#“with your face all made up living on the screen”

[earlysunshines]

lights, camera, action!

danielle marsh x actress!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you passed your media training classes but that doesn’t stop you after a couple of drinks from leaking that you’re very much attracted to danielle marsh on live

warnings: alcohol ; soobin from txt but he's actually an actor (idk why i use him in my fics sm) and also other idols that are actors instead of... idols ; discovering sexuality ; reader is whipped for danielle ; danielle is whipped for reader ; gay gay gay they're so in love i hate myself ; anyhting else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: hi i need her so bad like sooo bad like she’s so. like. like hey. hi hai. hi.

@/ynln is live!

the viewers catch a little glimpse of your flushed cheeks, slow blinks, and lazy smile.

you’re not drunk, not at all, you’re just naturally an idiot and even more of one after a few after-party drinks. the remnants of laughter and lively conversation from the after-party of your premiere still lingering in your ears. the giddiness hadn’t left your body at all.

“heyyy guys.” you fail to set up the camera on your hotel desk, so you resort to flopping onto the bed and holding it yourself. “i hope you all are well.”

the screen was filled with comments almost immediately—fans were sending love, compliments, and congratulating you on the new movie, and praising your looks during the premiere. your smile grew wider, your cheeks burned a little warmer than before.

@/lnloverrr: you looked so good at the event

@/yourstruly84: a look for the books

@/ynloops: so excited for the movie! can’t wait to see more action roles from you!

@/tokkilvrr: celine queen!!! you rocked the top

“aww you guys are so cute,” you say, a little more giggly than usual. the only thing illuminating you at the moment is the city glow filtering through the curtains, so you turn on a lamp in order for your fans to see you better. “i’m so happy you guys are excited about the movie. it means a looot, really.”

you scrolled through the comments, answering a few questions about your favorite scenes to shoot and what the cast was like. you went on a whole ramble about your male co-star soobin and how you almost beat him in an arm wrestling battle after two shots, which led to another ramble about how rigorous the process of working out to achieve your physique was for this film. it was fun talking about all the fun behind-the-scenes moments, one of them being how you have a video of soobin tripping over the props, one which you will definitely be posting once the movie is out.

after skimming the comments a bit more, most of them being “can i get an i love you?” or various compliments which keep a smile plastered on your face. but then one catches your eye, making you raise a brow: do you have a celebrity crush?

“oh, a celebrity crush? well i don’t know if i have a crush, but more of a friend crush if you get what i mean.” you laughed, the sound light and loose. you pause, thinking it over as more comments pop up with heart emojis and people begging for an answer. you sigh playfully, leaning against the bedframe and blinking slowly again. “okay, this is going to sound so cheesy. you know how i like newjeans? i’ve mentioned it before… but i’ve been such a fan of newjeans since their debut. like, seriously, their music is always on repeat. i’ve made soobin and the rest of the cast listen to them — soyeon loves them actually. ugh i loved their debut ep so much and then they dropped ditto and–”

@/koalaln: okay so… it’s someone from newjeans?

@/minjiplsmarrymepls: not my fav actor being a tokki

@/phammipham: girl if you don’t tell us rn…

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right.” you chuckle after reading the comments again. you bit your lip before continuing, “well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

your voice dropped to a more earnest tone as you looked right at the camera again, shaking your head and blushing a little. you could blame it on the alcohol.

“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” you let out a small, tipsy laugh, not realizing how much you were rambling—again.

“and the thing is, we’re both ambassadors for celine too, so i’ve seen her from afar at events and stuff. i’ve never actually met her, which is crazy, right? i mean i've met park bogum but not her! you’d think we would have bumped into each other by now, but nope. i kind of just admire from afar, like her pictures don’t do her justice but they… do? she’s stunning in person, at least from afar.”

the comments started blowing up with people freaking out, sending a variety of emojis that you couldn’t even count on both hands. they were saying things like “omg you’re totally fangirling right now,” “okay purr y/n is danielle biased she has taste,” and even “you and danielle interacting or collaborating would be iconic.”

you blinked at the screen, noticing the way the chat kept mentioning her name. you rubbed your face with your hand, blinking hard again. “oh my god, am i talking too much? anyway!” you waved your hand, laughing as you tried to shake off the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “next question, next question.”

you spent a few more minutes answering questions about your movie, sharing more stories of what happens on set (making sure to include how many times jaehyun fell asleep on set — which was far too often and in the most questionable positions. you wonder how someone falls asleep leaning against a wall). by the end, your eyelids were starting to droop, and the comments were still buzzing with your confession from earlier. you blinked again, then thanked the fans for their support once more to wrap up the livesteam.

“alright, i’m about to pass out,” you say tiredly, smile turning soft. “thank you for putting up with me. love you all so much.”

the phone in your hand dropped onto the bed after ending the livestream. your head lands on the pillows and you sigh, a grin still on your face. before you knew it, you were out like a light, blissfully unaware of what you’ve just started.

—

the sun filtered through the hotel curtains, which warmed up the room. you stirred, eyes fluttering open as a ray hit you right in the eye, making you roll around the other way. 

unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the only thing trying to wake you up. your phone buzzed insistently next to you, and you reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen as your manager’s name flashed across it. you crinkled your brows, confused to say the least.

“hello? mark?” your voice was hoarse with sleep, tinged with last nights events.

“morning sleepyhead,” mark’s voice was calm and a little playful as always, but there was an unmistakable edge that meant business. “do you want to tell me why you’re trending on every social media platform? and you even made it onto some entertainment sites.”

a groan slips from you as you sit up all too quickly. the memories of your late-night live stream start to flood back. “shit.”

“‘shit’ is right. you do know that gushing about a girl in a kpop group — not to mention a very popular one — might get you a good amount of attention? and don’t make a pun.” you hear his signature sigh from the other end of the line. “your fans and her fans are going wild, and some press outlets are running with ‘actor y/n’s crush on danielle from newjeans’ headlines.”

shifting yourself to the edge of your bed so your feet can dangle off, you groan into the phone. “i’m so, so sorry. i must’ve fucked up my image like crazy, god i’m so sorry for—”

“hey, wait.” he says calmly. “it’s actually not doing anything harmful. if anything people are into how much you admire the group, considering you’re quite the celebrity.”

“oh thank god–”

“it’s just not low-profile.”

heat crept up your neck, and you covered your face with one hand, your back meeting the mattress again. “i— yeah, i was tipsy. soobin is a terrible influence, and weren’t you—”

“i’m just your manager, i just work here y/n.”

you scoff playfully at his remark, then continue, “i guess i didn’t notice how much i talked about her. but it’s not—i mean, it’s not untrue, but still…” you trailed off, cringing at yourself as you placed a hand over your eyes.

mark lets out a sigh, softening a bit. “look, it’s not the end of the world. just be prepared for questions, and try not to fan the flames further if you don’t want this to become a bigger deal. but, you might want at least to have a statement or some kind of response ready.”

you nodded, even if he couldn’t see you. “yeah, okay. thank you for the heads-up. sorry.”

“and next time, maybe don’t go live after an after-party. don’t think i didn’t see you downing somaek with jennie.” he adds, the hint of amusement in his voice making you relax a bit. 

“noted. very much noted.”

after ending the call, you drop the phone beside you, your heart still thudding. with a deep breath, you opened twitter up, and just from your burner account you could see that you were trending. the timeline was overflowing: fans reacting to your confession, edits already circulating with your quotes—they even managed to find every clip of you mentioning or listening to newjeans, putting it in slideshows and edited videos. you can’t even lie, the effort is amazing. and even worse, or better? there were articles with headlines like “actor y/n admits to crushing on danielle from newjeans” and “actor y/n confirms she’s a hardcore newjeans fan.”

okay, hardcore might be a stretch.

(or maybe not.)

despite all this chaos, you couldn’t help but smile a little. you tap a quick text to your manager again: sorry again. i’ll be ready for whatever comes. 

and another, more impulsive, and raw message to your group chat with your best friends and  co-stars: i think i should just die. never going live again. someone needs to take my phone and burn it.

but as you scrolled and saw fans posting supportive, teasing comments like “we love an honest crush!” “y/n is lowk so cute for this” “it’s so refreshing to see celebrities being transparent about who they admire” and even a “y/n and danielle when??? y/nelle??”, you couldn’t suppress the slight flutter in your chest.

—

in contrast to your morning, danielle’s wasn’t all that stressful. maybe a little, but it didn’t have her laying in bed for an hour and pondering over every life decision she’s made. not like you did. 

danielle had been making eggs for her members — sunny side up for hanni, boiled for minji, and scrambled for the haerin and hyein — humming quietly to herself. the morning was relatively peaceful until hanni burst into the kitchen, phone in her hand with a mischievous grin on her face.

“dani, you won’t believe this.” hanni plops down on a stool at the kitchen island, turning the phone over. “you’re gonna want to see it.”

danielle raises an eyebrow, turning down the heat. “what is it?”

minji and haerin joined, peeking over hanni’s shoulder as she played the video clip. “y/n, you know, the one from that one coming of age movie you like? what was it… the one with— it doesn’t even matter. just look.”

danielle’s brows furrowed with confusion until hanni hits play. the room fills with the sound of your slurred, soft voice as you gush with genuine excitement. 

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right. well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

even minji and haerin gasp, looking at danielle in surprise. danielle’s jaw drops open slightly as she takes in the information: you, l/n y/n, are mentioning her. danielle marsh. but it gets even better.

“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” 

the spoon danielle had been holding slips from her hand and onto the counter, clattering agains the marble as she stared at the screen. “wait— what?” her voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks heating up.

 “look at you,” minji laughs, nudging her. “one of your admirers is an actor—a really popular actor, dani.”

“i—” danielle’s mind raced as she watched you on the screen, your eyes bright, cheeks flushed as you rambled on. the admiration in your tone made her heart skip a beat. it was one thing to know that you were at the same events as her, and another ot hear that you’d been paying attention to her. that you think she’s pretty. 

hyein seemed to pop out of nowhere, her arrival probably unnoticed from what was currently unfolding. “dani… someone who was in a marvel movie has a crush on you.”

danielle blinked. a smile broke out as she looked at her members. “you’re all ridiculous.” but even as she laughed, the warmth in her chest lingered. the fact that you, the actress she’d admired form afar and whose movies she’s watched with her family, thought of her like that—it was surreal.

minji raised an eyebrow knowingly. “come on dani, don’t act like you haven’t been wanting to talk to her at those events.”

“yeah dude,” hanni nudged her younger member. “she popped up in doctor strange and you started rambling about her.”

danielle’s smile turned shy as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, her mind still replaying your words. 

maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you, just maybe.

—

you’ve been busy, to say the least.

the past week you’ve been interviewed a handful of times everyday. your movie starred the choi soobin and jeong jaehyun, which earned a lot of attention. what surprised you was just how much attention you’d receive. there were various edits of you being made, some even showed up on your social media and unfortunately your group chat. 

people had dug up scenes of you from your other projects, editing them and helping them resurface. it was safe to say you were growing as an actor, as if confessing your ‘love’ for danielle marsh didn’t already do enough. but who were you to complain? this was great. you were rising in popularity for not only your looks, but also your talents and personality. it was endearing �� flattering you beyond comprehension.

the rise in popularity even led to you having to hop on a flight to japan, not only to be interviewed further, but also for an event for the brand you ambassador.

the celine event had an air of sophistication and elegance. it was a sort of luxurious haven where celebrities and models mingled under the crystal chandeliers, surrounded by other “fancy stuff” as you would say. soft music played, mixing in with the sound of conversations and clicks of cameras. attendees were showcasing the brand’s newest pieces for the season, with handbags being paraded, their metallic accents catching the light.

you fit quite well into the scene, it would be a lie to say you weren’t one of the main events. there was an effortless style exuded from you, clad in tailored slacks that were held perfectly by a leather celine belt. draped over your frame was a crewneck sweater with the brand’s logo, and to finish off the look you had another leather piece on your shoulder: a matching handbag to go with your belt. 

the first hour was spent smiling for the cameras and eavesdropping on the whispers about your recent rise in popularity. more cameras flashed, and journalists angled for a glimpse, but your focus soon shifted when an all too familiar figure stepped into view. maybe you’re overwhelmed, maybe it’s not her, there so many people here. at least that’s what you told yourself.

once you got a breather, taking the time to roam around the area, you barely had a moment to process before a gentle bump jolted you out of your thoughts.

a woman, draped in a stunning beige dress accented with a sleek grey blazer, stumbled slightly. instinct kicked in, and your hand shot out to catch her arm, steadying her. wide yes met yours, surprise softening into a shy, grateful smile as she regained her balance.

“oh my, i’m so sorry!” she breaths out, her cheeks tinting a faint pink. “i didn’t see you there.”

“are you okay?” you ask, your mind catching up to the moment. your gaze lingered as recognition fell over you 

danielle.

the feel of her arm in your grasp made your heart stutter, but you forced yourself to stay composed. 

“yes, i’m fine, thanks,” danielle says, straightening up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i never expected to bump into you. not like this—not literally.”

your smile turns sheepish. “i— i guess i made quite an impression,” you joke lightly, withdrawing your hand slowly.

her eyes light up with recogniition. “well, the live from last week was more of one,” she teases, her tone warm and playful. the mention of the live made your face heat up, and a laugh bubbled out as you glanced at the floor for a second.

“you saw…?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“i think everyone did,” she giggled, her smile softening as she added, “it was... really sweet.”

the initial nervousness faded as the two of you fell into conversation, friendly and hesitant at first, but your words quickly became more confident as you both exchanged stories and thoughts on the celine events. compliments flowed naturally, and you found yourself surprised at how easy it was to talk to her beyond the admiration you held at a distance. danielle, on the other hand, grew noticeably more flustered as you threw in subtle flirtations—quick grins, playful remarks about how she looked so much better up close and in person.

“wow, it wasn’t the drinks that make you so… charming, huh?” she says with a small laugh, eyes shining as she tried to regain composure.

“well, i’m finally getting the chance to talk to someone i’ve been wanting to meet for a whike,” you admitted, voice soft and genuine. “i just wanted to be transparent, is that alright with you?”

“of course.” her smile turns bashful, and for a moment, silence settled between you two, comfy and warm. the lights dimmed as the models prepared for the runway, but neither of you paid it much attention even after being separated again.

after the showcase, you two found each other again, wanting to exchange numbers. 

“this is the first time i’ve given a fan my number.” danielle admits jokingly as you type in your contact information. you look up from the phone and smirk, sending a weird shiver down danielle’s spine.

“really? i’m honored.” you say, handing the phone back. “let’s talk soon, okay? i’d really love to be friends, and i’m really sorry for the whole livestream incident by the way. sorry again.”

she laughs, smiling at you and it’s really strange how it makes you feel all tingly. 

“it’s alright y/n. would you like to hangout when we’re back in korea? if that’s alright.”

“oh, yes, of course.” you smile at her once more before looking at the text from your manager: ride’s here, you ready? the notification earns a small sigh from you. you glance back at danielle and bite your lip to prevent a frown. “well, i’ll see you.”

“wonderful.”

—

when you think you’ve had your peak of attention, it just seems to grow more and more.

the morning after the celine event your phone buzzed against the nightstand of your hotel, waking you up. squinting, you reached for it, the device cool against your fingers. notifications flooded your screen, but at this point that’s nothing new. at the top, there was a teasing text from mark:

“looks like you made quite the impression last night. maybe your live wasn’t so bad for your social life, huh?”

curiosity piqued, you scrolled through social media, your eyes widening as countless photos of the event filled your feed. comments from fans were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating the unexpected dynamic between you and danielle. 

most of the photos were candid shots—the two of you caught in conversation, eyes bright with amusement, smiles soft and natural. the internet had already begun to label you as friends (which you didn’t mind at all), though some comments and posts weren’t so subtle as they implied something more, playfully shipping you two as a potential couple.

you rolled your eyes — it was ridiculous — you weren’t even sure whether or not she liked girls like that. even if she did, the whole livestream™ probably weirded her out. what you sought was friendship, but the ship posts did make you smile to yourself. maybe you’re just weird. you figured you needed to snap out of it.

unfortunately for you, more photos entertained the idea of something more than friends. in them, you were gently holding danielle’s wrist, steadying her as she’d momentarily lost her balance that night. the angle caught the way her expression softened as she looked at you, an unguarded moment that felt oddly intimate, almost cinematic. 

you’ve acted in various romance scenes, but none of them were real. neither did any of them look as… jaw-dropping as this.

the caption on one post read: “the way they look at each other… could this be the start of something?” the reactions were a mix of heart emojis, enthusiastic comments, and threads analyzing your body language and every nuance of the pictures. your cheeks warmed as you scrolled through, noticing how even the simplest gestures were being magnified and dissected as if this were an advanced art course.

you reread the text from your mark, smiling as you typed back a short light-hearted response:

“maybe i should go live more often? haha”

even as you set your phone down, your mind replayed the moments from the night before—her laugh, the way conversation flowed effortlessly, and that brief touch that started to flood your mind. 

you simply had a friend crush on her, nothing more, right? probably, you hope,

—

danielle pushes open the front door of the dorm, the familiar warmth and laughter of her members greeting her as she set down her bags. before she could make it further into the living room, hanni glanced up from her phone and smirked knowingly.

