#’I will make the hard choice for you even if you don’t like what I choose’

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Diasomnia

Go here for other dorms

Malleus Draconia

When you hand Malleus the box of chocolates, he takes it carefully, his touch delicate, reverent. His emerald eyes flicker between you and the gift, his expression curious.

“…What is the occasion?” he asks, tilting his head ever so slightly.

You blink. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

His brow furrows in thought. “Ah… I have read about this custom. A day where humans exchange tokens of affection.” His gaze settles back on you, warm and searching. “And you are giving this to me?”

You inhale, steadying yourself before you say it—before you make it real.

“Yes,” you say, voice firm but soft. “Because I like you, Malleus.”

For a moment, he just looks at you.

And then—he lights up.

Not just in surprise, not just in happiness, but in something deeper, something radiant. His pupils dilate, his lips parting slightly as he processes the words, and then—his entire expression softens into something breathtaking.

“You…” He exhales, almost in wonder, as if he is memorizing this moment, etching it into eternity.

His grip on the chocolates tightens just slightly, like he’s holding something precious.

“…Then I must thank you,” he says at last, his voice so tender it nearly steals your breath. “For this gift. And for your feelings.”

He steps closer, his presence impossibly warm despite the cool night air. “Because I return them.”

Your heart stumbles. “You do?”

Malleus smiles, and it is gentle, certain—undeniably his.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “And if you will allow it… I would like to be your partner.”

The word settles over you like it belongs there—like it has always belonged there.

And how could you say anything but yes?

“I’d love that,” you whisper.

His smile deepens, something ancient and endless and full of warmth. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with a quiet certainty.

As you begin to walk together—his grip steady, unwavering, real—it feels so easy, so natural.

Like this was always meant to be.

Lilia Vanrouge

When you walk up to Lilia, he’s already watching you with knowing amusement, arms crossed, eyes twinkling like he’s been expecting this all along.

“Ah, I see, I see~” he hums, grinning before you even say a word. “Here comes my beastie with something important to say.”

Your steps slow. You narrow your eyes. “You already know?”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, I had my suspicions. But don’t let that stop you. Go on, I’ll pretend to be surprised.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping now. You take a breath and hold out the chocolates. “These are for you, Lilia. Because I like you.”

For a second, Lilia softens. It’s quick—a flicker of something warm and genuine—before he’s grinning again, sharp and playful.

“And here I thought you’d never confess!” He places a dramatic hand over his chest. “Making an old man wait for so long… how cruel!”

You snort. “Lilia, please. You don’t even look a day over twenty.”

He winks. “Why, thank you. I do try.”

You shake your head, exasperated but fond. “So? What do you say?”

Lilia’s grin softens just slightly. “Well, I say you’ve made a very bold choice, my dear.” He takes the chocolates, cradling them like a prized treasure. “And I accept, of course.”

Your stomach flutters.

Then—Lilia claps his hands together. “Well! We must celebrate! How about a homemade meal, cooked just for you?”

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“Lilia, wait—” You hold up both hands, alarmed. “We can save that for another day.”

He blinks, tilting his head innocently. “Oh? You don’t want to try my cooking?”

You scramble to save yourself. “No! I mean—yes! Just—not today! I want to, uh… savor the moment. Yeah.”

Lilia watches you far too knowingly, but after a beat, he laughs. “Fair enough! You drive a hard bargain, my dear.”

Then—with all the ease in the world—he reaches out, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to your fingers.

“Well then,” he muses, looking up at you with mischief and something warmer. “Shall we go on our date?”

Your face burns. “Y-Yeah. Let’s go.”

And as he pulls you along, chuckling to himself, you can’t help but think—

You’re in for quite the adventure.

Silver

Silver is fast asleep under a tree, looking so peaceful that you almost feel guilty waking him.

Almost.

Because one, you’re here to confess, and two… is that a squirrel braiding his hair?

You pause. Stare. The squirrel, completely unbothered, continues its work, its tiny paws weaving strands of silver like it’s done this a thousand times before.

…Never mind.

Shaking off your distraction, you step closer and crouch beside him. “Silver,” you call softly.

He stirs, blinking slowly as he wakes. And then he sees you.

His lips curl into a small, sleepy smile. “Oh,” he murmurs, voice still soft with drowsiness. “It’s you.”

Your stomach does a very unnecessary flip.

You exhale, steeling yourself. “I made these for you,” you say, holding out the chocolates. “Because it’s Valentine’s. And because I like you.”

Silver blinks. Once. Twice. His eyes focus a little sharper as he processes your words. Then, slowly, he pushes himself upright, his gaze never leaving yours.

“…You like me?” he asks, his tone gentle, careful.

You nod, heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah. I do.”

For a moment, he just looks at you.

Then—softly, warmly—he smiles.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice so sincere it makes your heart ache. “I… like you too.”

Before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, lifting it carefully. His fingers are steady, warm, reverent as he brings it to his lips—and presses the softest kiss against your knuckles.

The gesture is so simple, so sweet, so utterly Silver. There’s no teasing, no dramatics—just quiet, unwavering affection.

When he pulls back, his thumb lingers just slightly over your fingers. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” he asks, his expression soft.

Your chest feels too full. You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

He stands, still holding your hand, his grip secure and warm.

The squirrel, now done with its masterpiece, chatters approvingly before scurrying off.

Neither of you even acknowledge it. Because right now—nothing else matters.

Sebek is not prepared.

Not for the chocolates. Not for your confession. Not for any of it.

One second, he’s standing tall, proud as ever, probably ready to launch into a speech about how he has no time for frivolous human customs.

And the next?

The usual loud, booming Sebek disappears.

Gone. Vanished. Launched into the stratosphere.

All that remains is a wide-eyed, speechless mess, his mouth opening and closing with nothing but a choked squeak escaping.

You wait, patiently.

Still, nothing.

“…Sebek?” you ask, biting back a smile.

He suddenly snaps upright, as if forcibly rebooting. “I—I—” His voice cracks spectacularly, and his face erupts into color, bright red from the tips of his ears down to his neck.

And then, as if his body is moving before his brain can keep up, he takes your hand in both of his own, bows his head, and presses the most reverent, careful kiss to the back of it.

Your breath catches.

When he looks back up, his usual intensity is still there—but this time, it’s softer. Warmer.

“I—I accept!” he declares, his grip strong, steady, firm. “I—I—I have long admired you as well! I—” He swallows hard, visibly overwhelmed. “I like you, too.”

Your heart melts.

Still smiling, you squeeze his hands lightly. “Then, will you be my boyfriend?”

Sebek freezes again.

His entire body tenses. His pupils dilate. You watch in real-time as his soul leaves his body, fights its way back, and then leaves again.

“I—” he tries, voice cracking once more. He clears his throat so aggressively that you’re almost worried for him.

Then, finally, finally, he nods, jerky but determined.

“Yes!” he exclaims, as if accepting the most sacred of oaths. “Yes, of course! I shall devote myself to you with all the strength and loyalty I possess!”

You can’t help it. You laugh.

Sebek, red-faced and flustered beyond belief, holds your hand even tighter, as if making sure you don’t disappear.

And honestly? You wouldn’t dream of it.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Found You First

Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff & humour with a slight side of angst. kind of a slow burn.

Word Count: 17K

Warnings: adult language. alcohol and food mentions galore. Hoshi meddles and creates more problems for everyone involved. reader’s size is not specifically mentioned, but Jihoon and she fit into each other’s clothes. one mention of “daddy” as a joke.

[best friends to lovers!AU] For years you’ve hated Valentine’s day, convinced you’d never find a love worth celebrating. Maybe this year you’ll see that what you needed has been right in front of you all along.

♡ This fic is a part of @camandemstudios Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab! Please check out the other writer's works as well! They're all so good and we've all worked so hard!! ♡

[Still don’t know what to get your loved-one for Valentine’s day? We’ve got you covered!]

You stared at your phone, almost praying it would blow up and disappear along with the message. Unfortunately, you still needed your phone and the universe knew it. You sighed and deleted the message.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so bitter every February if the world was a little kinder to single people. After all, at least half the people in the world must be single – whether by choice or not. And yet it seemed that everything in the world was keen on reminding you of how entirely single you specifically were, your sister included.

She all but wrestled the phone out of your hand. “That’s it. I’m signing you up for dating apps.”

“Please don’t,” you replied with only half your usual annoyance and enthusiasm. Maybe a part of you thought this was exactly the push you needed. 

Already nose-deep in the app store, she didn’t even bother to pretend to hear you. 

“This one has good reviews–” she mumbled to herself as if it was her phone all along.

You only hugged a cushion to your chest and stared at the TV. Whatever romantic film your sister had chosen to watch today was not helping your problem. 

“What’s the point? Maybe Soonyoung’s right.”

“Who?” She finally glanced up.

“Soonyoung.”

She blinked. “Is this Soonyoung cute?”

“Can you please stop trying to set me up with every guy you hear about?” You rolled your eyes. “He said that the key to finding love is to first love yourself.”

“That’s, like, basic philosophy,” she replied easily and turned back to your phone. “I need your email and a password– Oh, wait, I can just make something up.”

You were fairly certain she wasn’t listening to a word you were saying but you were past the point of caring. At least talking to a person who isn’t listening is a (small) step above talking to the lonely snake plant on your windowsill. 

“Maybe I should take some time to just find myself,” you contemplated out loud. “I could try a new hobby. Or a new style. Find new books to read. Maybe then I won’t even care that I’m single.”

Still not looking up from the app she had newly installed on your phone, your sister hummed. “One of my friends did say that fictional boyfriends are better than real ones.”

So maybe she was better at multitasking than you had thought.

You put the cushion away and leaned closer to her. “What are you doing on my phone anyway?”

Proudly, she turned the device for you to see. “Ta-da! Your first ever dating app profile!”

A shiver of fear ran up your spine. “You signed me up for a dating app?”

“And you’re not allowed to delete it until you find a boyfriend,” she declared. “And if you do, I’ll just download it again.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Whatever,” she laughed and handed you back the phone, picking up her own from the coffee table. “Oh, I should get going.”

You couldn’t help but pout. “Already? Why?”

She rolled her eyes and went to pull on her coat. “Because, unlike you, I have a boyfriend who wants to take me out on a date. In fact,” she was practically beaming and you felt the ugly green tentacles of jealousy crawling up your leg already, “he’s taking me on a date every day until Valentine’s day.”

A pause. With a startle, you soon realised she was expecting you to cheer for her. You tried to find words that weren’t as bitter as you were feeling. “Oh, that’s so sweet of him.”

It was the right answer. She actually squealed as she confirmed, “Right? He’s such a romantic.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper as she leaned closer to you over the back of the sofa. “I think he’s going to propose on the big day.”

You almost sighed in despair. “I hope so! You deserve that ring.”

“You are so right,” she agreed and opened her mouth to say something more when the door suddenly opened. 

You tilted your head to see who had intruded. It was Jihoon, black hat covered in white snow and a takeaway bag in his hand. He blinked at the sight of your sister before smiling and waving. “Hi. I didn’t know you had visitors.”

“I do have friends other than you, Hoon,” you informed him. “Also, I do have a working doorbell.”

He gave you a funny look. “And I have your spare key.”

It was clear you had made a mistake when you awarded him the honour. Now you were stuck dealing with him even when you didn't want to.

“I’ll leave you two,” your sister announced and left, not before whispering something in Jihoon’s ear in the passing.

Jihoon’s ears turned red as he cleared his throat and set the takeaway bag on the table. 

“What did she tell you?” you asked him with a groan. You knew your sister better than anyone – there was no way she hadn’t told him something so embarrassing you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes for weeks to come. “Lay it on me.”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” His reply was just a little bit too quick and wavering, but you decided to let it go this once. “I brought you some leftovers.”

You raised a brow. “Leftovers?”

“They ordered too much food to the studio today, so I brought you the extras,” he told you almost timidly, gesturing to the bag like it was no big deal and had required zero thought from him. He was a strange man but maybe that’s why you liked to keep him around. “Can’t let the good food go to waste. Besides,” his eyes seemed sharp all of a sudden, “have you eaten at all today?”

He didn’t need an actual answer – you both knew the truth.

“I’ll be sure to savour it,” you told him with a joking salute. “Want to join me for a movie?”

His nose scrunched up at the mention. “I wish. I promised to help Seungkwan set up for the party tonight.”

Right. The party. Seungkwan’s “Jeonghan’s party”. In three hours. You had forced yourself to forget about it. 

Jihoon pursed his lips in thought, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “But we could always pretend we got kidnapped by a serial killer.”

“Sounds like too much work.”

“We escape to Iceland, become anonymous sheep herders and no one ever hears from us again,” he then suggested, snapping his fingers for emphasis and raising his brows as he waited for your reaction.

But as tempting as that sounded… “Seungkwan would find and skin us in fourteen days flat.”

He groaned and threw his head back. “Then I guess we have no choice. We must commit a crime so vile they give us a life sentence.”

“He’d just bring the party to the jailhouse,” you laughed. “And we wouldn’t even be able to sneak out.”

He took a deep breath and straightened back up. “Well, I’m out of ideas. Just plain suffering it is then.”

You glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to fake our deaths.”

Jihoon snorted a laugh. “You just said that pretending to get kidnapped would be too much work.”

“Faking deaths is different! Or! We could summon a freak storm that would leave us stranded here,” you suggested. 

“How?”

“I’m sure there’s a good Youtube tutorial somewhere.”

He giggled at the idea. “You really don’t want to go to the party, huh?”

You could only sigh and wish for the plush green fabric of the sofa to swallow you whole. “There’s definitely going to be so many couples there, all dressed in matching outfits and giggling and making out. And I’ll be all lonely and miserable, quietly downing all of Seungkwan’s wine.”

When you looked at Jihoon, he was smiling at you almost fondly. He was silent for a while. Then he spoke again, “I’ll keep you company. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not the same,” you whined like a little brat even as his promise made you feel a tiny bit gooey and soft inside. 

“I’m sorry?” He just laughed again and shook his head, the remnants of snow falling onto the floor. “I’m bringing those muffins you like so much.”

You felt yourself perk up immediately. “Muffins? Why didn’t you just say so?”

He laughed harder but said nothing else as he turned and left. You would’ve been upset if you didn’t know him better. 

Your phone chimed with a new notification. 

[Claim your Valentine’s day coupon now and surprise your partner with a free tour of the museum!]

You groaned but didn’t delete the message.

[HOON: if you want to match with someone, I’m wearing red today]

You groaned harder and shut off your phone.

It wasn’t that you actually disliked these parties. You quite liked them, really. Seungkwan had figured out the perfect balance of socialising, snacks and music. It was a joy to be present, hanging out with your friends as you forgot about the problems of the week. 

The only problem was that ever since Seungcheol and Chan had introduced the idea of an annual friendly “Party King” competition, the number of parties you were gently blackmailed to attend had doubled. And, frankly, your social battery was due for an upgrade that never came.

You suspected the same went for Jihoon.

Clad in his dark red hoodie, he joined you on the sofa the moment his eyes caught yours. Sipping his soda and softly singing along to the music, he completely ignored your personal space and made himself comfortable by your side.

“No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend,” Seungkwan joked when he walked past the two of you, a box of party games in his arms. His smile was blinding as he told you, “Your guard dog’s going to scare all of the guys away.”

You blinked in confusion. He nodded to your side. Following the gesture, you found yourself face to face with Jihoon. A groan left your mouth.

“What?” Jihoon wondered. 

“Seungkwan says you’re the reason I’m single.”

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the fact. “Well, if they want to date you, they have to impress me first.”

You almost felt a little fond of him, appreciating his protectiveness. But you also knew your Jihoon and you knew he wasn’t finished yet.

Under your warning eyes, he took a sip of his soda before smirking. “God knows you wouldn’t recognise a red flag if it slapped you in the face.”

Glancing down at his clothes, you snorted a laugh. “You’re literally dressed as a red flag yourself. I should be avoiding you of all people.”

“No, I’m just warning other people that you are a red flag,” he replied effortlessly, cutting your laugh short. Sensing he was now in real, actual danger, his eyes widened. “That was a joke. Just a joke. I’m sorry–”

You smacked him upside the head and shook your head. “Did someone mix alcohol into the soda? You’re so mean today.”

He blinked once. Twice. Looked into his soda cup. And then cursed. “I knew it tasted funky! Yoon Jeonghan!”

You could only laugh harder as he jumped up from the sofa and ran into the kitchen with fury that could not be matched. Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. Which is precisely why you hardly drank anything at these gatherings. 

Jihoon returned less than two minutes later, two unopened colas in hand. There was still an attitude to his foot stomps and a glint of annoyance in his eyes, but he opened one of the cans before handing it to you like he always did. 

“Not even Jeonghan can tamper with closed cans,” he reasoned almost bitterly. “Who mixes vodka into soda?”

“Lots of people,” you told him with a chuckle and a gentle pat to his shoulder. “It’s called mixing a cocktail.”

He rolled his eyes. “Rude of them to not consider people who don’t drink alcohol.”

“Kind of like it’s rude of them to not consider the single people here,” you half-joked in camaraderie. “Have you noticed they’ve only been playing love songs tonight?”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “Have they?”

You nodded towards the speakers that were blasting Love Me Right. “The last two songs were Lover and Steal the Show.”

He grimaced. “There’s still 12 days left until Valentine’s day. Are they insane?”

“Probably.” You rested your legs onto his lap. “I guess I’ll just be extra bitter and lonely this year then.”

“No shot at romance?”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “You literally just said you’re wearing red to warn others how much of a red flag I am. And now you want me to find romance?”

“I have mixed feelings about you dating,” he told you honestly – a little too honestly, if the red tint of his ears was anything to go by. He cleared his throat. “I should start checking the drinks for alcohol before I drink them.”

Pretending not to notice, you took a sip of your cola. “I keep thinking about what Soonyoung said yesterday. About loving myself before I can find someone.”

“Isn’t that just social media nonsense?” Jihoon wondered quietly, resting his free hand on your knee. His thumb rubbed little circles onto your skin, comforting you.

“What if he’s right?” you continued. “What if I love myself so little that I simply cannot be loved?”

Frowning, Jihoon let out a sharp noise of protest. The gentle touch of his thumb turned into a warning pinch between his fingers. “You are loved! Who put this dumb thought into your mind?”

“... Soonyoung?” 

“I’ll beat him up on Monday,” he half-heartedly promised, a heavy look still on his face. Softening his voice, looking straight into your eyes, he spoke, “Don’t you dare think you cannot be loved. You are loved.”

“By whom?”

He looked away and didn’t say. 

“Whatever,” you sighed once the silence became too much. The speakers began playing Die With a Smile. You sighed once more. “Can’t they play something less romantic? I’d kill for a dumb, mindless party song right now. Do you think you could ask Jeonghan to play something else? He scares me–”

But it seemed that Jihoon was still stuck on the last topic. “What are you doing for Valentine’s day this year?”

“... Aside from crying myself to sleep after watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before for the 15th time?”

“You don’t think you love yourself enough to be loved by someone else,” he echoed your earlier words, his eyes stuck on something in the distance, “so why not change that? Treat yourself to something good this year. No sad movies and ice cream,” he finally looked at you again, “just do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

You knew he was right – he always was right. “But it’s boring to do that alone.”

“Then I’ll come with,” he decided after a moment of thought. A small smile appeared on his face. His thumb finally resumed its circles on your knee. It was sweet. Until he opened his mouth again, repeating the words playing on the stereo: “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”

To the sound of his giggles, you snorted and slapped his hand away. “You’re awful.”

“I’m serious–”

“Aren’t you two just the cutest!” Jeonghan interrupted your banter with a childish pout on his rosy lips as he leaned against the wall across from the table. Soonyoung was smiling brightly at his side. “Are you dating yet?”

You wondered if he was done asking that at every party yet. It’s not like it was ever going to change (no matter how much he, Soonyoung, and your mother hoped it would).

Jihoon sat up, narrowed eyes settling on Jeonghan as if he was the devil himself. “Did you mix vodka into the soda?”

“Maybe,” came the reply with a shrug and a wicked giggle. 

“I could get you a boyfriend for Valentine’s day,” Soonyoung suddenly said, his brown eyes set on you. There was that glint of mischief again. You realised you feared this man more than you feared bears, and not for the usual reasons.

Even so, you laughed. “Soonyoung, if you were any good at being a wingman, Jihoon wouldn’t be single right now. In fact, you’re, like, the number one reason why he’s single.”

Forgetting his own argument with Jeonghan, Jihoon seemed to take offense to your statement. He let out a noise of hurt before pinching your knee once again.

“Au contraire, my friend,” Soonyoung argued and leaned so close that you could smell the raspberry-flavoured liquor in his breath, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You raised a brow. “Remember, just last week you told a girl Jihoon’s not into women when she asked if he was single.”

“I was drunk,” he told you, wearing a mask of nonchalance. “I don’t remember much from that night.”

“Or the time I got a girl’s number but you stole it and dropped it in the pool,” Jihoon pointed out with a smile that seemed almost venomous. You had no doubt he’d hold that mishap over Soonyoung’s head for the rest of their lives – you almost hoped he would.

Soonyoung had the decency to look a little deflated at the mention, at least. But even so there was no stopping him. Mumbling under his breath, he repeated himself, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You shared a look with Jihoon and mutually decided to forget this exchange.

When you were sixteen, Jihoon’s dad let you in on a little secret. He had peeked out of the kitchen to make sure his son wouldn’t hear and then he’d told you that Jihoon had set his phone up so that he would never miss your calls. He thought it was the most adorable thing, and so did you. 

You hadn’t even realised your phone’s Do Not Disturb setting had an option to do so but suddenly you were giddy, excited to set your phone up in a similar manner. And when you didn’t quite manage to figure it out, you decided to compromise and just make his ringtone the loudest one you could find. It worked just the same for you.

You’ve had many phones since then, but the ringtone never changed. 

Though you were no longer sure if it was the obnoxiousness of the ringtone itself or the muscle memory of answering so many calls from him late at night, it never failed to wake you up when he needed you. 

Once again you woke up to the noise, hand automatically reaching for your phone even though your eyes were still closed and your mind was still halfway lost in dreamland. 

“Jihoon?” you mumbled his name as if his ringtone hadn’t been burnt into your memory.

The other line was silent for a moment. Then you heard a soft sigh. “Sorry. Did I wake you up again?”

“No,” you lied, dragging the vowel out as much as you could to loosen up your vocal cords. “What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare, stress or boredom?”

“... All three?”

“You have to pick one.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He groaned but it was soon followed by a soft laugh. “Do you remember when we were kids and I threw that ball into Mr Yang’s window?”

Weird change of topic, you thought, but Jihoon did love to reminisce. So you humored him. “You mean the time he yelled at you so hard that you cried?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “And then you told me he deserved to have his window broken. And you built a pillow fort in your closet for me to hide so my parents couldn’t find and scold me.”

“It had world-class security,” you joked. “Buddy and I were a trusty team.”

But it was like he hadn’t heard your interjection, too lost in his own memory book. 

“You hid in there with me and hugged me when my mom came to get me,” his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. “You know, she wasn’t even that mad at me. I only had to do the dishes for a week.”

“You were just a kid and she knew that,” you spoke so softly that you wondered if he even heard you this time. The shared memory of the day ran in front of your eyes. It was a simpler time but even back then you had been ready to do anything for him.

Silence engulfed the two of you, only the gentle static of the phones reminding you of the other still being there. Ten whole minutes went by like this and for a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“I should go to sleep,” you spoke low in case he really was asleep. “I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

He hummed. “Why?”

“I’m going to a museum and I want to leave by 10. So I should get up before 9. And it’s already almost 3 am, so you know…”

“Since when is 9 am early?” he half-joked before suggesting, “Just go later.”

“I’m a woman of principles, Lee Jihoon. When I have plans, I see them through.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Liar. Remember that novel you said you were going to write?”

“No clue what you’re talking about,” you feigned innocence, “and you have no proof.”

His laugh sounded like he was sitting right next to you. You silently thanked the wonders of modern technology. 

As you prepared to say good night, you heard his voice again. “You remember the thing Soonyoung said yesterday? About finding you a boyfriend?”

