsuya walks in, his usual calm demeanor slightly… off. His eyes flicker to you and then away, but he can’t seem to make up his mind.

You look up at him slowly, a coy smile on your lips “You know, Mitsuya…” You drag out his name, and you swear you see his eyes widen just a fraction “I was thinking… I could totally use someone like you in my life. You’re pretty handy with those sewing skills you have.”

Mitsuya tilts his head, trying to keep his cool “I’ve been sewing for years, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply, leaning in a little, “and I’m sure I could come up with so many… ways to make use of you.” You say it so sweetly, almost like you’re not even trying “You could sew for me anytime.”

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Mitsuya doesn’t even flinch “You’re really playing this game, huh?”

You tilt your head, almost innocently as you look at him “You started it, didn’t you?”

By the next day, you’ve got the whole Toman gang in on the act. You’re working overtime to make Mitsuya squirm, and it’s working.

“Mitsuya,” you call sweetly as he walks by “Your jacket looks really nice today. I think I’m starting to have a thing for you in leather.”

He freezes mid-step. His face flushes just the tiniest bit, and it only makes you grin wider.

He looks back at you, eyes narrowed “You’re not serious.”

You smile even more “Maybe I am,” you reply with a wink “What if I told you I could get very serious? About you?”

The entire gang is watching again. They’re all dying from the tension.

Mitsuya stands still, visibly flustered, and you can almost see him thinking. He’s trying to stay calm, but you know it’s killing him on the inside.

“…Stop messing around, Y/N.” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“Oh, I’m not messing around,” you reply smoothly “You want me to stop, but you don’t really want me to. You just like making me work for it.”

You pause “But I don’t mind. I’m patient. I can wait. I’m worth it.”

There’s a long pause. Mitsuya looks like he’s about to combust “You’re impossible.”

“I’m not impossible,” you say sweetly “I’m just… irresistible.”

That evening, the gang is once again hanging out in the main area of Toman’s HQ. You’re sitting on the couch next to Mitsuya, your legs casually brushing against his, and you’re making absolutely no attempt to move away. He’s clearly trying his hardest not to react, but you can feel the tension crackling between you two.

Finally, he speaks, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together “Y/N, you’re—you’re really pushing it, you know that?”

You turn to him, locking eyes, and then smile so sweetly it might as well be a challenge “Am I? I think I’m just giving you what you’ve wanted this whole time.”

For a moment, Mitsuya doesn’t say anything. He looks like he’s about to explode, and you’re getting a strange thrill out of it.

The entire gang is watching, and you can hear Baji mutter under his breath, “I don’t know how she does it…”

But Mitsuya looks like he’s finally had enough.

“Okay, fine,” he says, his voice much quieter than before “You want me to say it?”

You look at him, completely unbothered, but on the inside your heart is racing.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck “Fine. I like you, okay? I don’t know how to handle it, but I do. Happy now?”

For a second, you freeze.

Did he just...?

But before you can react, Mitsuya looks at you with a half-smile “So, are you gonna stop flirting with me, or is this part of your strategy?”

The air is thick with tension, but now you’re the one left speechless.

You were so sure you had the upper hand in this war.

You were winning. Mitsuya was flustered, avoiding your gaze, tripping over his words. Everything was going perfectly.

And then, in a cruel twist of fate he confessed first.

You didn’t even get to enjoy your victory because now you’re the one malfunctioning.

Your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart is staging a full-on rebellion.

Mitsuya likes you. He likes you.

And he said it so casually, like it wasn’t the thing you’ve been avoiding this whole time.

Now, as you sit next to him, his words still hanging in the air, you realize something absolutely horrifying:

You have no idea how to respond.

The gang is dead silent.

Baji’s jaw is practically on the floor.

Chifuyu’s eyes are wide with pure betrayal.

Mikey is still munching on his snack, but even he looks impressed.

Emma and Hina are squeezing each other’s arms like they just witnessed the season finale of the best drama ever.

And Mitsuya is just watching you with a smug look, arms crossed, so much more confident now that the tables have turned.

“…Well?” he asks, tilting his head “Nothing to say?”

You narrow your eyes at him, even though your heart is currently going through every stage of grief.

Oh, he thinks he’s won.

Well, joke’s on him. You’re not going down that easily.

So, with every ounce of fake confidence you have left, you clear your throat and smirk “Huh. That’s cute. You like me? Should I be flattered?”

Mitsuya raises an eyebrow “You’re the one who’s been flirting with me for days.”

You wave a hand dismissively “Oh, Mitsuya, sweetie, I flirt with everyone.”

The room erupts.

Chifuyu gasps “Did she—did she just friendzone him?!”

Draken bursts out laughing.

Emma screams into her hands.

Meanwhile, Mitsuya is still watching you, his expression unreadable “Oh, really?”

“Really,” you say with a playful smirk “I mean, you’re cute and all, but you’re taking this way too seriously.”

There. That should put you back in control.

You expect Mitsuya to roll his eyes. To get flustered again. To suffer.

But instead, he leans in.

Closer.

Too close.

Dangerously close.

And suddenly, you are no longer in control.

You freeze.

The room goes silent again.

Mitsuya’s voice is low, his lips barely an inch away from yours “If I took it seriously…” His eyes are locked onto yours, amusement flickering in them “Would that be a problem for you?”

You cannot breathe.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

Hina is holding onto Emma like they’re watching a horror movie now.

Draken actually whistles.

Mikey grins.

“Ohhhh,” he hums “She’s losing.”

And you are.

Because your brain has completely shut down.

Mitsuya is still watching you, waiting for your next move, waiting to see if you’ll break first.

And the worst part is that you are.

Your face is burning. Your heart is racing.