“look who’s back! how was the celine event?” hanni’s tone was casual, but her eyes glimmered with mischief.

danielle’s brows furrowed slightly, but before she could answer, hyein popped up from the couch, waving her phone in the air. “more importantly, how was this?” she tapped on the screen, and a slideshow of photo’s appeared—the ones that had been trending online. danielle, dressed up elgantly, smiling up at you as your hand was on her wrist, both your expressions open and genuine.

“oh, that…” danielle felt her cheeks warm. “it was nice. we talked a bit actually, y/n is really cool!”

“really cool?” minji echoes from the kitchen, “that’s a new one.”

“she’s just a new friend i made who happens to be an actor,” danielle rushed out, even as a small uncertain flutter stirred in her chest. the words felt like they were only said to cover something up, but danielle couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she was trying to hide. she’d made new friends before, but none of them left her thinking about them the whole flight back home. she felt kind of restless in a way, but maybe that’s because you had a different kind of charm and aspect to you.

“a new friend and actor who also has a celebrity crush on you?” minji asks.

“people have celebrity crushes and that doesn’t mean anything, minji. besides, i’m not much of a celebrity to her anymore, am i? i mean we’ve met properly now.”

hanni raises a brow at danielle’s comeback, exchanging a look with hyein, who giggles. “right, just an actor who has expressed her admiration for you in great depth. okay.” hanni draws out the last word, amused. danielle crosses her arms, feigning annoyance but feeling a heat creeping up her neck.

the group finally eases off, shrugging and returning to their own chatter, but danielle couldn’t shake the lingering awareness. maybe it was just the newness of it all, you’re an actor, a very famous one now at least. 

her eyes dart to the pictures on hyein’s phone again. the moment you had caught her from stumbling was simple, just an instinctive touch, but there was something about it that replayed in her mind. it was confusing—this new, unfamiliar feeling. she hadn’t considered herself someone who might fall for a girl, and there’s nothing wrong with girl’s liking… girls. but you’re not a girl that she likes, at least not romantically. you’re just really pretty and nice, and besides, she hasn’t even gotten to know you on a deeper level.

still, she’s spiralling a little.

–

y/n: hey :-) i just got back to my apartment it was nice bumping into you! let me know when you’re free? if you’d like to grab a bite or something of course you’re really pretty in person sorry, i’m fangirling haha

soobin’s top half of his face is on the top right corner of your phone as you stare at the screen. you sigh, cringing at each text you’ve sent. soobin raises a brow at the sudden change in expression, plus the small pout on your face now.

“what now?” he questions.

“am i doing too much? what if she blocks me. what if i just die—”

danielle: hi! i was watching a movie with the members hehe it was really nice meeting you! i’ve been a fan of your projects i really liked your scene in doctor strange as well and in your recent film  you’re a very good actor!

you literally drop your phone, earning a confused noise from soobin. when you pick it up again, he’s making a face that asks for more answers, but you’re too busy waiting for texts to pop up after her little typing bubble forms.

danielle: i’m booked tomorrow, how about the day after?  you can pick the time and place 😁

y/n: i’m busy tomorrow and the day after unfortunately 😞 how about in three days?

danielle: i’m free in the evening 👍

y/n: that’s perfect! can’t wait

danielle: me neither ☺️ i really enjoyed talking to you at the event

y/n: aw, thanks you’re really cute  and sweet, danielle

danielle: im blushing stop!! hahaha i’ll text you in the morning y/n 😊❤️

y/n: okay! 

soobin is still on call with you when you drop the phone on your bed again. he hears a the sound of your feet kicking against the bed and a small squeal.

“what?” he squints at the screen as you pick your phone up again.

“danielle and i are hanging out on friday.”

he looks surprised as he says, “really?”

“why do you sound so baffled… i can make friends soobin…” you huff, pouting at him.

—

you exhale deeply as you look at yourself in the mirror. there’s a green, long-sleeve comme des garcon top that you spent way too much money on hugging you just right, accentuating the build of your arms that you worked very hard for due to the new movie. custom-tailored denim fits your legs loosely, held by the same celine belt you wore at the thrilling event.

to hide your identity a bit more, you wore a beanie and a zip-up hoodie on top (another piece of clothing you spent way too much money on. you need to stop buying vintage exclusively), as well as some sunglasses.

you head out of your apartment, slip a mask on, and take the elevator down. 

it’s been a while since you’ve walked around and enjoyed the area you lived in, so you decided to walk to where you agreed to meet danielle: your favorite cafe.

it was a fifteen-minute walk, a quick five-minute bus ride, then five more minutes of walking until you reached your destination. when you get there, danielle is already sat at a table. you catch her checking her phone and smile to yourself.

“hey,” you greet, sitting in front of her. “did you wait long?”

“not at all,” she shakes her head, then looks down at her drink. “i just got a latte actually, i was going to text you earlier. ah! i should’ve waited to buy–”

“no– no, it’s fine.” you assure, grinning. “i’ll buy one myself and meet you back here, give me a minute.”

“right, of course.” 

you give her another small grin before ordering something simple: an almond latte. you waited only two minutes for it before heading back to danielle. after placing down your mug, danielle looks amazed at the tulip design, pulling out her phone and taking a picture. it’s cute, the gesture, and her—but that’s for you to keep to yourself.

you meet back with danielle, who’s in the same booth by the window. the cafe was quaint and tucked into a quiet street corner, so there wasn’t usually much attention or people. you really liked that aspect, considering your status, so it easily became your favorite spot. 

and because there wasn’t much going on, it was easy for danielle to be under some sort of spotlight—in this case it’s the autumn afternoon glow hitting her features. you remind yourself that this is just a platonic hangout, obviously. it’s not exactly a date, maybe a friend date—but the closer you got to her the more you started to question the “friendly meet-up.”

“this place is so cozy,” danielle says, glancing around as she took a sip of her latte. “thanks for suggesting it! i’ve been so cooped up and busy, haven’t had much time to go around. plus, it’s nice to be somewhere new.”

“i um, thought you would like it…” you reply, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “i mean i like it a lot. it’s my go-to spot, a little hidden gem when i first got to korea. it’s also really quiet at this time, so no chance of anyone recognizing us.”

danielle smiled at that, her cheeks warming. “i can’t tell if that’s comforting or more nerve-warcking.”

“is that so?” you tease, “afraid you’ll be stuck with me if no one interrupts?”

she laughs, shaking her head. “not exactly… i actually really like being here with you.”

you grin—a bit bashfully. “aw, i’m glad im here with you too. i still can’t get over the fact that i’m with newjeans’ danielle.” 

she shakes her head, absentmindedly stirring her straw in her iced latte as she looks at you. " well, i hope that now… between us... i can just be danielle, even dani, if you prefer that.”

she gives you a shy smile before dropping her gaze to her coffee, and for a second you swear you saw a faint blush on her cheeks. maybe it’s the light. 

“so,” she says, changing the subject, “is your schedule hectic these days? with what i’ve seen—you know, your promotions—shooting for movies and events; i don’t know how you do it.”

“sometimes i don’t know either,” you chuckle, shrugging. “it’s worth it though. its kind of surreal—i used to watch your performances before i was this… known… and think, ‘wow, she must be busy,’ but now i get it.”

“”really?” danielle raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued.

“uh—yeah. not just you! i hope i don’t sound weird… you know i used to watch all those celebrity interviews, korean and western artists, and i thought about my future being like that. um, anyways, yeah—you and your members are super talented. i mean, obviously you’re killing it in every way possible” 

danielle’s smile grows upon seeing the visible blush and how evidently flustered you are.

you sig heavily, “i’m not beating the fangirl allegations… sorry.”

she looks at you with a softness in her eyes, giggling before sipping on her drink. you noticed her cheeks were definitely tinged pink now. 

“that’s… really sweet. and, um, mutual. i’ve been a fan of your acting for a while now, actually. so this is all still kinda unreal.” she admits.

you both fall into comfortable conversation, sharing stories about work and laughing about awkward encounters with fans and strange industry moments. you felt completely at ease, and danielle’s laughter was contagious, filling the air with something warm. the feeling lingered even as you two left the cafe together.

the walk back was leisurely, your voices blending as the city got louder.

“do you get nervous though?” danielle asks after a while, pulling her jacket tighter against the breeze of the evening. “with acting, i mean. especially with bigger roles. i hope it’s not awkward to ask but… you know, with romance films too.”

“i get that question a lot, it’s not weird at all dani.” you nod as danielle hides the growing smile after hearing her nickname slip from your lips. “i’m always nervous. but i think i’d worry more if i didn’t feel like that, you know? it kind of keeps me on my feet, makes it feel real.”

she nods in understanding. “that makes sense.”

“you get it.”

as you neared her dorm building, a sense of bittersweetness crept in. the evening had gone by too fast, and you weren’t quite ready for it to end. you stopped a few feet from the entrance, scanning the area to make sure no one was around.

“right, i guess we’re here,” you muttered under your breath, looking back at her with a nervous expression.

she gives you a forced smile, something bittersweet. “yeah.”

“i’ll let you go now, i had a lot of fun.”

“me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” danielle breathes out, her smile much more shy than before now. you catch her biting the inside of her lip just barely 

her eyes sparkle a bit, the streetlight reflecting off her pupils. you gaze at her for a few seconds more before nodding. before you can start to walk away, she steps forward and wraps her arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. your breath catches, but you quickly relax and reciprocate. it seems natural, like you were meant to be this close.

“thank you for today,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.

“thank you for agreeing to hangout despite my… unorthodox impression.” you reply with a giggle, your voice just as soft. “i’m glad we did this.”

when she pulls back, you meet her gaze, faces just inches apart. she looks at your almost dazed expression, with your cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. you quickly caught herself and laughed, trying to play it cool.

“alright, well, i guess i’ll see you soon?” you say, shifting a little on your feet.

“yes,” she says, feeling her heart pounding a bit. “i hope we can do this again.”

danielle is a touchy person, this is visible on camera and to everyone she loves. still, it surprises you when she leaps back onto you, hugging you once more before slipping inside the building. 

you waited until she was out of sight before turning away, unable to keep the grin off your face.

—

the next day, more specifically the next evening, you have an interview at six.

you, your costars soobin and jaehyun, are all caught in an interview. there’s a white backdrop behind you all, with makeup artists adding final touches and shifting your hair. soobin’s in a simple cardigan and jeans, while jaehyun is wearing a sweater that compliments what soobin is wearing. you, on the other hand, are clad in something that makes you stand out more: metal frames, a blazer, and slacks. 

the camera’s start to roll, then the director gives you the green light.

the interviewer smiled warmly, leaning forward as he kicked off with, “so, congratulations on the movie! it’s been getting amazing reviews, and your performance as a supporting lead has been a major highlight. how does it feel to finally see it out in the world?”

you smiled, shifting in your seat. “honestly, it’s surreal. we put so much work into this film, and seeing people connect with it—it’s the best feeling. i’m really grateful.”

“let’s talk about filming,” he continues, glancing between the three of you. “what were the hardest and most fun parts of being on set?”

soobin jumped in first, grinning. “hardest part? probably the weather during those outdoor scenes. we were freezing half the time.”

you nod in agreement. “oh, definitely. there was this one night shoot where we were all layered up between takes, but as soon as the cameras started rolling, we had to act like it was summer. my teeth were literally chattering.”

“and the most fun?” the interviewer asks, tilting his head.

“the cast,” you said immediately, glancing at soobin and jaehyun. “we had such a good time together, even during the long hours. there were so many inside jokes and random moments that just made everything easier. it really felt like a family. they’re idiots, but i love them to death.”

“jaehyun, what about you?” the interviewer asked.

he chuckles. “for me, it was watching these two try to improvise during that one diner scene. they were so into it, and the director was loving it, but the rest of us were just trying not to laugh.”

you groan playfully. “don’t remind me! that scene was so… chaotic.”

the interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the three of you. “speaking of scenes, do you have a favorite?”

“hmm,” you say, thinking. “i really loved the quieter moments, like the scene where my character finally opens up to soobin’s. it was just... really emotional and rewarding to film. looking over it really surprised how well acted-out it was.”

“and you two had such great chemistry,” he adds, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “fans are already talking about it. do you think that dynamic came naturally?”

you and soobin exchanged a look, and he smirked. “well, you know, y/n and i are professionals.”

“oh, stop,” you push him lightly, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “soobin’s great to work with, though. he made it really easy.”

“is that why you’re so good at teasing her?” jaehyun chimed in, earning a laugh from the room.

the interviewer leaned forward, suddenly switching gears. “speaking of fans, y/n, people have been buzzing about your recent live stream. you mentioned being a fan of danielle from newjeans, right?”

you felt your cheeks warm, but you nod. “yeah, i’ve been a fan of their music since debut. they’re insanely talented.”

soobin, your wrost enemy, grins. “she left out the part where she called danielle one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen.”

“soobin!” you protest, laughing but clearly embarrassed. “he’s just jealous that i talk to her more than he talks to bebe rexha.” you retort, earning a pout from soobin.

“she’s not wrong,” jaehyun chimes with a teasing smile. “every time her name comes up, y/n turns into a total fangirl.”

“okay, that’s enough,” you said, trying to shut them down but laughing too hard to be serious. “look, danielle is really sweet. we’ve texted a bit, even met in person, and she’s just as nice as she seems.”

the interviewer didn’t miss a beat. “so, what’s it like talking to someone you’ve admired for so long?”

you hesitate for a moment, then smile. “it’s honestly been really cool. she’s interesting and kind and just... really easy to talk to. and yeah, she’s absolutely gorgeous, but that’s probably not news to anyone. she’s everything i ranted about in my infamous livestream…”

the room erupted in laughter, and soobin locked eyes with the camera. “did you hear that, danielle? she thinks you’re gorgeous.”

you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “why did i agree to this interview?”

the interviewer grinned, clearly loving every second. “well, it sounds like you’ve made a great new friend. and who knows? maybe we’ll see her at one of your premieres and not just the celine event someday.”

“maybe,” you said with a shy smile, trying to brush it off. but deep down, the thought made your heart race.

the cast laughs, and so do you. the interviewer continues on, teasing soobin about his bloopers and viral photos. you tease him even more, considering it karma for him doing the same to you. and when you think you can’t laugh anymore, they bring up jaehyun’s old films and roles, embarassing him just a bit as well.

—

the city lights blurred outside your taxi window as you leaned back, phone pressed to your ear. danielle’s soft laugh came through the line, making your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t want to admit.

danielle decided to call you after your interview. when you asked why, she simply responded with a ‘why? do i need a reason to want to talk to you?’ which only made your stomach twist more.

“so,” she began, voice playful, “you survived the interview, huh? did your costars expose your secrets?”

you groaned dramatically. “they did. they kept teasing me about… well, you.” 

“about me?” her tone was teasing, but you could hear the hint of curiousity hidden in it.

“they’re relentless dani,” you mutter, though the smile on your face was obvious in your voice. “next time, i’m dragging them into a live stream and making them go through public humiliation.”

she laughs again, light and airy. you lean against the window and smile harder. “you’re quite dramatic, y/n. maybe they jus like pointing out the obvious~”

“the obvious?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“you know, ho wmuch you like me,” she teased, her words carrying something playful.

“oh shut up,” you groan again, laughing despite yourself. “i’m never live streaming again. you’ve ruined me.”

“you’re the one who brought me up in the first place,” she counters, tone smug. “don’t blame me for how smitten you are.”

“smitten? right…” you shoot back. “someone’s confident.”

“only because you keep giving me reasons to,” she quipped, but there was a slight softness in her voice now, like the banter was more of a cover. 

you’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head, your your smile only widened. you bite your bottom lip, twirling your hair ever so slightly. “but you’re also probably exhausted. you should get some rest.”

“aren’t you exhausted from the interview? i only had practice—you’re telling me to rest?” she teases, though her tone had softened further.