You scoffed. “You don’t think he was serious about that, right? He was just joking, being Soonyoung.”

“Right. Right…” He sounded distant again, like he was in a daze, as he spoke, “Do you think– Have you ever wondered if—” He groaned and you could practically see him scrunching his eyes shut in frustration. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. Sleep must be sneaking up on me.”

You hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath. It came out in a not entirely genuine laugh. “Maybe we should both go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “You’re right, like always.”

“Always?” you teased.

“... Well, maybe not always.”

“You can’t take it back now,” you whined through laughter. “You almost never compliment me or my choices.”

He took a breath like he was about to say something. But nothing came out. Only a sigh. Then the phone call ended without another word – the way Jihoon liked it.

You rolled over to your side, reaching to put your phone away again when it buzzed. The screen lit up with a message. 

[Hoon: if I complimented you and all of your good choices, it would take forever.]

Crawling out of the comfort of your bed on one of your few days off, you wondered if the art of loving yourself was really worth the effort. 

As usual, half an hour was spent on reading the news and watching videos you weren’t entirely interested in. Another half an hour went by as you stared at the ceiling and contemplated your life decisions until you finally found the willpower to shower, get dressed, and eat a quick breakfast.

By 10, you were starting to feel like a human-being again, so you grabbed your keys and bag, and you walked out of your apartment. 

“You said you wanted to leave by 10,” Jihoon’s voice nearly shocked you into running back to your room. He was the dictionary definition of nonchalance as he stood in front of your door, barely even lifting his head, trying to read something off his phone. “It’s already 10:04, slowpoke. Are you ready to go yet?”

You stared at him for a while. Why was he here? Had you invited him along? No, you were sure you hadn’t. And then your jaw dropped as his words sunk in. “You’re the reason I stayed up until 3!”

“And to make up for it, I already sacrificed my arm by cleaning the snow off your car. You’re welcome. Let’s go.”

He never once looked up from his phone as he headed back down the stairs. You could only laugh in disbelief and lock your door before following after him. 

“Why are you here anyways?” you finally asked when the two of you reached your car which had, indeed, been brushed clean of snow. “I was going to go alone.”

Jihoon shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You were bored and just invited yourself along?” You wished you had that kind of audacity. 

The car seemed to be colder than the weather itself. You involuntarily shivered as you pulled the door closed behind yourself. Jihoon let out a noise of complaint as he settled into his usual spot in the leather passenger seat. Envy filled you as he adjusted himself and burrowed further into his warm fleece jacket. 

In an act of something akin to revenge, you tossed him your phone. “Read the directions. If I miss a turn because of you, I’m making you pay for my coffee.”

“Yes, captain,” he joked and turned the heat up to the maximum. One could only pray that your car’s battery would survive the trip. “Are we making any stops on the way?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You really weren’t. It was just a 70-minute drive to the museum – adding to the duration really wasn’t on your bucket list – but knowing Jihoon, not stopping for snacks was simply not an option. The deepening pout and his wide eyes were enough indication that you were right to assume so – he only ever used his cuter side to win. A deep sigh bubbled in your throat. Through gritted teeth you spoke, “But I suppose we could squeeze in a quick stop.”

He let out the tiniest cheer and happily gave the first instruction: “We need to go right, turn left at the intersection and then–” A noise of curiosity. “A Hyunjin wants to know if you have any pets? I guess?”

You frowned. There wasn’t a single Hyunjin you could think of. “Hyunjin?”

“That’s what it says,” he told you with a shrug. “He also wants to know how you feel about… ferrets.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that was about. “Just ignore it. Where to next?”

“Uh,” he vocalised, “right again.”

“Why did we even turn left then?” 

He chuckled. “I’m just telling you what the app says.”

“Whatever. Next?”

“Just keep going straight. We should reach the highway in, like, fifteen minutes.” 

Fifteen minutes straight through the busiest part of the city? You regretted your museum plans already. Should’ve just stayed at home and watched Youtube the whole day. There was a sneaking suspicion that even if you had watched traffic camera livestreams, you would’ve seen fewer red lights.

While you painstakingly stared at the lights, praying for them to turn green already, you noticed Jihoon happily scrolling through your phone. Your hand rose and somewhat forcefully landed on his thigh in a warning gesture. “Stay out of my private messages, creep.”

“Why would I want to read your private messages?” he half-joked and made a face that made you roll your eyes. “By the way, your mom said to bring tiramisu cake to dinner on Friday.”

Defeated, you sighed. “Tell her I’ve got it covered. What’s the occasion?”

“She wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re chatting with her right now?”

He smiled at you like it was obvious. “She’s my mother too.”

“Stop. That’s gross.”

“Also, who’s Andrew?” he then asked, smile dropping.

Another name you weren’t sure could be associated with yours. “Who?”

“An Andrew Johnson,” he slowly read the screen. “He wants to know what your favourite colour is.” His head whipped up just as you pressed the accelerator. “What’s with all these weird chats? You don’t seem to know these people?”

Desperately, you tried to recall a Hyunjin or an Andrew. You had no recollection of either. And somehow the list only seemed to grow with Jihoon calling out a new name and question at what felt like every minute: “Jongho just sent the cringiest pick-up line I’ve ever read”, “Joshua wants you to know that you have a typo in your profile”, “Minjae asked if you prefer walks on beaches or forest hikes”. 

Each notification made you more confused than the one before and soon you felt your brain would melt.

You finally had enough of the confusion when he said, “Turn right. I want a burrito. Also, Chanyeol says you look hot in your profile picture.”

“What profile picture?” you nearly cried out as you slammed the brakes in front of the gas station. “What is going on?”

Jihoon looked just as disheartened and puzzled as you felt, if not even more so. He unbuckled his seatbelt like it had been trapping him and threw your phone back to you for inspection like it was burning hot. He was already halfway through the door when you caught your bearings again. “You want anything?”

“Just a coffee,” you told him, barely paying half a mind to the conversation as you scrolled through your notifications. 

You barely noticed he left when you tapped on one of the notifications showcasing an unfamiliar name, a message and a photo of a handsome man. The screen opened on an app you had barely any recollection of ever downloading. A familiar ‘swipe left or right’ homescreen made you groan and shut your eyes as you locked the phone and tried your hardest to pretend this wasn’t real. 

Minutes passed in blissful almost-ignorance. You felt at almost-peace. It was almost nice.

Until Jihoon arrived once again, two burritos, a water and a coffee in hand, and a scowl on his face. 

“Did you figure out who those guys are yet?” he asked and for a moment you thought he sounded bitter. 

You didn’t have any sighs left in you, so you just grabbed a burrito and the coffee. “Yep.”

He raised a brow while he silently took the burrito back and handed you the other one instead. “So?”

You frowned at his actions. “Did you just swap the–”

“You wouldn’t like this one,” he said and took a pointed bite out of the burrito. “So, the mystery men?”

There it was: the last sigh you could force out of yourself. It didn’t feel anywhere as freeing as you hoped it would. “My sister got a hold of my phone the other day and downloaded a dating app. I think she might’ve messaged a few guys she thought I’d like.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.” You barely understood his words with his mouth so full of food. 

“I don’t really believe in dating apps working, you know,” you told him honestly and took a bite of your own burrito. Your eyes closed in bliss – you should’ve trusted Jihoon’s judgement from the start. “This is so good.”

“I know,” he replied with a knowing half-smile that disappeared as fast as it appeared. “If you don’t believe in the app, just delete it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Made a promise to not uninstall it.”

Your phone made the executive decision to light up with another notification just then. Jihoon tilted his head to read it and carefully voiced out the message: “Seungho says your eyes look as pretty as the starry night sky– Okay, that’s just cheesy.” 

Brows furrowed and nose scrunched up in disgust, he grabbed the phone, unlocking it with ease (you had only half a memory of ever giving him the password), and scrolled through the apps until he found the culprit. 

“I’m uninstalling it,” he told you when he felt your curious eyes on him. 

Your eyes widened at their own accord. “You can’t. I promised my sister–”

“Lucky for you, she’s not my sister,” Jihoon says as he swiftly uninstalled the app and brought peace into your life once again. His frown turned into a proud smile as he handed the phone back to you. “You’re welcome.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, confused. “Did you really just–?”

“Anything for you.” He said it with the uttermost seriousness. “If she tries that again, tell her she’ll have to deal with me first.”

Shaking off the odd wave of appreciation you felt for this man – your best friend, you reminded yourself –, you settled back down in your seat. You stared out the window for a while, slowly devouring your burrito. 

Head whipping around to stare at him in disbelief, you jolted upright again. “Wait, so my mom is your mom, but my sister is not your sister?!”

He was too busy enjoying his food (and accomplishments) to ever reply.

The banners of the café were mocking you.

Bright reds and pinks snickered as you walked past. Papers cut into perfect little hearts flew past your head, giggling as if they were better than you.

“Happy Valentine’s day!” they all said, side-eyeing you while you resisted the urge to commit your first arson. 

“When was the last time you ate something other than candy?” is all that Jihoon said in reply when you told him such. 

You spared a glare at him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “You just tend to get a little…” he hummed in thought, glancing up at the sky as if he was expecting a dictionary to drop from a cargo plane any second now, “imaginative when you’ve had too much sugar.”

“I’m always imaginative.”

“It was not a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes in response and opened the door. “You can say what you want but I know for a fact that this whole holiday was invented to make fun of me.”

It didn’t take much to figure out that the pensive scrunch of his nose, the narrowing of his eyes and the tilt of his head meant that he was holding back a question that would probably end with one of you in the ER and the other in a police car. You decided the look alone was enough to warrant slamming the café door closed in front of his face and marched up to the register. His loud laughter taunted you as you did so; not even the thick walls of Soonyoung’s mother’s café could muffle the sound.

You didn’t bother to turn around to look at him as the bell chimed and Jihoon walked right up, taking his usual spot next to you, the remnants of laughter still on his tongue. “I will never get your deal with Valentine’s day, I swear.”

“There’s no deal. Only hatred. Even loathing, if you will.”

“I’ll make sure to ask Soonyoung to make your coffee as dark as your soul then,” he promised with a cheeky grin. The list of crimes you wished to commit on this day was growing by the second – he knew damn well to not come between you and your vanilla mocha latte.

“Anyways,” you sighed theatrically, “can’t Valentine’s day be over already?”

“I sure hope not,” Soonyoung’s bright voice sounded as he practically danced out of the backrooms, “our sales are always the best on Valentine’s day. So, what can I get you two?”

Why did everything have to be Valentine’s themed anyway? And so expensive? The new higher price of the chocolate muffins had you absolutely appalled.

Your bitter thoughts were interrupted by a nudge to your side. “What do you want?”

A new wave of confusion hit. “Since when do you ask that?”

“You’re acting like I order at random,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They don’t have your usual waffles.”

You were even more appalled. Absolutely horrified, really. “They don’t have waffles?! What kind of a café doesn’t have waffles?!”

“We have waffles!” Soonyoung seemed offended by your best friend’s claim, a pout on his lips as he stood at the counter in his red apron (and was his name tag heart-shaped? (You could’ve sworn it was just a rectangle last week)). 

Who were you supposed to believe? Soonyoung who worked at the café and was too earnest to ever really lie to you? Or Jihoon who sometimes lied to you just to have a laugh? You were leaning towards the former, and Jihoon could read it from your face.

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll get you your pink heart-shaped waffles.”

The use of emphasis was not accidental and his brows rose in challenge, daring you to agree to his absolutely horrifying order.

“Heart-shaped?” You prayed he was joking. 

Turning to face Soonyoung, you found yourself disappointed to realise he wasn’t. With a bright, proud smile on his face, Soonyoung nodded. “We’re switching up the menu for the holiday.”

Single and lonely as you were, you could think of few things less appetizing than pink heart-shaped waffles. Biting back a whine of frustration, you leaned your forehead onto Jihoon’s shoulder and mumbled, “Just get me anything but that.”

You realised your mistake almost as soon as you said those words. Eyes widening, you pushed yourself back upright and tried to stop him as he placed an order for cinnamon rolls and a Nuts About You praline latte with a wicked grin on his face. You both knew exactly what he was doing and he found great amusement in your misery.

“Perfect–,” Soonyoung started, already clicking away to add your order.

You interrupted with a rather loud, “I do not want that!”

Jihoon’s lips quirked. “Why not? Too nutty for you?”

“I just don’t want it,” you declared, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. “Just because.”

He pretended to roll his eyes before turning to Soonyoung again, “She’ll have a Cupid’s Special Never Bean Kissed instead.”

“We’re no longer friends, Lee Jihoon.”

The stupid smile didn’t leave his face. “You don’t want me to pay for lunch?”

Second mistake of the day. You groaned and his laughter filled the store as you did so. 

“Your food should be ready soon. Are you paying together or separately?” Before you could answer, Soonyoung added – and you could’ve sworn his eyes glinted with something not entirely wholesome –, “If you say you’re a couple, I can give you a 20% discount and two slices of cake for free. This goes until February 15th.” 

You and Jihoon stared at him dumbfounded. 

He shrugged. “I’m not allowed to assume.”

“What about this–” Jihoon widely gestured to the both of you, appearing equally baffled, “–says ‘might be a couple’?”

Soonyoung shrugged once more and put on a wide smile. “Are you?”

“No!”

“Worth a shot,” he sighed, his smile never fading. “You two could pull off being a couple though.”

“Why are we friends with you again?”

“Because you love me.” Your scrunched up face must have seemed doubtful enough because he soon added, “And my mom makes me give you employee discounts.”

“Exactly why does he keep offering us the couples’ discount every year?” Jihoon wondered under his breath two minutes later while practically throwing himself onto the chair across from yours. “He knows we’re both single.”

“Maybe he’s trying to play matchmaker,” you joked, grabbing a cinnamon roll off the plate he’d placed on the table. “You know, to set us up or something.”

Jihoon caught your eyes. A moment of silence passed as you contemplated your words. 

Then he shook his head and huffed. “He’s not dumb enough for that.”

“No, you’re right.” You took a bite and almost moaned at the taste – Soonyoung’s mother had a knack for baked goods. “God, this is so good– Besides,” you quickly returned to the topic, “I think he might have been right last time.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the whole ‘you have to love yourself to be loved by someone else’,” you reminded him with a shrug. “I’ve been trying to do things for myself this week and it’s actually been so nice.”

“Things like what?” he wondered, grabbing a cinnamon roll as well.

“Well, the museum visit, for one. I got a text about it and thought ‘I don’t have anyone to take with me, but I might as well go for myself’, so I went and it was actually really nice,” you pointed out. “Freeing, in a way.”

He blinked. “I was literally with you the entire day.”

“You’re practically attached to me,” you joked with a dismissive wave of your hand. “It doesn’t count.”

“Your coffee’s ready!” Soonyoung appeared at the table with two cups. He placed one in front of you, keeping the other in a flimsy grip in his other hand as he did so. 

Before you could comment on it, the other cup dropped from his hand with a loud gasp and an apology.

“I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung was reaching for tissues before you could even comprehend what had happened. 

Then you felt your suddenly cold button-up shirt press and stick to your skin. Glancing down, you cursed under your breath and reached for a handful of tissues of your own, starting to dab away at the spots of coffee on your white shirt.

“Should’ve known something like this would happen,” you spoke through gritted teeth as Soonyoung’s lips kept spilling apologies after apologies. “This is why I never wear white.”

Jihoon sat frozen on his chair, wide eyes wildly switching between you trying to clean your shirt, and Soonyoung, practically on his knees, wiping the floor. Eventually, he settled on watching you.

Your desperate clean-up attempt soon slowed. It was no use. You didn’t possess the magic necessary to get an iced americano out of the white fabric. 

“Can I do anything…?” Jihoon asked softly.

“Nothing short of finding me a new shirt to wear,” you told him with a laugh that had no joy in it. You still had four hours of work left and you were certain your boss would have a word with you for the accidental dress code violation – wearing clean clothes was, after all, written in bold on the first page of the employee handbook.

He frowned. “I could give you my hoodie to cover-up?”

You perked up at the idea. “Would you?”

He snorted a laugh. “Is that really a question?” 

Without another word, he sat upright and pulled on the hem of his black hoodie, revealing a grey t-shirt under it. It took him a few seconds and some noises of struggling (that you suspected he only made to cheer you up), and then he handed the hoodie to you. 

It was warm to the touch and smelled like your best friend when you pulled it over your head. Your day was better immediately.

“It feels like a hug,” you mumbled without really meaning to.

Jihoon’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat at that exact moment. He coughed twice before humming, “You say the weirdest things.”

Thursdays are movie nights. No matter the situation, no matter your feelings, Jihoon and you would buy copious amounts of snacks and gather at either of your apartments to watch a movie together.

“We’re not watching The Lion King,” he declared while hauling your giant grocery bag up the stairs (he’d insisted it was easier to just stuff everything into a giant bag than to carry several bags; who were you to try and stop him?). “I don’t feel like crying today.”

“You never cry anyway,” you grumbled and supported the bag from underneath. There was just the tiniest tear in its side and you were growing wary. There was only one more flight of stairs to go.

He stopped and turned his head to glare back at you. “Are you suggesting I’m a monster? Who doesn’t cry during The Lion King?”

“You,” you supplied with an innocent smile and pushed at the bottom of the bag to urge him forward. “If you don’t want to watch The Lion King, then pick something better. I dare you.”

“Captain America.”

“I’m locking you outside,” you replied with a scoff. “You can sleep on the doormat, or maybe Ms. Kim will be merciful and give you one of her dog beds.”

“Can you stop acting like you don’t enjoy Marvel movies?” he wondered. “Or would that break your programming?”

As you arrived on your floor, you told yourself it was not worth the fight. You reached into your pocket to pull out the keys, ignoring Jihoon’s groans of exhaustion as you slowly and meticulously pressed the key into the hole. But when you began to turn it, the door handle tilted downwards and the door opened.

You blinked in surprise as Yoon Jeonghan gently ushered you out of the way so he could leave. He wore a pleasant smile as he opened the door wider to let you into your own apartment. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked when you found your voice again.

He shrugged. “Wanted to see if you had any of that good ramyeon.” When you lifted a puzzled brow, he victoriously held up three packets of your favourite ramyeon. “I’ll be taking these. Thank you for being such a good friend!”

While you searched for words to say, he rushed down the stairs. He was still in hearing range when your brain kicked into gear and you called out, “How’d you get inside?!”

“Stole Jihoon’s key!” came a joyous reply from three stories below. 

Beside you, Jihoon let out a loud groan of frustration, brows knitted and nose scrunched. “That son of a bi–.”

“I was looking forward to that ramyeon!” you whined and stomped into your apartment, pulling your best friend after you by the sleeve.

Lost in noodle-grief, you burrowed into the sofa cushions as he placed down the bag and began rummaging through the two drawers you had so kindly surrendered to him and his clothes. You watched as he closed the drawers with a defeated short hum and opened your closet instead. It didn’t alarm you – it hadn’t in years. 

“Why are your shirts so much nicer than mine?” he suddenly asked, pulling off his crispy black button-up shirt to replace it with your favourite white t-shirt.

Momentarily you were brought back to reality just to reply with a short and simple: “Because I actually pay attention to what I buy from the store?”

His head turned just to give you good-natured glare. It soon gave way to a mischievous smirk – one crafted to annoy you. “Why would I do that when I can just borrow your clothes?”

“One day I’m going to take away your closet privileges,” you lazily vowed. 

He stuck his tongue out. You always did bring the more mature side of him out.

As you turned on the TV – one that came with your studio apartment and would have been entirely useless if not for the movie nights –, Jihoon threw himself into the cushions next to you.

Taking advantage of your state of not-quite-being-there, Jihoon stole the remote. When you whined and tried to get it back, he laughed and pushed you away with his free hand. While you fought to get the remote, the TV began playing yet another Marvel movie. 

The opening credits began playing and you only knew it was Iron Man because he’d made you watch this movie a thousand times. You wanted to argue but the movie nights had one unbreakable rule: once a movie starts playing, there’s no changing it. 

“Seriously?” you groaned and threw your head back against the backrest of the sofa. 

Like the TV, the green sofa had also been in the apartment for as long as you knew. You had always thought it to be a rather cosy and perfect lounging spot. Slowly, however, you were realising it had its flaws, the worst one being that with Jihoon’s manspreading habit, there simply wasn’t enough space.

“Move,” you nudged his leg that was leaning too close to yours for comfort. “Hoon, you’re on my side of the sofa.”

He only nudged your leg back with a laugh. “Since when?”

“Since ten minutes ago,” you declared, pushing back harder. “And stop manspreading. That’s rude. You’re taking up all of the space.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to be nice to guests?” he teased, leaning even closer with his whole body now until his chin rested on your shoulder. 

You found yourself pleasantly surprised by his warmth. It was cold outside, you reasoned with yourself, of course you were enjoying any warmth you could get your hands on. Besides, it wasn’t often that Jihoon burrowed this close to you. You were bound to find joy in his rare act of affection.

Your joy was short-lived though because it was only now that you noted (with slight to moderate annoyance) that he had stolen a coke from your fridge. You scoffed.

“You’re hardly a guest. A parasite is more likely.”

As more and more of his weight pressed onto you, you groaned in pain. He only laughed at your misery. 

“You steal my clothes. You steal my space. You use me as your personal cushion,” you counted. “Does your audacity have no limits?”

He paused, lips pursing as he thought for a moment. Then he smiled brightly. “No.”

It took all your strength to push him off you. He had the gall to giggle the whole way, and you soon found yourself laughing along with him. 

“You’re awful,” you told him with an affectionate grin. Your efforts of moving him were in vain and he happily rested his head on your shoulder, occasionally slurping his (formerly your) coke. You tried really hard not to think of how awfully domestic this position would’ve looked to a stranger.

“You’re not allowed to complain,” he eventually told you. “You’re the one that stole my hoodie yesterday.”

You gasped, appalled by his accusation. “You offered!”

“I was practically blackmailed,” he spoke loudly as if announcing it to a theatre of people. “What choice did I have?”

“Maybe I need to do this self-love journey just so I’ll have someone who actually loves me and isn’t faking it to be a drama queen,” you concluded with a theatrical sigh. 

Jihoon laughed and nudged your side. “No way. You’re stuck with me no matter what.”

And you appreciated that. You really did. But. There was always a but.

“How am I supposed to learn to love myself more anyway?” you wondered, leaning into the cushions as well as his warmth, angling your body to enjoy the benefits of both. “I socialised at Seungkwan’s party. I went to a museum. I feel like I love myself enough. What else can I do?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something that says I’m unapologetically me,” you said thoughtfully, trying to think of something. You weren’t entirely sure it had anything to do with self-love. Really, it was probably more-so to avoid your loneliness on Valentine’s day. “Something I’ll enjoy but find a little challenging, so when I’m done with it I’ll feel pride.”

“You could order your own coffee for a change.”

Dreams shattered, you let out a scoff. “I would but you never let me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed readily, “you always get the same thing anyway.”

“Well, what if I wanted to try something different?”

“You snooze, you lose. Just be glad I pay for your lunch.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

Silence. Long and awkward (just how you liked it) as you watched his reddening face with a wicked grin. This is what he got for being mean and useless. Finally, he ran a rough hand over his face and declared, “That’s it. You can pay for your own lunch from now on.”

“Oh no, how will I live,” you bemoaned, fully aware that he’d never let you pay for your own meals. “I’m still open to ideas though. I need something to do.”

Jihoon offered a mocking smile. “Well, you didn’t like my idea, so–”

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his shirt with one hand. “Anything. Please. Tell me to read The Odyssey. To start a charity. To paint an overcomplicated mural–”

Clearly uninterested in the topic at hand, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Is it just me or is it cold in here?”

Now that he mentioned it, your hands were feeling a little freezing. Just a bit. And your toes felt like they’d been on an ice block this whole time.  You frowned. 

“No, you’re right,” you realised and jumped up to check the thermostat. It proudly showcased the number 10. You hurriedly set it to a higher heat. 10 degrees was not enough to keep you alive, you feared. 