You can’t even come up with a comeback, and that is the biggest loss of all.

You’ve played yourself.

And Mitsuya knows it.

Slowly, finally, he pulls back, looking so satisfied with himself “That’s what I thought.”

Then, like he didn’t just ruin your entire existence, he stands up and stretches “Alright, I’m heading home.”

And with that he leaves.

The door shuts behind him.

The silence is deafening.

And then the gang loses their minds.

“YOU LOST.” Baji howls, pointing at you like he just witnessed history.

“She broke first!” Chifuyu shrieks.

Mikey leans back with a smug look “Mitsuya just won this whole thing.”

Hina and Emma are literally shaking you.

Draken chuckles “Damn. That was smooth.”

And you just sit there, completely frozen, hands gripping your knees, re-evaluating your entire life.

Because for the first time ever…

You have absolutely no idea what to do next.

You sit there, frozen, while the rest of the gang absolutely loses their minds around you.

Baji is cackling like he’s just won the lottery. Chifuyu keeps repeating, “She lost! She lost!” like a damn sports commentator. Hina and Emma are shaking you like they’re trying to exorcise the embarrassment out of your soul.

And Mikey is just sitting there, smug as hell, casually sipping on his juice box like he knew this was going to happen the entire time.

Meanwhile, you are stuck in complete denial.

Because no. No way. Mitsuya did not just turn everything around on you. He did not just completely dismantle your entire game plan with one smug little smirk.

You refuse to accept this.

You refuse.

Which is why, before your brain can catch up with your actions, you’re already on your feet.

You barely hear Emma calling after you “Where are you going?!” as you storm out of the Toman hideout and straight after Mitsuya.

You catch up to him a few blocks away, walking casually down the dimly lit street like he didn’t just destroy your entire existence a few minutes ago.

“Mitsuya!” you call out, breathless.

He pauses mid-step and turns around, raising an eyebrow “Oh? What happened to ‘I flirt with everyone’?”

Your eye twitches “Shut up.”

He smirks.

Oh, he’s enjoying this.

And it’s pissing you off.

You stomp closer, standing right in front of him, hands clenched at your sides. You don’t even know why you ran after him. You don’t even know what you’re going to say.

All you know is that you’re flustered, frustrated, and maybe you like him more than you were ever willing to admit.

Mitsuya watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes “So?” he asks, tilting his head “Something you wanna say?”

Your heart is racing.

Your brain is a complete mess.

But your pride is still kicking and refusing to back down.

So, instead of saying something remotely sane or rational, you blurt out “You cheated!”

Mitsuya blinks “What?”

“That wasn’t fair!” you exclaim, pointing an accusing finger at him “You knew I was messing with you, and then you just—just flipped it on me!”

His smirk widens “You sound mad.”

“I am mad!” you huff “You...You can’t just say you like me and then pull that stupid smooth move and...and make me malfunction!”

Mitsuya just crosses his arms, watching you ramble “Huh. Sounds like you’re flustered.”

You scoff “Me? Flustered? Ha! Please. I’m just—I’m just calling out your dirty tactics!”

He steps closer.

Too close.

You stop breathing.

Mitsuya looks down at you, eyes glinting with something dangerous.

Oh no.

Not this again.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs.

You hate how your breath catches.

You hate how your face gets hotter.

But most of all, you hate how badly you want to close the distance between you two.

And maybe Mitsuya sees it too.

Because instead of teasing you more, instead of pressing further, he suddenly sighs and shakes his head “You’re impossible.”

Your heart sinks a little at that.

But before you can even react, before you can even think of something to say Mitsuya lifts a hand and flicks your forehead.

“OW—”

He smirks “That’s for running after me like a dramatic little idiot.”

You glare at him, rubbing your forehead “Excuse me for wanting to have the last word!”

Mitsuya chuckles “You never do get the last word with me.”

You narrow your eyes at him “Oh, you wish.”

But before the teasing can continue, a comfortable silence settles between you two. The streetlights cast a soft glow around you, the night air cool against your skin.

And suddenly, neither of you are talking.

Suddenly, you’re just… standing there.

You glance at Mitsuya, expecting to see his usual smug expression, but he’s not smirking anymore. He’s just looking at you, his face unreadable, his usual confident aura a little more… unsure.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck “You really don’t know, do you?”

You blink “Know what?”

Mitsuya exhales through his nose, then mutters, almost to himself, “God, you really are stubborn.”

“Excuse me—”

And then, Mitsuya takes your hand.

Not roughly. Not playfully.

Just softly. Firmly.

Your breath catches.

Mitsuya looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing against your knuckles “You really think I hate you?”

Your mouth opens but no words come out.

Because, oh.

Oh.

This… This isn’t a game anymore.

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is spinning.

And all you can do is stand there, completely lost in the way Mitsuya is holding your hand like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, but his voice is gentle “I never hated you.”

You swallow thickly “I—”

Mitsuya sighs again, this time almost affectionately.

And then he laces his fingers with yours.

And you swear the world stops spinning.

You stare at your intertwined fingers.

Your brain has completely shut down.

Mitsuya... calm, cool, composed Mitsuya, is holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this isn’t something that is completely rewriting everything you thought you knew about him. About yourself.

Your mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. But no words come out because, for the first time in your entire life, you don’t have a comeback.

Mitsuya watches you, eyes glinting with something unreadable. His usual teasing smirk is gone.

This isn’t a joke anymore.

This isn’t a game.

This is real.

And it’s terrifying.

Finally, finally, Mitsuya sighs, giving your hand a light squeeze “You don’t have to say anything, you know.”

You blink “I—”

“I know,” he says, softer this time “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

Your breath catches.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?