“i’m serious,” you say, voice queter now. “sleep tight, danielle.”

there was a pause on the other end, not awkward but lingering. “you two,” she said eventually, her voice just as soft.

you both stayed on the line a moment longer, neither of you wanting to hang up. finall, you broke the silence. 

“goodnight.”

“goodnight,” she echoed before the call ended, “stay safe.”

leaning your head back, you sigh, letting the giddiness settle in your chest. as the taxi pulled closer to your place, you decided to send her a picture—your post interview outfit, slightly rumpled, hair a bit messy, and a tired peace sign held up for the camera.

a moment later, her response popped up:

danielle:  cute

your heart skipped, and then another text followed.

danielle:  goodnight :-)

you stared at your screen for a long moment, grinning like an idiot, before typing back a quick ‘night.’ you tucked your phone away, feeling like you could float the rest of the way home.

—

“morning?” you respond tiredly, leaning against your counter. “something up?”

he huffs, great. 

“morning? try good afternoon,” your manager’s voice came through, laced with exasperation. “we have a situation.”

you already dreaded whatever was coming next. “are you serious?”

“i don’t know how you do it.”

“what?”

“how have you managed to go viral again? you and soobin this time: dating rumors.” he says. 

“what?” you respond in disbelief, “me and— me and that bitc— me and soobin? there’s absolutely no way.”

“there are pictures from the interview yesterday going viral,” your manager explained. “people are assuming that you and soobin might have something going on.”

mark hears you make a disgusted noise through the phone. “why the hell would they think that?”

“apparently, you two were standing close, there’s one of you leaning on him, and another where you’re laughing while nudging him. they’re harmless, bit fans are running with it. despite your whole danielle thing, fans are running with this. boy and girl, girl and boy—you know the gist, things run around faster and easier.

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “that’s so gross—he’s soobin. he’s like… a brother to me. and i’m a lesbian.”

“i know that, trust me. but the internet doesn’t,” mark says dryly. “just be careful. maybe you two can talk to each other, clear the air?”

“okay, okay. i’ll talk to you later.” you muttered before hanging up.

you check out social media for a bit, looking at the pictures going around and furrow your brows at how platonic they look. a girl can’t lean on her guy friend anymore? okay… right.

immediately, you pull up your contacts, scrolling to soobin’s name.

y/n: we have heterosexual allegations

not even a minute later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you answered, alreadying rolling your eyes. “soob.”

“we have straight allegations?” he questions, voice filed with disbelief, even despair. “god, no. absolutely not… not you, especially.”

“thanks,” you deadpanned.

“you’re welcome,” he quips, “but seriously, what do we do? should we post something?”

“definitely. let’s make this clear before is spirals. people are already clipping us from other interviews and our scenes.” you say, standing up right. “i’ll post something on my instagram: the pictures we took yesterday. i’ll caption it something normal and you can just reply normally. simple fix, right?”

“perfect,” soobin agrees. “you post it, and i’ll repost. we’ll just step on the fire.”

within minutes, you were typing out the caption, attaching a candid picture from the event of you two laughing together. once the post was live, you refreshed your feed, watching as likes and comments poured in. soobin reposted it immediately with a laughing emoji, and soon enough, the narrative started shifting.

you couldn’t help but smile in relief as you saw comments like: “okay, but their friendship is so cute,” and “best friends of the industry!”

you texted soobin one last time: crisis = over. lunch sometime this week?

his reply was instant: only if you’re paying.

—

danielle scrolled through her phone, her face buried in the pillow as she lay on her stomach. the soft glow of the screen illuminated the quiet room, the only sounds being her occasional sighs and the muffled hum of her members beyond her closed door. 

twitter was like a battlefield, one she didn’t fully understand. the pictures of you and soobin, paired with captions like “new favorite couple?” and “look at their chemistry!” made her chest feel heavy in a way she couldn’t explain.

you’re just friends, she thought to herself. why do i even care?

yet, despite trying to brush it off, her fingers kept scrolling. she stared at the photos for longer than she wanted to admit, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. why did it feel like this? you weren’t hers, you’re your own person.

you two have only gone out together once, spent time with each other maybe twice, and haven’t really indulged in anything deeper. if anything it felt right that you and soobin were a thing, considering the chemistry she noticed in interviews and whatnot. still, she frowned, thinking there was something different between the two of you. especially the way you noticed and looked at her like no one had before.

a knock on the door broke her from her spiraling thoughts. before she could answer, haerin poked her head in.

“danielle? are you okay? you haven’t come out all morning.”

danielle quickly locked her phone, shoving it under her pillow. “i’m fine,” she lied, her voice muffled against the pillow.

haerin frowned, stepping inside and sitting at the edge of the bed. “you don’t seem fine.” she gently tugged at danielle’s arm. “what’s going on?”

danielle groaned but didn’t resist when haerin pulled the pillow away. “it’s stupid,” she muttered.

“stupid or not, you’re clearly upset. tell me,” haerin pressed, her tone soft but firm.

danielle hesitated before finally mumbling, “i saw the rumors about y/n and soobin.”

haerin raised an eyebrow, confused. “okay? why does that bother you?”

“i don’t know!” danielle sat up abruptly, running a hand through her hair. “it shouldn’t. but seeing those pictures… it just… it made me feel weird. i don’t like it, ugh!”

haerin tilted her head, studying danielle carefully. “weird how?”

danielle hugged her knees to her chest, avoiding haerin’s gaze. “like... sad. but that doesn’t make sense, right? i mean, she can date whoever she wants.”

realization dawned on haerin’s face, and she leaned closer. “danielle... do you like y/n?”

danielle froze, her cheeks flushing. “what? no! i mean…” she trailed off, her heart racing. did she?

haerin waited patiently, her expression calm.

“i don’t know,” danielle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve never felt like this before. and if i do… isn’t it weird? liking a girl? i’ve never done that before, i’ve never really liked anyone period… but if i did i figured it’d be a guy. i mean i kind of always noticed the female celebrities more and— oh my god, am i gay? i like girls… i think i’ve always liked girls. why am i realizing so late—”

haerin’s eyes softened. she reached out, placing a reassuring hand on danielle’s shoulder. “it’s not weird, danielle. it’s normal. liking someone—boy or girl—doesn’t make you any different. it just makes you human. it’s fine, it’s no big deal. like who you like.”

danielle looked at haerin, her eyes wide and uncertain. “but what if it’s not okay? what if i ruin things by feeling this way?”

haerin shook her head. “you’re not ruining anything. feelings can be scary, especially when they’re new. but you don’t have to figure everything out right now. take your time, okay? and no matter what, i’m here for you. i’ve been there, i think there are two others in the dorm that have been too.”

danielle nodded slowly, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. “thanks, haerin. i think… i just need some time to think.”

“of course, i understand,” haerin said with a small smile. “but for now, let’s get you out of bed. you’re not going to figure anything out by hiding under the covers. maybe you’ll think clearly after a bit of breakfast–brunch.”

danielle chuckled softly, letting haerin pull her to her feet. though her heart still felt heavy, haerin’s words gave her a small sense of comfort. maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

 —

“no way am i spending that much on something i’ll only wear once,” he said, putting a jacket back on the rack.

you two were in some pop-up store downtown, meandering through racks of high-end clothing. the smell of fresh leather and faint hints of something floral lingered in the air. music hummed in the air, some type of house playlist. 

“you could always expensive it as a ‘costume piece’ for another project.” you laugh, fingers brushing idly against the fabric of a blazer nearby.

“if only it worked like that,” he snorted, glancing at you. “speaking of work, when’s the next press event? aren’t we supposed to fly out soon? there’s too much on my plate… but it’s worse for jaehyun.”

“next week,” you replied absentmindedly, your attention more on your phone than the clothes. the screen buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down immediately, eyes scanning the notification. it wasn’t from danielle. you frowned slightly and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

“that’s the third time you’ve done that in five minutes,” soobin noted, a small grin on his lips. “let me guess—waiting for a certain someone to text? a certain singer~?”

your ears burned. “what? no. i’m just—i don’t know, checking stuff. my um,” you cough, “my mom…”

“checking stuff…” he repeated, his smirk growing. “you are not slick. it’s danielle, isn’t it? waiting for her?”

he laughs when you roll your eyes at him, then raises a brow when you don’t deny it.

“you’re so obvious.” he teases, nuding your shoulder. “it’s cute though. fangirl crush to… whatever this is—’text flirtation’?”

“oh my god, you don’t shut up do you?” you say, though the corner of your mouth twitches into a smile. before you could retort further, your phone buzzed again—when you check it this time, danielle’s name lit up on the screen. without hesitation, you step away and hold up a hand to soobin.

“hold that thought,” you say, walking a few feet away for some privacy.

“hey,” you greet, trying to keep your voice casual, though you couldn’t stop the slight hint of excitement.

“hi,” her voice is soft through the phone, and you could hear the faint sound of city traffic in the background. “are you busy?”

“no, not at all,” you assure her. “i’m shopping with soobin. what’s up?”

there was a brief pause on her end before she says, “i was wondering if you’d want to go on a walk tonight? it’s been a long day, and i though it’d be nice to… you know, just talk. ah! i hope you don’t mind… i just… missed you. i know we’ve hangout only a few times, but i really like your energy! oh god, i’m rambling aren’t i—”

“i’d love that.” you smile into the phone, balancing your weight on one foot then the other. “that’s perfect, yeah of course. don’t worry about rambling… don’t ever.”

“okay,” her tone lighter now. “well, i have a shoot. i’ll text you more details, okay?”

“perfect. i’ll see you.” you say, feeling a little giddy as you hang up. 

when you walked back over to soobin, he was leaning against a rack of coats, eyebrows raised knowingly. 

“someone looks happy,” he teases, “let me guess—date?”

“not a date,” you correct him, though the hear rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “just a walk, you know.”

“that’s gay.” he mutters, earning a shove. he smirks at you, then adds, “well whatever helps you sleep at night—even if that’s a ‘walk.’”

you shoved his shoulder again, but the smile lingered on your face. even as you tried to focus on the clothes in front of you, your thoughts were already elsewhere counting down the hours until tonight.

—

the riverside was serene, the water reflecting the city lights in the rippled patterns. the air was crisp but not biting, just how you like it. you spot danielle standing by the railing, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out over the water. her hair caught the light, framing her face in soft waves—her natural hair always left you in awe—and for a moment, you just stood there taking in the sight.

“hey,” you call, breaking her reverie.

she turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “you made it! hi.”

“of course. why would i miss it?” you say, stepping closer until you were side by side.

the two of you started walking, the rhythm of your steps syncing naturally. conversation came easily, as it always did with her. danielle talked about her schedule, how she’d been trying to find a balance between work and rest. you shared bits about your own projects, the highs and lows of the past week and even something you might audition for.

“it’s a lot sometimes,” she admits, glancing at you. “but i guess it’s just part of it, you know? the good things outweigh whatever is bad.”

you nod. “for sure. but it’s okay to feel overwhelmed too. you’re doing amazing, though. seriously.”

she looks down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “thanks. that means a lot.”

as the conversation flowed further, the distance between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed with each step. the contact was subtle, but it was the only thing you could think about. you were hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. danielle didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

a light breeze swept by, and you noticed her ears twitch. without thinking, you pulled your beanie off and held it out to her. 

“here,” you say, “it’s not much, but i think it’ll help.”

“oh, no, it’s okay,” she starts, but you were already placing it gently over her head, adjusting it so it fit snugly.

“looks good on you,” you admit, stepping back to admire her. “actually, you look better in it than i do. i might have to let you keep it.” 

she laughs softly, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold. “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you reply, voice light but sincere. “trust me.”

she looks at you for a moment, her eyes warm and searching before breaking into a smile. “thanks.”

you resumed walking, the easy conversation picking up again, but the air between you felt different now—warmer, closer. 

as the night wore on, the city seemed to fade away, which left the two of you. your steps were in rhythm and your hearts quietly beat at the same time, to another rhythm that neither of you wanted to name.

the sound of leaves rustling fills the spaces between your conversation as you and danielle continued to walk along the riverside. the path was lit by lampposts, casting a soft light that made everything seem dreamlike. danielle, however, seemed distracted, her steps just a fraction slower than before.

“soooo,” she begins, voice tentative. “i saw something earlier.” 

you turned your head to look at her, curious. “yeah? what was it?”

“pictures of you and soobin had been going around on twitter,” she says, glancing sideways at you. “people were… assuming things.”

it took you a second to realize what she meant, but when you did, you let out a short laugh. “oh, that. again?”

she nods. her expression remained the same as normal, but her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. “yeah. you two seem close.”

“we’re realy close.” you say easily, not noticing the slight edge of hesitation in her tone. “but not like that. soobin’s like… my brother? maybe a favorite cousin. it’s very platonic.”

her eyes darted up to meet yours, flickering with something unreadable. “oh,” she says softly, her voice a little brighter. “i guess that makes sense.”

you tilt your head, catching the faint shift in her demeanor. “besides,” you added, a small smirk tugging at your lips, “i’m one hundred percent gay. women only.”

danielle’s steps faltered for a brief moment again, and you noticed the way her cheeks flushed under the streetlights. she recovered quickly though, and let out a small laugh. “oh. that’s good to know.”

“yeah,” you nod and shove your hands into your pockets. “soobin’s great, but absolutely not my type. not even close.” 

danielle chuckles, her gaze fixed ahead now. “when did you figure that out? you know, about being gay?”

you thought for a moment, the question catching you a little off guard but not unwelcome. “probably when i was in high school,” you admitted. “i mean, i always kind of knew, but it really hit me when i found myself completely zoning out over this one girl in my art class. she was kind of like you, pretty and nice and sweet and—” you stopped yourself, “yeah…”

danielle smiels, her curiosity evident now. “was it hard? like, coming to terms with it?”

“it had its moments,” you say honestly. “i was scared at first, like, what people would think or how my family would react. but once i told myself it was okay to just... be myself, it got easier. and i’ve been lucky—my friends and family have been super supportive. it’s normal anyway… being infatuated, finding girls attractive, and,” you look at her a little closer now, “having crushes on girls.”

danielle nods, her gaze lingering on you a beat too long before she looks away. there was something… softer in her expression now, a quiet kind of admiration mixed with something else. you noticed the shift but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the moment.

“that’s nice,” she says finally, her voice quieter than before. “i think it’s brave.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but the sincerity in her tone made your chest tighten. “just being honest, i guess.”

the conversation pauses, but the air between you felt warmer now, more intimate. danielle’s eyes flicker to you again, her expression thoughtful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking closer—not just in steps, but in something unspoken between you two.

“why do you ask, anyway?” you question.

“ah, well—” she completely short circuits, trying to find the right words. “there’s, well, i think i um, i like someone. i don’t know, well, i do.”

you raise a brow, looking at her confusingly.

and then it hits.

she’s avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with her fingers, and the blush on her cheeks is apparent. it’s all apparent: she’s asking you about liking girls, calling you when she can, texting you, complimenting you—it all makes sense now, everything leading up to it. and you’ve been dropping hints too, but you never noticed hers.

“and what’s this girl like? is she nice?”

“ah– well, it’s— i don’t know. she’s really sweet, but anyway,” she tries to shift the conversation, but you butt in.

“i’ve been kind of into this girl actually.” you admit, kicking a rock on the ground nervously. 

“really?”

you hum.

“what is she like?” danielle asks, glancing at you shyly now.

“well,” you start, sucking in the courage to continue on. “she’s really pretty, and i managed to get closer with her in just two months. i always had a little friend crush on her, but even so i always thought she was gorgeous.”

“is that so?” danielle’s cheeks flush a bit as the realization starts to hit. “what else?”

“well, the more we got to know each other the more i found myself thinking of her late at night. she’s easy to talk to and i really like that about her. i’m pretty into her, and i think a lot of people know it despite how much i try to deny it.” you shrug, looking at the ground. “um, w-what is your girl like? the girl you like.”

there’s a smile on her face, one that would be impossible to wipe off.

“she’s… she’s really cute.” danielle says bashfully. “she’s kind, funny, caring, and i kind of grew to like everything about her. i can’t stop thinking about her and talking about her to my members, and when she posts or something about her goes viral i can’t help but go a little crazy. she accidentally revealed her crush on me to a lot of people and i couldn’t believe it, even now i’m unsure…”

“well i think she likes you a lot.”

“do you?”