“Someone’s messed with my thermostat,” you told him as you returned to the sofa. “This old building gets cold so fast.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed in thought. “You don’t think…”

“What?” you wondered, pressing closer to him in an effort to get warm again. The world off the sofa was far worse than you had anticipated and now you were forced to shiver as you waited for Jihoon’s natural warmth to reach you as well. You felt your eyes widen as the pieces clicked into place. “Jeonghan?”

“He was acting suspicious,” he confirmed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you closer. 

Though you found yourself wanting to purr in bliss, you told yourself he only did so because he felt sorry for you – you never were built for the cold climate. Making a mental note to fight Jeonghan the next time you saw him was the best distraction you had.

Minutes passed in silence, par the movie playing in the background. You weren’t sure either of you were focused on it. But the rule stood and neither of you dared to be the first one to break it. So you remained right there, in his arms, unable to think about anything other than your vengeance plan and Jihoon’s embrace.

It was warmer now. Whether it was the doing of your apartment’s heating or Jihoon holding you like you were his lifeline, you were too comfortable to contemplate. The soft chimes of dreamland were calling you now.

“You know,” Jihoon spoke, voice low and gravelly, “they say cuddling helps to preserve heat.”

You knew it was just a dumb excuse. You knew you should’ve poked his side and made a joke about him using you for his personal gain. But as you pressed your cheek against his chest and wrapped your arms around his frame just a little tighter, you forgot all about it. 

By the time you remembered to argue, you felt your eyes getting heavy and his heartbeat slowing down under your ear. 

You hadn’t disliked Seungkwan’s parties all that much last week or the week before that. But this was getting excessive – even Seungcheol had said so, but Seungkwan listened to no one. Seungkwan, you see, had a goal and no one could dissuade him from reaching it.

“I think at this point they have no choice but to crown him the party king,” Jihoon mused, once again sitting by your side on the sofa as the two of you watched the party host gloat about his impeccable party streak. “It’s quantity over quality.”

Taking a sip from your soda, you hummed in agreement. “If nothing else, they should crown him for all the effort alone. Have any of the others even planned any parties yet?”

“I think Seungcheol’s planning the Valentine’s day Party with Soonyoung.”

You nodded. “I’m definitely going to be sick for that one.”

“You’re going to have to pick a different excuse,” Jihoon pointed out with a chuckle. “You’ve pulled the flu excuse four times already this year. They’re getting suspicious.”

“Join me in becoming sheep farmers in Iceland?”

“If Seungkwan would find us in 14 days, Seungcheol would find us in half that,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. 

You sighed. “Do you have to ruin all of my dreams?”

He laughed and nudged your shoulder. It was only recently that you’d noticed how often he did that. You hadn’t seen him do it to his other friends, now that you thought about it. It was always him and you. Perhaps, you thought, you had finally discovered his love language.

You noted with glee that he did it again, this time so slightly you almost didn’t feel it. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” you wondered, unable to think of anything you had done to warrant those words.

The room seemed to get brighter, lit up by a radiant magical glow, as his face broke out into a wide smile. “For staying sober with me. I think I’d go insane here if you didn’t.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. You’d live,” you told him and took a sip of your cola as you surveyed the room, taking note of your friends’ antics. “I’m not entirely sure about the others, but you would live.”

He burst out laughing at your words as if it was the funniest joke in the world (it really wasn’t; you had elicited far colder responses to far funnier jokes but you appreciated the enthusiasm). “You’re probably right. But still,” he took a calming breath, a bright grin still on his face, “I’m glad to have you with me. I can’t imagine you have much fun sitting here with a sober me when you could be doing drunk karaoke with Joshua and Jihyo.” 

You were about to tell him there was no place you’d rather be when Vernon appeared from what you could only assume was the shadows and gave the two of you that blank helpless wide-eyed look of his. 

You and Jihoon sighed in unison.

“What is it this time?” he wondered, already adjusting his sleeves and flexing his fingers in preparation for whatever herculean task awaited him.

The reply was short and laconic. “The fridge is being weird.”

Jihoon offered you a look that told you he couldn’t have cared less about the decade-old fridge Jeonghan had wrestled out from some old lady’s hands at the second-hand store. It wasn’t his property. It had, in fact, absolutely nothing to do with him because he didn’t live here. 

“Just go,” you laughed and waved him away, earning a look of betrayal. “The child won’t leave you alone if you don’t help him.”

“I’m not a repair guy,” he told you with a mild glare before groaning once more and finally getting up. From his new higher vantage point, he could look right into your empty cup and roll his eyes as if he didn’t want to say the words he’d utter next: “I’ll get you a new drink while I’m gone.”

You sent him off with a grateful smile and a plan to conquer the space he’d left behind. Your feet would thank you for the gentle stretch of being rested on the sofa and you could already practically hear the odes they’d sing to you. But then, as fast as the spot beside you became empty, it immediately was filled again. 

“I’m sorry if this upsets you,” a girl you vaguely knew by the name of Yeonmi spoke as she slumped into the free space Jihoon had left, slurring her words, “but I’m going to marry him.”

You quirked a brow. “Who? Vernon?”

“No!” She pointed at your best friend. “Him! Jihoon!”

You suddenly wondered if you were hallucinating this entire interaction. You blinked once, and then once more, before turning your head to look. Certainly Yeonmi was drunk off her ass and had mistaken him for someone else! Or maybe you yourself were drunk – who’s to say Jeonghan hadn’t mixed vodka into the soda once again? He’d done it before, more than twice.

But then you saw: Jihoon stood at the kitchen aisle. Laughing at what appeared to be the funniest joke in the world, he passed bottles of water around for his drunk friends. One by one, they accepted their bottles with grateful glee and promises to never drink again. 

Then, whining something about how he’s not that drunk yet, Seungcheol tried to push the bottle away and your best friend’s grin morphed into a short-lived frown as he smacked him across the back of his head with the very same bottle and forced it into his hand. Just like that Jihoon’s smile returned as Seungcheol’s pout only pursed out more.

As you began to laugh at the scene, you suddenly remembered why you’d looked over in the first place. Brows furrowing, your head snapped to glare at Yeonmi once again. “You want to marry him?!”

You weren’t entirely sure why the idea irritated you as much as it did. Maybe Jeonghan actually had mixed something into the soda. You certainly had no other reason to be so irate by the concept of Jihoon marrying someone. 

“Absolutely,” Yeonmi mumbled, gaze stuck as if Jihoon was a beautiful mirage that would disappear if she took her eyes off of him. She took a sip of her cocktail, unaware of the scathing look of disapproval she was on the receiving end of. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

Fighting to keep your irrational temper in check, you took a deep breath. “Since when do you like him like that?”

“Today.”

“What?”

Yeonmi must have taken the growing volume of your voice for a sign of excitement because she quickly added, “I think we’ll get married tomorrow.”

“You can’t marry him,” you told her without as much as a scoff. It wasn’t a joke. It was not a threat. It was a clear-cut fact of life. To you it was anyway.

Finally, Yeonmi tore her attention away from him and stared at you, blinking her saddened puppy-dog eyes. “Why not?”

You didn’t have a reason. Not a very good one anyway. “You just can’t.”

“But I want to!” She continued pouting. You noted with glee that it was the alcohol talking. Sober Yeonmi would never do this to you. But sober Yeonmi was far gone – six beers deep gone. “Why can’t I marry him?”

Unfortunately, drunk Yeonmi was far less reasonable than you knew sober Yeonmi to be. You had to think long and hard about your words if you wanted to put this conversation to rest soon. “Because he–”

“Who’s marrying who?” Seokmin stumbled into the conversation and onto the sofa, settling right between the two of you like a rather ill-fitting puzzle piece. A drink in his hand, a backwards cap askew on his head, and a comically large tiger plushie under his arm (one you could practically hear Soonyoung already frantically searching for), he stared at you two in child-like excited wonder. 

You almost had a spark of hope – could this be your saving grace? your ticket out of this conversation that was irritating you for reasons outside of your comprehension? – until you realised that Seokmin was almost certainly just as drunk – if not more – as Yeonmi. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned.

“I’m marrying Jihoon,” Yeonmi declared all too proudly, her pout turning into a bright smile that could rival the sun. For a moment you found yourself almost bitterly thinking she was exactly the pretty kind of girl your best friend deserved. Then she just had to open her mouth again: “Tomorrow. I’m marrying him tomorrow, for sure.”

Her words were met with a dramatic gasp and a matching bright smile. “You are?”

“I am!”

“She’s really not,” you mumbled from where you’d been pushed against the armrest by their celebration.

Then Seokmin froze mid-squeal-of-joy. He slapped a hand over his mouth. He loudly whispered, “But you can’t!”

Yeonmi’s smile once again dropped. “Why not?”

“Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend!” He told her with such conviction that you began to wonder if you had missed a major life event of your own damned life. 

You frowned. “We’re not–”

“Oh.” Yeonmi nodded solemnly. “You are right. I can’t believe I forgot that.” She paused before loudly whispering, “You know, I heard they’re actually married. Eloped in Vegas during spring break back in college.”

“I heard that one too!” Seokmin pointed out with inexplicable uncontained glee. “I heard he wrote a song and sang it to her at the proposal.”

“That’s so romantic,” Yeonmi swooned, smiling like it was the cutest news she’d heard all day. Her dreams of marrying Jihoon had disappeared just like that. 

But you felt like you were living in a nightmare.

“What are you guys talking about?” you cried out, watching them in astonishment and horror. “There’s nothing going on between us!”

“I mean,” Soonyoung joined in, leaning against the armrest like he’d been there all along, “you’re practically married, even if the elopement thing isn’t true.”

Yeonmi gasped. “It’s not?”

You ignored her.

“It’s okay if the spark goes out a little bit, you know what I mean,” Soonyoung attempted to explain? comfort you? Whatever he was doing, you wished he’d stop. “Relationships take work, you know.”

You felt your left eye twitch. “We’re not dating.”

This was news to your friends – if their wide eyes and dropped jaws were anything to go by, anyways. 

“But–” Seokmin started, slumping in his seat as if his whole world had shattered into pieces. “But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). You’re practically always glued together.” 

“So? We’re friends. Best friends. You know this.”

“If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is?” he wondered, asking no one in particular it seemed. His gaze had frozen on the fairy lights taped to the ceiling. He looked close to tears and you decided you’d had enough of this and got up off the sofa. 

It had been a while since you’d been out on the balcony anyway. It was nice and quiet and away from your nosy friends who clearly could not wrap their minds around the possibility of two friends not dating. The fresh air bit at your nose but you decided it was better than facing them again. 

Looking out at the nightlife of the city below, your thoughts kept drifting back to what they said. Why had you felt so irritated at the idea of Jihoon being with someone else? He wasn’t yours to keep, as much as you liked to joke about it. He wasn’t your husband, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not even a friend with benefits. He was just Jihoon.

You were just you and Jihoon. That’s what it had always been. 

So why did the idea of being ‘just (Y/n) and Jihoon’ suddenly sent a rush of rage and insult up your spine? 

“(Y/n)?” a voice called out and you felt the subtle warmth of the apartment creep out through the opened balcony door. You turned to find Seungkwan standing right there, his kind eyes looking at you as if you were insane. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It was stuffy in there,” you excused yourself and turned back to stare over the railing.

He hummed in understanding but couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Could’ve just opened a window instead of standing out here without your jacket.”

You let out a short laugh. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Warmth surrounded you, the feel of a soft knitted cardigan following soon after. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m a little surprised Jihoon hasn’t given you his sweater yet,” he noted under his breath as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted you to hear it or not. He cleared his throat and added louder, “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of Jihoon today. Seokmin and Yeonmi are a lot, I know.”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “You heard them?”

“I’m sure half the party heard them,” he told you as if it was obvious before his expression melted into something more compassionate. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was hard to choose. So you stayed silent instead. Seungkwan seemed to decide that was a yes.

“You know, I think Jihoon holds you closer to his heart than he sometimes lets on,” he told you. “Most of us see through his facade by now, but sometimes I wonder if you’re still one of the few who can’t.”

Great. Exactly what you needed: a double dose of ‘I’m an awful friend’.

“You know that keychain you have? That little cat he whittled out of wood back in high school?” He chuckled to himself. “He spent a whole week making it, constantly texting the group chat if it was perfect yet. Perfect for what, we’d ask and he’d always say it was for you like it was the most obvious thing.”

He leaned against the railing with you. Just as soon as he did so, he cursed. Seungkwan stepped away almost immediately. His voice was suddenly much louder than before: “It’s so cold! Can you even feel your arms?”

A little dazed by the information you’d learnt, you shrugged. “I guess.”

“That’s it,” he decided and grabbed a hold of your arm before dragging you back inside against your will (not that you were complaining; you suddenly realised it was indeed very cold outside). “If you want to be cold, I can give you ice cream, but please stop trying to contact frostbite.”

You barely made it through the kitchen door before running into Jihoon. It was starting to feel like Seungkwan needed to find a bigger venue for his parties because you were clearly not able to find even a minute of peace here. 

“There you are,” he practically cheered at the sight of you, a wide grin breaking out on his face as if he hadn’t seen you in days rather than mere 20 minutes.

You were painfully aware of Seungkwan’s knowing smile as Jihoon handed you a cup of soda. You took a small cautious sip – it didn’t taste anything like alcohol. There went your accidentally tipsy theory. You let out a soft groan at the thought.

“You good?” he wondered, hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Soonyoung said you looked kind of upset.”

“I’m fine,” you said. It was a lie – at least it felt like a lie. You always did hate to lie to Jihoon. But what else were you supposed to say? “It’s just been a long day.”

If he caught onto your false narrative, he didn’t mention it.

It was 2 am and you couldn’t sleep. Your friends’ words kept echoing in your head and no amount of “we’re just friends” could keep them at bay. 

For a short moment, you almost reached out to him. Your fingers knew the path to Jihoon’s contact in your phone without you even thinking about it. It was only when your thumb hovered above the green call button that you realised what you were doing. 

You found yourself scoffing. Exactly was your plan? To text him? To call him and tell him…? Tell him what?

“Hey, Jihoon, I just wanted to let you know that Seokmin and Youngmi and probably half our friend group think we’re married or at least dating and, honestly, not even gonna lie, I think it suddenly made me realise I might be and have been for a while sort of, kind of, maybe just a little bit or maybe even very much in love with you. Thoughts?”

You didn’t exactly pride yourself in your ability to put together words (and you were certain Jihoon wouldn’t have cared much for it if you did), but even you knew you couldn’t tell him that. Certainly not at 2 am and definitely not after being his friend for so many years.

So you muted your phone, put on a ridiculously long historical movie you weren’t planning on paying any attention to, and found a tub of ice cream from the deepest crevices of your freezer. It was you against your demons now. You weren’t going to leave your apartment until you’d figured out how to look him in the eyes again.

Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend. You’re practically married.

The voices kept echoing in your head like annoying little mosquitoes, sucking on your lifeforce. It was nothing short of irritating; not because you thought they were wrong, but precisely the opposite.

You sat on the sofa, head heavy with foreign thoughts. Foreign thoughts that weren’t all that unfamiliar at all – they’d been peeking their heads out every once in a while ever since high school. But you had always acted like they weren’t there: you brushed them aside, painted over them with other thoughts, and told yourself what you felt for Jihoon was just friendship.

Good old plain and very platonic friendship. Nothing else at all. 

Your heart fluttering every time he laughed at your jokes? Friendship.

Your breath getting caught in your throat every time you saw him without a shirt? Definitely friendship.

The ugly jealous feeling in your chest – the very one that took over your entire being when Yeonmi said she’d marry Jihoon? Friends get jealous all the time, don’t they? 

“They don’t,” the character on the TV said at that very moment, like a sign from the universe.

But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is? 

The voices kept on echoing. You squeezed your eyes shut and drowned your sorrowful realisations in stracciatella ice cream. 

Spoonful after spoonful, your brain numbed and froze. But the knowledge had sunk deep into the crevices of your very being and you knew that no matter what happened, one thing was true: nothing about your feelings for Lee Jihoon was platonic in the slightest.

Jihoon’s studio was a cosy and comfortable place. Dimly lit and full of his soft humming along to the songs he rarely let you listen to, it had become your safe space the day he showed it to you. 

Never once had you felt out of place in it. But when he invited you to come keep him company this evening, you found yourself hesitating at the door for the first time. 

It was as if you had forgotten how to act. 

Did the you who felt only platonic feelings for Jihoon ever knock? Did you simply burst through the door and throw your keychain at his head when he was too focused on his work to notice? Or did you just sit outside the door until he suddenly remembered he’d invited you over and come searching for you?

Had your heart always sped up, doubling its pace when you stood in the hallway? Had you always worried your hair was a mess? Surely you hadn’t. Suddenly you felt like a fool for putting on a lip stain.

You forced a deep breath of air into your lungs and knocked on the door. It immediately felt wrong.

The door opened seconds later. Jihoon greeted you with furrowed brows and an amused smile. “Since when are you so polite?”

You feigned a laugh. “Had to make sure you weren’t rotting away in your chair.”

He rolled his eyes. His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist before swiftly pulling you inside. “Come on, you’re probably freezing. How long have you been standing there?”

Silence filled the room as he led you to the sofa. 

You realised under his confused gaze that the old you – the definitely-not-in-love-with-my-best-friend you – would’ve argued. You would’ve told him something silly to distract him from your tells of embarrassment. You would’ve shoved him and  he would’ve laughed. He had expected you to.

Making your lips curl into another smile that wasn’t quite sincere, you nudged him with your foot. “Did you miss me? Be honest.”

Another silence. You thought of how he should’ve snorted a laugh and told you “you wish” before turning to his computer and telling you about his woes as a music producer. Instead, he frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Your mouth felt dry. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just,” he started, scratching the back of his head all the while watching you cautiously. You felt like a cornered stray cat as  you sat on his sofa, still clad in your coat and hat. “You’ve been acting a little weird today.”

You wanted to laugh. You hadn’t even interacted with him enough for him to come to that conclusion. In fact, there had been a conscious effort to avoid him until you could trust yourself to look him in the eyes and not burst into ballads about how wonderful he was. 

“I guess I’m just a little under the weather.” You still despised lying to him, but you told yourself it wasn’t a complete lie. If nothing else, you were at least a little bit love sick and you weren’t entirely sure yet whether seeing him was the cause or the cure. 

His eyes blinked wide. “You’re sick?”

Jihoon waited a minute, watching you patiently (though you could see a line between his brows that only appeared when he was particularly frustrated). Then he walked forward. You blinked up at him standing over your seated form, his brows knitted with concern as he held the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Do you have a fever?” he wondered and leaned his face closer on instinct, pressing his lips to your forehead like a mother would to her child. He pulled back before long, seemingly finally realising his error, and grumbled, “Definitely a fever.”

Right. A fever. You were hot to the touch. Definitely a normal reaction to seeing your best friend for the first time all day. Nothing abnormal about that. 

“It’s nothing,” you told him, still forcing a smile, and patted his hand. “What are you working on today?”

At the mention of his work, he seemed to perk up a little. His lips quirked in that way they always did when he was about to tell you a lie. “Nothing interesting.”

“I’ve known you for nearly two decades,” you told him with a scowl. “You can’t keep things from me.”

He scoffed and turned on his heel, returning to his usual seat at the desk. His eyes narrowed when he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’ll keep all the secrets I want from you.”

“No chance,” you teased, resting your head on your palm as you leaned forward against your knee. “You're practically transparent.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he told you with a chuckle and turned to the screen. Before long, his headphones were on his head and his head was deep in the music again. 

You’d never felt like you didn’t belong in this room and you didn’t feel like it now either, even as your chest threatened to burst open with all of your doubts and feelings. Your coat slid off your shoulders and you settled down on the sofa.

The you from before would’ve unlocked your phone and watched something on it at an obnoxious volume just to annoy him (but had that ever really been the goal and not just a ploy to get his unwavering attention at any cost?), but you found yourself lost in your thoughts, overthinking every memory you had of him.

You thought back to how he always seemed to be pressed to your side on movie nights – giggling in your ear, repeating and mimicking the actors just to make you laugh, nuzzling his cheek against your collarbone like a cat showing his affection. 

You thought back to the late night calls and how they made you so giddy despite the fact that you desperately wanted to sleep; to the protective glares he gave any man that looked at you and how a shiver went up your spine every time he crossed his arms over his chest while doing so; to the shirts and sweaters of his that you had unapologetically stolen to keep warm at night and breathe in his scent.

As you watched him – his head bopping along to the beat you couldn’t hear, his lips pursed in an effort to not spoil the lyrics, his dark eyes flitting your way every so often –, you realised there was no room for doubts. There was nothing uncertain about your feelings for Lee Jihoon. 

All this time, you had loved him for his laughter and his jokes. You had loved him for his yelling and his tears. You had loved him for his melodic voice and his silly 3 am ideas. You had loved him for the warmth of his hands when he taught you to play the guitar and the fond disappointment in his eyes when you failed your driving test for the first time.

There was nothing you didn’t love about him.

Even now you noted with certain fondness that one side of his headphones was off his ear just enough so he could hear you and it made you love him all the more so. 

The only thing you didn’t entirely adore about this man was that he wasn’t yours.

His eyes found you again and he quirked a brow. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I think I just realised why I don’t like Valentine’s day,” you told him without thinking. It was silly. Of all the millions of things you could’ve told him, of all the possible insults and puns and jokes, you told him the vulnerable truth you had only barely just graped yourself.

Jihoon swiveled his chair to face you, suddenly intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His raised both his brows this time, staring at you with interest. You didn’t shy away from eye contact – not now when you’d finally learnt to appreciate the shades of brown. You only smiled and watched him as he sighed in defeat and turned back to the computer.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he mumbled under his breath.

You weren’t sure you had another option.

While you had always hated Valentine’s day, Seungcheol and Soonyoung loved it with their whole hearts. Who would’ve guessed that the two men who could strike fear in anyone’s heart with just a look were hopeless romantics?

After spending hours contemplating if you wanted to be present at this event at all, you arrived fashionably late. Why they had decided to hold the celebration the night before Valentine’s day was beyond you, even if it was the reason that finally convinced you to go.

Welcoming you into their house brimming with roses and heart-themed decorations, Seungcheol handed you a red paper rose at the front door and sent you on your way with a wink. 

“Jihoon’s in the kitchen,” he told you with a smirk that said he could see right through you. You hoped you weren’t as obvious to the others.

Taking your time to look around was just an excuse and it felt like everybody knew it. They gave you smiles and winks and claps on your shoulder as you passed them by with soft greetings. You couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Looking for distractions, you craned your neck to look at the decorations. Heart-shaped balloons of red and pink and white floated against the ceiling. They were surrounded by pink and white party banners hung between the walls, cut into triangles with little hearts drawn in the centre, little fairy lights wrapped around the strings keeping them together. The floor was covered in rose petals. If Seungcheol and Soonyoung knew anything, it was how to go all out (and the amazed yet annoyed look on Seungkwan’s face told you he realised it could cost him the competition).

As you walked through the crowd, you realised that for once the pinks and reds hadn’t filled you with frustration and anger and resentment. Instead, a strange feeling of bitter sadness filled your chest. The spot on your side felt empty even with tens of people pushing past you. Even when you were avoiding him, you missed him.

You decided there was no point in torturing yourself further. After all, you thought, wasn’t being by his side but never being able to call him yours torture enough?

True to Seungcheol’s word, you found Jihoon in the kitchen. And you quickly realised why people had been greeting you the way they did. A laugh threatened to bubble out of you at the sight.

Jihoon stood on the kitchen island, surrounded by countless bottles of beverages, singing into a wood spoon. Eyes heavy-lidded in a way you hadn’t seen them be since that one night he got drunk in an act of teenage rebellion in 11th grade, he swayed in his spot and sang love songs at the top of his lungs. 

You dreaded to think what Seungcheol and Soonyoung might think of his actions. But when you looked around you found that rather than trying to get him down, Soonyoung sat on the kitchen counter across from the island, a whisk in hand, harmonising. People came and went, getting their drinks, and loudly cheered the duo on but didn’t pay them much mind beyond that. Perhaps they didn’t realise how unusual this sight really was.