Even before all the flirting, even before the teasing, even before the war, Mitsuya has always known you better than anyone else.

And now, he’s looking at you with that same understanding, like he knows exactly what’s running through your head right now.

Like he knows you’re scared.

Like he knows you’ve spent so long convincing yourself this was just a joke, just a game, just another thing to mess with him about—because admitting it was real meant admitting that you’ve already lost.

That you’ve always lost.

Because the truth?

You were never really fighting him.

You were fighting yourself.

Mitsuya smiles faintly, tilting his head “So?” he murmurs “Are you done running yet?”

You suck in a sharp breath.

And then you do something completely reckless.

You step forward, drop his hand, grab his face and kiss him.

Mitsuya freezes for half a second before he melts into it, his hands instantly finding your waist, pulling you closer like he’s been waiting for this.

The kiss is soft. Slow.

But at the same time it’s everything.

Everything you’ve been avoiding. Everything you’ve been too afraid to say. Everything you’ve been pretending wasn’t there.

It’s Mitsuya.

And that’s the scariest part of all.

When you finally pull away, Mitsuya is looking at you like you’ve just completely ruined him.

His breath is uneven. His grip on your waist is still firm, like he’s making sure you’re real.

And then he grins.

Smug. Triumphant.

“Wow,” he breathes, amused “So you do like me.”

You groan, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder “You’re the worst.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head “And you’re mine now”

Your heart stumbles.

You should fight him on that. You should.

But…

You don’t.

Because maybe you don’t mind losing after all.

You knew.

You knew walking into Toman’s usual meeting spot today was going to be a nightmare.

You considered not showing up. Just… disappearing from society. Moving to another country. Changing your name. Starting a new life.

But unfortunately, Mitsuya had dragged you here.

Literally.

“You can’t avoid them forever.” he had said this morning, looking way too smug for someone who also has to deal with the consequences of last night.

Now, as you step inside, every single pair of eyes snaps to you and Mitsuya, and...

Yeah. You should have faked an illness.

Because the entire gang loses their minds.

“OH MY GOD, IT HAPPENED.” Hina shrieks, nearly shaking Emma to death.

Emma, in turn, is crying “I—I knew it! I knew it! My ship—my beautiful ship—has sailed!”

Chifuyu stands up so fast his chair scrapes against the floor “WAIT. WAIT. WHEN? HOW?!”

Baji, of course, skips all rational responses and goes straight to chaos “HEY, WHO CONFESSED FIRST?!”

Mikey, still sitting in his usual lazy position, just grins “Didn’t even have to bet on it. Saw it coming from a mile away.”

Draken leans against the wall, shaking his head with a chuckle “Well, damn. Took you long enough.”

You groan, covering your face “Oh my god. I hate all of you.”

Mitsuya, the traitor, just slides his hands into his pockets, completely unfazed “See? Told you they wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You whip your head toward him “You knew this would happen, and you still dragged me here?!”

He grins, so damn smug “Of course.”

Baji slams his hand on the table “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—SO WHO WON THE FLIRT WAR?”

Chifuyu immediately turns to you, eyes blazing with betrayal “It was him, wasn’t it?! You lost, didn’t you?!”

You refuse to answer.

Which is answer enough.

“OH MY GOD,” Baji howls with laughter “SHE LOST!”

Chifuyu grabs his head, devastated “I had so much faith in you!”

Emma sniffles dramatically “She lost the battle, but she won love.”

Hina nods, serious “It’s the best kind of loss.”

Takemichi just hums in satisfaction “Balance has been restored to the universe.”

Meanwhile, you are this close to throwing yourself out.

“I hate all of you.” you repeat.

Mitsuya leans down, voice way too smug “You love me, though.”

Your entire body malfunctions.

And everyone loses it again.

Baji actually falls off his chair.

Chifuyu looks personally attacked “Oh, this is painful.”

Draken claps Mitsuya on the back, laughing “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

And Mitsuya just smiles, absolutely thriving in your suffering.

Yeah.

Yeah, you’re never living this down.

But then, Mitsuya takes your hand, gives it a light squeeze and okay.

Maybe it’s not so bad.

[lucidwntrr]

최산 ───〃LET"S MAKE TONIGHT YOUR BIRTHDAY

“does it feel good? am-am i doing good,” he asks, his thumb circling your clit as he looks at you with his half-lidded, nothing but desire shining in them. he wants to hear you say it, he needs to know how good he is making you feel."

── synopsis : it’s your birthday and your tipsy, jealous boyfriend san has been patiently (impatiently) waiting to give you your gift all night … your touchy best friend breaks that patience.

⋆˚꩜｡ pairing: sub!san x dom!reader ⋆˚꩜｡ genre & word count: smut || 3k+ ⋆˚꩜｡ tags: sub!san, oral (f.receiving), begging, unprotected sex (wrap up.ᐟ), praise, tipsy san, breeding kink, needy san, kind of possessive san, jealous, wooyoung cameo!!, he just wants to please you ⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: not even sure if i like this plus i didn't proofread it, but fuck it we ball !! hopefully atleast one person like it though :b

san was not jealous.

i mean sure his skin was pretty hot and prickly, and his muscles were tense. he was clenching his jaw and his fingers gripped tight around the cup of alcohol he’s sipping on. but he wasn't jealous, far from it actually.

he currently resided in the kitchen, where he was leaned up against the counter at your birthday party, attempting and failing to not send daggers in your direction. or, more to the people around you.

not like you would notice anyway … too distracted by said people. engaging in multiple conversations and accepting countless gifts from where you sat on the couch.

he was enamored by how good you looked, smiling brightly, eyes crinkling in the corners, your laugh echoing sweetly in his ears. it just wasn’t fair that everyone else got to see and hear it. he wanted that part of you all to himself. wanted you to be smiling at him like how you were smiling at them.