“mhm.” you stop in your tracks, watching danielle take a few steps before stopping. you two stare at each other for a bit, struggling to maintain eye contact. “i think she’s been trying to ignore the fact that she’s in love with you, but can’t because you’re impossibly easy to fall in love with.”

danielle blushes, stepping closer and pushing your shoulder as she tries to compose herself.

“okay,” she mutters quietly, looking down at the ground. “do you think she could close her eyes?”

“maybe.” you nervously say as you close your eyes, huffing shakily. 

danielle stares at you, features a little tense—really all of you is tense—before leaning up a bit and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

she pulls away, blushing furiously. 

you open your eyes, blinking twice to make sure none of it is a dream. danielle stands in front of you, biting down on her teeth to try to keep herself from going insane. she looks away, scared and flustered all at the same time.

“do you think she… do you think she liked that?”

you nod, “yeah, but she thinks you missed.”

“what—”

you cut her off, tilting her chin up and pressing a quick peck to her lips. 

danielle gasps, then looks at you with widened eyes. seconds later she leans forward, meeting you in a longer kiss. 

she melts a bit, your bottom lip trapped between hers as she slides her hand over to your neck. and when she pulls away, she hides her face near your ear. 

“did she, did she think that was okay? i’ve never um, kissed a girl before—i haven’t kissed anyone before.”

“i think she wants to kiss you again.”

danielle laughs, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks with her hand. it’s small and soft and warm all at the same time against your burning skin. you smile as she brushes her thumb over, nodding.

“i think i want to kiss her again too.”

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to our gullibility and youall fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up so Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

“Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[rafescherie]

spoil me softly — rafe cameron

synopsisᝰ.ᐟ gf!reader has a hard time accepting gifts from her boyfriend, rafe cameron.

warningᝰ.ᐟ revised with ai, rafe being a sweetiepie ???

word countᝰ.ᐟ 917

this was unfamiliar territory for rafe—having a girl he desperately adored who didn’t ask for things? that didn’t exist on kildare. not until he met you. so shy and timid, even when he offered—even when he insisted—you’d shake your head and refuse. it was frustrating, honestly. he loved the way your eyes lit up with excitement when you got a surprise, the way your delicate fingers unwrapped the ribbons on gift boxes, and how you’d pepper his face with kisses before snuggling into him after receiving something you’d wanted. your happiness felt like a reward for him too.

“i can buy it for you,” he murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile as his hands rested lightly on your waist. you’d been staring at a pair of black, clunky mary-jane shoes on your laptop for so long it was as though you might burn a hole through the screen. that laptop, of course, was something rafe had already bought for you, much to your protests. he’d hated the inconvenience of you dragging your old one back and forth whenever you stayed over, so in his mind, the solution had been obvious: your own laptop for his house.

you shook your head, quickly clicking away from the page as his head dipped, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “no, i was just looking.”

“come on, pretty girl,” he coaxed, his warm breath brushing against your skin. his hands started to roam, gentle but firm, exploring the curves of your body with the kind of reverence that always made your heart flutter. “you’ve gotta let me spoil you a little. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t?”

the guilt hit you immediately, settling like a stone in your stomach. you knew rafe had money—he’d mentioned buying his own place in kildare, the once-lively family home now a ghostly relic of the past. he’d talked about locking away most of his inheritance for the future, investing it smartly. you knew he could afford things like this without a second thought, but it didn’t stop you from feeling bad about accepting his generosity.

“‘s’okay, rafe,” you said with a small smile, tilting your head just enough to press a kiss to his temple. his sigh was heavy as he reluctantly let go of you, lingering close, his sharp blue eyes watching you with a mix of frustration and fondness. you were so stubborn sometimes, and he didn’t know what he was going to do with you.

“i’d feel bad, anyway,” you added softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

his brows furrowed, curiosity sparking in his expression. it was rare for you to vocalize these thoughts, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. feel bad? about what? his hands cupped your warm, blushing cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin as he studied you. the redness blooming there made him smile despite himself. “baby,” he said, his voice soft and steady, “i could buy you hundreds of those shoes, and it wouldn’t even make a dent. if it makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

your lips formed the smallest pout, and he couldn’t help but grin. that look of yours—so sweet, so innocent—always worked against him. anytime you wanted something, all it took was a little pout like that, and he was done for.

“it’s your money, rafe,” you replied quietly.

“i know, sweet girl,” he said, his gaze locking with yours. the nervousness you often felt in moments like this melted away under the intensity of his eyes. “but i want you to feel special too. i’ve got plenty, trust me.”

before you could respond, he was already digging into his pocket, that familiar mischievous grin spreading across his face. your heart skipped a beat when he pulled out a small, soft velvet pouch. “besides,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement, “i already bought you something.”

the diamond necklace he revealed shimmered as sunlight caught it, the intricate detail immediately taking your breath away. it was stunning, and you didn’t even want to imagine how much it had cost.

“rafe…” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of awe and exasperation.

“turn around, pretty,” he instructed, his tone gentle but firm. you obeyed, your back pressing against his chest as he clasped the necklace around your neck. the delicate chain settled perfectly, the small diamond-studded “r” pendant resting just above the curve of your chest. he took a moment to admire how it looked on you, sneaking a quick glance downward that made him bite his lip in approval.

“it’s beautiful,” you breathed, your fingers brushing over the pendant. “i love it, rafe. thank you.”

you knew, deep down, that there was no point in protesting anymore. rafe was going to spoil you no matter how much you tried to fight it. you turned to him, pressing your lips to his in a tender, lingering kiss. his hands found your waist again, pulling you closer, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you had been perfectly crafted for each other, made to fit in ways that satisfied every corner of your hearts. you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d gotten so lucky.

when the kiss broke, he pressed his lips to your forehead, his arms wrapping firmly around you. “now,” he murmured, his voice laced with that same mischievous warmth, “put those shoes back in your cart. i’m buying them for you.”

[elikajinnie]

The Frequency Of A Killer - S.J

P: Killer!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suspense, Teasing, Murder, Attempted Murder, Stalking, Mind Games, Obsessive Behaviour kinda?

Wordcount: + 20k words

Synopsis: After moving to a small town as a horror talk show host, you uncover a deadly cover-up tied to a masked killer. As the bodies pile up, the killer becomes fixated on you. Can you unravel the truth?

a/n: her we go! another killer au but this time its not Heeseung or Ni-ki! We got Jake :) so this is inspired by my fave horror game; killer frequency - 1000% recommend.

---

You were used to the rush, the buzz, and the endless opportunities of the big city. The noise didn’t bother you. Networking came naturally, jobs were abundant, and you’d found your niche in the chaos: hosting a podcast about horror and true crime in a way that set your listeners on edge while keeping them hooked. Your show had skyrocketed to fame, and you’d connected with an entire community of enthusiasts who lived for the thrill, just like you. Life was good. Stable. Yours.

Until your company decided you weren’t “it” anymore.

The justification was laughable—“gender diversity,” they’d said. They wanted to swap you out for some guy, as if trading a seasoned, beloved host for an inexperienced one would make everything magically better. You weren’t buying it, but their minds were made up. No amount of protest or proof of your success could change their decision. And so, you left, refusing to stick around and watch them hand your hard work over to someone who didn’t earn it.

That’s how you found yourself in this small, sleepy town, working for a much smaller company that was trying its hand at podcasts. They hired you on the spot, practically drooling over your experience, and offered you a spot as the host of their horror and true crime segment. It was meant to be a temporary gig, a placeholder until—surely—your old company would come crawling back, begging for you to return.

But a month had passed. One whole, quiet month, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even a courtesy email.

At least this place wasn’t half bad. You had your own little booth, tucked away in the back of the building, with soundproof walls and just enough space to feel like your own world. The show was entirely yours to run—aside from the occasional ad spot they made you slip in—and you had free rein to do what you did best. Even the people weren’t bad.

Especially Beomgyu.

Beomgyu was technically your producer, though most of his job seemed to involve screening calls and chatting with you during breaks. He sat in the booth just across from yours, separated by a thin pane of glass, and had this habit of pulling faces at you whenever you got too serious. At first, you thought he was annoying—this twenty-something with a mop of messy hair and a perpetual smirk—but over time, he’d grown on you.

Tonight was no different. You leaned back in your chair, headphones snug over your ears as you wrapped up the last caller. A woman with a trembling voice had called in to share a local ghost story about the old mill at the edge of town, and you’d expertly guided her through the tale, adding just the right amount of suspense and curiosity to keep your listeners hooked.

When the call ended, you glanced over at Beomgyu through the glass. He was grinning, spinning lazily in his chair, and holding up a piece of paper with “9/10” scrawled on it in bold, black ink.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him off with a smirk. He just laughed, pointing to the mic to remind you you were still live.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, turning back to the soundboard. “That’s all the time we have for tonight. Thanks for tuning in, and as always—lock your doors, check under your bed, and don’t trust the shadows.”

The outro music played, and you switched off your mic with a satisfied sigh.

“Not bad,” Beomgyu teased as you stood up, stretching your arms. “But you totally rushed the ending on that last one. Where was the suspense?”

“Where was the suspense?” you echoed mockingly, grabbing a cup of coffee off the table and taking a sip. “How about I’m the professional, and you’re just the guy who answers phones?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. One day, I’m gonna take over your job and show you how it’s really done.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’d last five minutes before you started talking about aliens or some weird conspiracy theory.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

--

The night started off normal enough. You sat at the small desk in the break area, sipping on a lukewarm coffee Beomgyu had somehow convinced you to grab for him before realizing you needed one for yourself too. He lounged across from you, feet propped up on the edge of the table like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“So,” he started casually, tilting his head with that usual lopsided grin of his, “what’s it like being a big-shot city person stuck in our little backwater town?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “First of all, you act like I came here voluntarily. Second, backwater’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it. You’ve been here a month and you still can’t hide the ‘get me out of here’ look on your face.”

“Maybe because I’m waiting for my old company to realize they made the worst mistake of their lives.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And when they don’t? What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “There’s no Plan B, because Plan A is going to work. They’ll come crawling back. Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a doubtful look. “Sure, sure. But admit it—this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, no traffic, and the rent is dirt cheap. I bet your apartment here is, like, three times bigger than whatever shoebox you had back in the city.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “The cost of living here is nice. And I don’t hate the peace and quiet. But the thing about big cities? There’s always something happening. People, events, opportunities. It’s like… the energy keeps you alive, you know?”

Beomgyu chuckled, twirling the pen like he was in some kind of drumline. “Sounds exhausting. You city people thrive on chaos. Meanwhile, out here, we’ve got… cows. And maybe a parade if you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that bad here. I just… I’m not used to it yet.”

“Give it time,” he said, leaning forward like he was about to share a secret. “Pretty soon, you’ll be one of us. Walking slow, waving at strangers, knowing everyone’s business…”

You grimaced. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his coffee. He was still grinning when he asked, “So what was it like, though? Your old job, I mean. The fancy podcast thing.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You could still remember it clearly—the studio, the buzz of the city outside, the adrenaline rush of knowing your audience was hanging on to your every word.

“It was…” you began, searching for the right word. “It was everything I wanted, for a while. I worked my way up, you know? Started small, built an audience, found my voice. It was a grind, but it was worth it.”

Beomgyu nodded, his expression more serious now. “So what went wrong?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “They wanted to ‘freshen things up.’ Change the direction of the show. Apparently, a guy hosting would bring in a ‘different perspective.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Beomgyu said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.” You shrugged, masking the sting with a bitter smile. “They thought it was a good idea. I didn’t.”

“Idiots,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this than some random guy.”

“Thanks,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I’ll remind them of that when they come groveling.”

Then the clock on the wall chimed, reminding you it was time to start the show.

“Alright, back to work,” you said, standing up and stretching. “Don’t let me catch you slacking, Beomgyu.”

“Me? Slack? Never,” he replied, mock-offended as he followed you toward the booth.

The show started as usual—smooth, easy, familiar. The first few callers were locals sharing urban legends, strange encounters, and the occasional eerie coincidence. Beomgyu stayed in his booth across from you, laughing silently at your quips and holding up cards with goofy doodles to make you break character mid-recording.

But then, midway through the second hour, a call came through that made your stomach drop.

Beomgyu patched it through with his usual nonchalance, giving you a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass. “Line three,” he mouthed.

“Hello,” you said into the mic, your voice steady despite the sudden shift in the air. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

There was a long pause. Too long. Static crackled faintly on the other end.

Then, a voice you didn’t recognize—low, and far too calm—spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if someone’s watching you right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You forced a laugh, playing it off for your listeners. “Well, I guess I should hope so—otherwise, what’s the point of doing a live show?”

The voice didn’t laugh. “No,” it said. “I mean really watching you. Right now.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms. You glanced toward Beomgyu, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going.

“I think that’s a little too vague to count as a story,” you said, keeping your tone light. “Care to elaborate?”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time.

“Check your window.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned instinctively to the window beside your booth. It was dark outside, the glass reflecting nothing but the dim glow of your equipment.

Nothing was there.

But the voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly, sending a chill down your spine.

“Gotcha,” it said, before the call abruptly disconnected.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones, pulling you out of the eerie fog left by the last caller.

“That was… weird,” he said, leaning closer to his mic in the booth across from you. You could see his reflection in the glass, brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, what window? We’re on the second floor. Unless there’s some really tall guy with a ladder out there, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you reached for your cup of water, trying to shake off the chill creeping up your spine. “Right? Probably some wannabe prank caller. People love to act spooky when they know they’re live.”

“Yeah, but that voice?” Beomgyu leaned back, tapping his fingers against his desk. “It didn’t sound like someone joking. It sounded… I don’t know. Off.”

“Let’s not overthink it,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the unease settling in your chest. “Weird calls are part of the job, right? It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, but his usual playful grin didn’t return. His eyes flickered to the window behind you, then back to his desk as if trying to distract himself.

Before either of you could dwell on it further, the phone lit up again. Another call.

“Line two,” Beomgyu said, pressing the button to patch it through.

You straightened in your seat, slipping your headphones back on. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

This time, the voice on the other end was hurried, shaky, and unmistakably real.

“This is Officer Park from the Greenfield Police Department,” a woman said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I—God, I don’t even know who else to call right now. I just got back to the station—was out getting donuts for the night shift—and when I walked in, I found…”

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. Your stomach twisted.

“You found what?” you asked gently, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Beomgyu through the glass.

“Two of the officers—two of my coworkers,” the woman stammered. “They’ve been stabbed. One of them… one of them’s already gone. The other one is still alive, barely. I called for backup, but closest units are at least five hours away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw dropped as he mouthed, Is this for real?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk. “Okay, Officer Park, take a deep breath,” you said, your tone steady even though your heart was racing. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I locked myself in the back office. But whoever did this—they could still be here. I didn’t see anyone when I came in, but… Oh, God, what if they’re still inside?”

You leaned closer to your mic, your voice low but firm. “Okay, listen to me. First, you did the right thing by calling for backup. Stay where you are, keep the door locked, and don’t make any noise. Do you have your weapon on you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good,” you said. “And the officer who’s still alive—do you know if they’re in immediate danger? Can you hear or see them from where you are?”

“They’re out in the main lobby,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I can hear them—barely. They’re trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. I think they’re losing consciousness.”

Your pulse quickened as you considered the situation. This wasn’t just some urban legend or creepy caller—this was real, and someone’s life was on the line.

“Okay, Officer Park, here’s what we’re going to do,” you said, keeping your tone as calm as possible. “Do you have anything with you—first aid supplies, even a jacket—anything you can use to stabilize them if you go out there?”

“There’s a med kit in the office,” she said.

“Good. Grab it. But listen—only go out there if you’re sure it’s safe. Move quickly, quietly, and keep your weapon ready. Check the corners, and don’t let your guard down. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you come right back to the office and lock the door. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Stay on the line with us,” you said, glancing at Beomgyu, who was already typing furiously on his laptop, probably trying to look up news reports or police scanner updates. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You could hear her moving, her breathing shaky but determined as she whispered, “I’m opening the door.”

Your own breath hitched as you listened to the faint creak of a door opening on her end.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “I’m stepping out now.”

The seconds dragged on like hours as you listened to her footsteps, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the background.

“I see him,” she whispered. “He’s—oh, God, he’s bleeding so much. I’m going to try to stop it.”

You could hear her fumbling with the med kit, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Help is on the way.”

Your pulse pounded as Officer Park’s frantic movements came through the line. You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, trying to calm both her and yourself.

"Officer Park," you said firmly, leaning closer to the mic. "Listen to me. You need to arm yourself before doing anything else. Do you have access to any weapons right now?"

She hesitated for a moment, her breathing quick. "There’s a weapons locker in the office, but the keys are… they’re on one of the officers."