Their rendition of a Bruno Mars song came to an end to the sound of a drunken applause and a few shouts for an encore. Jihoon waved away the compliments, nearly knocking himself off balance in doing so. As he lifted the spoon to his lips to start another song, his eyes met yours. The spoon clattered to the floor and his body followed not much more gracefully. 

He called your name with such joy that you couldn’t help but smile and open your arms as he practically tackled you in a hug. His face pressed against your shoulder so tightly that you worried if he could even breathe. “You came!”

You didn’t have any words to tell him, still too baffled by the situation at hand. Your eyes found Soonyoung’s and you raised your brows in question. He only smirked and shrugged innocently before practically dancing out of the room.

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. That is the only reason why you hardly drank at gatherings; not at all because Jihoon once smiled at you all pretty and told you he was glad he had at least one sober friend to keep him company. But it seemed that tonight he was too drunk to appreciate the sentiment.

“I think I’m drunk,” Jihoon mumbled after a while and pushed himself upright. You kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him from tilting further left than he already was. “But it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” you told him softly and led him to sit down. 

Like an obedient puppy, he followed your command and sat on a chair, leaning his forearms on the back of it and his chin on the very top. His eyes watched you curiously as you found a glass and filled it with water. You held the glass out for him to take but he just stared at you with starry eyes.

“You look pretty tonight,” he finally uttered when you raised your brows in question. 

You frowned and pushed the glass closer to him, hoping he’d take the hint. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he told you, a smile appearing on his face but there wasn’t any humour in it. It was hard to tell what emotions he was trying to convey: happiness? fondness? adoration? Whatever it was, it was making you just a little flustered. And then he delivered the final plow: “You always look pretty.”

Your heart was positively working at three times– no, ten times its usual pace. You sucked in a shallow breath and nudged him with the glass again. This time he took it. 

“Since when do you drink anyway?” you asked to change the topic.

For once he answered the question and shrugged. “Soonyoung thought that maybe I should give it a try again. You know, with all the rejection and everything.” His gaze fell to the tiled floor as he mumbled, “It’s actually been kind of nice.”

“What rejection? Who would reject you?”

He laughed but it sounded bitter. “Who indeed?”

“Did you ask someone to be your Valentine?” you realised and it felt like someone was trying to carve out a piece of your heart. “And they said no?”

Jihoon scoffed and placed down the water. His hand reached for a different cup, full of liquor you could practically smell from all the distance away. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he spoke, “What’s the point of asking if they’re going to say no anyways?”

The room felt hotter than usual. You could hardly breathe. You hadn’t even known Jihoon liked someone. Of course you had to find out merely days after coming to terms with your own feelings for him. Your love life was cursed and so was everything related to Valentine’s day.

You stayed silent to mourn the reality.

“You know what’s the worst part?” he then spoke again. It was hard to tell how drunk he was because he was hardly slurring his words. “I see her every day. Well,” he frowned, “almost every day. Whatever.” He shook his head and took a long sip of the drink. “Every day I see her and every day I think today is going to be the day I finally tell her. And then I don’t. Because I’m just her friend. She’s spent all those years telling everyone we’re just friends and I don’t want to be just her friend. I want so much more. But every time I try to tell her so, I chicken out.”

You could hardly listen to his proclamations. Your eyes were burning, ready to shed silent tears. You wondered if he’d even notice if you did cry. The Jihoon in front of you was a side you hadn’t seen before and you loved him just the same, even if this side was reserved for another woman.

Finally lifting his head, his eyes found yours. They widened. “Are you okay?”

Turning away to discreetly rub the tears out of your eyes, you nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Must be allergic to something in the air. Maybe it’s all the pollen.”

When you turned back to him, he looked almost deflated. He looked down again and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re just allergic to me.”

The tears seemed to vanish at the absurdity of his words. “... What?”

He shrugged. “Every time I say something nice to you, you start acting all weird. Avoiding me. Sometimes I think that if I confessed to you, you’d die on the spot.”

Whatever Soonyoung had been making him drink had to be incredibly strong. Every sentence he uttered seemed more absurd than the one before.

“I should get you home,” you decided with a sigh, resisting the urge to tug your hair out. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he could play with your feelings like this – knowingly or not.

He whined. “I don’t want to–”

“You’re drunk, Jihoon,” you told him firmly. “If you drink any more tomorrow, you’ll murder me in the morning for letting you get this hungover.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes and glared at you before pouting and looking away. “As if I’d ever hurt you.”

“You’re drunk and you’re not making any sense and I’m taking you home to sleep,” you repeated yourself and reached for his arm. You expected him to resist your strength as you pulled him up but instead his hold on your fingers tightened. He stood up and leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he told you after a moment of resting. “Can we just nap somewhere?”

You didn’t have the willpower to fight. The little you had, he had shattered without meaning to. You went to hook your arm around his elbow – he didn’t let you, only tightening his hold on your fingers. 

Without much of a choice, you squeezed his hand and slowly led him to a guest room. Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s house had two of these, one on the first and one on the second floor. For a moment you headed towards the one on the first floor. Then your heart ached just a little and you decided you needed to get away from the people to let your heart break in peace.

The second floor guest room had floor to ceiling windows covered with white curtains. The streetlights shone through at an angle that you knew would annoy you if you tried to fall asleep. You suspected that’s why they had designated it for guests rather than sleeping here themselves.

You practically shoved Jihoon onto the mattress to avoid any further complications. Instead of grumbling like you expected him to, he fell down with a series of giggles. You couldn’t help but smile.

There was a single fleece-lined blanket folded on the foot of the bed. You placed it over him with care. When you went to turn around and find a place to sit – or maybe even go back downstairs to drown your sorrows in wine –, his hand shot up and grabbed a hold of yours.

“Stay,” he spoke so softly you almost thought you hadn’t heard him right. “Stay with me. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I was just going to sit down,” you told him gently, trying to pull your hand free. 

He let out a whine. “See? This is what I mean. You’re allergic to me.”

Exhaustion was making your head ache. Or maybe it was all the tears that were waiting to be shed. You didn’t have the energy to fight, so you sank down next to him, crawling to fit under the blanket with him. “Just go to sleep.”

His hand never left yours as he curled it to rest against his chest and placed his heavy head on your chest. Silence filled the room. You didn’t dare breathe – who knew when you could have him this close again without feeling guilty or angry at the fates?

Minutes passed. You thought he’d fallen asleep when he whispered, “When other guys flirt with you or smile at you or tell you you’re pretty, you smile and thank them. When I do that, you avoid me.”

You wondered when the topic had shifted from his mystery crush to you. 

“Because we’re friends.”

“There it is again,” he mumbled, glaring at the ceiling as if willing it to crumble and rain down on him. “Friends.” The word sounded like venom. “I pour my heart out to you, I write songs to you, I dream of you every time I fall asleep, but that’s all I ever am. A friend.”

“It’s never bothered you before.” You frowned. Despite his harsh tone, you found yourself playing with his hair, and him leaning into your touch. 

He let out a deep breath. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.” His head nuzzled closer to you, his breath tickling your skin. You thought you felt his warm lips press down before he whispered, “The other guys will have to go through me if they want you for themselves. I found you first.”

Silence filled the room again, soon accompanied by his soft snores and mumbles of promises he wasn’t conscious enough to actually make. You weren’t sure you could sleep now or ever again, too busy putting the puzzle pieces together.

His words had mangled your heart in every way possible. And yet there was a glimmer of hope as you wondered what he’d meant by his words. 

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say and now you found yourself wondering how much truth there was to his words. 

He whispered your name in his sleep and you found yourself giving in to the wistful dreams of that being his truth. As you pulled him closer, you prayed you wouldn’t have to wake up to another heartbreak.

If you had thought the streetlights at night were a curse last night, then now you found yourself thinking that any and all kinds of outside light had been invented just to make whoever inhabited this room as miserable as possible.

The morning sun shone right into your eyes even through the curtains at 6 am. Even if you hadn’t spent the entire night in a restless limbo between sleep and trying to solve the mystery of Jihoon’s words, you would've been upset to awaken to the horrid rays of bright sunshine.

The more you woke up, the more your world seemed to be upside down. Sometime at night, Jihoon’s arms had wrapped around you, tight and secure as they held you close to his chest. His lips were pressed to your temple. You almost wished he’d never wake up so you could enjoy this embrace for an eternity.

But another part of you didn’t want to face the disappointment of him jerking away from you as he’d wake up, embarrassed to have ever cuddled you in his sleep.

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to detangle yourself from his limbs. Finger by finger, you pulled yourself free. You were just about to roll off his left arm when it suddenly curled and effortlessly pulled you back into his chest.

When you looked at him, Jihoon wore a frown and a pout. “You were supposed to stay.”

“I did,” you whispered, unsure if he was really awake yet or not. 

“Stay longer,” he demanded almost childishly, wrapping his newly free arm around you once again. “It’s still early.”

Your brain was trying hard to convince you that he thought you were someone else. Then he mumbled your name again and you saw his eyes slowly flutter open. Instead of pulling away and apologising like you expected him to, he offered you a smile. 

“What?” He chuckled, voice gravelly from sleep. 

You hesitated. But you knew that if you didn’t get answers, you’d drive yourself insane. “Do you…” You swallowed. “Do you remember what you said last night?”

His brows furrowed just a little but his lips remained in a pleasant smile. “About what?”

“About the girl who you’ve wanted to ask out for years but never did,” you supplied softly. “And about us being friends?”

The joy melted from his face. His eyes wavered. His lips quivered. He gave them a nervous lick before practically gasping for air. He remembered.

You tried to choose your words carefully, you really did. But they still came out all clumsy like they always did. “Is the girl me?”

He looked like he’d been caught in a crime. But his arms remained around you – you wondered if he was filled with the same selfishness you’d felt the night before: the urge to enjoy this feeling of closeness before it could get ripped away forever.

“How’d you know?” he whispered. 

“You said something last night,” you told him carefully. “Something that made me realise that maybe you feel … the same way as I do.”

He avoided your eyes, looking around the room. Then his gaze snapped back to you, suddenly full of clarity. “The same way?”

This was it, you realised. It was now or never. It was true love or losing your best friend. Except you weren’t sure you could still be friends even if you didn’t pour your heart out – could you look him in the eyes again and not think about the words he said last night? 

“Jihoon, I think–” The words were on the tip of your tongue, clinging to it like it was their last lifeline. It was hard to say what you wanted to.

His face, so devoid of joy just moments before, had lit up with hope. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. I thought I could keep it a secret and not ruin our friendship,” you told him through nervous laughter, turning to look at the ceiling, “but now I’m not so sure I could have.”

“What made you change your mind?” he wondered as he looked at you with nothing short of awe. 

“When you were talking about that girl last night,” you were still struggling to breathe, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “I was so heartbroken. I was going to cry all through the night. Then you said something that made me think… It made me think, or maybe foolishly hope, that you meant me. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you mean me–?”

“I love you,” he replied before you could even finish your sentence. A smile appeared and you were filled with relief as he leaned his head closer to press against yours. “I’ve been in love with you since 7th grade. I thought I’d never get to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded to know.

His breath sounded more like a hopeless laugh. “I didn’t want to lose you. I thought there was no way you’d love me back.”

“Clearly you were wrong.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and surged forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer. You savoured the feeling, pressing closer to him, tugging him closer with a hand on the back of his head. He pulled back and laughed again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Good thing you can do it again as many times as you please,” you told him with a smile. “You know, I’ve always hated Valentine’s day, but you have a real shot at changing that right now.”

The door burst open just as he matched your grin and began to lean closer. Startled, the two of you looked up. Clad in a tiger-striped onesie, Soonyoung stood at the door, eyes wide. Moments of awkward silence passed. Then his face broke out into a wide grin and he slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click just a second later, followed by an almost villainous laughter.

You exchanged startled looks with Jihoon. Then he shrugged and leaned forward to kiss you again.

“All the more time to make up for the lost years,” he told you as he pulled you closer. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Author's Note: I both loved and hated writing this fic. If at any point, you found yourself thinking "huh, i wish the writer did more with this random crumb in this story that looks like it should've been a part of something bigger", i can almost guarantee you i had plans to do something with it and then forgot or abandoned the idea mid-way through.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this fic at least moderately and if you did, please feel free to reblog with comments or leave an emoji-filled reply or maybe even send me an ask to let me know what you thought!

[mrspiastri]

for your valentines event, lando with prompt #17 please?

lando norris x reader

prompt 17. “I used to think Valentine’s Day was overrated. And then I met you.”

💌💌💌

Y/N never cared for Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t just that she found it overhyped or commercialized—it was that it had never meant anything good to her. While other kids in school had received love letters and flowers, she had sat through the day unnoticed.

When she was older, the holiday only seemed to remind her of how disposable she had always been to the people in her life. It was easier to dismiss it entirely than to admit that deep down, a small part of her wished she had ever been someone’s first choice.

And then there was Lando.

He was the human embodiment of warmth—laughing too loud, smiling too easily, making even the dullest moments feel golden. And for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he had made it his personal mission to get her to like Valentine’s Day.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered as they walked through the bustling streets, Lando’s arm draped over Y/N’s shoulder. The city was drowning in pink and red, couples strolling hand-in-hand, flower vendors pushing overpriced bouquets. It was suffocating. “I told you, I don’t do Valentine’s Day.”

“You say that every year,” Lando grinned, adjusting his beanie as he glanced at her. “And every year, I take it as a challenge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “And every year, you fail.”

“Not true,” he countered, nudging her playfully. “Last year, you actually let me buy you chocolate.”

She scoffed. “That was because I was hungry, not because I enjoy this ridiculous holiday.”

Lando only chuckled, undeterred, before leading her toward a small café tucked into the corner of the street. The warm glow from the windows was inviting against the cold February air. He held the door open for her, and the scent of coffee and cinnamon filled her senses as she begrudgingly stepped inside.

She settled into a seat by the window while he went to order. She watched as couples exchanged gifts, whispering soft words, fingers intertwined like they belonged together. She had never experienced that kind of love. She didn’t believe she ever would.

“Here,” Lando said, placing a mug in front of her. “Extra whipped cream, just how you like it.”

She frowned slightly. “I never said I liked whipped cream.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said with a smug smile. “I pay attention.”

She hesitated before taking a sip. Warmth spread through her, but it wasn’t just from the drink. It was from the way Lando was watching her, like he had just accomplished something important.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, but there was no sharpness in her tone.

“And yet, you keep me around.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin softening. “I must be doing something right.”

She hated that he wasn’t wrong.

As they left the café and walked toward her apartment, the streets were quieter, the world settling into the kind of hush that only came late at night. Lando was still talking, his voice animated as he recounted stories from his latest race. He was always so full of life, like he had never known loneliness, like he had never spent years wondering if he was enough.

She found herself smiling without meaning to.

Then, just as they reached her building, he stopped abruptly. “Wait, before you go inside—” Lando shifted on his feet, suddenly looking a little nervous.

She frowned. “What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. “I, uh, got you something.

Y/N blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He handed it to her, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you think Valentine’s Day is stupid, but I figured… you never really got to enjoy it properly. So, consider this a redo.”

Her fingers hovered over the ribbon before finally untying it. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple yet beautiful, with a small charm in the shape of a tiny race car. She swallowed hard, her throat tightening in a way she wasn’t used to.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered.

“I wanted to,” Lando said softly. “Because you deserve to know what it’s like to have someone care about you today.”

Her chest ached. No one had ever done something like this for her before—not because they had to, not because they wanted something in return. Just because they cared.

She let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening around the box. “I used to think Valentine’s Day was overrated,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “And then I met you.”

Lando’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For once, he didn’t have a quick reply. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against hers before intertwining them fully. His touch was warm—steady, like he had been waiting for this moment all along.

“Guess that means I win this year’s challenge,” he murmured, giving her hand a small squeeze.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smiled, tugging her a little closer. “Too late.”

And for the first time in her life, Y/N thought that maybe, just maybe, Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Well… I didn’t expect everyone to like it that much, but anyway, here’s part 2. Part 3 will be last and be upload the day after tomorrow.... Enjoy reading!😊😉

Part II

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

You had it all planned out—show up to the family reunion, smile through the awkward small talk, dodge questions about your love life, and make a graceful exit by faking a headache. The perfect escape. Then you'd be back to your regular life—your job, your apartment, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

But Ambessa had other plan.

Amazing? She literally flew from the other side of the country just to see you—because she missed you already. Like you’d left her and promised to be back after two weeks.

And now, here she is, showing up before those weeks are even over… and demanded to meet your parents. You should’ve run. You should have. But with Ambessa’s hand wrapped firmly around you telling there was no turning back.

So now, here we were. Standing on your parents’ porch, the warm glow of the house lights peeking through. You could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from inside, but all you could focus on was the weight spinning on your mind.

“You nervous?” Ambessa asked, her voice low, amused.

You shot her a look. “You think?”

She chuckled softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Relax. They’ll love me.''

You release a nervous laugh. You weren’t so sure about that.

Standing in front of the double doors, the weight of what was about to

happen doubled this time. You turned to face Ambessa, your heart pounding so loud..

“Bess…” you began. Ambessa raised an eyebrow, waiting. “B-before we go in, I need to say this. No matter what happens—no matter what my parents say—I’m still with you. Nothing will change, okay? We’ll stand together, even if they’re started to go against us.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes softened. “Of course, dear,” she said with that same effortless confidence, like there was never a doubt in her mind. Like nothing could shake her.

Was she even nervous? She was about to meet your parents for the first time, and yet she looked so calm, so in control while here you are looking like a frightened wet penguin. Wasn’t meeting the parents supposed to be the most terrifying part of a relationship? Even more nerve-wracking than getting married?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached out to adjust her suit. Your fingers brushed against the lapels, but you didn’t realize they were trembling until Ambessa's hand gently closed over yours.

You already imagine all the worst-case scenarios before the night would end, and none of them sat well with you. You could possibly lose Ambessa. Or your family. Or worst, both. Just the thought of it made your chest tighten painfully. You didn't want to choose between the people you love.

The mere possibility of it was unbearable. You don't know if you can take it.

Ambessa's touch was grounding, steady, like everything you needed in that moment. Ambessa gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward hers.

“Little one… look at me.”

You met her gaze, and the calm, steady confidence in her eyes was enough to slow your racing heart.

"Calm down... Everything’s going to be alright. We will be alright." Her voice was soft yet steady "Don’t be nervous—I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Before you could chicken out, you took a last deep breath before you swung the door open. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you both stepped back inside, and it felt like the entire world paused.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence.

Every fork froze halfway to someone’s mouth.

Your uncles, who had been lounging on the sofa watching football, paused mid-game, their attention snapping at your direction. Your aunties, mid-gossip, fell silent, their eyes narrowing at the front door. Even the children, who’d been running around shrieking with laughter, slowed to a halt, retreating to their parents like they were afraid on something.

Every pair of eyes—at least thirty family members crammed into the living room and dining area—snapped right to you and your unexpected guest. A shiver ran from your toes all the way up your spine, your heart pounding in panic.

You were just introducing your partner to the family, like your cousin did, but they never gave that kind of attention—the way they’re staring at you and Ambessa now.

It was like time had hit the brakes.

And how could they not?

When the woman beside you was an attention grabber, what more Ambessa was intimidating. She stood taller than the average man, her broad, powerful frame impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was deliberate, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and commanded attention the moment she entered a room.

Even board directors didn’t dare challenge her—no one did. Her employees were even terrified of looking onto her eyes or crossing path with her.

You blinked multiple times, trying to steady yourself, before glancing at Ambessa. Not a single hint of nervousness crossed her face. She stood tall and composed, completely unbothered by the dozens of eyes glued to the both of you. You could practically hear the collective whisper ripple through the room.

It wasn’t nice being gawked at, especially by this many people, especially when their eyes keep on shifting from you and Ambessa.

Ambessa was dressed in that perfectly tailored red and black suit—one that probably cost more than your car—she stood out in the best way possible. It was just a casual family gathering, and yet, there she was, looking like she’d stepped off the cover of a high-profile magazine.

And then, through the stunned silence, you spotted her.

Your mother. Eyebrows shot up so fast you thought they might hit her hairline.

You could feel your pulse in your ears. This was it. No turning back now.

Your mother’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of you and Ambessa standing side by side. She didn’t miss the closeness between you— and the way your hands brushed together.

Like she knew.

Like she had already put the pieces together but was desperately hoping she was wrong. But then, with a practiced calm, she clapped her hands together and forced a smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not hover. Go on, continue enjoying your food.”

Slowly, like someone had hit play on a paused movie, people started moving again. Conversations resumed, but not without the occasional glance thrown our way. You could feel them peeking, eavesdropping, pretending they weren’t doing exactly that.

And then your parents moved in.

You drag Ambessa as you led toward the dining room. Your mother stood by the table, stirring the salad with slow, deliberate movements. She didn’t look up right away. Your father appeared behind her, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked from you to Ambessa—and then back again

Meanwhile, your mother’s gaze turned laser-focused as you both stopped in front of her. Her eyes immediately darted down to yours and Ambessa's intertwined fingers.

Which made your palm run ice cold. Ambessa must’ve felt it too because she tightened her grip slightly, giving you support as her warmth seeping into your skin.

You glanced around the room, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. Why was everyone staring at you like you were the evening’s drama? You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.

Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And who,” she began, her voice deceptively polite, “might this guest be?”

Before you could say anything, Ambessa took a step forward.

“Ambessa Medarda,” she said, offering her hand with the kind of poised confidence that could melt glaciers—or in this case, try to thaw your mother’s frosty demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Y/N's parents.”

Your mom stared at her hand like it might bite, but she eventually took it—barely—but then turned to you, her eyes pointing dagger demanding an explanation. Your Dad, still buffering, finally shook himself out of his daze and gave Ambessa a quick handshake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. "Ambessa, this is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad… this is Ambessa."

...

"She’s… my girlfriend," you added, your voice softer but clear.

For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

You could feel the shock ripple through the room. Eyes widened. A few audible gasps echoed in the sudden silence, and you swore even the ticking clock on the wall seemed louder than before.

You understood their reactions perfectly. Your whole life, they had known you as a straight woman—never once had you hinted otherwise. You were so good at hiding it. And now, here you were, standing before them, introducing your first-ever lover… who just so happened to be a woman.

It wasn’t just introducing Ambessa; it was, in a way, coming out. Tearing down the version of you they thought they knew and revealing something they’d never expected. You could see it in their eyes—the shock, the disbelief, the scrambling to process what this meant. And being the only gay person in the family? It was a whole new revelation for everyone.

And as much as you tried to steel yourself for this moment, you couldn’t help the nervous knot twisting in your stomach..

Your mom’s eyes widened,

''G-girlfriend?” she repeated, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. The word hanging in the air like an accusation.

She immediatly stopped on what she was doing. Then, with a disbelieving shake of her head, she let out a sharp little laugh. “Since when did you have a lover? And her? really… a woman? Y/N”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yes.”

Her lips twitched—not a smile, more like an involuntary reaction she couldn’t quite control. “Are you being serious? Right now?”

Before you could answer, Ambessa’s voice cut in.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her gaze locking onto your mother’s “We’re serious.”

From the look on Ambessa's face, she was clearly quite upset by your mother’s tone.

Your mother was just about to start arguing when your father gently pulled her aside, murmuring something to calm her down. Surprisingly, she let him, though the tension in her face made it clear she was far from pleased.

“Now, now… save the conversation for later,” your father said smoothly, shooting you a look before turning back to Ambessa. “A-ambessa right? Have you had dinner yet? I bet you haven’t. Why don’t you grab a plate and help yourself?”

Relief flooded you, and you shot your father a grateful look. He only smiled, giving you a quick wink.

You were about to guide Ambessa toward the food when you noticed she hadn’t moved. Furrowing your brows, you turned to her. “Bess…?”

Before she could answer, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Ricktus, her ever-loyal guard, stepping inside, both hands occupied with something.large.

“Before that,” Ambessa spoke, “I’d like to give something first.” She gestured toward the items in Ricktus’ hands. “I brought some gift baskets. It’s not much, but I didn’t realize Y/N had quite a big family.”

All eyes turned toward the baskets, and you could practically hear the collective shift in the room. These weren’t ordinary gift baskets—they were luxurious, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Even from a distance, you could see the careful arrangement of imported wines, artisanal chocolates, and items that looked far too expensive for anyone to afford.