he’s been trying all night to get just a minute with you, brushed aside by your friends before he could even get the chance to speak. you would mumble a quick “sorry” with a grimace every time someone new whisked you away from him.

that’s when san decided to stumble his way into the kitchen with a frustrated huff and pour himself a drink…or two, who’s counting? is it a crime to want to spend time with your girlfriend on her birthday?

at the same time there was nothing more san wanted then for you to be happy. alongside the growing envy, he was genuinely pleased that you were enjoying the event he partook in planning. maybe he was just being a little selfish…

“ahh, what am i thinking?” he mumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose and earning a sideways glance from someone who walked into the kitchen for a drink. he clears his throat before chugging down the rest of the alcohol in his cup.

he can feel the effects of the alcoholic drink, his skin getting warmer, his limbs feel tingly, his balance is off as he stumbles from where he stands. he crosses his arms over his chest and leans his head back, closing his eyes to rest them a bit, just to collect himself.

“woo? holy shit, you’re here!” san hears you shriek from the other room. his eyes peek open and he turns his head to see you jump into some guys arms, presumably the one you called woo.

san’s eyebrows raise at that, his eyes gravitating towards the arms that were wrapped tightly around your waist and the hands that were gently caressing your back in small circles. he can't fight the way that his teeth grind together at that, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“a little late, but yes i’m here,” he replies when he pulls back with a bright smile and shifts his hands on your shoulders as you launch into a conversation with him.

san looks away with a pout and stares blankly at the floor in front of him, his foot tapping restlessly against it. woo? you never mentioned an woo to him, not to his knowledge atleast. he wracks through his muddled brain, pouring himself another cup and tries to recall a conversation where you mentioned anybody with that name, finding none.

sucking his teeth, he pushes himself off the counter, drinking sloshing and some droplets spilling onto his hand. he’s ready to walk over to you and ask about this guy that suddenly showed up to your party, but he freezes when he makes it to the living room.

you and wooyoung weren’t standing anymore, instead you were both sat on the couch, laughing about something he couldn’t hear over the music. san can feel his eye twitch and his fingers flex around the cup in his hand.

wooyoung was practically in your lap, well not really, but that’s what san’s drunken mind made it out to be. one leg draped over you and his arms wrapped around your shoulders, grinning and whispering into your ear and making you laugh loudly.

it was getting on his nerves watching the way you and him were interacting. he doesn’t like it. it should be him there instead. how come he gets to be so close to you, when he hasn’t even gotten a second with you all night?

he was frozen in place, tense and taking a swig every time he would get a little too close, a distraction, the alcohol starting to catch up to him. but the lingering touches were ticking him off. wooyoung’s hand landing on your thigh and running it along the smooth skin was his last straw.

he couldn’t take it anymore, downing the rest of his drink before making his way over to you. and if he almost tripped twice on the way there, what about it?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

you were startled when your boyfriend suddenly appeared in front of you. having not seeing him the whole night, you were kind of glad that he was here now. you couldn’t get a good look at his face in the dimly-lit living room, but you knew it was san by his voice.

“can i talk to you,” he huffed, his body was swaying as he clumsily thrusted a hand out for you take. you lean back, his hand way too close to your face.

you take his hand, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, “yes, but there’s someone i want you to meet.” you smile and look over to wooyoung. san hasn’t meet woo, your best-friend that was always busy with his career, always traveling. this is the first time you’ve seen him in months and you were excited to introduce the two, you figured they would get along well.

“san, this is wooyoung my be-” you start, gesturing between the two. san's eyes travel over to him, your sentence lost to deaf ears as he watches wooyoung rub your shoulder, cheesing, and his jaw tightens in frustration.

“i just-” san breathes with a hiccup, tilting his head back to contain himself before continuing. “i just want to talk to you, please.” he whispers the last word and squeezes your hand.

“o-okay,” cocking your head in confusion. was something wrong? is he feeling sick? you part from wooyoung and stand to go with your boyfriend. and san doesn’t miss the way wooyoung’s hands drop from your shoulder and drags down your waist as you go. “be right back woo.” you say with a smile and allow your boyfriend to take you away.

san brings you upstairs and down the hall to your shared room, closing and locking the door behind you both. he leans his back and head against the door, dizzy from the drinks and fast movements. he’s not sure how he even made it here without completely falling, he only tripped once.

“san, you alright…” you question, taking a tentative step towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. he’s skin is warm, hot almost, you could feel it through the shirt he was wearing. maybe he was feeling sick...

he slowly nods, a mistake as the alcohol is setting in and even that made him a little unstable. you rush forward to catch san before he could trip over himself, his hands landing on your waist and head dropping to rest against your chest.

you gently lift his head up by his chin, taking in his disheveled state. in the lamp light you notice that his cheeks are tinged pink, a slight shine to his forehead from sweat, and the smell of alcohol was strong on his breath as he pants, his breath fanning across your face.

“are you drunk?” you ask, resting your hand against his cheek. he immediately nuzzles into, sighing at the cool touch. he looks up at you, eyes glossy and unfocused.

he ignores your question, his gaze dropping to your lips. he leans in, presumably to kiss you. but before your mouths could touch, you lean your head back and earn a little groan from san who starts to pout.

“i asked if you are drunk.”

“only a little bit tipsy,” he hurriedly mumbles as he hiccups, leaning in to kiss you again only to be denied. this time by you placing a finger against his wet mouth. “fuck, why~” he whines impatiently, fingers drumming against your waist.