“Okay. You need to get those keys from the officer who…” You paused, forcing yourself to stay calm. “The officer who’s gone. You’ll need them if you’re going to get out of there alive. And when backup arrives, they’ll need you armed.”

“I already told you,” she whispered sharply. “Backup isn’t coming anytime soon. This is a small town. The nearest station is in the next county over—at least five hours away.”

The weight of her words settled like a stone in your chest. “Then you need to leave now,” you said. “You’ll have to meet them halfway, but you can’t just stay there. Take the surviving officer and get out of the station. Use the police cruiser. Are the keys to the car with the officers too?”

“Probably,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then get them,” you urged. “Check the pockets of the officer who…” You hesitated again, but there wasn’t time for gentleness. “Who’s already gone.”

There was a long pause, followed by a shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear her moving again, her footsteps echoing faintly. Then, muffled rustling as she moved the officer’s body.

“I’ve got them,” she said after a moment, her voice tight. “The car keys. And…” She paused, the sound of a locker creaking open coming through the line. “Weapons. I’ve got pepper spray, a taser, and a baton. Which one should I take?”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who shrugged helplessly. “The taser,” you said decisively. “It’s your best option for close combat if the killer comes back. You’ll still have the element of surprise.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m taking the taser. And the med kit. I’m going to try to move Officer Kim to the car.”

“Be careful,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Check your surroundings constantly. Keep the taser in your hand. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”

You listened in tense silence as she dragged the injured officer toward the car, her breaths labored but determined. The sound of a car door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint groans of the wounded officer being carefully placed in the back seat.

“I’ve got him in the car,” Officer Park said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m about to start it.”

“Good,” you said. “Start it quietly and get out of there as fast as you can.”

But just as the engine sputtered to life, a haunting whistle cut through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. It was distant but unmistakable—low and drawn out, carrying an almost mocking tone.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, panic creeping back into her voice. “They’re here. The killer’s here.”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Stay calm,” you said. “Lock the doors. Don’t move until you know it’s safe. If they come close, use the taser.”

Through the line, you heard faint footsteps and the sound of shouts—angry, guttural, and close. Then a scuffle broke out.

“They’re trying to break into the car!” Officer Park shouted, her voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Use the taser!” you yelled. “Now!”

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a strangled scream.

“It worked!” she cried out, her voice bursting with relief. “The taser worked! They’re down!”

A second later, the engine roared to life, and the sound of the car speeding away filled the line.

“Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’re leaving. I’m heading to the next town over to meet the backup units. It’s about five hours from here—less if I push it.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling slowly. “Just stay safe and focus on the road.”

“One more thing,” she added, her tone suddenly serious. “The emergency police line—it’s been rerouted to you. I couldn’t risk leaving the station unattended, so if anyone in town calls for help, it’ll go to your line instead.”

You froze, glancing at Beomgyu, who stared back at you with wide eyes.

“Wait,” you said, your stomach sinking. “What are we supposed to do if the killer targets someone else?”

“You’re going to have to help them,” she said grimly. “Until we can get backup to the town, you’re the only ones who can.”

The line went dead, leaving you and Beomgyu sitting in stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over you like a storm cloud.

“Uh… what the hell just happened?” Beomgyu finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t answer, your mind racing as you stared at the blinking lights on the phone.

Somewhere out there, the killer was still on the loose. And now, the entire town was counting on you.

After a while the familiar ring of the phone jolted you from your thoughts, the sudden sound piercing the tense silence that had settled in the booth. Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones.

“Line three,” he said.

You nodded to Beomgyu, signaling for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, adjusting your mic.

“I—oh, no, no, I think I called the wrong number,” a woman stammered, her voice trembling. “I was trying to call the police. There’s—there’s someone after me.”

Your heart sank as you exchanged a quick glance with Beomgyu through the glass. “You didn’t call the wrong number,” you explained quickly. “The emergency line is being rerouted to us temporarily. But you’re not alone—we’re here to help. Just tell us where you are and what’s happening.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath audible over the line. “I just left the gym. I’m trying to get to my car, but there’s this… man. He’s following me. He has a knife, I’m sure of it.”

A faint whistle echoed in the background of the call, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The woman gasped, her voice rising in panic.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. Why didn’t I stay home?”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “Listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Don’t stop. Keep moving toward your car. You can do this.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you’re doing great. Just keep going. Focus on your breathing and keep moving. We’re not going anywhere—we’ve got you.”

The sound of her hurried footsteps came through the line, along with her ragged breathing.

“I see my car,” she said, relief creeping into her voice. “I’m almost there.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Good. Get in and lock the doors immediately. Don’t worry about starting it until you’re inside and safe.”

A moment later, there was the faint sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.

“I made it,” she said, exhaling shakily. “I’m in.”

“Great job,” you said, feeling a small surge of relief. “Now start the car and drive somewhere safe—”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, her voice rising in panic again. “No, no, no! I—I forgot my keys. They’re still in the gym!”

Your stomach dropped.

Beomgyu’s voice came through your headphones before you could respond. “Wait,” he said, leaning closer to his mic. “One guy—one who works here. I’ve seen him reading magazines about car maintenance in the breakroom. He might’ve had something about starting a car without keys.”

You blinked at him, hope flickering. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Beomgyu said. “I saw him reading one earlier this week.”

You muted the line to the woman briefly, turning back to Beomgyu. “Where did he leave it?”

“Probably in his office,” Beomgyu said with a shrug. “You’ll have to look for it.”

With a deep breath, you stood up. “Keep her talking. Keep her calm until I get back,” you said, pulling off your headphones.

Beomgyu gave you a thumbs up as you left the booth, closing the door behind you.

You made your way toward the offices, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. The darkened corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, but you finally reached the office. The door creaked as you pushed it open.

The room was cluttered, papers and other stuff scattered across the desks. You rifled through the mess, searching for the magazine Beomgyu had mentioned, but it was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, you were about to give up when a folded piece of paper caught your eye on the desk. Curious, you unfolded it.

Borrowed the car magazine for some light reading. Left it in the bathroom. -J

You frowned, squinting at the note. The bathroom? Of course.

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the men’s bathroom, the unease in your chest growing with each step. Standing outside the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The air inside was still, the lights flickering slightly. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on the floor of one of the stalls. Sure enough, there it was—a magazine, its glossy cover faintly reflecting the dim light.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the stall and grabbed it. Clutching the magazine, you made your way back to the booth as quickly as possible, the tension in your chest finally easing as the familiar glow of the studio came into view.

Sliding back into your seat, you slipped on your headphones. “Got it,” you said, flipping through the pages.

“About time,” Beomgyu muttered, relief in his voice. “She’s still in the car. Freaking out, but holding it together.”

“Alright,” you said, scanning the pages for anything useful. “Let’s get her out of there.”

You flipped quickly through the magazine, scanning each page for something useful. Beomgyu, still connected to the call, was murmuring reassurances to the woman, keeping her calm as best as he could. Finally, near the back of the magazine, you spotted a section titled: “How to Start a Car Without Keys—In Emergencies Only!”

Bingo.

You unmuted the call, speaking quickly. “Okay, I’ve got instructions here. It’s a little complicated, but we’re going to get you out of there. Are you ready to listen?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Please, just tell me what to do.”

“Alright. First, do you see the steering column? You’ll need to take off the plastic cover underneath it.”

“The plastic cover?” she repeated, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes. There should be a seam where it comes apart. Can you find it?”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a faint click. “I—I see it. I think I can pry it open.”

“Good. Use anything sharp—a nail file, a keychain, anything to pop it off,” you instructed.

A few tense seconds passed, the sound of fumbling and grunting filling the line.

“Got it!” she said suddenly. “It’s off.”

“Perfect. Now, you should see some wires underneath,” you continued, flipping the magazine around to get a better look at the diagram. “There will be three sets: power, ignition, and ground. Look for the ones connected to the ignition—they’re usually red and yellow. Do you see them?”

“Wait… yes, yes, I see them!” she said, her breathing slightly more controlled now.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” you said carefully. “You need to strip the ends of the ignition wires—just the plastic coating—so the metal is exposed. Do you have anything sharp, like a knife or scissors?”

“Uh… I have a nail file,” she said after a moment.

“That works. Carefully scrape the plastic off, but don’t cut the wires. Just expose the metal underneath. Take your time.”

The sound of her scraping at the wires filled the silence, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Beomgyu, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ve got the wires stripped. What now?”

“Good. Now you’re going to twist the exposed ends of the ignition wires together. That should create a spark to start the car. But be ready—the second it starts, drive away. Don’t wait around.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m doing it now.”

There was a faint crackling sound, followed by a sputtering noise. Then, suddenly, the low rumble of an engine filled the line.

“It worked!” she cried, her voice breaking with relief. “It actually worked!”

“Great job!” you said, unable to stop the smile forming on your face. “Now get out of there. Drive somewhere safe—somewhere well-lit with other people around. Don’t stop until you’re absolutely sure you’re safe.”

You could hear the roar of the car accelerating, the relief in her voice evident as she spoke. “I’m driving now. Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, your own voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Just focus on the road. Call us back if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” she said. “Thank you again. I—I think I might’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Just keep driving,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters now.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Beomgyu alone in the booth. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, tossing the magazine onto the desk. “But if it hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “So… what do we do if someone else calls?”

You didn’t have an answer, your thoughts already spiraling with what-ifs. All you could do was hope the rest of the night stayed quiet.

The phone rang again, its shrill tone cutting through the uneasy silence that had settled in the booth. You adjusted your mic and nodded to Beomgyu. He patched it through with a flick of a switch, signaling with his finger for you to go ahead.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tension from the last call.

“Hey, yeah, uh, is this the emergency line?” a cheery voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is the emergency line. What’s your situation?” you asked, leaning forward, bracing yourself for whatever this might be.

“Well,” the man began, his tone casual, “I just wanted to let everyone know that Hanseung’s Pizza is open late tonight, and we’re offering a two-for-one deal on our large pepperoni pies!”

You froze, your hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Are you serious right now?”

“Totally serious! Best pizza in town!”

You groaned audibly and disconnected the call before the man could say another word. Leaning back in your chair, you rubbed your temples as Beomgyu snorted with laughter.

When you glanced at him through the glass, he made a circular gesture next to his temple, miming crazy.

“I swear,” you muttered, pulling your headphones off briefly, “this night is going to kill me.”

Beomgyu gave you a lopsided grin, but before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

“Here we go,” he said, flipping the switch to route the call to you.

You sighed, sliding your headphones back on. “You’re on the air,” you said cautiously.

“H-hello?” a man’s voice came through, low and shaky.

“This is the emergency line,” you said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m still at work,” the man said, his words trembling as he spoke. “I stayed late to finish up inventory, and I… I saw someone on the cameras. He’s outside. He’s wearing a white mask, and he’s holding a knife. He’s on the first floor now.”

Your heart sank as a chill ran down your spine. “Okay, stay calm,” you said quickly. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m on the second floor,” he said. “In the main office. But… but there’s nowhere to hide. The only room I can lock is the storage closet, and the lock is on the outside. What do I do?”

You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you exchanged a tense glance with Beomgyu. “Alright, listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. Let’s think through this carefully.”

“I don’t have much time,” the man whispered, panic rising in his voice. “He’s coming in. I can see him on the camera feed.”

You flipped through options in your mind, trying to think of anything that could give him a chance. The storage room could work, but locking it from the outside meant he’d be trapping himself unless…

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “Does your office phone system let you call internal lines? Like phones in other rooms?”

“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I can call any phone in the building from here.”

“Perfect,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to distract him. You’re going to call one of the phones on the first floor, and when it rings, he’ll go to investigate. Once he’s distracted, you’re going to quietly make your way down the back staircase and get out of the building. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, his breathing quick and shallow. “I can do that. I think.”

“You can do this,” you said firmly. “Now, do you know which phone to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “The one by the front desk. It’s closest to where he is.”

“Good. Call it now,” you instructed. “Once it starts ringing, wait a few seconds to make sure he’s moving toward it. Then make your way out. Go as quietly as you can. Don’t hang up until you’re outside and safe, alright?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

There was a pause as you heard him pressing buttons on the phone. A few seconds later, the faint sound of a phone ringing echoed faintly through his line.

“He’s moving,” the man whispered. “I can see him on the camera. He’s going to the front desk.”

“Perfect,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Now’s your chance. Go.”

The sound of his shaky breathing filled the line as he moved. You held your breath, listening intently as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s still at the desk,” the man whispered. “I’m almost at the back door.”

“Keep going,” you urged. “You’re doing great.”

A faint creak came through the line, followed by a quiet click.

“I’m outside,” the man said, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m out.”

You exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. “Good. Get as far away from the building as you can. Get somewhere safe with other people around.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”

“Just stay safe,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters.”

The line disconnected, leaving you staring at the phone for a moment, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s two lives saved tonight,” he said. “Not bad for a couple of radio hosts, huh?”

You gave him a shaky smile, but the thought lingering in your mind was anything but reassuring.

Whoever was out there wasn’t done yet.

The phone rang again. For a moment, you and Beomgyu exchanged wary glances through the glass between your booths. After everything tonight, you’d learned to expect the worst. With a deep breath, you answered.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Bravo,” a smooth, amused voice purred on the other end. “Really. I’m impressed.”

Your brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’ve been handling these calls tonight,” the man continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Guiding these poor, helpless souls to safety. It’s been a pleasure to listen to. You’re very clever, you know that?”

Something about his voice set you on edge—it wasn’t rushed or panicked like the others you’d spoken to tonight. It was calm. Too calm.

“Who is this?” you asked, your voice tightening.

“Let’s just say I’m… someone who’s been keeping an eye on things,” he replied, his tone playful. “And I have to admit, you’ve made my night much more entertaining than I anticipated.”

Your stomach twisted as realization hit you like a punch to the gut. “It’s you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle came through the line, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Yes, it’s me. The one you’ve been so desperately trying to outsmart all night. And I have to say, you’ve done quite well.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Why are you calling?”

“To see you squirm,” he teased. “And to thank you, of course. You’ve made this little game so much more fun than I thought it would be. Honestly, you’re much more entertaining than the usual people around here. They’re so… predictable.”

You refused to let him get under your skin, even as his voice sent an unbidden flush to your cheeks. You hated the way his words made your pulse quicken, a reaction you absolutely didn’t want to have.

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” you snapped, trying to focus on your anger rather than the unsettling heat rising in your face.

“Of course it’s a game,” he said smoothly. “But don’t misunderstand me—I’m not underestimating you. In fact, I think you’re the most interesting piece on the board. I wonder… how long can you keep this up? How long before I catch you slipping?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t let him distract you with his taunting, no matter how strangely… confident and alluring his voice sounded. You hadn’t thought about dating or men since moving to the town—your life had been far too busy. And now here you were, getting flustered by the very man terrorizing the town.

“Do you have anything better to do than terrorize people?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled again, low and lazy, like you’d just amused him. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, it’s refreshing. I like a bit of fire in my conversations. The others? They just scream and cry. Boring. But not you. I like that.”

Your grip on the desk tightened further, your mind racing. You couldn’t let him get to you, but the way he spoke—like he was in complete control, like he knew exactly how to unnerve you—it was maddening.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“For now? Just to chat,” he said casually. “I thought you deserved some recognition for your efforts. And maybe a little warning…”

Your stomach churned. “A warning?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “You’re clever, but don’t think you’re untouchable. I’ve been generous so far, letting you play the hero. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m always watching, and if you’re not careful, this little game of ours might get a whole lot more personal.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to let your fear show. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to excite you.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you staring at the phone, your mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and, much to your dismay, something else you didn’t want to name.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headset. “Uh… what the hell just happened?”

You turned to look at him, your face still flushed. “I think the killer just… flirted with me?”

Beomgyu blinked, his mouth falling open slightly before he shook his head. “This town is actually so messed up.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

The phone rang again, piercing through the tense silence that had settled in the booth. You and Beomgyu exchanged a glance, both of you bracing yourselves for whatever might come next. You adjusted your headphones and gestured for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease crawling up your spine.

“H-he’s coming,” a woman’s voice stammered, her tone high-pitched and frantic. “Oh God, the dead—they’ve risen! The dead are rising!”

You froze, caught off guard by the sheer hysteria in her voice. “Ma’am, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening,” you said, keeping your tone calm and firm. “Who’s coming? What do you mean the dead are rising?”

“It’s karma,” she said, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “I’ve done bad things. So many bad things. And now he’s coming for me."