Your father let out a nervous chuckle, offering a polite tone “Ah—thank you, you didn't need to but that’s very kind.” He reached out to take one, but Ricktus didn’t let go. Instead, the guard gave a small, respectful nod.

“Forgive him but they’re quite heavy,” Ambessa said evenly, her tone smooth yet firm. “Let my men carry them—just tell us where you’d like them placed.”

....

The meal was tense. You could barely swallow the food in front of you, your stomach knotted with nerves. Other than Ambessa, the martini in your hand was the only thing giving you strength. Your mom was definitely more upset than you had imagined. She had been demanding for years that you finally introduce someone—and here you were, doing exactly that. But clearly, this wasn’t what she had expected. What a way to suprise everyone..

It had been hour, and the crowd had thinned as the night stretched on. A few of the younger kids had finally tired themselves out, curled up in corners or carried off to bed by their parents. The once lively energy had settled into something quieter, more subdued.

Some of your aunts had struck up light conversation with Ambessa—mostly out of curiosity, you suspected—but you could tell they were still hesitant. And then there was your mother.

She hadn’t said a word to you.

Not since then. Not since everything.

She wasn’t throwing a fit or making a scene, but that almost made it worse. The way she moved around the room, politely engaging with everyone except you—it was deliberate. A silent cold shoulder. Like you hadn’t just been laughing together at your uncle’s joke moments ago.

And damn, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Ambessa? the unbothered queen, savoring every bite like she was at a five-star banquet instead of sitting in the middle of this emotional minefield.

She was even enjoying your mother’s homemade mac and cheese, which was shocking considering how picky of an eater she was. Even a world-renowned chefs had to bent over backward trying to impress her, and yet here she was, casually indulging in a simple family recipe.

You sat beside her leaned in slightly, your elbow resting on the table, your head propped up by your hand as you watched her. Seeing her eat—actually eat, rather than picking at her food like she usually did—made you happy. It was such a simple thing, but it meant something.

Your voice was low, “I like what you did to your hair.”

Ambessa's usual free-flowing curls were now braided back into a triple dutch braid, weaving tightly along her scalp in thick sections into the center one. A few white strands near the front contrasted against the dark, adding a striking edge to her already commanding presence. She looked good. No—she looked ridiculously good.

Ambessa paused mid-bite, glancing at you. “Ah, yes, little one… You did say you liked it this way.” She smirked, setting her fork down. “So, I had it styled before I got here.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You did it… for me?”

She hummed, taking another bite, as if it was no big deal.

Your heart stuttered, and heat crept up your cheeks. “Well, I do like it,” you admitted, staring at her shamelessly. “I can see your face clearly. You look so—”

Ambessa cut you off, her gaze sharp and knowing. “I see what you’re doing, little one.” Her voice dipped lower, teasing but firm. “But don’t flirt with me right now. You might not like what I do to you in front of your family.”

You choked on your drink. Your cheeks burned as you quickly averted your gaze.

What is wrong with this woman?!

Ambessa just chuckled, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just sent your brain into a tailspin.

You were lost in your little moment, completely wrapped up in Ambessa’s teasing, when someone cleared their throat. You both turned, and it was none other than the devil itself—your mother.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

How could you forget she was sitting just two seats away? You had been so caught up in Ambessa’s presence that you completely overlooked the fact that your mother had full view of your shameless flirting. You could only hope she didn't hear any of it.

Wine glass in hand. Then your mother began to approached and took a seat—this time, directly in front of you. The shift was small, but it was enough to make the entire table fall quiet.

A few of your family had noticed it too.

Your mom wasn’t done. You could feel it. Maybe she was just waiting for the crowd to subside, which, in a way, was a relief—at least you wouldn’t have to endure her torture in front of an audience.

Your mother, set down her drink with an audible clink and looked directly at Ambessa “So,” she began, “Ambessa… what do you do?”

You winced internally. Here we go

______

Taglist:) @jhyoos @dakotapaigelove @daenerysluvrr @marve1stranger @angrywhisperslove @ghostie1131 @natsaffection @vyvvycg @euphoricnyctophilia @cloudstoday @imconfusrd @chezze-its

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please give us damian having to tell readers he got moved to smack down and she’s on raw please ❤️❤️❤️

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️some feels, love and angst‼️

stay, somehow

“y/n…” damian starts, his voice tight like a rope about to snap. he won’t meet your eyes. he’s staring at the floor, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides like he’s bracing for impact.

your stomach churns. you don’t like this. damian is always so confident, so sure of himself, but now he looks… afraid.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.

he flinches. just barely. but you see it.

he exhales sharply through his nose and finally looks at you, eyes dark and stormy “i got the promotion, smackdown.”

for a second, you don’t understand why that’s bad. this is something he’s worked so hard for. countless nights spent training, perfecting his mic skills, practicing new moves until his body hurt.

you should be happy for him. and you are. but something isn’t right.

“that’s amazing!” you say happily “but… why do you look like someone just died?”

and then it clicked.

you were, are on raw.

he swallows hard. his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but can’t “i have to leave you behind.”

oh.

everything inside you goes still.

“what?” your voice is barely above a whisper “no, no damian…you will still see me…not as much as we use to” your heart broke “but nothing will change”.

“it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. if i say no, i might never get something like this again but i can say no. i can ask them to keep me on raw” he knows they don’t have many plans for him on raw but he can stay, for you. he will stay.

it makes sense. of course it does. but logic doesn’t stop the ache blooming in your chest.

“look at me, you’re not leaving me behind” you say, and it’s not a question. you tried to bring him some comfort that was missing.

his hands finally unclench, and now they’re shaking “i have a choice, i can stay on raw.”

you laughed “damian…it’s not the end of the world, we can work it out. we always do.”

you’re going to miss having him driving you to the arena, and then straight back to the hotel. you’re gonna miss him carrying your luggage, him pretending to be annoyed by your whines about how heavy your luggage is.

or the sleepless nights spent together making love in a random hotel room. the sleepless nights spent watching movies that none of you cared about.

but he has this new opportunity and you aren’t the reason he is going to fuck up his career.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

he looks at you like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight back, but instead, he just says, “i love you” he takes a step forward “i do. i love you, te amo y/n. this doesn’t change that.”

“it doesn’t. you are my everything.”

he was going to miss you.

one or two days a week were left for you.

how was he going to survive? how were you going to survive?

he reaches for you then, fingers ghosting over your wrist, hesitant “please don’t hate me.”

your emotions fizzles out just like that, because how could you ever hate him? you’re not mad, you’re a little hurt, but beneath all of it, you still love him too.

so you let him hold you. his arms wrap around you tightly, like if he holds you close enough, maybe he won’t have to leave at all.

you let yourself lean into him, just for a moment.

you couldn’t lie. you were going to miss him. you got used to stay with him everyday, all days.

he sensed you were thinking about the whole situation.

“what happens now?” you ask against his chest.

his grip tightens “i don’t know.”

neither of you do.

but when he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, something in your chest settles. because no matter what happens next, no matter where he goes, you were going to be there for him. even if it meant seeing each other once a week.

and somehow, that’s enough.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I agree about Yuu developing magic being a weird choice but what do you think about Yuu temporarily gaining magic? It could happen with Ace's unique magic. I think it swaps his magic and whoever he casts it on. Could he theoretically give a magicless person like Yuu his own magic like a baton pass in pokemon passing on stat changes as it swaps out for a new pokemon?

[Referencing this post!]

I believe Yuu is already capable of using some magic via tools, but not all. For example, Yuu cannot fly on their own, as that would require using magic to make the broom float. A magical pen or magestone is also pointless for Yuu since they require magic input to even be of use. However, Yuu is able to use the hammer magitool, the magical projector, and magical gramophone to spruce up their Guest Room. They can also use the ghost camera, which is described as an enchanted artifact in the prologue.

Like I said in this post, we don’t know a lot about Ace’s UM now so it’s hard to say what is and isn’t possible yet.

I know that the “Ace can give Yuu his magic” theory is pretty popular right now. Prior to the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update, there were already fans speculating that Ace would grant Yuu his own magic somehow due to a voice line he has when he reaches his max level: “Wow, I feel seriously good. Now even helping out a certain magicless someone will be a cinch.” If this becomes a reality, it would be a feasible way to give Yuu their moment to contribute to a fight while maintaining their self-insert appeal.

Personally though 😅 I’m of the opinion that this won’t be possible. The way Ace’s magic is described, it appears like he swapped his magic with his target. Would he even be able to swap with… nothing? It sounds like a bad deal to me. Like, even if it was possible, why would you want to loan your magic to someone else (someone who, mind you, has ZERO experience spellcasting and no formal training) and leave yourself defenseless? It assumes that Yuu would be a magical prodigy, instantly able to know what to do with Ace’s magic arsenal (which is average to begin with). That’s crazy to me because even skilled mages studied and practiced for years to get to their current level. The only character I can recall that was Instantly Good at magic was Malleus, who says he felt demeaned by tutors that gave him comparatively simple lessons in magic. Are we putting Yuu, the magic novice, in the same gifted category as Malleus? How do we know Yuu’s attempts at spellcasting wouldn’t spiral out of control and accidentally harm themselves or their allies? (This happened with Rollo’s younger brother; do we want a potential repeat of that incident?) It just doesn’t make sense to me. In what scenario would this be advantageous or preferable to Ace spellcasting on his own?

… Granted, book 7 has been doing many nonsensical things for the sake of fanservice within the wonky dream spaces so I won’t say the possibility of Yuu using Ace’s magic is a definite 0%. Maybe it’s possible to wish up that they can use magic expertly within the dream space but not irl (since the OB boys could magically OB in the dream space without issue)💀

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Hey anon here

I know I will be sounding very stupid here and as much as I love being a delulu fan but I know how the bl industry works and as for a fact the entire entertainment Business for that matter, it's about engagement and fan services, I saw almost all the couples of gmmtv put stories about their dates and how they celebrated their valantine with each other but then realistically speaking I know for a fact most of it was fan service coz no way each cp in a company is dating each other so what's your take on this whole thing, also I'm not saying they are faking it or something like if some of them are dating then that's really good but all of them it's hard to believe

Also I'm a firstkhao fan and well as much as I wanted them to post something just to feed my delulu but then they didn't and that's so them and how many chances do you think of them dating two different people is true as I saw on fan speaking about it and I know it was for fun but then why not it's their Life after all and we are just fans who live them together

Hi anon.

So, I’m not going to say I know much about how CPs and the entertainment business work.

However, I think you are right in saying that most official CPs (and even some who are not - like Kapook and Ciize!! 😉) put up some sort of photoshoots or coupl-y type of activities (either going for dinner/sunset dates or making reels of giving each other beautiful bouquet of flower etc.) are doing a level of fanservice - be it for the fans to squeal over, promoting their upcoming series or to attract engagement to better their work prospects.

But I also feel most of these CPs are genuine friends in real-life and for them, doing these sorts of activities are fun for them. After all, you get to hang out with a close friend whom you cherish, even if you have to put up a photo (or 2) +/- video reels on your social media as an “obligatory post.”

What I do feel somehow sad for the CPs are when fans (+ media outlets) keep asking insistently “what are your plans with so and so?” - I’m pretty sure JoongDunk got asked multiple times these questions leading up to Valentine’s Day. And then asked again during their recent work event on 14/02/25 - what their Valentine’s dinner plan is? What gifts did the boys buy each other? How do you guys show each other your love? (Or something to that effect) - cause I saw Dunk (to his credit he was very professional), answering that Joong’s way to show love is by physical affection while he showed his by cooking/baking with Joong always the first one to taste his food.

Maybe I’m in the minority, but my personal opinion - if the CPs want to tell us, they can do so without anyone else badgering them about it through their social media posts at their own time and choosing.

As for FirstKhaotung (they are also my OTP 😂anon!!!)…I admit I was puzzled when the fans are disappointed about the lack of “Valentine updates” from them.

Firstly, both boys wished the fans “Happy Valentine’s Day” on Twitter (even if First was trolling us with a picture of P’Tha in the middle of him and Khaotung 🤣)

Secondly, both boys posted IG updates of them wishing the other Valentine’s Day with song choices that I could only interpret as love confession to each other… 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Thirdly, are we all that surprised the boys don’t put up videos/pictures of them giving each other flowers/chocolates? (Or doing couple photoshoots?) - I get the feeling they are just happily nesting in Khaotung’s brand new house with 3 fur babies around them while playing video games after perhaps brunch/lunch + shopping together (cause let’s be honest, that will be their version of a perfect Valentine’s Day).

So , Iike you anon - I am not surprised by the minimal Valentine posts/photos from them (in fact, I was pleasantly shocked the IG posts from them happened at all - which led me into more delulu land hahah)

As for them actually dating another person 🤷🏽‍♀️…who knows. If/when it happens, I’ll cheer them on. However, all I know is that whoever is dating First/Khaotung, will actually be dating them as a set rather than one person 😂. My head canon is that F/K going on a date with someone, and the bestie who is NOT on that date will just tag along anyway 🤸 …

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Hitch, 2005

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: It’s…. Not going great right now😂😂 things are actually hilariously bad and they’re going to get so much more worse before they’re better. I apologize to my friends and people who read my work because I haven’t been talking to anyone or putting anything out and like it all around just kinda ✨sucks✨ so I’m sorry, anyway I hope you guys like this one!

Eddie fixes his tie in the mirror, a freaking tie. He isn’t sure why he agreed to this, actually when Buck legitimately got on his knees and begged him to do this double date with him and Tommy he didn’t really have a choice. 

It was Valentine’s Day and Tommy had gotten them a reservation at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, he’d pulled some strings, called in a couple of favors, and got him and Buck a rooftop terrace gardeny type shit exclusive table! 

And then his little sister popped in for a visit. 

No matter how hard she begged to stay home, Tommy roped her into coming anyway because there was no way he was leaving her alone on Valentine’s Day. As much as Buck wanted a romantic dinner, he wanted to include her more. So Tommy called and asked for a table for four instead, and they agreed to it. 

Which is when Buck came to Eddie’s door, crying and pleading for him to come with them and that he’d pay for absolutely everything. 

And how could he pass up a free meal? 

“Make sure you grab the flowers” Buck comes up next to him, messily tying his tie, and Eddie smirks.

“I will” 

“And remember, she’s shy okay? So try not to be so…. I don’t know, really sexy Mexican guy! Try to be like…conventionally attractive but easy-going” 

Eddie yanks the end of Buck’s tie and he makes a weird hacking noise. 

“Would you just relax? I know you’re worried about being weird in front of Tommy. But he loves you, Buck, he already knows you’re weird” 

“Oh haha you’re so funny” He sticks his tongue out “Besides, It’s…it’s not him I’m worried about” 

“So what is it?” Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror and Buck grabs the comb right out of his hands and starts fixing the sides of his hair 

“That’s his sister. And not just any sister, his little sister! Her opinion means a lot to him. Her opinion is the law! What if she doesn’t like me? What if that’s why she didn’t want to come?? What if she already hates me?” 

He stares into the mirror, spiraling and thinking about all the things that could go wrong and Eddie shakes his head, leaning against the vanity and smiling. 

“You know none of that’s gonna happen right?” 

“Even the part where there’s an elephant stampede because I tripped over the gate and he gets trampled to death and she blames me and I go to jail for involuntary manslaughter???” 

Eddie has to take a slow, deep breath. He lets his head tilt back and he quietly counts to five before turning back to him and putting his hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Especially, that part Buck.” 

The doorbell rings a half hour later and Buck lets out a weird gurgling noise and jumps off the couch. 

“I’m not ready!! " he calls out while running back to the bedroom, and Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch.

“You are ready so get your shit together so we aren’t late!” 

He opens the door, expecting to see Tommy there but he’s a little surprised when he has to look down.

Well, fuck. 

Tommy is coming up the walkway with two stupid-sized bouquets and you’re standing at the door, your hands laced behind your back. But that’s not what gets his attention, no it’s you. 

He can tell those shoes are new from the way they shine, like gorgeous red rubies. They wrap around your ankles and have precious little bows on the backs of them. His eyes trail over your full figure and the way the little black dress hugs your body, he can feel a pull in the pit of his stomach at the way the square neck pushes your breasts together and he likes the way the bow in your hair matches the bow on your shoes. 

“Hi,” He says, and…he knows he’s been caught staring by the way a pretty blush appears on your cheeks you look away from him and he doesn’t even bother hiding the blush on his cheeks.

“Hi,” you mumble and he melts at how soft and sweet your voice is. He’s so busy trying to remember his own name that he doesn’t notice Tommy coming up behind you, or the way his jaw sets just a little. 

“Eddie? You gonna let us in??” 

“Oh uh- shit yeah sorry. I - sorry. Anyway, welcome to my home” He steps aside, ushering you both in and you come in, your shoes thudding softly against the hardwood and sending a thrill through his body.

“You have a nice place,” You say, looking at the photos of friends and family he has lining the cabinet in the entryway he smiles and runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Thanks… I uh- tried to clean up a bit when I heard you two were coming to pick us up”

“Speaking of,” Tommy looks around “Where’s my Evan?” 

You gag a little and Eddie immediately decides he likes you… even if you know he’d already decided that the second he saw you.

“He’s in the spare - sorry he’s in “his” room. He’s kinda nervous” 

“Why would he be nervous?” Tommy’s tone is immediately worried and Eddie gives a little nod toward you. 

“Oh. I’ll be right back” he hands Eddie one of the bouquets and chuckles 

“From us, to you, our Valentine” He winks and kisses his cheek and Eddie gives him a side hug 

“Thanks, man, happy Valentine’s Day, and thank you for dragging me along” 

“It was our pleasure!” 

Tommy heads back to Buck’s room, leaving you two alone and that’s, fun. You stand in the middle of the room awkwardly for a minute, your hands clasped behind your back. 

“So uh-“ he clears his throat, toying with one of the roses “I didn’t know Tommy had a sister. Where are you from?” 

He gestures for you to follow him to the kitchen and you do, he hesitates for a second, deciding to just be forward, and grabs your hips, helping you get up onto the counter next to the sink. You squeak when he lifts you, his fireman’s strength is no joke and he smirks a little before kneeling to look under the cabinet for a vase. You bite your lip when he unbuttons the cuffs and folds them up, he winks and your cheeks light on fire. You clear your throat and look anywhere but him.

“I was born in Minnesota before I was shipped off to my grandmothers and moved here to California. After she died I was put into foster care where Tommy’s family adopted me. He was already 18 when they got me so we weren’t together for very long, but he was the sweetest big brother ever” 

Eddie listens to your story, staring into the glass while it fills with water. That explained the sun-kissed brown skin, the rich honey color he wanted to drag his tongue over and leave pretty bruises behind. 

“Eddie?? I think that’s enough water” 

He blinks a couple of times and comes back to the water overflowing from the vase and spilling over his hands. 

“Shit” He curses quietly and shuts off the tap, he shakes out his hand and pours out a little bit. You hand him the flower food with a little snicker and he sticks his tongue out before pouring it in and grabbing some shears from the drawer next to him. 

“Just keep a pair of clippers on hand huh?” You look at them and he rolls his eyes, pruning the bottoms 

“You wait until May” He nods his head toward the window and you turn to look out “That garden is gonna be sprouting”

“May huh? I’ll make sure to plan a visit down here” 

You help him arrange the roses in a comfortable silence, he gives your thigh little nudges and you poke him back with the toe of your heels. He’s smiling the entire time and every time he looks up so are you. Even your teeth are pretty to him, which, is weird okay it sounds weird but you have pretty teeth. You have naturally pouty lips and a cute button nose… you’re just too much for him and nothing even happened yet. 

“I wonder what’s taking them so long” You work off a thorn and drop the stem in the vase and he scoffs. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know. I’m gonna have to like, burn those sheets” 

You giggle as he makes a face and gags then grabs a towel to dry his hands with

“What was Buck so nervous about anyway? Tommy said he was pretty outgoing” 

Eddie takes your hands, drying them for you and taking extra care to dry off your rings too 

“He’s actually nervous about meeting you, don’t tell him I told you.” Eddie sets the towel down and places his hands on the counter on either side of your thighs, you lean back a little against the cabinets as you think 

“Why in the world would he be nervous about meeting me?? Im- me!!” You hold your arms out and Eddie smiles, leaning in a little closer and you’ve got nowhere to run. Just the way he likes it. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know you’re “you” yet. He just wants to impress you… he’s really into Tommy. I’ve never seen him this serious before, not to mention he’s literally never mentioned you before, at least not to me. I for sure would have remembered you” 

You blush a little as you look into those deep brown eyes, you turn your head to look away and pretend to look at the ceiling. 

“You uh- would have remembered me? Why do you say that?” You mumble and look down quickly, playing with the hem of your dress. Eddie hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Oh, I’d remember everything he told me about a gorgeous little thing like you” You feel his hand on your thigh, he just lightly places it there and your heart skips a beat. His eyes trail shamelessly over the glittery body oil you’d accentuated your look with and he wonders slightly if you taste as good as you look. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” 

Is he laying it on thick? Oh yeah definitely. But it’s Valentine’s Day and he’s got a pretty girl on his counter, who’s shy and quiet and it’s making his confidence shoot through the roof. Every giggle, every blush, every word he pulls from you is a win in his book. 

“Hmm no I don’t think you have” you mutter coyly and it takes everything in him not to just kiss you. He can just feel Tommy throwing him into the nearest body of water already. 

“You are positively,” He kisses your hand 

“Wonderfully” He kisses your nose 

“Stunningly” He kisses your forehead 

“Beautiful” 

His eyes flit down to your lips and he’s sure you can hear his heart slamming in his chest. The rhythm matches yours when your eyes find his lips as well. He’s smirking when you look into his eyes again and you lean forward just the littlest bit, giving him all the permission he needs.

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips hover mere inches from yours, you can feel the warmth of his breath splashing over your cheeks and you’re ready, you’re seriously going to kiss this God of a man you’ve only known for about 45 minutes and absolutely nothing in your body is telling you to stop.

Beat that Disney.

“Hey guys we’re ready to-“

“Jeez- Evan what-“ 

Buck stops hard when walking into the kitchen and Tommy smacks into him. He whirls around fast and pushes against his chest. 

“Sorry I realized I wasn’t done” 

He wraps his arms around his neck and you and Eddie can hear the sound of Buck giving him the nastiest kiss. Eddie helps you down from the counter and you slap your hands over your ears. 

“MY BRAINNNN” you scream dramatically and melt into Eddie’s chest and he holds you against him, hoping you can’t feel the way he appreciates your tits pressed into his chest 

“THE HORROR” He wails with you and you both hear Tommy laugh. He comes around the corner with Buck in tow, who’s blushing like a madman while giving Eddie an extremely pointed look.

Because he wants his friend to get it but can he please not get it when he has to meet his boyfriend’s sister for the first time? 

Tommy leads him over to you and Eddie where apparently you’ve found yourself very comfortably sticking to, your arms are around his waist and he’s got his arms on your shoulders now.

“Am I interrupting something?” He blinks plainly, his face a completely blank slate and you pull away from Eddie, swallowing thickly and giving him a little smile

“We were just consoling each other over the loss of our sanity” 

“Uh-huh”

The playful smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Eddie knows he’s semi fucked. But he looks at you and the way that dress clings to your hips… and he doesn’t care if he’s royally fucked as long as it’s a chance with you. 

“Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet. Y/N, this is my boyfriend, Evan.” 

Buck comes around and holds out his hand and you let go of Eddie, reaching for it.

“It’s just Buck, but it’s really nice to meet you” he shakes your hand vigorously and Tommy wraps his arms around his waist, grabbing his wrist calmly. 

“She wants to keep her arm babe” 

You giggle as he releases your hand, with a light blush on his cheeks “Sorry I- I’m just kinda nervous I guess” 

“You don’t need to be” Your smile seems to calm him down a bit and Tommy feels him finally start to relax “I’ve been really excited about meeting you, my brothers told me so much about you!” 