“you said you wanted to talk to me, not kiss me,” you remind him of the reason why we’re here, with a giggle. san puffs in annoyance. he didn’t actually have anything to say, just wanted to finally be alone with you. “you dragged me away from my conversation with woo-“

you’re cut off by san rushing in to press his lips against yours. nibbling and licking at your bottom lip, taking control of the kiss. he doesn’t want to hear that name right now. doesn’t care about what you and him were talking about, he just wants you to focus on him.

you part your mouth, deepening it as you lick into san’s mouth. he moans into it and his knees buckle a bit, his grip on you tight to keep himself upright.

“this is what i wanted to talk about,” he breaths out when he pulls back for air, a string of saliva connecting you two. “your birthday gift.”

it’s true. san did have a gift for you, he’s been waiting all night for everyone to leave so he can give it to you. quite literally. but if this is what it took for you to forget about everyone else, forget about woo, and just give him all your attention then…

“i’m confused…” you slowly say, furrowing your brows and searching san’s face for some kind of answer. there was a lot of physical activity going on for him to be talking about a gift.

“can i show you it,” he leads you to the bed, and instructs you to get on it and you follow his instruction, curious. “i was going to wait until after the party, but i’m a bit impatient now…” he says, a whiny tone in his voice.

“san- what exactly is this ‘gift’?”

he once again ignores you, climbing on the bed and crawling towards you, hovering over you. it forces you to lean back, your head gently hitting the mattress as san looks down at you with his flushed face. his hand instantly roaming your body, up your thighs, to your waist, and under your shirt to cup a breast.

your eyes can’t help but to flutter at that, your breathing picking up slightly as you watch san’s movements. he moves in to kiss you, not holding back this time and shoves his tongue into your mouth. he whines as your tongues swirl together.

“san,” you whisper into his mouth. he pays you no mind, trying to get as much of you as he can, hoping to distract you enough. “sannie, as much as i’m enjoying this… there is a party going on downstairs and wooyoung-”

san grumbles at that, that name that you just can’t seem to stop saying. he sucks his teeth and leans back to sit up, a little too fast, his hands landing on your thighs as he wobbles.

“woo, woo, woo,” he mumbles, dropping his head down and shaking it from side to side. you rise up on your elbows to look at your boyfriend. “when are you going to pay attention to me, huh?”

“i’ve been wanting to talk to you all night. been waiting to have just a second with you. just a little conversation, a kiss, a hug, a smile, a laugh. anything, but you’ve been giving it all to everyone else. i want that too. i’m your boyfriend.” he rambles, shakily pointing a finger at himself.

you have to press a hand to your mouth to keep from laughing. he was just too cute, all pouty and angry, his cheeks dusted red. you’ve never seen this side of him before. sure, you’ve gotten drunk with him, he usually gets all quiet, often staying to himself. but this was different…

“then someone else comes in, woo, and you’re all over him. what about me? laugh with me, talk to me, let me cling to you like that, i can-” he continues and you shut him up before he can rant on for hours, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“sounds like your jealous,” you giggle as san lifts his head to look at you. his eyes flitter around your face, avoiding eye-contact with you, his face burning hotter.

“j-jealous, why would i be jealous?” he defensively says.

“you already answered your own question when you were rambling,” you whisper, wrapping a hand around his neck and fisting your hand into the hair on his nape, pulling him in for another kiss.

the make-out is all saliva and messy as san gasps, caught by surprise at the sudden attack on his lips. he lets you take the lead, losing himself in you. he wraps his arms around your waist from where he sat in your lap, drawing his body closer to yours.

his hips twitch against you when you bite his bottom lip, his hard cock dragging against your stomach and making san draw out a whimper.

“uhn,” he breathily moans when he grinds himself against you again. his head tilting back as he gets lost in the pleasure of the friction on his cock. you take advantage and leave little nibbles and pecks on his warm neck.

“can- can i still give you your gift, please?” he sighs, his hands skimming along your arms. the way he pleads, sends a trail of goosebumps along your skin where he touches.

you nod your head, your party forgotten about as the man in front of you starts to trail kisses down your body. he thumbs at your shirt, peeking at you, a silent ask. you take it upon yourself, stripping off your shirt.

san heavily breaths before leaning in and taking a tit into his mouth, whirling around his tongue on your nipple, making your back arch into him. he attends to both, switching between the two and leaving a few hickeys behind.

he moves down, kissing along your stomach and waist. he looks up at you when he makes it to the band of your skirt and with a playful smirk, dips his head under it and drags your underwear down your legs with his teeth.

he goes back down, burying his face into your cunt. it’s wet and messy and exactly what san wanted. he whimpers as he licks, lapping up at your juices, his nose pressing against your clit.

“sannie,” you breath, carding your fingers through his hair and tugging at some of the strands, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

san’s hip twitch against the bed, grinding down against the sheets. just him being able to taste you, turns him on. being able to please you, make you feel good, better than anyone else.

“does it feel good? am-am i doing good,” he asks, his thumb circling your clit as he looks at you with his half-lidded eyes, nothing but desire shining in them. he wants to hear you say it, he needs to know how good he is making you feel.

“so good, you’re doing so good,” you sigh, tossing your head back when san licks a strip from your entrance up to your clit.

he moans at your approval, his cock twitching where it was trapped between his pants and the bed, his body trembling as he gets close to cumming. he just wants to stay here, burying his tongue in you, he doesn’t care how messy it gets.

“fuck,” you gasp, grinding your hips against san’s face as you cum.

san whimpers, cumming untouched in his pants. he spills all over the bed, pushing his hips against the mattress as he licks up your mess, drinking you up like he did the alcohol.

once you come down, you let go of his hair and pull him up towards you. licking into his mouth to taste yourself on his tongue. you reach a hand down to his pants, hoping to return the favor and get met with a huge sticky spot there instead.