“Okay, I need you to slow down,” you urged, sitting forward in your chair. “Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I thought I was,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “But he’s here. He’s come back. They know what I’ve done. He knows—”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Ma’am?” you said quickly, checking the call screen. You tried dialing the number back, your heart pounding, but the line just rang and rang before going to voicemail.

Beomgyu leaned forward in his booth, frowning as he studied the call log. “That was Dr. Lee,” he said, his voice low.

“Dr. Lee?” you asked, your mind racing.

“She’s one of the town’s doctors,” Beomgyu explained, crossing his arms. “Well… was a doctor. She retired a couple of years ago, but she still gets called in sometimes when the clinic’s short-staffed. People around here have… mixed feelings about her. Some say she’s a great doctor, but others think she’s shady. There’ve been rumors, but nothing ever proven.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind swirling with questions. “She kept saying ‘karma.’ And something about the dead coming for her.”

Beomgyu shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. “She sounded genuinely freaked out.”

“She did,” you muttered, staring at the dead call screen on your monitor. “And she didn’t give me anything to go on. No location, no details… I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Think we should call the clinic? Maybe someone there knows what’s going on.”

You shook your head, though the idea was tempting. “If she wanted their help, she would’ve called them instead of us. I think… I think whatever’s happening, she doesn’t trust anyone in town. Or maybe she thought calling the emergency line was her only option.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Beomgyu asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “There’s not much we can do. She didn’t give us enough information to help. All we can do is wait and see if she calls back.”

Beomgyu nodded reluctantly, though his frown deepened. “Still, the whole ‘dead are rising’ thing? Sounds like someone’s cracking under pressure. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe,” you said, though her words kept echoing in your mind. The dead have risen. Karma is coming for me.

It sounded ridiculous, but the sheer terror in her voice had felt real. And in this town, you’d already learned to expect the unexpected.

You leaned back in your chair, staring as a heavy silence settled over the room. You hated this helpless feeling, this sense that something was happening just out of your reach. But until she called back—or someone else did—there was nothing you could do except wait.

And worry.

The phone rang again, and you didn’t hesitate to answer this time, though the tension from the earlier calls still lingered in the air like a bad omen.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to sound calm and professional, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

“H-hello?” a young voice stammered. “Is this… is this the emergency line?”

“Yes, it is,” you replied quickly. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hyein,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I—I need help. Someone’s after me and my friends.”

Your stomach dropped. “Where are you, Hyein? Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at… we’re at this old junkyard,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We were just hanging out, but now there’s this guy—he’s wearing a white mask, and—”

“Okay, Hyein, listen to me,” you interrupted, keeping your voice steady. “You need to find somewhere safe. Is there a place you can hide? A building, a car, anything?”

“Um, there’s a shed,” she said, her voice shaky. “But—”

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted through the line, making your heart lurch.

“Hyein? Hyein, what’s happening?”

There was a muffled commotion on the other end, followed by… laughter?

A new voice chimed in, a boy’s voice, cracking as he burst into fits of giggles. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face, Hyein!”

“What the hell, Jansoon?!” Hyein shouted, her fear quickly replaced by anger. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. “Hyein, what’s going on?”

“It’s just Jansoon,” she said, her voice still shaking but now tinged with irritation. “He’s being an idiot, running around with a fake knife and a stupid mask. I thought—”

But before she could finish, another scream cut through the air—this one high-pitched and blood-curdling.

“Jansoon? Jansoon, stop messing around!” Hyein shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Then came the sound of something wet and grotesque—a sickening squelch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Oh my God,” Hyein whispered, her voice trembling again. “Run! Everyone, run inside!”

“Hyein! Hyein, what’s happening?” you demanded, gripping the edge of the desk.

“A man,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “A man in a white mask—he just—he just killed Jansoon. He killed him!”

Your stomach churned as Beomgyu’s eyes went wide in the booth across from you.

“Hyein, listen to me,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You need to get somewhere safe. Stay with your friends and lock yourselves in. Keep the line open—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaky but determined. “We… we’re setting up a plan. We’ll distract him so we can get away. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Hyein, wait—”

The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the monitor as your heart hammered in your chest. Slowly, you took off your headset and set it down on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

“Did that really just happen?” Beomgyu asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “It did.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “This town is insane. First the doctor, now a group of kids in a junkyard? What’s next, a clown at a carnival?”

You couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his booth and staring at the ceiling. “This is so stressful. I mean, we’re just two people in a radio station. We’re not trained for this.”

“No, we’re not,” you agreed, rubbing your temples. “But we’re all these people have right now.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his expression was grim. “I just hope that girl and her friends make it out. That killer… he’s not messing around.”

The phone rang again, and this time, your heart jumped in anticipation. You quickly signaled to Beomgyu, who patched the call through.

“Hyein?” you asked urgently.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steadier than before. “We—we’ve got a plan. We’re going to get out of here.”

You exhaled in relief but quickly focused. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There are four of us left,” she explained. “Minji’s going to watch him, make sure we know where he is at all times. Jaemin is going to distract him—make noise and lead him away from the van. Doyeon’s going to act as bait, keeping his attention long enough for me to grab Jansoon’s keys and get the van started.”

You felt a mix of pride and fear for these kids. “That’s… brave, Hyein. Really brave. Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice tightening. “We can’t just wait for him to find us all. We have to do something.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Stick to the plan. Be quick, be careful, and don’t hesitate. You can do this.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll call you back once we’re out.”

The line disconnected, leaving you and Beomgyu in an anxious silence.

“They’re kids,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the monitor as if willing Hyein to call back with good news.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Finally, the phone rang again.

“Hyein?” you answered quickly.

“We did it,” she said, her voice breathless but triumphant. “We did the plan. Minji kept an eye on him while Jaemin distracted him with a bunch of noise. He fell for it—totally chased after Jaemin. Then Doyeon lured him even further away, and I grabbed the keys.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, genuine admiration in your voice. “You’re all so brave.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. We got the van started, but there’s a problem. The doors to the junkyard—they’re stuck. Someone has to hold them open so we can drive through.”

Your heart sank. “Who’s going to do it?”

“I volunteered,” she said quietly.

“Hyein—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead again, and you sat frozen, a deep dread settling over you.

Beomgyu leaned forward, his expression tight with worry. “They better not leave her behind.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the gnawing feeling in your gut.

When the phone rang again, you answered immediately.

“Hyein?”

“I’m still here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I got the doors open, but…”

You heard her inhale sharply, and your stomach dropped.

“But what?” you asked.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right in front of me.”

Your grip tightened on the desk. “Hyein, listen to me. Don’t run. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just—just stay calm.”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you said firmly, though your own voice trembled. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re doing great.”

There was a long silence on the other end, broken only by her quiet, panicked breaths.

“Hyein?”

“He’s…” Her voice was barely audible now. “He’s walking away.”

“What?” you asked, your mind reeling.

“He just… turned around and walked off. Into the forest.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “He left you? Just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion and fear. “Why? Why would he do that?”

You didn’t have an answer. None of this made sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But you’re alive, Hyein. That’s what matters. Get to safety. Get back to your friends.”

“Okay,” she said softly, though her voice was still trembling. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, you sat back in your chair, your mind spinning.

“What the hell was that?” Beomgyu asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring at the empty screen. “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the tension in the room hung like a heavy fog. It was 3:17 a.m. when the phone rang again, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence.

You leaned forward and answered, trying to keep the fatigue out of your voice. "You’re on the air."

For a moment, there was just static and the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a male voice, low and shaky, spoke.

"This is... this is so scary," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened in your seat, your exhaustion replaced by unease. "What’s scary? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I’m at home," he said. "But I keep hearing things outside. Footsteps. Whistling. I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but it doesn’t feel like enough. This… this town isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be quiet. Safe."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "I understand. It’s been a rough night for everyone, but you’ve done the right thing by securing your home. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"

"No," he muttered. "I live alone."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and your chest tightened. "Okay. Listen to me. You’re not alone right now, all right? I’m here. If anything happens, you call me back immediately."

There was a long pause before he whispered, "Thanks."

Then the line went dead.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Beomgyu, who had been silently watching you from his booth, gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"You’re handling this like a pro," he said.

"I’m just trying to keep people calm," you replied, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

The hours crawled by, the silence in the studio broken only by the occasional hum of equipment and the distant sound of a car passing on the street. It was around 4:30 a.m. when the phone rang again.

Your heart leapt as you quickly picked it up. "You’re on the air."

"It’s me," a familiar voice said.

"Hyein?" you asked, relief flooding your voice.

"Yeah," she said, and you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "We made it. We’re home. All of us, safe. Thanks to you."

A smile tugged at your lips, the first genuine one of the night. "That’s great to hear, Hyein. I’m so glad you’re all okay."

"You… you really helped us," she continued, her voice soft. "I don’t think we would’ve made it without you. I mean, we were so scared, but you kept us focused. Gave us hope."

"That was all you," you replied. "You and your friends were brave. You came up with a plan and stuck to it. You saved yourselves."

There was a pause, and then she said, "Still… thank you."

"Of course," you said, your voice warm. "Now, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight… and be careful, okay? I don’t think this is over."

"Goodnight, Hyein," you said softly before the line went dead.

You set the phone down and leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. Beomgyu looked over at you, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"At least there’s some good news," he said.

"Yeah," you murmured, though Hyein’s parting words echoed in your mind.

I don’t think this is over.

And deep down, you knew she was right.

The phone rang again, cutting through the brief calm. Unknown caller. You knew who it was even before you answered.

"Let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re calling to congratulate me on something, right?"

A soft, mocking chuckle came through the line, chilling and deliberate. "You’re starting to understand how this works," the killer said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But no congratulations this time. Just a little... advice."

You gripped the phone tighter. "And what kind of advice would that be?"

"Dr. Lee," he drawled, his tone teasing. "She seemed... stressed earlier, didn’t she? Want to know what really happened to her?"

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

He chuckled again. "Pick something up for me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue. Check the alleyway behind your building. I left you a little surprise."

Beomgyu immediately leaned toward his microphone, shaking his head vehemently as he heard the exchange. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed, his face pale.

But the killer wasn’t done. "Go on," he said, his tone turning low and taunting. "Be brave. Or stay in your booth and let the mystery eat away at you. Your choice."

And then the line went dead.

"Don’t even think about it," Beomgyu said, his voice cutting through the silence. "He’s baiting you. It’s a trap."

You turned to him, trying to muster some confidence. "If it’s a trap, then it’s a bad one. He wouldn’t tip his hand like this if he really wanted me dead."

"Or maybe that’s exactly what he wants you to think," Beomgyu countered. "Don’t go."

But you were already getting up. "I’ll be fine. Stay here and keep the phones running."

Beomgyu sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re insane.”

You left the booth, stepping into the hallway. The silence of the empty building was oppressive, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above did little to calm your nerves. Descending the staircase, each step felt louder than the last, echoing in the quiet.

At the bottom, you approached the glass front doors. Outside was nothing but darkness, the alleyway barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp in the distance.

You tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, you turned back and made your way behind the reception desk, where the backdoor led to the alleyway. Pushing it open, the cool night air hit you immediately, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and garbage.

The alley was narrow and lined with dumpsters, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. You hesitated, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Then, you saw it.

An old, stained mattress lay discarded against the wall, and on top of it was something that made your stomach drop—a bloodied ID card.

Your hands trembled as you approached, the name and face on the card coming into focus. Dr. Lee.

You bent down, your breath hitching as you picked it up. The blood was dry but unmistakable, the edges of the card sticky.

You turned it over in your hands, a cold dread creeping up your spine. What did this mean? Was she—

A rustling sound.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, you looked up, scanning the alleyway. There was nothing.

But past the fence, just beyond the edge of the alley, you could feel it—someone was watching you.

The air seemed to thicken, your skin prickling with unease. You couldn’t see anyone, but the presence was unmistakable.

Swallowing hard, you clenched the ID card in your hand and straightened up, forcing your legs to move. You turned and walked back toward the door, refusing to look back, even as the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

You reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shaking the handle one more time as if sheer willpower could force it open. The sensation of being watched lingered, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

The sound of something faintly rustling outside sent a jolt of panic through you. You turned away from the door, scanning the dimly lit alley for another option. That’s when your eyes landed on the basement access door.

You cursed under your breath, knowing it was your only choice. "Great," you mumbled sarcastically, stepping toward it. Pushing the creaky door open, you descended the narrow staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the faint smell of mildew and rust wrapping around you like a damp blanket.

At the bottom, you reached a landing, the dim glow of an old overhead light flickering ominously. Shadows danced across the walls, making everything feel smaller and more claustrophobic.

Trying the first door, you found it locked. So was the next. You kept moving, your footsteps echoing faintly in the eerie silence. Finally, you reached a door that opened easily.

You stepped inside cautiously, your phone flashlight illuminating what could only be described as the janitor’s office—or, more accurately, a forgotten relic of one. The room was cramped and chaotic, filled with old supplies, broken equipment, and… mannequins?

You froze for a moment, your light catching the lifeless forms of several mannequins standing in one corner. Their chipped paint and blank expressions made your stomach twist. Who keeps mannequins in a basement office?

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this is officially creepy.”

Pushing past the eerie sight, your flashlight settled on the far wall, where a corkboard hung. You stepped closer, curiosity outweighing your unease.

The board was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the array of items.

The photos were of people—townsfolk, by the looks of it. Some of the faces you recognized, including Dr. Lee. Others were strangers. Some pictures had red X’s drawn across them. Others were circled.

The clippings were just as unsettling. Headlines like “Local Man Disappears Without a Trace” and “Small-Town Tragedy: Young Man Found Dead” leapt out at you, along with handwritten notes like “Knew too much” and “Still watching.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, taking a step back.

You huffed, grabbing the corkboard from the wall and tucking it under your arm. Whatever this was, it wasn’t staying down here. You needed to get it upstairs, show Beomgyu, and figure out what the hell was going on.

The mannequins seemed closer than before as you turned to leave, but you tried to shake off the unease crawling up your spine.

"Don’t think about it," you muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

With the corkboard in tow, you made your way back toward the stairs, trying not to think about how quiet everything felt.

Back in the booth, you placed the corkboard on the desk, your fingers trembling as you leaned over it. Beomgyu hovered behind you, peering at the chaotic arrangement of photos, clippings, and notes.

"Okay," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "This is a pattern. It has to be."

Your eyes scanned the board feverishly, focusing on the photos of the townsfolk. There were three with red X’s—you recognized two as victims you’d already heard about. The doctor’s photo, Dr. Lee, was circled in red but had no X, at least not yet.

The notes were cryptic but telling: "Knew too much." "Always works late."

Your heart skipped a beat as you landed on a photo of a man you vaguely recognized from a newspaper clipping you’d seen earlier—James Choi, the owner of the general store. His picture was circled too, with a note scribbled beside it: “Stays late, alone.”

You felt your stomach churn. “Beomgyu, who’s James Choi?”

Beomgyu squinted at the board. "James? Oh, he runs that little general store by the gas station. Nice guy, kind of quiet. Why?"

You jabbed your finger at his photo. “He’s next. Look at the notes. It’s all here—he works late, and the killer knows it. We need to call him now.”

Beomgyu grabbed the phone without hesitation, quickly dialing the number written on a post-it note you’d found pinned to the corner of the board. You paced nervously as the phone rang.

"Come on, pick up," Beomgyu muttered.

Finally, a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Choi?” Beomgyu asked, his voice tight. “This is from the late-night show—listen, we don’t have much time. Are you still at the store?”

James sounded confused. “Uh, yeah? Why? What’s this about?”

You leaned in, speaking quickly. “You’re in danger. You need to leave now. Grab your keys, get in your car, and just drive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wait—just go.”

There was a pause. “Danger? What are you talking about? This some kind of prank?”

“It’s not a prank,” you snapped, your voice rising in urgency. “There’s someone—”

The sound of something crashing interrupted James on the other end of the line, followed by a low, guttural noise that made your blood run cold.

“James?” Beomgyu called, his voice cracking. “James, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, the faint sound of labored breathing coming through. And then—

“Well, well,” came a familiar, taunting voice.

Your stomach dropped as the killer’s smooth, mocking tone filled the line. “You tried,” he said, almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll give you credit for that. But you’re just not fast enough, are you?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

“Ah-ah,” the killer interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. “No need for name-calling. I’m just doing what I do best. And you? Well, you’re doing what you do best—sitting in that little booth, thinking you can save people. How’s that working out for you so far?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed, the sound cold and detached. “You really think I’m going to explain myself? What kind of killer would I be if I gave away all my secrets? Let’s just say… I like keeping you on your toes. It’s fun watching you try so hard.”