“Hopefully all good things” Buck’s voice cracks a little and Eddie snorts, earning a glare from him 

“Of course! I think all the jobs you’ve had are really cool” You smile up at him and Eddie knows that’s the exact moment Buck falls in love with you, he smiles back at you, and kind of bends down to your height a little 

“Why thank you, I’ve learned a lot over the years. Shall we?” He holds his arm out and you take it, giggling as he leads you out the kitchen and Tommy looks over at Eddie 

“Did she just steal my date???” 

“I’m pretty sure she just stole your entire evening” 

Much to everyone’s dismay, it turns out that you and Buck get along really freaking well. He decides to sit in the backseat with you and you’re literally whispering in each other’s ear the entire way to the restaurant. You’re both snickering and trying to hold back full laughs, and every time Tommy catches Buck’s eye in the mirror he snorts and you both have to try and keep it in.

He’s immediately regretting introducing you two. 

Eddie watches you in the mirror occasionally and he knows that it’s stupid, and it doesn’t make sense and you literally almost kissed. But he’s jealous of the way you lean into Buck’s side when he tells you something stupid, he’s jealous of the way you fall all over him every time you can’t help but burst laughing and he’s jealous of the completely innocent way that Buck’s hand occasionally brushes your bare thighs. 

Tommy pulls up to the valet and gets out, he opens the door for Buck with a little glare and Buck just snorts, he puts his hand on his hip, pulls him a little closer, and kisses him and Tommy’s grumpy attitude vanishes. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day” He whispers. 

Eddie opens your door for you and you hop out, brushing the front of your dress out a little, you take a step to the side and he puts his arm around your waist and shuts the door.

“You two have a good laugh?” 

“Sure did! We started a secret club, we’re gonna make a handshake for it later” 

“Of course you did” 

Once inside, the four of you are led up to the roof and your mouth drops open as soon as the elevator doors open. This place is set up like it’s straight out of a movie, from the fairy lights strung up around the perimeter to the rose petals creating a walkway to a table set with candles, a bottle of champagne on ice, and probably the fanciest napkins you’ve ever seen in your life.

The live music is a punch to the gut, the violins really bring on the waterworks. This is beautiful, this is trying to deeply impress someone level, and as you look up at Buck, watching him pull Tommy in for a shy kiss with little tears pricking in the corner of his eyes… you turn to Eddie, who’s already whispering to the man who’d brought you upstairs and you know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

Tommy and Buck are in their own world for a minute and Eddie tugs on your elbow to pull you to the side. 

“So there’s a cancellation and a table open downstairs” 

“Oh thank god”

“I know right?! Do you see how romantic this is?!” 

“Yes!!” you gesture wildly “How could he think it was okay to bring us?!” 

“What was he thinking?!” 

“What’s going on you two?” Tommy turns to look at you and Eddie, who is currently slowly backing up toward the elevator and leaving you to break it to him 

“Eddie and I got a table downstairs” You glare back at Eddie and he winks 

“You guys what? No, it’s okay, Buck, and I want you here” 

Eddie now grabs your waist and slowly backs you up with him. You place your hands over his and shake your head 

“I love you so much Tommy and it was so sweet of you guys to invite us along… but this is for you okay? This needs to be about you two. You and Buck are gonna have an amazing time” 

“I-if you’re sure?” He runs a hand uneasily through his hair and behind him, Buck clasps his hands together pleading with the two of you to get lost

“Oh we’re so sure” Eddie laughs and pulls you into the elevator with him “You two have fun!” 

Buck wraps his arms around Tommy’s waist and pulls him into his chest 

“We will!! Hey uh, Eddie? You want me to send you money for an Uber?” 

“Yea, don’t worry Tommy I’ll take care of y/n tonight!” 

“Wait I’m not so su-“

The doors close and you slump against Eddie who slumps against the wall 

“…So that would have been so weird” 

“Kyle” hits the ground floor button and you throw your hands in the air 

“That’s what we’re saying!!!”

It turns out Eddie is wonderful company, he’s got you laughing and you’ve got him snorting into his champagne glass and trying not to laugh like an idiot and disturb everyone around you. 

The table you’d gotten is tucked into a corner next to the window, you can see the busy L. A street as they start to calm down, it’s a cozy little table, and incredibly romantic. Eddie moved your chair right next to his when he pulled it out for you and you blushed at the intimate proximity he’d created. As if going to a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day could have been any more intimate than it already was. 

“Oh my god” Eddie is trying not to choke on champagne and you’re sinking into your chair with your hands over your face, trying to stifle the giggles. You’d told the most embarrassing Tommy story you knew. The time he’d gotten locked out of the locker room at work and had to run to find the chief in just a towel. His coworkers had sent you a ton of pictures that Eddie now owned as well. 

You’re both wiping tears from your eyes when you finally sit up and clear your throat, Eddie holds his sides, still giggling and you reach for the nearly empty bottle of champagne and refill your glasses. You put his up to his lip and he takes a small sip before taking it from you.

“Good girl” He winks and you feel your cheeks turn pink, you’re hoping he doesn’t notice it, maybe just thinks it’s the champagne. But you can see the twinkle in his eye when he notices you squeeze your thighs together just slightly and he slowly sets your drink down. 

“So, we’ve made fun of Tommy. We’ve made fun of Buck… I don’t know how I got mixed in, but I did. But you know what?” He runs the tip of his finger along the rim of his glass 

“We haven’t really talked much about you” 

“Me? What about me?” You feel a little uneasy and he reaches under the table, placing a hand over yours 

“Oh! I just wanted to get to know you, you know? It’s nice to make new friends. I’ve always made them easily, it’s just keeping them I sometimes have problems with”

“Oh?” You tilt your head and he laces your fingers together and puts his arm over the back of your chair 

“Sometimes I get in my own head you know? I don’t let people in… and that’s kind of left me alone more often than not” 

Your heart breaks for him and you smile softly 

“Whaddaya wanna know?” 

“How about we start easy?” He smiles back “You have any pets?” 

That gets your attention and you perk up, turning toward him 

“I’m so glad you asked that” 

You pull out your phone and excitedly show him pictures of your rabbit, Saturn. He fawns all over her immediately, the sweet little brown bunny seems to be the star of your life and he absolutely eats it up. 

You show him video after video and he makes you send him pictures of her and nearly convinces you to take him to Tommy’s house when he finds out that she’s there right now.

“Bro” you shake your head as he stares into her little black eyes “There’s no way in hell we’re going back to Tommy’s tonight” 

“But- bunny” He holds your phone up with a little pout and you coo at his sweet face and lean over to kiss his nose.

“Aww Pobrecito” You squish his face and he leans into your palms “Tomorrow! I promise”

You’re not sure when the conversation turned kind of naughty, but you can’t help but cackle at all his stupid dirty jokes. Maybe it was when you were telling him about the size of the cucumber you’d grown… or maybe it was when you said you would deep-throat a whole-ass mango if you could because they were your favorite.

Either way, Eddie is whispering dirty things into your ear and whilst they may be funny… they’re beginning to start a fire in your belly. 

“I’m so serious, I found out in the worst way possible that Buck is packin’ okay?” He gags a little and you nod along deliriously, trying not to snort 

“What about you huh?” You say playfully, nudging his shoulder and he stops a little, looking into your hazy eyes, and smirks 

“Wouldn’t you like to know” 

“We’re friends, right? Friends share dick sizes Eddie they just do” 

“You know… you’re not the first person to say that to me” 

You turn and laugh into his shoulder and he laughs with you, holding you closer and running his fingers down your arm 

“Hey! That tick-“

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he places your hand over his cock, you look up at him and he strokes your palm against it. You gasp as it hardens underneath your fingertips and you swallow thickly feeling just how large he is

“Any other questions baby girl?” 

You shake your head fast and he smirks, before leaning down and placing a kiss on your neck.

“Well, I have one or two. Can I ask ‘em?”

You nod and he lets go of your hand, grinning when you leave it on his cock, and slides his hand up your torso and over your chest. 

“Do you like wearing necklaces?” You feel his fingers splay across your throat before wrapping around it squeezing lightly. He likes the little cross-eyed expression on your face when you gasp out for air. 

“Well?” He squeezes a little to get your attention and you come back to him 

“Uh-huh” 

“Oh good, so do I! I have this very nice gold chain my tia gave me when I was maybe 15” 

You’re hardly listening to him, you’re really more focused on the hand around your throat and the way he squeezes lightly, just enough to make you dizzy and send the champagne buzzing happily down between your legs.

“You ready to get out of here?” He asks you quietly and all you can do is stare at him. He chuckles lightly and lets go of you, but keeps the hand on your neck.

“Hey, sugar? You in there?” 

You blush and nod at him, something that was apparently the only freaking thing you could do this entire night and he smiles. 

“Alright cool, I’ll order our Uber” 

A half-hour later, you and Eddie stumble your way out to the Uber, he keeps his arm around your waist tightly and you wrap your arm around his neck. 

He’d done what he’d seemed to be doing all night and did another 180, acting like the last half hour of your conversation hadn’t even happened, now he was back to telling his corny dad jokes. 

He had a stupid amount of fire jokes. 

He opens the door for you and you fall in, taking him with you. You both erupt in giggles and he helps you up and swings your legs into the car. He flops into the car and you pull him in awkwardly climb over him and shut the door. 

“Are you both in?” Your driver, Milo chuckles and you give him a little thumbs up over the back of the seat 

“We’re in!!” 

“Is it too much to ask you to buckle up?” 

You look at Eddie in a heap underneath you and at the seatbelts

“Uhhhh I think we can try. We can try right?” 

“We can try” Eddie agrees and you get off of him and sit awkwardly in your seat. Eddie gets on his hands and knees and reaches for your belt, he pulls it way too far out and tries to click it in. He spends a good 30 seconds just trying to get it in the buckle and by then you’re losing it. 

“Shut up! Shut- up!! Im close” 

“That’s what she said” you cackle and he smacks your thigh. You hear Milo upfront snicker and you squeal. 

“See!! He thinks I’m funny!!!” 

“Oh yeah you’re just a barrel of laughs” Eddie pulls away and his face is so close to yours, that you can feel his breath fan across your face, and smell the peach champagne on his lips. His eyes flit down to yours and you’re right back in the same position from earlier. 

Only no annoying brother is going to interrupt you… 

You scoot forward and he easily clips himself into the middle seat

“We’re ready,” he says distractedly and the car starts moving. He moves your legs into his lap and you slowly wrap your arms around his neck 

“This is cozy,” You say quietly and he runs his hand over your thigh, squeezing lightly 

“Very cozy” 

“Can we…can we do something” You whisper and he smirks, running his hand under your dress and higher up your thighs 

“You into voyeurism sweet girl?… didn’t really peg you as the type” 

You punch him in the chest and he leans his head down and laughs into your shoulder 

“That’s not what I meant!!! I just…I wanted to make out” you mumble as your cheeks turn pink and Eddie pulls away to look at you again

“Sorry, honey I don’t think I quite heard that, you wanna run it by me again?”

Your cheeks burn right through to the freaking bone and you roll your eyes 

“I said… do you want to make out” You say it a little louder and he grins wickedly 

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask”

He closes the distance between you, finally capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's not gentle or sweet like you’d been expecting- no, this kiss is hungry and demanding, full of all the pent-up desire he's been feeling since he first laid eyes on you since Tommy had interrupted what was gonna be your first kiss.

He kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to like you’re the air he needs to breathe. His tongue laps at your mouth, exploring every inch of you, wanting to claim you as his own. He nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before kissing you again.

You try to keep up with him, with his roaming hands and absolutely sinful tongue but it’s almost too much, and soon you’re moaning as he wraps his hand around your neck, pinning you against the door, and takes what he wants from you. 

His fingers slide higher and higher and you just feel them brush teasingly against your panties when the car suddenly comes to a stop. 

“Here we are!” 

To his credit, Milo kept the music sort of loud and the windows down to drown out the noises you were making, that Eddie totally was eating up and egging you on more and more. He pulls away from you, admiring your kiss-swollen lips and the dazed look in your eyes. 

“Let’s get you inside Princess”

“Thank you for tonight… I wouldn’t have minded staying alone, but this was really nice” 

Eddie has his arm over the back of the couch, his hand is laid on your thigh and you smile up at him, leaning back against the couch. He takes a sip of his champagne and sets the glass down on the coffee table. You’d both sobered up a bit after your make-out session and decided to keep the party going back at his place, it was nice to just relax and let go.

Even if it drove Eddie crazy the way you shyly came into his home and said you needed to use the bathroom and managed to hide away from him for a good 15 minutes just to gather yourself. He’d taken the liberty of setting out more drinks and impatiently waited for you to come back to him. 

“I should be thanking you, you’re a lot of fun to be around… how long are you staying in town?” 

“As long as Tommy wants me around, I’m sure he’ll get sick of me at some point” You hand Eddie your glass and he puts it down next to his 

“If he kicks you out you’re welcome here, I’ve got a spare room” His fingers trail over your thigh and you blush, scooting a little closer to him. Strawberry champagne looks good on you, he thinks as he watches your cheeks turn pink.

“Wanna see it? You know, decide if you’d even like to hang out here?” 

“Sure!” 

Eddie gets up from the couch and reaches out for you, he takes your hands and squeezes them before pulling you up into his chest. You stumble a little and giggle and he cups your face. 

“You okay?” 

“Just a little tipsy” You hum, leaning against him and he smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, enjoying the way your pretty eyelashes fluttered closed for a second 

“Yeah… I know what you mean” he leans down and kisses your eyelids, your breath fans across his face lightly and he bites his lip, looking down at yours. 

“Come on…” he squeezes your hand and leads you back to the spare room. He flicks on the lights and you peek around his shoulder, it’s painted a very pale blue and the linens match the curtains. 

“My Tia helped with decorating” he answers your questioning look and you step into the room, doing a little spin and walking over to the large full-length mirror.

“I like it, it’s nice” 

Eddie stands behind you and you look at him in the mirror, you shudder and sigh softly when his warm hands cup your shoulders. His fingers dance over your skin, down your arms, and turn you around to face him. 

“Nice huh? You haven’t even tried the bed, what if you don’t like it?”

“Oh that’s true…”

He walks backward, taking you with him, and sits down on the bed. You stall for a second before climbing into his lap and straddling him. He holds your hips and you place your hands on his chest, slowly pushing him down.

Eddie grins, running his thumbs over your hips and you smirk 

“It kinda looks like you’re the one trying to bed right now” 

“Hmmm… yeah I guess you have a point. We should fix that” 

He rolls over with you and settles between your thighs, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you 

“You know? This isn’t actually that bad, like this bed is super comfy” 

“S’why I picked it” 

You let out a soft moan, feeling his lips connect with your neck. He swirls his tongue, tasting your buttery soft skin, and moans with you. You start to work at the buttons on his shirt and he smirks, sucking on your pulse point while your fingers shake. 

“Aren’t you an eager little thing?” He teases, and you feel his hands on your thighs, pushing your dress up around your hips 

“Uh-huh, you’re sure talkin’ a whole lotta shit for someone who got me into their bed” 

“Why don’t we both be whores?” 

You toss your head back and laugh and he snickers against your neck and rolls his hips against yours and you both groan. He reaches down and you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling. 

“What’re you doing?” You whisper and he kisses your cheek 

“I don’t want to ruin these pants, getting suits cleaned isn’t that easy”

You snicker and prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him pull away for a minute and shuck off his pants, he leaves them on the chair in the corner for a second and you giggle, watching him take off his shirt too. 

He comes back over, taking your ankle and kissing the inside of it. He trails kisses down your thigh and starts to bend down, settling your thighs over his shoulders. 

“I plan on taking my time with you pretty girl… wanna take you on dates, wanna see these pretty, thick thighs splayed across my front seat”

He buries his face between your legs, nudging his nose against your soaked panties, and inhales slowly, he drags his tongue over the pathetic patch of cotton and sucks on them.

“So fucking good” He grinds his hips into the bed and you arch your back and push his face closer. He looks up at you and hooks his finger in your panties like he’s giving you the option to tell him to stop.

But the blissed-out look on your face and the hazy shade to your eyes just spurs him on. He pulls them away, moaning at the sticky tendrils that come with them and before you can even react to the cool air he’s already on you. 

He eats you like a man starved and you cry out, putting your hand on his head and tugging on his hair. 

“Jesus you taste even better than I ever imagined” 

He moans into your pussy and brings a hand up to hold onto your thigh, keeping it over his shoulder and pressing soft kisses against your skin. He looks up at you, holding your gaze with smoldering eyes and you can practically feel the gush between your legs 

“You wanna ride my face baby? Wanna feel you grind that pretty little cunt on my lips until you cum” 

“O-oh my-“

Before you can even respond you’re shrieking as he rolls you both over. He purposely wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you in place so you can't run, even when you try. He slaps your ass and you jolt, making him moan underneath you. 

“Come on Sugar, use me”

It’s the way his voice breaks when he says that, the little hint of a desperate whine that drives you to move your hips. You grip his hair and let your head fall forward, you gasp out and he hums between your legs. 

“That’s it baby” He coaxes “Grab it like you mean it” 

You pull his hair harder and he groans appreciatively

Eddie leans in and places a soft kiss right on your clit, his tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His hands squeeze your ass, helping to guide your movements as he encourages you and you’re lost on him. You haphazardly reach for the headboard and brace yourself as you grind on his face. He moans beneath you and spreads your cheeks enough to drag his thumb over your puckered hole. 

“Whaaat the fuck are you doing??” You keep rolling your hips and brushing your clit against his nose, you can feel his finger on you but you’re too hot and flustered to pay too much attention to what he’s doing, besides whatever he’s doing feels good anyway 

He makes a muffled answer kind of noise because it's not like he can exactly answer you for real at the moment, but you get the gist of his “just let it happen” When his tongue swirls sinfully through your folds and your back is arching deeper against his mouth. 

“E-Eddie wait I’m gonna cum please let me down please pl-“

Eddie drags your hips away from his mouth just enough to glare at you

“I came here prepared to drown Y/N. I’m a firefighter, you think I can’t handle gushing water?” 

You bark out a laugh and he shoves you back over his mouth and you shriek, your hands reaching out for the headboard and he smacks your ass, squeezing your full cheeks in his hands. He moans underneath you and pushes his fingers inside you at the same time and you finish, your hips grinding down on his mouth while he drinks your juices.

Your head falls back with a soft opened mouth gasp, stars exploding behind your eyes. He works his fingers in and out of your ass while sucking hard on your clit and you reach down with one hand, trying to push him away. 

“S-stop!” You writhe on his mouth and he hooks his arm around your waist, pinning you down to him so you can’t get away from him. He works you through another earth-shattering orgasm and you slump forward against the headboard, crying into it as your thighs shake around his face. 

He pulls his fingers away and pushes you down off his mouth, gasping loudly while reaching for your waist to steady himself. 

“Jesus fucking Christ you taste good” He licks at the wetness on your torso and you whine and try to shuffle back down his body. He snickers and keeps you sat on his chest for a bit, rubbing his face against your breasts and you flick his forehead. 

“Quit being a perv and let me go!” 

He rolls his tongue over your nipple and you shudder when he bites down gently, sucking it between his lips.

“Cállate, corazón” 

Your mouth drops open and he chuckles, pulling away with a wet pop! And bringing you down his torso like you’d asked 

“Did you just tell me to shut up??” You narrow your eyes when he brings you face-to-face with him

“No? I don’t know what you’re talking about” 

He turns you both over and wraps his arms tightly around you then nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your lingering perfume and the distinct scent of sex that clings to your body. 

“I feel like you’re lying” You look at his closed eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. 

“Shhhh, go to sleep” 

He blindly runs his hand down your face and you groan, batting at his hands and snuggling into his chest. 

“Asshole” You mumble and he places a soft kiss on your shoulder

“Mhmmm sure am” 

Eddie rolls over the next morning, reaching for you but he comes up with an empty bed. His eyes pop open and sure enough, you aren’t there, he sits up slowly, wiping at his eyes and sighing as he reaches for his phone. Buck has sent at least 25 texts… because that’s just him and Tommy has left a couple, asking about you how you’re doing, and when he should come get you.

He answers those ones first, telling him that he’ll bring you home later and that he and Buck should enjoy their day together, then he wades through the smut Buck sent him.

Wow! He’s so glad he could know Tommy’s EXACT size. 

A little knock at the door gets his attention and he looks up 

“Come in??” 

You push open the door with your shoulder and he holds back a groan. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, it sticks to your curves and doesn’t quite fit over your hips. It stretches across your breasts and he can see your dark nipples through the white fabric. 

“H-hi” he awkwardly shifts a pillow into his lap, watching you bring a tray into the bedroom. 

“I made you breakfast, it was the least I could do after you let me stay the night…” 

You set the tray down, breakfast for two and he takes it so you can climb into bed with him. 

“Personally I feel like the eating I did last night was payment enough but whatever, not that any thanks were necessary” 

You whack his chest and he snickers and wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you, this was really nice of you” He nuzzles his nose into your neck and you blush, trying to push him away. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eat your pancakes!” 

He pushes your hands down and holds them in place while he kisses your neck. 

“No really! This was sweet of you princess” He growls and you melt a little, your cheeks flushing. 

“Sooo sweet and domestic of you” He mumbles in your ear, nipping at your lobe “My good girl got her pussy eaten… so she made me breakfast” 

Your jaw drops and your mouth gapes open and shut while you try and process his freaking sentence. 

“I- no that’s- no I”

“That’s a little submissive of you don’t you think? You want me to tell you how proud I am of you?” He trails his fingers over your arm and your eyes nearly pop out of your head 

“You did such a good job baby girl, these look so good. I bet you just put your whole heart into it didn’t you?” 

You blink slowly, processing what just happened and definitely not processing why it stoked a very distinct fire in your belly. He finally pulls away and cuts out a piece from the stack, he falls back into the pillows as he chews and moans. 

“Dude what the fuck” He takes another bite and does a little happy wiggle “These are good” 

“It's a family recipe” You breathe out, coming back down from Neptune and into the adorable two-bedroom home, where you’re currently sharing a bed with a sort of stranger who took his time with you last night. 

“Buck is basically my brother, and Tommy is his boyfriend and they’re probably gonna get married so I really feel like that makes me family” 

“Or you could just marry me” You snort take the other fork and dig in 

“I was gonna say that, but I thought it would freak you out” He cheeses and it makes you roll your eyes 

“Right…right because whatever you just pulled on me wasn’t going to freak me out, but you know asking me to marry you after the first date? That’s crazy” 

“See! Now you’re getting it!” 

He holds a piece of bacon up to your mouth and you narrow your eyes and take a bite, you reach out for your juice and he grabs it for you, tilting it up to your lips.

“I can-“

“I know you can. I want to do it for you” 

There’s no room for argument and you sip it, watching him watch you. His eyes trail over your jaw and down your neck, he tips the cup a little higher making you tilt your head back more to keep from drinking it too fast. He pulls the cup away slowly and looks back at you, those pretty brown eyes sparkling. 

“You know I wasn’t lying… when I said I wanted to take you out, wanted to take my time with you… or when I said you were absolutely welcome here. It wasn’t just the champagne talking”

“I know” You smile a little and look down at your eggs “I just… don’t know if it’s realistic. Last night was…good but I don’t live here Eddie, I literally live hours away” 

“So move here” He says it like it’s the easiest thing, like it’s a complete no-brainer. 

“I’m- are you joking?? Eddie, I can’t just pick up my life and come live here? That’s not… that’s not plausible”

“What’s holding you back? You already told me you didn’t have much there for you, Tommy is here, and Buck is here! And you love him already… and I mean, even if things about work between us? If there even is an us… I want to be your friend Y/N first and foremost. Even if you wanted to stop exploring whatever this?” he gestures between the two of you “Is?? I’d be happy just being your friend, and right now I’ve got the means for you to be here so… why not just take a chance?” 

You flop back in the pillows, considering what he’s said and he flies a little piece of bacon over to you again and you giggle. 

“Besides, my garden remember? I wanted you to see it in May and it’ll be a heck of a lot easier if you’re living here. Maybe we can even plant things together? Make it ours?” 

Ohhhh boy did he know how to bargain. Plants??? A garden?? It’s like he knew your heart already. 