“did you…” you start, looking at san who had a sheepish look on his face. turning his to the side and clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“i-i can go again,” he whispers, removing his bottoms and stroking himself to hardness again. record speed. “i want to be inside you, please…”

he spreads your legs apart, placing himself there. he grabs onto your hips and slides his hot cock between your folds. he moans, his body shivering at the intense pleasure from just cumming.

“please, please let me put it in,” he pleads, stuttering out a moan when his tip catches on your entrance. he’s tempted to push in, but he won’t not until you say he can. “i’ll make you feel good, i- i promise.”

you don’t respond, wrapping your legs around him, you push him forward and into your wet heat.

“mm, fuck,” he loudly moans. it would’ve been too loud if not for the music blaring downstairs. even then, with how tipsy he was, he wouldn’t care if anyone heard.

he deeply rocks his hips into you, each thrust hitting just the right spot. punching short ‘ah’s’ from you.

“so good, only i can have this…” he babbles. his thrusts getting rougher, slamming his cock into you as he recalls the events from earlier.

“nobody else can see you like this, n-no one else can make you feel good…” he whines, his hold on your hips almost bruising as he pounds into you.

he feels drunk off of this. him feeling how you clench around him, how wet and warm it is. he needs more, he wants more, wants you to know that only he can do this to you.

“s-sannie,” you stutter as you can’t keep up with his pace. “s-slow down…” you moan, bringing your arms up to wrap around waist and bringing him closer to you.

of course he doesn’t slow down, it almost feels like he speeds up.

“so pretty, so tight…” he moans into your ear, his pace unrelenting as he fucks you. “wanna cum inside - i’ve been wanting it all night, i just - fuck. please let me.”

you pull him back to be face to face, his eyes closed and he doesn’t open them until you coo, “you want it that bad?”

he almost looks ravenous, his was so gone, drunk off you.

“yes, wanna cum inside,” he babbles, his voice raspy from all the moaning. “wanna fill you up, make you mine, please-“

“yeah?”

he nods his head wildly, “fuck yes, please~ i’ll be good, so good. i promise, if you just let me cum inside - let me own it.”

you lean in to whisper in his ear, “show me that you do,”

san’s breath hitches, a strangled moan stuck in his throat as his eyes roll back. one last thrust is all he had before he came deep inside.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” he whiningly chants, as he fills you with rope after rope of cum. his breath hot against your neck that he was buried in.

you caress his back with one hand and his sweat-soaked hair with the other as he rides out his orgasm. weakly thrusting into you until he can’t from the sensitivity.

he pulls out with a hiss, rolling onto his back, feeling a different kind of heat and tingle in his body, one not from the alcohol.

you roll over to rest on his chest, tracing circles along his stomach.

“that was quite the birthday gift,” you laugh, with an exaggerated sigh. “you’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.”

“‘m not jea-“ he starts before getting interrupted by a knock at the bedroom door.

“hey um, i just wanted to say happy birthday again before heading out,” i voice shouts from the other side. “and it was nice to briefly meet you san, i hope we can talk more next time.” then there were footsteps.

san rolls his eyes after the second sentence, becoming aware of who was outside the door. his chest heaving and a tiny pout was on his lips.

you look at him with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile.

“i’m not jealous!” he shouts, a blush blooming on his face.

©lucidwntrr est. 2025

[vxnillabxn]

hiii👋 i'd like to request the lads men's reaction to being picked up! sometimes i feel like some writers underestimate/ don't acknowledge how physically strong mc is. although the guys weight isn't specified i feel like she could easily pick up a well-fit man 😌

your writing is amazing and i'm always amazed by your posting frequency (and quality)! hope you're doing fine and stay hydrated!! 💞

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x fem!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, just a teeny tiny bit suggestive! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚mc is not dainty nor frail AT ALL, she can kick ass while having HEART ISSUES!!! mc, we love you over here ♡ thanks for requesting! this was so much fun to write~ and i tried to keep it light and a bit funny, too! (fem!reader in mind, but no fem!pronouns used!)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

you were lazily sprawled on the sofa, with one of your legs dangling and swaying with boredom.

caleb was hugging said leg loosely, scrolling through his phone as he too wanted to entertain himself.

or both of you, preferably.

“no way,” he suddenly mumbles, looking up at you from his phone. “pips, look.”

he shows you an advertisement for a weightlifting contest back in linkon city.

“30k diamonds for the winner? geez… i might as well try!”

you say confidently, suddenly sitting up to look over his shoulder.

he turns to you and smiles.

he knows you are strong, as you two arm wrestle to choose who gets to keep the last braised chicken wing —though he always lets you have it no matter the outcome.

“well, you'll have to lift a lot of weight, though. don't you wanna' practice a bit more, pipsqueak?”

you shake your head with a big grin on your face.

“i have my own way of training!”

and you didn't lie.

later that day, as he was cooking for both of you, you decided to take him by surprise.

he already knew you were behind him, obviously. he's used to your sneaky attacks, and he can also catch your scent whenever you're nearby.

he expected you to scream, to poke his sides, to tickle him.

but what he didn't expect was for you to wrap your arms around his back…

for a moment, he smiled lovingly.

…for a very, very brief moment.

soon enough, his feet left the ground. the spoon he was holding fell from his hand, and you easily took him away from the kitchen, just to walk a few steps to the left.

you put him down and sigh loudly.

“ha! not bad at all, huh?”

he's silent.

he has been relocated, now standing in front of the sink.

well, yeah, he knew you were capable of doing whatever you put your mind and body into, and you seemed very eager about the competition.

but he just… didn't think he'd be your training equipment.