“I can even put a nice chair out there for you, so you can read in the sun” 

He’s got this soft way with words, this really soft, really convincing… really-

“I’m gonna move here aren’t I?” 

“You can decorate this room however you want” 

“Tommy is gonna kill me” 

“You’re definitely going to have to share it with Buck” 

“Yeah I can see that” 

“But you’ll do it? You’ll move in with me?” 

Eddie is so eager to have you and it’s hard not to get excited with him, you sit back up and turn to him, and he mimics your stance, looking into your eyes in that deep way he always seems to look at you with 

“You promise that… that if things don’t work out between us… you won’t kick me out?” 

“I promise Y/N on my word, I do. I want to be your friend too honey… our relationship doesn’t have to just be whatever this is you know?” 

“Okay…okay. It would take some time to get everything together… I’d have to sell my apartment and get everything in order to be shipped here. Can I bring Saturn?? I should have asked that first, cause this ain’t goin’ nowhere if that little bunny isn’t with me”

“I’m not a monster” Eddie slaps his hand on his chest offendedly and you giggle “Of course that precious baby can come too. Hey! Why don’t we go on a date today hm? I’ll buy that little bunny whatever she needs to be comfortable here and we can get lunch” 

“I-I can’t ask you to do that” you stutter and he moves closer while pushing the tray away from you two. 

“You’re not asking, and neither am I ” 

He places his hand on your neck, gently pushing you backward onto the bed and you gulp, looking up at him. He squeezes lightly and nuzzles his face against yours then places a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“You’re going to make me very very happy  Princess. I just know it” 

You let out a shaky breath and he settles between your legs again just like last night 

“Whaddaya say princess… you want an encore?” 

You’re about to answer when your phone rings, Eddie reaches over you and grabs it, handing it to you, and then kisses his way down your body.

“Hi T-Tommy!” You take in a sharp breath as Eddie kisses the front of your panties and hooks his fingers in them 

“I have something to tell you” 

[emmg]

Swapped sugar daddy anon crawling back into ur inbox, (I am continuing to write the beginning of their relationship, and ngl my respect for fic writers has tripled. I have no idea how you do this I feel like a 5 yr old smacking 2 barbies together and yelling kiss) and apologies for how long this is but I’ve been thinking about how everything eventually blows up in their faces and I kinda want it to be a pregnancy scare in her final year? They’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, and they get a little relaxed about things, they’re exclusive and she’s on the pill so they don’t have to worry about it. Until her period is several weeks late so she takes a test just in case and suddenly they really do. And oh god she wants kids, especially Emmrich’s kids, but not right now??? She doesn’t want to have to juggle pregnancy/a baby while writing and defending her thesis. They haven’t even talked about kids yet even if she’s pretty sure he wants them? He hasn’t acknowledged her hints about marriage, is it because he doesn’t want to marry her? She’s so scared about what this means and she needs Emmrich’s support and why is he being so weird and cagey about this? Does he think she’s trying to baby trap him? (She doesn’t know but he wouldn’t mind, he’d probably say thank you)

And Emmrich is in crisis mode. Now, he is a pro choice king so whatever rook wants is what happens, but also oh god he wants this child sooo bad. He’s always wanted kids but he’d kinda given up on it at this point and add in that it’s Rooks baby? a little piece of their love made physical (Don’t think too hard about how she doesn’t really love you Emmrich). An excuse to still see her sometimes, even if it means watching her eventually move on and marry and start a family with someone else. Even if she doesn’t want to be involved he could keep this little part of her (its only for a second, but he thinks he’d give her anything she asked for, he’d pay off her student loans, he’d buy her a fucking house, if she let him have this even if she walks away from it) but she can’t know that. He’d never forgive himself if he pressured her into this no matter how much he wants it. And he realises how completely and utterly fucked he is. Rook is the love of his life but he isn’t hers and there’s no way that this can continue as it is. If she keeps the baby she’ll never really be able to leave him behind, and is he selfish enough to ruin her life like that? He’s already bought the last three years with fancy restaurants and expensive gifts, what can he possibly offer her that’s worth the rest of her life?

I’m still not 100% sure about how it all comes out but I imagine that it's probably a fight, their first big real fight, about how rook feels like Emmrich’s being avoidant and unsupportive and Emmrich is fighting for his life bc internally he’s hanging on by a thread, like why is she treating this like their relationship is actually real? He’s trying to build up some emotional distance bc no matter how this goes he’s kinda fucked and he wants to make sure that he makes it through this at least somewhat emotionally intact. I think rook eventually calls him out on this, saying something about how she thought he was serious about this, about her, how she thought they were gonna get married but how he’s acting is making her rethink that bc it doesn’t seem like he is very serious about her right now. And he says something about how of course he wants to marry her but he wouldn’t put her in that position bc he knows it would be unfair to ask her for that. And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich? And Emmrich is crying at this point, quietly and very prettily but he is crying. And this is when the misunderstanding comes out, where Emmrich is like “I know you don’t actually love me and I don’t expect you to, but I would appreciate it if we could discuss this situation without pretending that you do.” and this is when rook starts to put the pieces together and is like “wait do u think i'm only with you for your money” and Emmrich’s like “yes? Why else would you be dating me?”

I have absolutely zero ideas on how this is actually resolved but i know that emmrich 100% ugly sobs at some point. And realistically he’s probably still quite insecure about whether or not rook actually does love him but i feel like they work it out eventually and get married and are disgustingly happy together.

Also idk if they keep the baby or not, but they absolutely have at least 1 kid at some point.

BABYYYYYY I am ON MY KNEES begging you to publish this because I have read and re-read it so many times that I’m basically in a parasocial relationship with your asks. At this point, just reading your ideas is activating my primal hunger instincts. I’m starving. I am THIS CLOSE to organizing a fandom-wide intervention where we collectively cyberbully you into dropping this holy manuscript.

The way I flatlined at "pro-choice king"—like, I ascended. I left my body. LMAO

Listen, I am normally violently allergic to the "and they lived happily ever after with 2.5 kids and a suburban mortgage" trope. I break out in hives. I see it, and suddenly the book I loved turns into a mid-tier Hallmark movie where the protagonist goes from slaying demons to clutching her stomach and whispering “oh my god.” Like, girl. GIRL. No. Keep that away from me. Anyway, thanks for attending my TED Talk.

BUT. FUCKING. EMMRICH VOLKARIN. This man was engineered in a lab to be a father. He was born for it. I go absolutely rabid over the idea of him having a daughter. He is so girl-dad-coded that it’s spiritual. Rook so much as mentions her period is late, and this man is weeping.

He’s already drafting a will.

He's calling his lawyer.

He’s distributing his gold bars.

He’s making her his sole life insurance beneficiary.

"And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich?" — lmfao nah for real. What did you think these last three years were? And Emmrich does that Gob face from Arrested Development, you know the one:

I want him to cry and then I want them to fuck and then I want him to cry while they fuck. That's it, your honor.

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Synopsis: I accidentally became the Demon King’s therapist, and now I’m stuck in his castle, coaching a fire-breathing tyrant on emotional regulation. His go-to coping method is vaporizing things, but I’m trying to sell him on deep breathing instead.

Chapter 2: “Explain This… Therapy of Yours Before I Smite You.”

Sitting across from the Demon King on his ridiculously large obsidian couch which was about as comfortable as sitting on a slab of polished rock. I plastered on my best smile. Not a genuine one. More like the “please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-just-trying-my-best” kind of smile.

Zarvath leaned forward, his fiery crown flickering ominously, eyes glowing with mild suspicion. “Before we begin, mortal… I must know. What exactly is this… therapy?”

He said the word “therapy” like it was something foul he’d found floating in his soup.

“Oh! Therapy is simple!” I said with a little too much forced enthusiasm. “It’s a conversation where you talk about your feelings, and I help you manage stress and improve your well-being!”

He stared at me like I’d just suggested we dance naked under a blood moon.

“Feelings,” he repeated, his voice flat.

“Yes! Feelings. Emotions. You know… happiness, sadness, anger—”

“Anger I understand,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “But happiness and sadness are for the weak.”

Oh boy. This was going to be harder than I thought. “Well, emotions aren’t exactly about weakness or strength. They’re just part of being… alive?” I offered weakly.

Zarvath raised an eyebrow. “Why would a king such as I waste time discussing trivialities like ‘feelings’?”

I took a deep breath, trying to channel every ounce of patience I had left. If I messed this up, I’d probably end up as a tiny pile of ashes on this very couch. “Because when you bottled up emotions like anger, it can lead to impulsive decisions you might regret later. Like, say… burning down a village just because someone insulted your crown.”

His eyes narrowed. “It was a very serious insult. He called my crown ‘gaudy.’”

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. “Okay, sure, but wouldn’t it be better to calmly address the situation instead of… levelling an entire town?”

“Calmly?” Zarvath repeated, as if the word was a personal offense. He made air quotes with his claws, which was way more unsettling than it had any right to be. “You expect me to ‘calmly’ deal with such disrespect? What nonsense is this?”

I swallowed hard. Stay cool, stay cool. “Not nonsense! Emotional regulation is a real thing. It helps prevent those, uh… heat-of-the-moment choices.”

“Heat-of-the-moment?” His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “A fitting phrase, given the context.”

Okay, bad word choice. Moving on. “Right! What I mean is, imagine how powerful you’d be if you mastered your emotions. Nobody could manipulate or control you because you’d always be one step ahead.”

For a moment, Zarvath paused. His eyes gleamed with sudden interest. “So, you’re saying this… therapy… could make me even more powerful?”

I nodded quickly. “Exactly! Therapy is like… strength training for your mind. Emotional weightlifting.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his claws glinting in the dim light. “Hmm. Strength training for the mind. Fascinating.”

Then he pointed at me, his claw uncomfortably close to my face. “Continue. But be warned if this turns out to be a trick, I shall feed you to the lava serpents.”

“Got it,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up while trying not to visibly sweat. “Let’s start with something simple. How has your week been? Any recent… stressors?”

Zarvath leaned back, his massive shoulders tensing slightly. “Yesterday, my court sorcerer accidentally summoned a flaming chicken demon. It set fire to my drapes and screamed insults at me in Infernal for six hours.”

I blinked. “… Right. That sounds… challenging.” I made a note in the notebook I’d conjured out of pure panic. “And how did you respond?”

“I vaporized it,” Zarvath said, looking very pleased with himself.

I froze for a second. “Okaaaay. Um, next time, maybe we can explore a… less destructive solution?”

His eyes glowed brighter. “Less destructive? You would have me negotiate with a flaming chicken?”

“Not exactly,” I said, holding up my hands. “More like… deep breathing exercises to manage your frustration. Then you can decide the best way to handle it without instantly vaporizing things.”

“Deep… breathing?” Zarvath repeated suspiciously.

I nodded. “It’s a technique to calm your mind. Watch: inhale for four counts… hold… and exhale for four counts. Like this!” I demonstrated, breathing deeply.

Zarvath watched, unimpressed at first. Then, very reluctantly, he took a breath. The room instantly smelled like brimstone and burning wood.

He exhaled slowly. “Hmm. That wasn’t… terrible.”

I grinned. “See? Do that next time you’re about to vaporize something, and you’ll make more rational decisions.”

He nodded, clearly deep in thought. “Very well. But if deep breathing fails me, I shall return to vaporizing.”

“Deal,” I said, wiping my forehead. “Baby steps.”

As the session wrapped up, Zarvath leaned back on his throne, looking surprisingly relaxed. He still radiated doom and destruction, but it felt more like calm menace instead of raging inferno.

“You have given me much to consider,” Zarvath mused. “I feel… slightly less inclined to vaporize my enemies. Slightly.”

“That’s progress!” I said, forcing a smile. “Same time next week?”

I was halfway to the door, ready to bolt for my safety, when Zarvath raised a clawed hand. “Wait.”

I froze. “… Yes?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve decided you shall remain here. Permanently.”

“… Permanently?”

“Yes. You are now my official Mind Healer. You will reside within my castle and ensure that I do not succumb to reckless rage. If you succeed, you will be treated as a guest. Fail, and… well, let’s just say the lava serpents haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”

I swallowed hard. “Ah. Good to know. Love a job with clear expectations.”

The demons escorted me to my “room” after my session with Zarvath. I use the term room loosely because it looked more like a medieval dungeon redesigned by someone who listened to too much death metal. The walls were made of black stone, the bed was an ominous slab that could double as a sacrificial altar, and the only source of light came from a chandelier made of… bones. Actual bones.

“Enjoy your stay!” the demon guard said with a toothy grin before slamming the door shut behind me.

I stood there for a solid minute, staring at my new accommodations, my brain short-circuiting like a Wi-Fi router trying to reconnect. Then, it hit me all at once:

I AM A HUMAN. IN A DEMON REALM.

How am I supposed to survive here?! What do demons even eat? What if they eat me?! How do I pay for stuff? Do they have a demon Venmo? I’m just a therapist, not Frodo Baggins—no one trained me for this!

I started pacing. “Okay, think. You’re resourceful. You’ve binged three apocalypse survival shows. You’ve talked at least four people out of having public breakdowns at Trader Joe’s. You can do this.”

Then I noticed the giant spider on the ceiling, watching me like it was considering charging rent. I sprinted to the farthest corner of the room, hyperventilating.

“This is fine. Everything’s fine,” I whispered, trying to convince myself. But my brain was having none of it. Instead, it spiralled into worst-case scenarios:

I starve because there’s no DoorDash in the underworld.

I accidentally offend the Demon King and get sacrificed.

I survive but end up in some demonic multi-level marketing scheme.

Finally, I remembered something important: I have a degree in psychology. If I could help a client work through their fear of pigeons, I could talk myself through this. I dropped onto the suspiciously hard bed-slab and started using every coping mechanism I could think of.

Step One: Grounding Technique.

“Five things I can see,” I muttered, scanning the room. “Bones, skulls, creepy spider, weird glowing rune… and oh my god, is that a cursed doll?! Okay. Let’s skip that one.”

Step Two: Breathing Exercises.

“Inhale for four… hold for four… exhale for four,” I whispered, trying to ignore the fact that the glowing rune seemed to pulse in time with my breath. Is it breathing with me?! Weird but comforting.

Step Three: Positive Self-Talk.

“You’ve got this. You are smart, capable, and only slightly emotionally unstable. Demons respect confidence. Fake it till you make it.”

A knock on the door made me jump. A small, scaly demon poked his head in. “Your dinner, human,” he said, sliding a tray toward me. It contained a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like purple mashed potatoes and a side of… glowing green mystery meat.

“Thanks!” I said, my voice cracking slightly. After he left, I stared at the food. “Okay, new goal: survive, find coffee, and absolutely do not die.”

I took a deep breath and picked up a fork.

“This is fine,” I said again. “Totally fine.”

And for the first time all day, I almost believed it.

[pukefactory]

reader where they find out vee is able to eat tapes since she cant eat organic food perhap?

⊹⊱•••《 COMPUTER FEED 》•••⊰⊹

⍟ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring the reader discovering Vee’s strange dietary choices

⍟ Character(s): Vee Version 1 (Dandy’s World)

⍟ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

⍟ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⍟ Image Credits: Qwelver

☇ You don’t notice it at first—Vee keeps her habits to herself, and you never paid much attention to the way she handles tapes. That is, until you walk in on her casually biting into one like it’s a granola bar. She doesn’t even react to your staring, only raising a brow. “What? Never seen someone eat before?” she says, as the tape phases through her screen like a hologram, accompanied by the distinct sound of digital chewing.

☇ She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, of course—it’s completely normal to her. When you ask how long she’s been eating tapes, she shrugs. “Since always. Kinda have to, y’know. Unless you’ve got a better idea.” She tilts her head, her screen flickering slightly. “Didn’t think so.” She dismisses any further questions, clearly finding your curiosity more irritating than endearing.

☇ Vee is picky about the tapes she eats. They have to be completely clean, with no labels or smudges. The film inside must remain untouched, just like the outer casing. If they don’t meet her standards, she scoffs, flicking through a pile of them and tossing the bad ones over her shoulder without a second thought, all while you watch in confusion. She has opinions on the taste. “Pre-recorded ones are fine, but live audio’s way better,” she admits, taking another bite. “You ever try eating something that’s been sitting on a shelf for decades? Yeah. Exactly. Stale.” Of course, Vee would be particular about her food—she’s fussy about everything else. But in this case, it seems excessive. Does she care? Absolutely not.

☇ You catch her mid-snack one day, and she actually hesitates for a fraction of a second. Just a brief pause—barely noticeable—but you see her screen flicker before she recovers. “Gonna stand there gawking, or you got something to say?” She crunches down on the tape with a smirk, waiting for your response. Whatever you say doesn’t really faze her, though—she enjoys how confused it makes you and keeps you in limbo about the whole thing. It’s entertaining.

☇ She doesn’t like when people make a big deal about it. The moment someone reacts too strongly, she gets irritated. Ask too many questions, and she flips them back on you. “Why do I eat tapes? Why do you eat whatever it is you eat?” There’s an edge to her voice, like she finds the questioning mildly offensive. Maybe it’s best not to press too hard unless you want to be met with her passive-aggressive responses.

☇ She never announces it, but if you pay attention, you can tell when she’s hungry. She gets a little snippier, her replies shorter and more clipped. If she’s really hungry, her screen flickers more often. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll deal with it,” she mutters, already reaching for her crunchy tape snacks to settle her mood. If she gets too snappy, it’s usually a good idea to track down her favorite kind of tape to calm her down. And if you listen closely, there’s a faint buzzing noise emanating from somewhere in her body—almost like a stomach growling, demanding more tapes.

☇ She never says it out loud, but she appreciates that you don’t make it weird (once you get over the initial shock, anyway). When you stop acting surprised and simply hand her a tape without a word, she gives you a look—just for a second—before smirking. “Thanks.” Then she chomps down on her plastic treat like it’s the most natural thing in the world. If you manage to find spare tapes in good condition, she accepts them without hesitation, offering a rare smile before stashing them away in her room—saving them for later, when she can enjoy them in private.

[klonnieshippersclub]

Curse of the Damned

Happy Valentines Day guys! Here’s a little Klonnie treat from me to you! Some nasty witch hexed our favorite Original Hybrid and the town witch is forced to save him. A little blood sharing never hurt anyone.

Bonnie stood in the dimly lit Mikaelson mansion, flipping through her grimoire as if she wasn’t about to help Klaus Mikaelson again. She was so done with the supernatural. Something always pulled her right back in. And now? She was here to cure a monster, all because some witch decided Klaus needed a bloodlust to rival a rabid animal.

Sure, Klaus had earned plenty of his pain, but this curse? Reckless. She didn’t care what he’d done—fixing his mess wasn’t her problem. Yet, here she was, the only one who could do it. Of course. And as much as she hated it, part of her knew she didn’t have a choice.

The Mikaelson siblings—Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah—hovered around her, desperate. Klaus was locked in the dungeon, bloodlust spiraling out of control. After he’d bitten Kol (who wouldn’t stop whining about it), they called Bonnie for help. The cure was tied to her blood—the only blood that could save him.

A shiver crawled down her spine, but it wasn’t from fear. She could walk away. But she wouldn’t. Not with innocent lives at risk.

Bonnie sighed, moving to face the inevitable. So much for peace.

Her heart thudded as she stepped into the dungeon, the air cold and damp like it was trying extra hard to make this more dramatic. And there he was, chained up in the center of the room—disheveled and wild-eyed, but still devastatingly handsome.

His eyes snapped to hers the moment she entered. A smirk curved his lips as he studied her. "Ah, Bonnie Bennett," he drawled, his voice smooth despite his thirst. "I was wondering when you'd show up. You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for witches... especially those as delicious as you." 

Bonnie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn’t come to flirt, Klaus," she said dryly. "You don’t need to put on the charm to get me closer. My blood is the cure to your little curse." 

Klaus' smile widened, the hunger in his eyes flickering as he tugged at the chains. "Well, well, love. How convenient. Here I thought I’d have to woo you, but it seems my lucky day has arrived early. How generous of you to offer up your blood like that. I should be flattered, shouldn’t I?"

Bonnie shot him a deadpan look. "Yeah, sure. Just think of me as your personal blood bank. No need for the sweet talk." 

Klaus chuckled, leaning against the stone wall. "Oh, I’m not one to waste a good opportunity. And I must admit, I’ve always been a fan of your... feisty spirit. I do love a challenge." His eyes darkened with something more dangerous. "So, tell me, Bonnie. What makes you so sure I won’t just take what I need... and a little more?"

She met his gaze, her voice unwavering. "Because if you even think about it, I’ll make sure you regret it. And you’ll be locked in here forever." 

Klaus gave her an exaggerated pout. "Oh, you wound me, love. But very well, I’ll play by your rules." 

Bonnie took a step closer. "Just don’t make it weird, Klaus." 

His grin was almost predatory as he watched her approach. "You know, Bonnie, I think you’re the one making this very interesting."

"Shush. Now drink up, and let’s get this over with."

Bonnie’s breath hitched as he bent down into her space, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. He reached out, his fingers brushing the side of her face.

He tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. Bonnie gasped softly, her body betraying her. “Bonnie…” Klaus groaned, his breath warm against her skin. “I’ve never wanted something as much as I want you.”

She closed her eyes, the ache in her chest intensifying. His words, his touch—they were overwhelming. And she was powerless against it. Klaus pressed a gentle kiss against her sensitive skin before sinking his teeth in.

The bite was sharp, intense. Bonnie's eyes widened as she gripped the chains that held him. A flood of heat coursed through her veins, as his fangs pierced deeper. The need to protect, to stop him from hurting anyone else, warred with the unfamiliar, thrilling sensation of his mouth on her skin.

Klaus drank deeply, his hold on her tightening as he fed. Bonnie found herself arching slightly into his touch. There was something magnetic about the way Klaus consumed her, about the way he kissed her, about the way he worshipped her blood. 

When he finally pulled away, he yanked his arms free of the chains. His eyes were almost feral, and yet so vulnerable. His lips were stained with her blood, and Bonnie could feel the magic flowing through her, binding them together.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s done. You’re cured.”

Klaus’ voice was low, a promise in his words. “This isn’t over, Bonnie.”

[saebyeokbliss]

ALL I REALLY WANT IS YOU

chapter one

"what are you willing to do?" "anything if it's for you."

synopsis: you never wanted to be part of this world—this business built on desperation, where people come seeking hope and leave with nothing but empty promises. but working under mr. lim means you don’t get a choice. your job is simple: take calls, organize paperwork, and never get involved. but when two sisters walk into the office, carrying the weight of the past and the fight for their family on their shoulders, something shifts. you weren’t supposed to care. you weren’t supposed to listen. now, you’re starting to wonder if staying out of it is something you can really do. pairing: kang sae-byeok x fem!reader x kang no-eul warnings: violence, abuse, exploitation, trauma, kidnapping, human trafficking, emotional manipulation, poverty, gambling, debt, crime, corruption, mentions of illness, blood, injury, psychological distress, mild language, substance abuse, family separation, mentions of war, betrayal, moral dilemmas, unethical business practices

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this series!! and thank you for all the love on JMMATA!!

Lim Do-yun never asked for much—not in words, at least. His demands were implied, expectations set in stone long before you ever had the chance to question them. It was the same every morning: wake up before the sun, get dressed in something professional but not too eye-catching, and take the earliest bus to his office in downtown Seoul. The walls of that cramped, dimly lit space weren’t just where you worked—they were where you existed. Where you endured.

The air always smelled of ink and stale coffee, the scent clinging to the stacks of paperwork cluttering the desk you sat behind. It wasn’t a glamorous job. You weren’t even sure it counted as a real job, considering the only reason you were here was because Do-yun hadn’t given you much of a choice.

"It’s experience," he had said when you first started, sliding a pile of documents toward you without so much as glancing up. "You’re studying business, aren’t you? Think of this as practice."

Practice. Right. Because working as an assistant for a man who made his living exploiting desperate people was exactly the kind of future you had in mind.

But you didn’t argue. You never did.

Instead, you sat at that desk every day, answering calls, organizing files, making sure his schedule was in order. You watched as people came and went, their faces etched with worry, desperation, sometimes even anger. You knew better than to get involved. You were just the assistant—just the girl sitting behind the desk, pretending not to hear the whispered negotiations, the thinly veiled threats.

And when your shift ended, you packed up your things and left, heading straight to Seoul National University like none of it had ever happened.

You had worked too hard to get into SNU to let this job consume you. You told yourself that every time you sat in a lecture hall, surrounded by students who had never known what it was like to struggle, who had never been forced to live two lives at once. They talked about investments and startups, about ambitions that stretched sky-high. You listened, nodding along, pretending that your own aspirations hadn’t already been decided for you.

You were studying business—more specifically, finance. Numbers made sense. They weren’t unpredictable like people, didn’t come with hidden motives or unspoken debts. If you could just hold out a little longer, get through school and graduate, you could find a way out. A way to leave Do-yun and his world behind.

But for now, you were here.

And here, in this world of hushed conversations and unspoken rules, you had no choice but to play along.

"Cheol!"

The moment Kang Sae-byeok stepped into the visiting room, her little brother looked up from where he sat at a small table, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of happiness and relief. He scrambled out of his chair, nearly knocking it over in his rush to get to her. No-eul, standing just behind Sae-byeok, barely had time to brace herself before he barreled into both of them, his thin arms wrapping tightly around their waists.

"You came," he mumbled into Sae-byeok’s coat, his voice muffled.

"Of course, we did," Sae-byeok said, running a hand through his dark hair. "What, did you think we'd forget about you?"

Cheol shook his head, but he didn’t let go. No-eul crouched down slightly, placing a hand on his back. "You okay, buddy?"

There was a pause. Then, slowly, Cheol pulled away, looking down at the floor. His small hands clenched at the hem of his sweater.

"Some kids were saying stuff," he muttered. "That I’ll never leave here. That I’m gonna be stuck in this place forever."

Sae-byeok’s stomach tightened.

"Who said that?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"It doesn’t matter," Cheol mumbled, kicking at the scuffed tile floor. "They’re probably right anyway."

No-eul sighed, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Hey. Look at me."

Cheol hesitated before lifting his gaze to meet hers. His eyes—so much like their father’s, so much like Sae-byeok’s—were filled with something that made No-eul’s chest ache.

"You’re not going to stay here forever," she said firmly. "We’re going to get you out. We just need a little more time."

Cheol’s lip trembled. "You always say that."

"Because it’s true," Sae-byeok said, crouching down beside No-eul. "We’re doing everything we can. We’re gonna get you out of here, and we’re gonna bring Mom back, too."

Cheol blinked up at them. "You promise?"

Sae-byeok hesitated, knowing better than to make empty promises. But this wasn’t empty. She meant it with everything in her.

"I promise," she said.

No-eul nodded. "Me too."

Cheol sniffled, but a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips. He launched himself into their arms again, and they held him tightly, neither of them willing to let go first.

But eventually, visiting hours would end, and reality would pull them back.

They stayed with Cheol a little longer, talking about things that didn’t make their hearts feel heavy—his schoolwork, the books he’d been reading, the new caretaker who always snuck him extra snacks. They laughed when he did impressions of the other kids, rolling their eyes when he exaggerated his stories just to make them laugh harder.

But when a staff member stepped in to remind them their time was almost up, that weight settled back onto their shoulders.

Sae-byeok ruffled Cheol’s hair one last time before standing up. "We’ll be back soon, okay?"

Cheol nodded, his smile a little steadier this time. "Okay."

No-eul squeezed his shoulder. "Be good."

"I’m always good."

Sae-byeok snorted. "Sure you are."

With one last reluctant glance, they turned and walked out, leaving behind the little boy they had sworn to protect.

As soon as they stepped outside, the cold air bit at their skin, but neither of them paid it any mind.

"You ready?" Sae-byeok asked, her breath visible in the winter air.

No-eul tightened her coat around herself and nodded. "Let’s go see what this stupid guy has to say."

And with that, they made their way toward the broker’s office, carrying the weight of a promise they refused to break.

The office was just as suffocating as ever. Dim lighting, cluttered desks, and the ever-present scent of burnt coffee mixed with stale paperwork. It wasn’t the kind of place that welcomed people—it swallowed them whole, chewed them up, and spit them back out either more desperate or more defeated than when they walked in.

You had seen it happen a hundred times before.

You sat behind your desk, sifting through a pile of documents, your fingers moving on autopilot as the door creaked open. Two women stepped inside, their presence commanding attention even before they spoke.

The first was sharp-eyed and guarded, her stance rigid with distrust. She wore her exhaustion like a second skin, but there was a fire in her gaze—a stubbornness that said she had been fighting for too long to give up now.

The second was quieter in her strength, but no less formidable. There was something heavy in her eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. She carried herself like someone who had lost too much but refused to let it break her.

They didn’t look around the office, didn’t take in the fading wallpaper or the piles of discarded folders stacked against the walls. They were here for one reason, and they weren’t interested in anything else.

"Mr. Lim is expecting us," the sharp-eyed one said, her voice sharp and to the point.

You nodded, setting aside the documents in your hand. "Names?"

"Kang Sae-byeok," the first woman said.

"Kang No-eul," the other added.

Kang.

Your fingers hovered over the appointment log for a split second before you forced yourself to move, grabbing two clean cups and filling them with fresh coffee from the machine beside your desk.

"Follow me," you said, leading them toward the door in the back.

You knocked lightly before pushing it open, stepping inside just long enough to set the coffee down in front of Mr. Lim. He barely acknowledged you, his focus already on the two women stepping into the room.

"Sit," he said, motioning lazily to the chairs across from his desk.

Sae-byeok and No-eul exchanged a glance before doing as they were told. You remained standing by the side, silently preparing to sort through any paperwork if needed.

"I assume you have an update for us," Sae-byeok said, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

Mr. Lim exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair as he picked up his coffee. "That depends. You have the rest of my payment?"

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened. "Not yet."

"Then my update is that nothing’s changed."

Silence hung heavy in the room. You could feel the frustration radiating off them, thick enough to suffocate.

No-eul was the one to break it. "Please," she said, leaning forward slightly. "We just need to know if she’s safe. If she’s still in the camp."

Mr. Lim took a slow sip of his coffee, setting the cup down with an infuriating lack of urgency. "Your mother was last reported in Hamgyong. The camp she was in had a tuberculosis outbreak recently. If she’s still alive, she’s not in good condition."

Sae-byeok’s fingers curled into fists against her lap, but she said nothing.

No-eul swallowed hard. "And my daughter?"

You hadn’t expected that.

You glanced at her, but her gaze was locked onto Mr. Lim, her expression carefully composed.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I told you before—there’s no way a child that young survived on her own up there."

No-eul’s face remained unreadable, but the way her nails dug into the fabric of her pants gave her away. "You said it was a possibility."

"I said there was a chance. A slim one."

You looked away, pretending to focus on the papers in your hands even though you weren’t actually reading them. You had heard a lot of things in this office—desperation, anger, bargaining—but there was something about this that felt heavier.

Sae-byeok took a breath, forcing her voice to remain level. "If we bring the rest of your payment, how soon can you get her out?"

Mr. Lim shrugged. "Depends on when she’s stable enough to move. And if she’s still there to be moved."

The room fell into silence again, thick with unspoken words.

You cleared your throat lightly. "Would you like more coffee?"

It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing you could offer.

Sae-byeok shook her head. No-eul didn’t answer.

Mr. Lim leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "Look, I get it. You want her back. You want both of them back. But things like this take time. And money."

"We’re working on it," Sae-byeok said, standing abruptly. "Let’s go, No-eul."

No-eul hesitated for half a second before nodding, pushing herself up from her chair.

As they turned to leave, something in your chest twisted.

They were getting screwed over.

You had seen it happen before, countless times. Mr. Lim always made promises, always dangled just enough hope to keep people coming back. And most of the time, they had no choice but to play along.

But something about them—about the way they carried the weight of their family on their shoulders, about the way No-eul had asked about a child she refused to believe was gone—made you feel something you weren’t supposed to feel.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But as the door closed behind them, you found yourself gripping the edges of the paperwork a little too tightly.

Maybe this time… you did. Because the office felt heavier after they left.

You could still feel their presence lingering in the air—the frustration, the desperation. The way No-eul had clung to the possibility of her daughter being alive, the way Sae-byeok had clenched her fists so tightly you thought she might break skin.

And the way Mr. Lim—your father—had dismissed them so easily, as if their suffering was just another transaction waiting to be completed.

You swallowed, setting down the paperwork you had been pretending to organize.

"Dad."

The word felt foreign on your tongue in this office, like it didn’t belong here. And maybe it didn’t—not in a place where you were just his assistant, not his daughter.

But you said it anyway.

Mr. Lim barely looked up, his focus still on the papers in front of him. "What?"

You hesitated for a split second. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you said, "Is there anything I can do to help them?"

Silence.

For a moment, he didn’t react. Didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to you, dark eyes sharp and unreadable.

"You want to help them?" His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous underneath it.

You nodded. "They’re trying to get their family back. And I—" You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "I have access to information, to your files—I could help move things along, push the process faster. Maybe even—"

The sound of his palm slamming against the desk made you flinch.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You forced yourself to stand your ground, even as your heart pounded against your ribs. "I just—"

"You just what?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the already tense air. "You think this is some charity? That you can bend the rules just because you feel bad?"

You clenched your jaw. "It’s not about that."

"Yes, it is," he snapped. "You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. You think you can fix everything just because you want to? That’s not how this business works."

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t back down. "I just don’t see why we have to make it harder for them than it already is."

Mr. Lim exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He leaned back in his chair, expression dark. "You’re weak."

The words stung more than you wanted to admit.

"You’ve always been weak," he continued, voice cold. "That’s why you’ll never last in this world. You get too attached, too emotional. You think people like them wouldn’t screw you over the second they got the chance?"

You knew better than to argue. He wouldn’t listen. He never did.

But still, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, "They’re not like that."

His eyes narrowed. "And you know that because…? You sat in a room with them for five minutes?"

You pressed your lips together, fingers curling into fists at your sides.

"Stay out of it," he said firmly. "Do your job, keep your head down, and don’t get involved in clients’ business. That’s not your place, and it never will be."

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded once, stiffly.

"Good," he muttered, turning back to his paperwork, already dismissing you. "Now get back to work."

You stood there for a moment longer, staring at him.

Then, without another word, you turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind you.

You had spent your entire life listening to him. Following his rules, staying in your lane.

But for the first time, deep down, you knew you weren’t going to listen.

Not this time.

taglist: @yenyu1s @monroesturnns @katieschry1 @noeulswifeyy

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Better Than Me

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: M (Mature)

Fandom: UConn's Women's basketball

Warnings: Heavy angst, toxic dynamics, cheating, sneaky link behavior, explicit language, jealousy

Summary: nobody's better than paige in more ways than one

I knew I was playing with fire.

Being with Paige was a bad idea.

Being with Paige while I had a girlfriend? A worse idea.

And yet, here I was—pressed against the cold backseat of her car, her hands gripping my thighs like she owned me, her lips tracing slow, taunting kisses up my neck.

“Tell me again why you still with her,” Paige murmured, voice low, teasing.

I sighed, tilting my head back against the seat. “Paige—”

“Nah,” she cut me off, leaning back just enough to look me in the eyes, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “For real. What she do for you that I don’t?”

I knew this game. Paige loved pushing me, loved reminding me that no one could touch me the way she could. That no one got me like she did.

“She treats me good,” I muttered, but even I didn’t sound convinced.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah? Then why you in my car right now, letting me touch you like this?”

I had no answer. And Paige knew it.

A slow smirk stretched across her lips. “She ain’t better than me.”

I exhaled sharply, gripping her hoodie as she leaned in again, her breath warm against my lips. “You think you got me like that?”

She grinned, her hand slipping under the hem of my hoodie. “I know I do.”

Paige had been my problem for a while now.

It started as something reckless—stolen moments, secret glances, late-night texts that turned into even later nights in her bed. It was supposed to be nothing.

But Paige Bueckers didn’t do ‘nothing.’

She wanted everything. She wanted me.

And she hated the fact that I was still with someone else.

It got worse when she saw us together.

I was at a party with my girl, keeping things lowkey, trying not to give Paige too much attention. But it was impossible to ignore the way she was watching me from across the room, dark-tinted windows of her expression giving nothing away—but I knew her too well.

She was pissed.

And Paige pissed off was Paige dangerous.

I felt her before I saw her. A warm presence at my back, breath ghosting over my shoulder as she leaned in, voice just loud enough for me to hear over the music.

“Tell her you gotta take a call.”

I stiffened. “Paige—”

Her fingers brushed over the small of my back, featherlight, enough to make me shiver. “C’mon, baby. Five minutes. I won’t even touch you.”

Liar.

And I was a liar too—for following her out onto the balcony, for letting her back me against the railing, for letting her pull my hoodie strings like she was reeling me in.

“She’s looking for me” I whispered, trying to ignore the way my body reacted to her closeness.

Paige tilted her head. “Then why you still out here with me?”

I closed my eyes, exhaling through my nose. “You don’t fight fair.”

She smirked. “Never said I did.”

The thing about Paige was—she didn’t lose.

Not on the court, not in life, and definitely not when it came to me.

She made sure of that a few nights later, when she showed up outside my dorm after a game, still in her UConn hoodie, a cocky glint in her eyes.

“You break up with her yet?”

I sighed, arms crossed. “Paige—”

She tsked, shaking her head. “I’m done sharing.”

“Paige, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is,” she cut me off, stepping closer. “You either with me, or you not.”

I swallowed hard.

Because we both knew the answer.

Paige smirked, tilting my chin up with her fingers. “So what’s it gon’ be, ma?”

My heart pounded.

And for the first time in a long time, I made the right choice.

A week later, I was sitting courtside at UConn’s game, wearing Paige’s hoodie.

And when she walked off the court, sweaty, smug, victorious—she didn’t even hesitate before pulling me into her arms and kissing me like she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

Because she had won.

Like she always did.

[mushroom-words]

Hate Me, Waste Me || Tate Langdon

Fandom: American Horror Story Pairing: Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader Words: 1983 Notes: This has been rewritten and reposted from a previous account. It’s being posted from mobile, so I apologize if the formatting is weird. And, as always, if this sort of content isn’t your thing, simply don’t read it. I put warnings in for a reason, baby. Edit: I fixed the formatting on desktop. Warnings: Non-con. Pre-death!Tate. Loss of virginity. Blood. Reader is bitten, smacked, and spanked one time each. Unprotected. Creampie. Forced orgasm (just the body protecting itself). Tate is a possessive little bastard. I think that’s it, but if I missed any, please let me know. Summary: Tate refuses to share you with anyone else and reminds you that you're his friend—no one else's.

AHS Masterlist 🍄 Ultimate Masterlist

MONSTERS LIVED AMONG humans. They adapted to camouflage themselves—to hide under the pretense of being your teacher, your neighbor, your family, your best friend. It was a hard lesson to learn and not one that ever came easily.

You were an outcast at Westfield High. Maybe that was why you and Tate seemed to gravitate towards each other. He was a loner, but it also seemed to be by choice. Like he detested the social interactions and thus separated himself from them. The only person he bothered with was you.

It never occurred to you that there could be a darker reason behind his attachment. You were just happy to have a friend. Even one that wasn’t particularly fond of sharing you with anyone else.

Kyle Greenwell’s voice drifted over the phone line. “You have some neat ideas. You’re actually pretty smart there, (Y/N).”

A blush broke out over your face at the compliment. You’d been reluctant when you had been partnered with him for a project for your Government class. Kyle was the quarterback for the Westfield Wolverines and had recently received a football scholarship to Georgia Tech. He’d never so much as looked your way before being paired with you, but he was actually a lot nicer than you’d thought he would be.

Kyle Greenwell was the kind of guy who seemed to have it all—fit and athletic, intelligent and handsome, charming and funny. He was the kind of guy who shouldn’t have given you the time of day. But you admittedly had stumbled into the line of girls vying for his attention when he turned out to be the complete opposite of what you had expected.

“You think so?” You cleared your throat delicately, biting your lip against your smile. “Yeah, I mean—thanks. You too,” you rambled.

Kyle chuckled warmly. Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks. You held back a wistful sigh at the sound. But then your smile fell victim to confusion when your doorbell rang. The cordless phone cradled your ear as you started to make your way to the front of your house.

“I’d like to brainstorm some more with you, if that’s okay,” Kyle continued. “We could meet in the library during lunch—or we could always meet up somewhere after, if that’ll be better for you.”

You peeked through the window curtains and saw Tate standing at your door. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you told Kyle. “I’ll see you in the library tomorrow then?”

You unlocked the door and opened it for your friend. He smiled, and you returned it but held up a finger before he could say anything. His smile fell into a frown.

“See you the n, (Y/N). Bye.”

“Bye, Kyle.” The line went dead as you pulled the phone away from your ear and gave Tate your full attention. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Tate’s expression had hardened from what it had been when you’d opened the door. The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Your smile dropped uncomfortably. Instead of answering, he pushed past you to walk inside.

“So,” he said. “Who’s Kyle?”

“Kyle Greenwell. We’re paired for a project.” You frowned and shut the door. “We’re gonna work on it tomorrow in the library during lunch,” you added, carefully placing the phone back in its cradle.

With your back to him, you missed the flash of anger that crossed his features. You missed how his nostrils flared, the way his eyes darkened from aged hickory to burnt coal. You missed how his body went rigid.

“So you’re leaving me alone.” You didn’t miss the way his voice had tightened, the hint of darkness lacing between the words. Chills skittered up your spine.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in your mouth, you turned to face him with delicately furrowed brows. “No? We’re just working on a project—”

His hand shot out to grab your chin. The words died out in a startled squeak.

“Stay away from him,” he seethed.

Your eyes rounded. This wasn’t the Tate Langdon you knew. The one you loved like a brother, the one you considered family. You didn’t know who this was.

“Tate—”

“No.” His fingers tightened against your jaw as he yanked your face closer. “Don’t you fucking go near him again. Do you understand me, (Y/N)?”

“You’re hurting me,” you protested. You tried to pull away, but he held firm.

“Fucking say it, (Y/N). Do you understand me?”

As you looked into his eyes, you were looking at an entirely different person. They weren’t the eyes of your best friend. They were black as night, dark as sin—you might as well have been staring into the depths of the devil himself.

Panic started to claw at your chest. You smacked your hands against his chest and shoved him with a desperate cry of, “Let go of me!”

He stumbled back a couple of steps with a swear but was quick to bounce back with what looked to be twice the anger. Tate lunged forward and drew his hand across your face. The sharp impact knocked you to the floor. Your head smacked the corner of the small table against the wall where the phone sat.

Your ears were ringing before the pain settled. Sharp and throbbing and pounding against the inside of your skull. A veil of fog disoriented your head as you blinked heavily through the sludge. You were only vaguely aware of the warmth your blood provided as it trickled from the open wound.

Tate crouched beside you, brushing aside some of the hair that curtained your face. “Y’know, you’re a real fucking bitch sometimes, (Y/N),” he mused.

Your eyes fluttered as you tried to regather your surroundings. His fingers continued to linger against your skin. A touch that once brought you comfort. Even through the daze, you shuddered beneath it now.

He smirked and cocked his head. “You’ve gotta learn, y’know,” he said before abruptly flipping you onto your stomach. His weight settled on you. “You’re mine.”

A quiet groan slipped past your lips in protest of his hips rocking against your backside. Tears slowly began to drip from your eyelashes. Your fingers curled into the polished wooden floor, nails scratching at the finish as you tried to drag yourself away.

Tate laughed again, filled with a twisted joy at having you completely at his mercy. “And where do you think you’re going, baby?” he said, pinning your wrists down by your head.

“Please,” you whimpered. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your damp cheek in what could have been mistaken for affection. The vines of dread tightened around your chest.

He shushed you gently when another whimper fell from your lips. “You have to learn your lesson, (Y/N),” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose along your cheek. “How will you learn if I don’t teach you?”

Tate lifted up and moved his hands from your wrists to trace the curve of your body. Then your pants and underwear were both ripped down to expose your lower half. You cried out as the cool air brushed against your skin.

Lifting your head, you tried again to pull yourself out from underneath him. You grabbed hold of the panic twisting inside of you to scream out for help. Your voice broke against the rawness of your throat, cracking as it bubbled past your lips.

He chuckled once more and planted his hand against the top of your back to keep you down. His fingers fluttered along the curve of your backside, tapping against the flesh in a taunt to the beat of his own depraved pleasure. Then he promptly lifted his hand and brought it back down in a sharp smack that made her cry out in pain.

Splinters jammed beneath your nails, drawing beads of blood from the sensitive skin underneath. You clawed at the floor when you heard him pull his zipper down. You sobbed, you pleaded, you screamed as loud as you possibly could.

Tate slipped an arm under your waist and lifted your body slightly. He lowered his head until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, parroting, “You’re mine,” in a snarl that made your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

Then he was pushing inside of you with no mercy, burying himself completely in a single thrust that utterly ripped you apart. He tore away your innocence like it was nothing. Your mouth popped open in anguish, but the scream that wanted to escape was rendered silent against the burning pain.

“Shit, baby,” he grunted, his hot breath puffing out to paint the side of your face. “You’re so fucking tight. Holy shit.”

Every thrust jerked your body forward. He yanked you back into him each time, his blunt nails imprinting crescents into your flesh. Your silence shifted into raw moans of despair—of disgust, of pain, of heartbreak. They mingled with his grunts and the muttered swears that fell from his tainted mouth.

Your stomach lurched upon hearing how much pleasure he was receiving from your suffering. Snot and tears and saliva coated your face in a display that was both shameful and pathetic. You hadn’t necessarily been saving yourself for anyone, but it was still something you were meant to give away—not have it ripped from your hands.

Tate nipped at the soft flesh between your shoulder and neck. You shuddered as his teeth grazed over the skin. Then he bit down, sinking those teeth into the juncture like a hot knife through warm butter. You cried out as blood—your blood—dripped from the wound. It curved over your skin and splattered in droplets on the floor. It was more than just a bite. It was a mark—a brand on his property.

You were his.

Tate ran his hand along your body and between your thighs. His fingers found your clit. He traced slow circles around it. The gentle touch was a stark contrast to the way his hips slammed against your backside. It wrenched another cry from your throat as you realized your body was reacting to it.

You knew enough about the female body to know that it would do what was necessary for protection. For survival. But feeling the slick between your thighs that did not come from the blood he’d forced from you made you sick to your stomach. You slammed your eyes shut and bit your lip hard to muffle the shameful little moans you felt clawing out of your throat.

Tate took great enjoyment in it. “That’s it, (Y/N),” he encouraged, chuckling breathlessly. “I’m not stopping until you cum. I wanna feel you submit to me.”

He rubbed in tighter circles, applying enough pressure to make your head spin. You sobbed out a pathetic whine as you felt the knot in your lower stomach pulse. It was building up to something strong, something depraved and sinful and wrong—oh, so very, very wrong.

You gritted your teeth against the coiling spring until it snapped. Tendrils of heat erupted from your center and radiated outwards in branches of liquid warmth. It shot through you like streaks of lightning in a stormy sky. Your entire body shuddered beneath him.

His responding groan was guttural, like it had echoed from the deepest depths of his chest. He snapped his hips quicker, harder. The arm barring your waist drew you closer as he stilled. He swore loudly and spilled into you, the new sensation bleeding uncomfortably between your thighs.

Tate slowly let his body relax. He slumped over you, dropping your body back to the floor, where you trembled in the aftershocks of what just happened. The disgust and shame and guilt. It cut you deeper than your spilled blood.

“You’re mine, (Y/N),” Tate panted into your ear, nuzzling your sweaty hair and kissing your cheek. “Fucking mine.”

[blue-mood-blue]

I can pinpoint the moment that destroyed my life today:

It’s been a handful of weeks since Murderbot came within inches of having a new, organic governor module implanted in its head via infection - do you think, maybe, that’s also been hiding behind the redacted? Not the way everything else is, just as a deep-seated reminder of what it can’t afford to lose?

What a way to be told “I love you” - to be told “I will not lose you, I will not let go, I will do the hard part of holding on even if you don’t want me to”