“hm! the salad needs more dressing, though. but the gravy is awesome! keep it up!”

you softly pat his arm and leave him alone in the kitchen after tasting what he was working on before you “attacked” him.

why didn't he come up with this training method instead?

he could lift you up or do planks with you prettily sitting on his back.

but right now? he actually does want you to keep using him —not only to train, though—. after all, he's better than the small dumbbells you have stored away somewhere in your house back in linkon.

and he… low-key loved to have your body pressed to his, even if it was for a few seconds.

“pips, wait! let me help you set up your training routine!”

and there he goes, running after you.

he'll make sure you practice a lot; taking him from one side to the other, and having those pretty and strong arms of yours tightly secured around him.

and he also will train in case you back out for whatever reason.

he wants you to have your well-deserved 30k diamonds, even if he plans on giving them to you for your efforts anyway.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you two decided it was a good idea to go on a date by the docks.

on a holiday.

with famous people holding meet-and-greets.

it was packed with people, to say the least.

but he had your fingers tightly intertwined with his, and he kept you close as he rambled about the different antiques that caught his eye.

you were sharing snacks, drinking iced tea, enjoying the fresh sea breeze…

everything was going relatively well.

until someone recognized rafayel from the interviews and magazines he had appeared in during the month.

and scandal ensued.

“oh my gosh, look over there!” you could hear a whiny voice, followed by squeals and gasps.

obviously, as there were other famous figures around, people assumed he was here to meet some of his fans, too.

in no time, you had a crowd of people running towards him —or rather, towards both of you, as you clung to his hand for dear life.

“cutie, you're breaking my bones.”

“raf, let's go.”

“no, but i can't be that rude!”

it was a hushed discussion between the two of you until the people got closer.

too close for comfort.

he patted down his pockets, and suddenly…

“wait, i forgot to bring a pen—!”

he couldn't even finish his sentence as he was thrown over a shoulder like a potato sack.

well, your shoulder, to be precise.

he gasped and held onto you as you managed to run and dodge the crowded streets.

you didn't stop until you reached a narrow street with little to no people around.

and you finally took a deep breath before setting him down.

“i told you we needed to leave.”

you say once you catch your breath.

he was stunned.

in fact, he was looking at you with surprise, amusement, and fear.

first of all, wow.

second of all, wow —wink, wink—.

third of all, you're his precious bodyguard, true.

but he didn't expect you to be that efficient, let alone carry him around and run as if he were nothing but a purse to you.

“if you wanted me all to yourself, you should've just asked, cutie.”

he whispered, pulling you close.

you had a deadpan expression on your face.

“we're going back home, raf.”

“wait, but i have coupons for fried shrimp cakes!”

and he pouted his lips just a little bit; enough for you to sigh.

“...fine. but we'll make it quick, okay?”

you finally held his hand again, and the two of you started to walk back to the docks.

after a brief silence, he spoke with a cocky grin.

“were you jealous?~”

and that was it.

that was the last straw.

you turned on your heels and dragged him back, not before stating firmly:

“we're going home!”

he protested, of course. but he could see from the corner of his eye a hint of something similar to jealousy in your eyes.

and he just smiled, letting you order him and guide him around.

he might ask you to carry him around —like the prince he is— more often, now that he knows you're pretty much capable of doing so.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

you two were on a mission.

…

okay, only you were on a mission, and he decided to join you, as he wanted to spend the night together.

things went downhill; he started throwing hands, and you were also fighting. let's just say you two were winning.

until the “bad guys” called for backup.

and being outnumbered —which usually wasn't an issue— became dangerous.

sylus was composed, honestly.

he was panting, he was sweaty…

but he wasn't worried or tired.

you, on the other hand, wanted to retreat. things were looking ugly, you felt a weird pressure in your chest, and you knew you were exceeding your limits.

he knew it too.

“sylus, let's go!”

he looked back at you, ready to approach.

but he was surrounded.

and when he was about to simply attack back, with no issue at all, you grew impatient.

you ran toward sylus, pushed and yanked away some of the men around him, and lifted him off the ground.

quite easily, you might add.

his expression was clearly a mix of surprise and amazement, yet you didn't have enough time —nor was it the appropriate time or place to laugh about it.

you carried him toward his parked motorcycle outside, and you sat him down on the front with a thud, before sitting behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“go, go, go!”

you urged him, and he didn't think twice.

the engine roared on the empty, dark street, and you two disappeared in seconds.

back at his place, you two were oddly quiet.

no teasing, no bickering…

he took you straight to the bedroom and made sure you were okay.

he checked for injuries, no matter how small or shallow.

he also checked for scratches and then leaned down to hear your heartbeat, checking if it was okay again.

you did the same with him, naturally.

though, of course, he had no visible injuries anymore.

“so, sweetie,” he began, pulling you on top of him as he sat down on the bed. “was that really necessary?”

you tilted your head, a bit puzzled.

“you mean… was retreating necessary? i think it was, sy.”

he looks at you, and then his lips curl up.

“that is not what i'm talking about. think again, kitten.”

you frown, but you realize in seconds.

right.

you carried this man's 6'2 body, and pretty much handled him like a life-sized ken.

“ah… well, drastic measures were needed, i guess.”

he hums, both acknowledging and reflecting on your words.

“i see. i guess i will have to rely on you more than i expected to.”

you look up at him, before nuzzling against his chest.

“yeah, no. don't expect me to carry you around whenever you get yourself in trouble.”

his chest grumbles slightly as he laughs, and he kisses your forehead.

“when i get in trouble? why, sweetie… i thought we were a team.”

you simply blow a raspberry in response, but you know it's true.

even when he willingly got his nose all up in your business, you couldn't deny how fun it was when he helped you out.

and, come to think of it… now that you know how easily you can manhandle him, maybe you'll be able to sneak up or surprise him.

seeing his shocked face and wide eyes, even if it was just for a few seconds, was the highlight of your “failed” mission.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

poor xavier wasn't able to sleep his daily… uh, 10 to 11 hours? was it more? you don't remember.

being undercover was usually fun, especially if you two got assigned together.

however, you two had to disguise yourselves as college students, with uniforms and all.

and, naturally, in order to remain unsuspicious, you had to follow an average student's routine and stay on campus.

and that meant waking up early, going to lectures, acting like everyone else, acquiring the same stress levels…

how fun!

you had no issue at all. in fact, you were reminiscing about those good times back in college.

xavier, however, was really good during lectures, but he was constantly yawning. the lack of sleep was defeating, and he wanted nothing more than for the fluctuations to disappear.

on the bright side, you two got to spend more time with each other, walk around campus, and imitate all those lovey-dovey couples you saw.

one day, you two had an atrocious project to work on. thankfully, you got to work in pairs, so you had fun doing it all day long.

unfortunately, he ended up passing out in your dorm, and the rules were quite strict about having people over after 10 p.m.

you didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to yourselves and potentially ruin everything, so you tried to be the perfect student.

so, as a perfect student would do, you tried to wake him up.

once. twice.

you tried poking his cheeks, shaking him, pulling some strands of his hair… but he was literally gone.

was he even breathing?

you sighed and stepped back, trying your best to come up with a solution.

and the only thing you could think of was taking him out yourself.

after stretching your arms and taking a deep breath, you lifted him bridal style, trying to move as quietly as possible across the hallway.

it took you some minutes, but you finally arrived at his door. you needed his key, but you had to put him down.

…

ah, he shifted.

his eyes fluttered open.

he looked up at you, then down at the floor, and finally at his closed door.

he took out his keys, stretched his arm out to open the door, and closed his eyes again to keep sleeping.

you were speechless.

he didn't even question how you were able to carry him so easily; he was delighted, actually. being in your arms, lulled by your scent and your ragged breathing…

this little demon.

you got inside his dorm room, and debated whether to throw him on his bed, or carefully place him down.

you chose the latter.

you knew he needed to sleep, and… he looked adorable with his head tilting back and his legs dangling from your arms.

before you could return to your dorm, he took your hand.

“thank you.”

he softly said, before going back to sleep and snoring softly once again.

“anytime, xav.”

you smooched his forehead and finally left to your own room, when you felt a light tapping on your shoulder.

a professor.

“excuse me, what part of 'no visits after 10 p.m.' did you not understand? come with me, immediately.”

ah, dang.

well, here goes your mission.

you can't complain, though. it was fun while it lasted.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

“can we please exchange caaaards?”

you begged, holding a ridiculous “1” orange card, as well as a “2” green one.

zayne sighed, shaking his head.

“we've exchanged cards thrice already.”

you huffed, putting your cards down.

“come on! my luck sucks today! pretty pleaseeeee?”

he looks up at you, then down at his cards.

“...no.”

how dare he?

“i'll buy you tons of stuff before we leave, i promise!”

he still doesn't budge. rather, he gestures at you —gently— to keep playing, as it is your turn.

“fine. i'll win the next two rounds! just you wait!”

and so you two keep playing, and… it isn't looking good at all for you.

whenever you spot a colored cup and you want to place the same colored card, he does it first.

and it is always a “6”.

a doubled “6”.

“oh, this game is rigged!”

there is a soft smile on his face before he shakes his head.

“it is just a game. i can always let you win.”

“no! i'll win with my own blood, sweat, and tears!”

and so the last round begins.

and you finally, finally pick up good cards!

a “5”, a “6”...

yes, you're optimistic about your chances.

however, you don't notice when your blue “6” card falls out of your hands, and when it is your turn to play, you can't find it anywhere.

“hey love, did you take my card?”

he looks at you, then back at his deck.

“i did not.”

he shifts just a bit, and you frown, a bit suspicious.

“you sure?”

he nods once again, reassuring you. his gaze seems sincere, but his body language?

he hid your card under his seat.

you're certain.

—the poor card is under you, actually.—

“stand up,” you say, and he gives you a questioning look. “...please.”

he shakes his head.

“i do not have your card, love.”

“well, if you don't have it, there's no problem if you stand up, right?”

he leans back and arches one eyebrow.

oh, he wants war?

he'll have war.

you stand up and look at him, before putting both your hands under his armpits and lifting him up, like you would with a toddler.

he freezes, and you freeze too when you see that your card isn't under him.

you eventually put him back down, fixing his coat and glasses for him.

“uhm… sorry, zaynie, i thought…”

you soon notice your missing card on the floor, and you feel even more guilty.

he is silent, processing the information; the way you lifted him as if he were as light as a feather, the way you put him down just as easily…

well, naturally, he knew you trained constantly.

but he trained too, so he was solid and very tall.

and he never pictured something like this happening.

ever.

“so, uh… you won… three times in a row! yay!”

you smile awkwardly.

he just stands up, grabs your hand quietly, and guides you outside the playroom.

“wait, hey! no, i'm sorry! are you mad? i was only playing, love!”

“i hope your offer is still up.”

ah, buying tons of stuff for him before leaving?

but that was only valid if he exchanged cards with you!

“hey! that's not—”

he looks at you with a stern look on his face…

but with a cute, blushy, and pink nose.

did he actually like what happened?

or is this a punishment for being a brat?

he'll probably just ask for coffee or sweets anyway, so why not apologize the way he wants you to?

especially since he is still holding your hand, a bit tighter than usual… and with a warm, slightly sweaty palm.

you just hope he doesn't give you a lecture later —and that he doesn't teach you a lesson later at night, either. cof, cof.