Beomgyu’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the phone. “You’re sick,” he muttered under his breath.

The killer ignored him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The game’s far from over.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone, your heart pounding in your chest. Beomgyu looked at you, his face etched with fear.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. “We keep going. We figure this out.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his hands were trembling. "And what if we can’t?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

--

You sat hunched over the corkboard, piecing through the clues when Beomgyu cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Hey, maybe you should go back to the janitor’s room. There might be something we missed."

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “Like what? I already grabbed the corkboard.”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. It just feels like… that place might have more to it. There’s no way someone went through all the effort of pinning up all this stuff and didn’t leave more behind.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, pushing back from the desk. “I’ll check again. Just… stay here and keep an ear on the phones.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. “Be careful, okay?”

You didn’t bother replying as you headed back downstairs, retracing your steps. The basement was even creepier now, the flickering light above casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. Pushing the janitor's office door open again, you stepped inside, the stale air immediately making your nose crinkle.

The mannequins were still there, standing motionless in the corner like silent sentinels. You forced yourself to ignore them, focusing instead on the cluttered room. You rummaged through drawers, boxes, and even under the dusty desk, finding nothing but old cleaning supplies and forgotten tools.

Just as you were about to give up, your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a pile of papers. You pulled it out—a key, small and rusted, with no label.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, standing up and looking around. “What do you open?”

You left the janitor’s office and started trying the key on every locked door in the hallway. It wasn’t until you reached the very last door—a heavy, steel one with a faded "Storage" sign on it—that the key finally turned.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage room filled with shelves of old files, boxes, and equipment. You stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling your nose.

Grabbing your phone for light, you began rifling through the shelves. Most of it seemed mundane—inventory lists, outdated maintenance logs, and other boring documents. But then you found a box marked “Incident Reports.”

You opened it, pulling out a stack of files. One in particular caught your eye—a report on someone named Sim Jaeyun.

You skimmed the pages, your brow furrowing as you read. According to the report, Sim Jaeyun was a young man who had been found dead in the town’s river. The official cause of death was ruled as reckless behavior, with high levels of alcohol detected in his blood.

But something didn’t add up.

You found another document tucked in the back of the file—a copy of the autopsy report, signed by none other than Dr. Lee. The details in the report were vague, almost suspiciously so. It noted the alcohol levels but didn’t mention any other significant findings.

Flipping through more of the file, you found a handwritten note from a police officer who had initially investigated the scene: “Something doesn’t feel right. Jaeyun was a good swimmer.”

Your stomach churned as you read on. The note went on to mention that Jaeyun had been arguing with someone at a local bar the night he died. The name of the person he argued with was blacked out, but whoever it was, they were never questioned.

Your mind reeled. Something about this was definitely off. Why would Dr. Lee sign off on such a suspicious autopsy? And why had no one followed up on the blacked-out name?

You gathered the files, clutching them tightly as you made your way back upstairs. Your thoughts were racing, pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together.

Beomgyu looked up from his seat as you entered the booth, his eyes widening when he saw the stack of papers in your hands. “What did you find?”

You dropped the files on the desk, flipping them open. “A death report. Sim Jaeyun. Found in the river, officially ruled as reckless behavior and alcohol poisoning. But…”

“But what?” Beomgyu prompted, leaning closer.

You pointed to the autopsy report. “It doesn’t add up. Just alcohol levels that don’t make sense. And guess who signed the autopsy?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Dr. Lee?”

“Bingo,” you said grimly. “And there’s more—apparently, Jaeyun got into an argument with someone at a bar that night, but the name was blacked out in the report. Whoever it was, they were never questioned.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what are you saying? That Jaeyun didn’t just… fall into the river drunk?”

You nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Someone’s been covering this up. And I think it ties back to everything that’s happening now.”

Beomgyu stared at the files, his face pale. “This just keeps getting worse.”

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with what to do next.

You tapped your pen against the desk anxiously, the silence between you and Beomgyu growing heavier by the second. Finally, you broke it. “We need to talk to someone who knew Jaeyun. Someone who can tell us more about what happened that night.”

Beomgyu nodded, already pulling up the town directory on his computer. “There were names listed in some of those files,” he muttered, scrolling through the screen. “Here—Kim Jihoon. He was one of Jaeyun’s friends.”

“Call him,” you said firmly, leaning forward.

Beomgyu hesitated for a second but then grabbed the phone, dialing the number. You both waited as the line rang, the sound stretching your nerves thin.

Finally, a groggy voice answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi, this is Beomgyu from the town’s late-night talk show,” Beomgyu began cautiously. “We’re trying to get some information about Sim Jaeyun. You were listed as one of his friends. Do you have a moment to talk?”

There was a pause on the other end before Jihoon spoke again, his voice laced with confusion. “Jaeyun? Why are you asking about him? He’s been gone for years.”

You leaned toward the mic, speaking gently but urgently. “We’re trying to piece together what really happened to him, Jihoon. There are some things about his death that don’t make sense. Can you tell us what you remember from that night?”

Another long pause. Then Jihoon let out a sigh. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… sure. I’ll tell you what I can.”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who nodded for you to continue. “Okay,” you said. “Start from the beginning. What was that night like?”

“It was supposed to be a fun night,” Jihoon began, his voice tinged with sadness. “We were celebrating Jaeyun. He’d just gotten a big promotion at work, and we all went out to the bar to party. Everything was fine at first—laughing, drinking, just having a good time. But then…”

He trailed off, and you prompted him gently. “But then what?”

Jihoon sighed again. “Jaeyun got into an argument with someone. I didn’t see who it was—I was across the bar at the time, talking to someone else. But I heard voices getting louder, and when I looked over, Jaeyun was face-to-face with this guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it looked heated.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “Did you see what the guy looked like at all? Anything about him?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “It was dark, and the bar was crowded. I only saw his back. But… I don’t know, there was something off about the guy. The way he was standing, the way he moved… it gave me a bad feeling.”

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“Jaeyun stormed out of the bar,” Jihoon said. “The guy followed him. I tried to go after them, but by the time I got outside, they were both gone. I looked around, called out for Jaeyun, but… nothing. It was like they’d disappeared.”

“And then?”

“The next day, I heard the news,” Jihoon said, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaeyun was found dead in the river. They said he’d been drinking and must’ve fallen in, but…”

“But you didn’t believe that,” you finished for him.

“No,” Jihoon said firmly. “Jaeyun wasn’t that kind of guy. He could hold his liquor, and he would’ve been careful. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind racing. Jaeyun had argued with someone—someone who followed him out of the bar. Someone who might have been responsible for his death.

Beomgyu’s voice cut through the static over the intercom, calm but clipped. “The other line’s ringing. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded to yourself, still holding the phone to your ear. “Alright.”

Turning your attention back to Jihoon, you settled into your chair and tried to ground yourself.

“Jaeyun was just… he was the kind of guy everyone liked, you know? He always made time for people. Even when he was busy, he’d stop to check in. If you were upset about something, he’d notice—he always noticed.” Jihoon’s voice broke slightly, and you could hear him swallow hard.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “He sounds like a really good person. Someone who didn’t deserve what happened.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jihoon agreed softly. “He’d do these little things, you know? Like, one time, I forgot my wallet, and he just covered everything without even saying anything. He didn’t want people to feel bad, didn’t want anyone to feel like a burden. That was just Jaeyun.”

You found yourself smiling faintly, despite the grim topic. “He must’ve been an amazing friend to have.”

“He was,” Jihoon said, his voice thick with emotion. “Losing him… it wasn’t just hard. It was—” He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. “It was like losing the glue that held us all together. He was the one who brought us all into the same orbit.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, the weight of Jihoon’s words pressing down on you. Jaeyun had been more than just a name on a file or a tragic story in the town’s history. He’d been a real person, someone loved deeply by those around him.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you said softly. “I wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like he left a mark on everyone he knew.”

“He did,” Jihoon whispered. “And that’s what makes it so hard to believe… what they said about him, that he was drunk and reckless. That’s not him. It never felt right to me, even back then.”

You nodded, the puzzle pieces in your mind continuing to shift and rearrange themselves. “I understand. And I think you’re right to trust your gut. There’s more to this story, and I’m trying to piece it together.”

Jihoon let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know why you care so much—"

The lights in the booth flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging you into darkness. You froze, the silence suddenly suffocating.

A second later, Beomgyu’s voice came over the intercom, slightly muffled but urgent. “Uh… the power just went out in the whole building. I think you’ll need to go down to the basement and reset the breaker. I’d do it, but I’m kinda stuck here monitoring the calls.”

You clicked your flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting through the pitch-black room. “Got it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stay up here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on everything,” Beomgyu promised, his voice a little shaky but resolute.

You stood up, your flashlight casting eerie shadows as you moved toward the booth door. The air felt colder now, heavier, as though the power outage had sucked the life out of the building.

Exiting the booth, you walked down the hall toward the staircase. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet made your stomach tighten.

The door to the basement was slightly ajar when you reached it, creaking as you pushed it open. You descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the stillness.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old cardboard. The beam of your flashlight bounced across the walls, revealing cluttered shelves, dusty equipment, and the same door to the janitor's room you’d searched earlier.

Something felt... wrong.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, your breath catching as the sensation of eyes on you. It was that prickling feeling, the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You swung the flashlight around again, the beam slicing through the shadows. Nothing. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath.

Moving cautiously, you made your way to the breaker panel in the corner of the room. The metal door was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there recently. You frowned and reached out, pulling it open.

The switches were all flipped off. You began resetting them, flipping each one back to its original position. As the last switch clicked into place, you heard a faint sound behind you—a scuffling, like a shoe sliding against the concrete floor.

You froze.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

No response.

Your flashlight beam darted across the room again, settling on nothing but dusty shelves and discarded junk. The sensation of being watched was stronger than ever, the weight of unseen eyes boring into your back.

Swallowing hard, you gripped the flashlight tighter and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s just your imagination,” you told yourself. “Just nerves.”

But as you climbed the stairs, the creak of a floorboard behind you made your blood run cold. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your hand, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, you hurried up the remaining steps and shoved the door open, stepping back into the main hall. The lights flickered back on, flooding the building with their harsh fluorescent glow.

You walked back toward the booths, your thoughts still caught on Jihoon’s words, and your pulse quickened when you noticed something strange—the door to Beomgyu’s booth was open. Beomgyu never left it open when he was working.

Curiosity and concern flared in equal measure as you stepped inside. “Beomgyu?” you called softly, but the booth was empty.

The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him. You frowned, glancing around, trying to spot anything out of place. The silence felt oppressive, thick, like the air itself was watching you.

Turning back toward the hallway, you froze.

A figure was walking toward you, their movements deliberate and slow, as if savoring every step. They were dressed in black, a pale white mask covering their face, and in their hand gleamed a knife.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Thinking fast, you slammed the door shut and locked it just as the figure lunged. The door rattled violently as they crashed into it, and you stumbled back, gasping, your chest heaving.

The sound of the knife scraping against the door sent shivers down your spine.

You turned, instinctively seeking safety, only to feel your stomach drop.

Someone was standing in your booth.

On the other side of the glass separating Beomgyu’s booth from yours, the killer stood, their white mask tilted ever so slightly as if they were studying you.

You stared in disbelief, your pulse pounding in your ears as the killer leaned casually against the glass. Slowly, they raised their knife and tapped the blade against the glass, the metallic tink tink tink reverberating in the confined space.

"Hey there," their distorted voice drawled, smug and taunting. “Miss me?”

You didn’t answer, too frozen by the weight of the moment.

They chuckled, the sound muffled but chilling. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. Open the door for me. I just want to play.”

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “Where’s Beomgyu?”

The killer tilted their head, tapping the knife against the glass again. “Oh, he’s around,” they said, their tone lilting, as if they were enjoying a private joke.

Panic clawed at your insides. “What did you do to him?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, the mask distorting their features into a sinister blur. “Why so worried? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to hold their gaze despite the fear threatening to crush you. “What do you want?”

They leaned back slightly, tapping the glass once more, their knife dragging a slow, deliberate line down its surface. “For now? I just want to see how long you can last.”

The killer’s mask shifted slightly as he glanced toward your desk, his knife tapping idly against the glass again. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You glanced at the desk, realizing he was looking at the scattered clues you’d been piecing together: the newspaper clippings, the notes, the photo of Jaeyun.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your hands were trembling at your sides.

The killer tilted his head, almost amused. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Going through things you shouldn’t, asking questions. Connecting dots. You’re smarter than they gave you credit for.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up beneath your fear. “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharper now. “What’s the point of all this? Why terrorize the town? Why kill all these people?”

The killer let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound muffled behind his mask. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then explain it. Make me understand.”

The killer stood straighter, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something colder, darker. His voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “This isn’t random. This isn’t chaos for the sake of chaos. This is revenge.”

You froze. “Revenge? For what?”

“For Jaeyun,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For what happened to him. For what they did to his life.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “You’re doing all of this… because of Jaeyun?”

The killer nodded slowly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Alone. Cast aside. Written off as a reckless drunk when everyone knew that wasn’t who he was.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in your mind. “You… you think someone in this town killed him. Don’t you?”

The killer laughed again, but this time it was bitter, full of venom. “Think? Oh, no. I don’t think. I know.”

Your pulse raced as you stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why target the town? Why not just go after the person responsible?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and menacing. “Because they all played a part. They turned a blind eye. They lied. They covered it up. And now? They’re going to pay.”

You shook your head, panic and disbelief swirling in your chest. “This isn’t justice. This is—this is insanity!”

“Call it whatever you want,” the killer said, stepping back slightly, his knife still glinting in his hand. “But by the time I’m done, everyone will know the truth. And Jaeyun will finally get the justice he deserves.”

You stared at him through the glass, trying to piece everything together. “What connects you to Jaeyun?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Why are you doing this in his name? What was he to you?”

The killer chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning. “Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “You’ve been working so hard. And yet you haven’t figured it out?”

You frowned, frustration mounting. “Stop playing games and just tell me!”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly stopped pacing, his hand reaching up to the edge of his mask. “You want answers?” he asked, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Then pay attention.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers gripped the mask. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the face underneath.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No,” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “That’s not possible…”

It was Jaeyun.

His face was unmistakable, though there was something different now—harsher. His features were gaunter, his eyes darker, filled with a cold fire that sent a chill down your spine.

“But—you’re dead,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. “They said you were dead. I saw the reports.”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Dead?” he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. “I was supposed to be. The man who killed me certainly thought I was.”

“Then how are you alive?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer to the glass, his expression hard. “Sheer will,” he said, his tone icy. “I wasn’t supposed to survive that night. But I did. Barely. They threw me in the river, thinking they’d silenced me for good. But they didn’t count on me crawling out, broken, bleeding, but alive.”

Your stomach churned as you processed his words. “Who did this to you?”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. “The man who killed me is now the town’s mayor,” he spat, his voice thick with hatred. “That promotion was supposed to be mine. I earned it. But he couldn’t stand the idea of me taking what he thought was his. So he decided to remove the competition—permanently.”

Your breath hitched. “They covered it up,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Of course they did,” Jaeyun sneered. “They spun a pretty little story. Made me out to be reckless, irresponsible. A drunk who couldn’t handle himself. And everyone believed it.”

“And no one knew you were alive?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his expression cold. “Not a soul. They all thought they were free of me. That their secret was safe.” He leaned closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I’m back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re doing all of this… to get revenge?”

Jaeyun smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Revenge? Justice? Call it whatever you want. But this town took everything from me. My life. My future. And now, I’m going to take everything from them.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t justice, Jaeyun. This is—this is murder.”

“They murdered me first,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “They thought they could bury me and move on. But they were wrong. And now, they’re going to pay.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. All you could do was stare at the man in front of you—the man who had risen from the dead, consumed by a need for vengeance.

Jaeyun’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his lips curving into a sly smile. He leaned against the glass, tapping his knife against it rhythmically, the sound unnerving in the silence. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing. “Open the door. Let’s talk properly. Face to face.”

Jaeyun’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as you stood your ground. He straightened, stepping closer to the glass, and his voice dropped into a darker, more threatening tone. “You think you're safe in there?” He tapped the knife against the glass again, this time with more force, his breath coming faster as his frustration grew. “You really think you can stop me by just hiding?”

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his fist against the glass with a deafening crack. The force rattled the walls, sending a shiver down your spine. He glared at you, his chest heaving, rage and amusement mixed in his expression. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open the damn door.”

You stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk in front of you as if it could anchor you. “Why would I do that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you felt. “So you can kill me too? No thanks.”

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes glinted with something almost playful. “Kill you?” he said, feigning offense. “Why would I do that? You’re the only one who’s actually listened to me. The only one who’s tried to understand.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, the knife pausing mid-tap. “You’re scared,” he observed, his voice soft, almost gentle. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy.”

“Not my enemy?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been terrorizing this town for days. You killed people, Jaeyun.”

“They deserved it,” he said flatly, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Every single one of them was complicit. They lied. They covered it up. They let him get away with it.”

“And Beomgyu?” you demanded, anger rising in your chest. “What did he ever do to you?”

Jaeyun hesitated, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Collateral damage,” he said eventually, his tone colder now. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re right,” you said, your voice firm despite the fear twisting in your gut. “I don’t. Because what you’re doing isn’t justice—it’s just more bloodshed.”

His expression darkened, but then he sighed, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped back from the glass slightly, sheathing the knife at his side. “You’re different,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again. “You’ve got a brain. You’ve been piecing this together all night. You know I’m not lying about what happened to me. So why not help me? Why not open the door and join me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Join you?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You said it yourself—this isn’t justice. But maybe you could help me make it right. Maybe you could keep me… grounded.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Am I?” he countered, stepping closer to the glass again. “Or am I the only one who’s willing to do what it takes? Think about it—you’ve seen what this town is like. Corrupt, rotten to its core. You’ve been digging up its secrets all night. Do you really think anyone else is going to pay for what they’ve done?”

You hesitated, his words stirring something in you. The town was corrupt. The mayor had gotten away with murder. And Jaeyun… as twisted as his methods were, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Seeing your hesitation, his smile returned, wider now. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? This town doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They’ll betray you the first chance they get. But I won’t. You and me, we could fix this. Together.”

Your grip on the desk tightened, your knuckles white. “No,” you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. “I’m not opening that door. I’m not like you.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “Pity,” he murmured, his tone more disappointed than angry. “You would’ve made a good ally.”

He turned his back to you, walking toward the door to your booth. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, a dark smile curling his lips again. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you trembling in the eerie silence of the room.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny @kiripimaspillow

@wensurr

Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

[world-of-aus]

Hot Shot

Pairing: NHL!Photographer!Reader x Hockey Player!Bucky

Warnings: Bucky being a heartthrob.

A/N: I've been reading one to many hockey romances and well here we are scratching an itch. I know I would like to eventually come out with a bigger story for these two but for now this is just the start a taste if you will. I'd like to leave this open to suggestion of what y'all would like to see or know about these two if anything.. Hope you enjoy the first taste.

You barely had a chance to unlock your screen to reply to her message before her caller ID

was taking up your screen, a recent photo of her and Steve that she had made as her contact picture pulling a smile onto your lips.

“Tasha.” you answer.

“Y/n, listen I know you were just planning on watching the game from the comfort of your living room but I mean talk about an upgrade! From a television screen to being at the actual game on the floor behind the safety of the glass getting some wicked shots, and no one captures action shots like you do - I promise I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” she tacks on her voice pleading.

You chuckle, you know had the circumstances been different she’d be one of the first ones at the arena, she hadn’t missed one of Steve’s games yet, not since you had been signed on. “Natasha relax, you know you don’t have to pull out the stops on me, I'll go - do you want me to send you the photos?”

The redhead turned blonde breathes a heavy sigh of relief, “oh god thank you! and if you don’t mind, but take your time, I’m sure a certain bruin's player is going to be demanding your attention after the game especially if they bag a win.” she teases seemingly mentioning the man in your DM’s.

Your cheeks warm, the unread notification from the player she speaks of appearing in your mind, “please Tasha,” you deflect, “it’s the game of the season he’ll have plenty of attention with all the puck bunnies sporting his name on their jersey throwing themselves at him for an inkling of his attention.” you murmur picking at an invisible speck of lint on your sweater as you stand from the couch, intent on getting your things packed to head out.

“And yet he only seems to want yours,” she sings, “you should totally wear the jersey I got you for your birthday.”

You roll your eyes smile pulling at your lips, “is your flight really delayed, do I have to text Steve?”

Your friend laughs, “unfortunately it is and hey thank you again for this, I owe you, love you, oh and send me a picture of Steve, one of you and Bucky too!”

You shake your head as your friend rushes out her farewell your screen now gone black as you look down at it “looks like pjs are out of the question for tonight” you murmur continuing on through your apartment to grab your things Bucky’s text still sitting in your messages unanswered.

He’d have his answer soon enough.

🏒🖤

The cool of the arena’s backstage floor seeps through your jeans, your tripod sitting off to the side, your camera nestled in your hands as you wait for the first few players of the bruins to make their arrival.

Your camera goes up; the first of the team to come through the backdoors is the Bruins coach Fury, he spots you smile on his face his hand coming up in a greeting as you get your first arrival shot of the day. Slowly players begin to trickle in, most of them spot you posing for you as they stride by, others walk by with a simple wave their heads already in the game.

Speaking of head in the game center Steve Rogers makes his way in, his suit pressed, duffle thrown over his shoulder as he owns the floor. “Looking good Rogers, say you wouldn’t have Natasha tucked away in that duffle by chance?” you tease grinning behind your camera. You laugh at the grin that breaks his lips, a shake of his head as he directs his gaze at you, “can assure you Natasha wouldn’t be packed in my bag, she’d be hanging on my arm.” You coo at the bearded blonde, “you think you can say that again I didn’t have my phone out.”

The two of you laugh as you capture a few more shots, “Come on Rogers leave some love for the rest of us, you already have your face glued on billboards!”

Left defenseman Sam Wilson is striding in next million dollar smile painted on his lips like the suit he wears on his skin. “But no one has their face printed on as many shirts like you do Wilson, now give me something new to look out for will ya, want to make sure these etsy sellers get only the best!” Wilson eats your words up, feeding the fans through your film. He comes closer kneeling to your level to pull you in for a hug, “it’s good to see you hot shot, thought you weren’t coming out tonight with how Barnes was moping.”

Your heart beats like a wild drum in your chest, “Tasha’s flight got delayed, cashed in her IOU, so here I am and surely your version of Barnes moping is different from mine.”

“Oh man you should of seen him, had to smack the phone out of his hands with how often he was checking it, you’re gonna join us tonight after the win right?”

“You Bruins are so sure about that win,” you laugh.

“That’s because it’s in the bag, hot shot.” It takes everything in you not to snap your eyes to the broad shoulder right defenseman sauntering into the building. “Here comes your boy.” Sam chuckles patting your shoulder as you find said man with your camera lens. You wanted to eat him up like he was eating at your film.

Like Sam Bucky strolls till he’s standing above you, grin pulling at his pink lips as he offers you his hand. You set your camera down gently against your chest before taking his offer, warmth seeping though you at your hand wrapped in his. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.” He murmurs watching you.

“Well as enticing as staying in my pjs on my couch with a glass of wine watching the game tonight sounded IOUs are a serious thing to cash in.” you say struggling to keep his gaze, you were certain you’d turn into a puddle of goo soon.

“More enticing then upgrading your lock screen?”

You let out a groan reaching out to smack his chest, but his hand captures yours instead keeping it there a teasing smile playing at his lips. “You’re never going to let that go are you?” you question recalling the night at the bar that he discovered himself as your lock screen. To be fair it was one of your favorite shots you had captured at the beginning of the seasons. It didn’t hurt that he was your favorite Bruin player to follow on and off the ice.

“Never, though I’m hoping by the end of the night ill see a photo of me after the win.” He chuckles thumb running over your hand.

“You’d have to secure a win first Barnes.”

Your breath catches in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you, “I’ve already won though.”

Your reply is caught on your tongue, Fury voice breaking through the haze, “Barnes you’ll have time to catch up with y/n later get your ass in the lockers now!”

Bucky let’s your hand falling, chuckle brewing in his chest as he steps back, “hope you’re not watching Wilson or Rogers to closely tonight hotshot because this wins for you, and I’m going to be the one bringing it home.”

You watch him walk away, his gaze lingering on you till he disappears through the locker room.

And God how you hoped he would.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Summary: FUTUREDAD!ANAKIN x PREGNANT!READER

TW: none, fluff :3

ANAKIN SKYWALKER was muttering under his breath, frustration evident on his face as he fought with the cake batter that just wouldn't stick. His brows furrowed, and his tongue poked out slightly as he concentrated, clearly on the verge of giving up. But he didn't, not for you.

You were everything to him—everything. And since he found out you were pregnant, he'd gone into full-on protective, spoiling, I-need-to-make-her-happy mode. Because you deserved all of it. So, he found himself baking a cake (with questionable results), trying to make mochi (disastrous), and even stirring noodles for your favorite Chinese dish. Whatever you craved, he’d try his best to fulfill it, even if it meant his cooking was... less than stellar.

Now he was cursing quietly at himself and the cake that refused to stick together with the ice cream. His brows furrowed in frustration, yet his focus never wavered. He was putting everything into it. For you.

"Shit, shit, shit... what the hell is that?" Anakin muttered under his breath, watching a tutorial on his phone. The woman on screen clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job, in his opinion.

Meanwhile, you, still a little hazy from your nap, sniffed the air. Something burned—something... off.

You blinked, disoriented, but the scent was enough to bring you to your feet. Stumbling down the stairs, you wondered if maybe you’d left something on the stove? No, that didn’t make sense. The last time you had cooked was weeks ago, thanks to Anakin’s insistence that you take it easy. So, what was going on?

You rounded the corner into the kitchen and, to your surprise, saw Anakin’s back, his strong frame clad in an apron. An apron. An apron, which was a rarity in your home, especially given his feelings toward cooking.

As you rounded the corner into the living room, you caught sight of Anakin’s back, clad in an apron. “Annie?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, still sweet but laced with confusion. “What are you doing?”

He turned around at the sound of your voice, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, I—” He paused, glancing at the tutorial still playing on his phone, then at the cloud of smoke escaping through the open windows. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

He let out a heavy sigh. “...making you happy.”

Your eyes scanned the kitchen. The burnt cake, flour scattered across the floor, and the flour that now decorated his cheek.

“...Oh.”

Anakin scratched the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Yeah, so, uh, I kinda.. sorta.. tried to bake you a cake, make that Chinese dish you’ve been craving so much, and I tried to make some mochi, but...” He trailed off, visibly embarrassed by the chaos he’d created.

You glanced at the mess once more—burnt cake, flour everywhere, a trail of noodles... it was chaotic, but it was also so-him-coded

You smiled, stepping forward, your tired eyes softening as you took in the sight of your husband standing there, all pouty and disheveled, like a lost puppy, trying so hard to make you happy. It made you adore him even more.

Raising yourself on your toes, you grabbed his shirt for balance and placed a gentle, loving kiss on his lips. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, your smile wide, meaning it with all your heart.

"You always say that," he murmured, his eyes flickering over the mess in the kitchen, then back to you. "I just... I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to do something nice."

You wiped the flour off his cheek “Well, you did surprise me, Ani.” your voice full of love "You do it every day."

"Not like this," He grumbled, running his fingers through his messy hair. “I was trying to be sweet for you. To make you happy and satisfied. Not to make you ‘aww’ because I suck at doing some things right.”

You cupped his face, bringing him closer. "Ani, most guys wouldn’t even help their pregnant wives. And you? You’re doing far more than just helping. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me."

Anakin’s face softened at your words - brows coming back to it's place, eyes flickering to reflect this sweet, sweet side of his. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before nuzzling into your neck - the favorite activity this man ever had. "Love you..." he murmured, voice muffled against your skin.

"Love you too," you whispered, your heart full of warmth as you held him close.

But then—

“A-Ani... the noodles!”

Anakin’s eyes widened, and in a flash, he rushed to the stove where the pot bubbled dangerously. “Shit!” He quickly turned off the burner. “How the hell did I forget about those...”

In his rush to save food, he grabbed the pot with his bare hands, immediately regretting his decision. He yelped as the hot metal seared against his skin. “Agh! F-fuck... shit...” His voice cracked with the pain as he quickly placed the pot in the sink, his palms stinging.

“God, are you okay?” concern lacing your voice.

“I’m fi-fine! Fucking fine...” He bit back another curse, holding his hands under the cold water, hissing at the burn. “Hhhgh... fuuuuck...”

After minutes of putting his hand in the cold water and bandaging the burn, you two stood in silence, calculating all the mess before he mumbled shortly "I’ll get better at this, I swear" which only brought a small smile on your lips

You shook your head gently "Oh, ani.."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez

[reiding-writing]

I love the team teasing cold!Reader and Spencer hshsh. How about when they are in a case and Spencer is in danger and she is just desperate trying to get to him?

FACE TO FACE — SPENCER REID!

you threaten to crack under the stress of spencer’s abduction.

spencer reid x cold!reader | h/c | 1.2k | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — cold!readers origin story is taking so long i needed to take a break and work on something else 😭

The air in the BAU’s makeshift command center was heavy with tension, the only sound the incessant clicking of Garcia’s keyboard and the faint hum of monitors displaying a live feed. On one of the screens, Spencer was hunched over in a chair, blood dripping from a cut above his eyebrow, his hands bound behind him.

The unsub paced in and out of the frame, holding a metal pipe.

Your fingers curled into fists as you stared at the screen, your stomach twisted in knots. Spencer’s soft grunts of pain, muffled by the gag in his mouth, made you want to smash something—or someone.

“Garcia,” you barked, voice sharp and cold. “How long until you trace the signal?”

Penelope flinched at your tone but kept her focus on the screen. “I—I’m working on it! The unsub’s bouncing the signal off half a dozen different servers—”

“I don’t care about the technical details,” you snapped, pacing. “Just hurry up.”

Derek Morgan stepped in, his voice steady but firm. “Hey, we’re all doing the best we can. Yelling at Garcia isn’t gonna make this go any faster,”

You stop pacing to turn to him, ice in your glare. “We need faster, Morgan. He’s—” You cut yourself off, unable to finish the sentence as Spencer let out another muffled cry on the screen. The unsub had struck him across the shoulder, causing him to slump forward.

Your jaw clenched as you spun back to the screen. “Come on, Reid,” you murmured under your breath. Your voice was barely audible, but the desperation in it made the team exchange glances. For all your cold, aloof demeanor, this was the first time they’d seen real cracks.

Hotch’s voice cut through the room like a whip. “Garcia, update.”

“I’m close, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “But it’s not as simple as just pulling a trace. They’re using layers of encryption, and—”

“And he doesn’t have time for this-!” you snapped again, leaning over her desk. You caught yourself shaking, barely keeping it together.

On the screen, Spencer lifted his head, his eyes half-lidded but somehow defiant. The unsub grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright, barking something inaudible to the camera.

You watch the way Spencer winces, how he refuses to break eye contact with his captor. His lips moved, and though you couldn’t hear what he was saying, you recognised the look. He was stalling. Buying time.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to focus. Your cold fury had always been your armour, your defense mechanism, but right now, it felt like a weight pulling you under. The team needed you sharp. Spencer needed you sharp.

Emily’s hand landed on your shoulder, grounding you. “We’re going to get him back,” she said softly.

You didn’t answer, your eyes fixed on the screen. Another blow landed, and this time, Spencer couldn’t hold back the cry of pain. Your fingernails bit into your palm.

“I can’t just sit here and watch this,” you muttered, turning toward Hotch. “Let me take a team. Let me—”

“We don’t know where he is yet,” Hotch said, his voice calm but resolute. “The signal—”

“The signal,” you interrupted, your voice rising, “is taking too long. Every second we waste is another second he’s in danger.”

Hotch met your gaze, unflinching. “And every second we rush is another second we risk losing him entirely. You know that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words, but it didn’t make the helplessness any easier to bear. “He’ll die before we find him at this rate.”

You didn’t want to think about it like that. You didn’t want to think about the fact that a blow misplaced agaisnt Spencer’s head, or his torso, could mean whatever clock he had on his life would stop before you even knew where he was.

You didn’t want to think about the fact that even if you did get a location he could be too far away to get to him.

You needed a headstart. You needed to be out there, actually searching for him instead of standing around and waiting like an idiot.

Garcia let out a triumphant gasp. “Got it! I’ve got a location!”

And your head goes quiet.

Everyone surged into action at once. Hotch barked orders, Morgan grabbed his vest, and you were already halfway to the door. As the team piled into the SUVs, your focus narrowed to one singular thought: getting to Spencer.

The drive felt like an eternity, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios despite your best efforts to suppress them. When the vehicles screeched to a halt outside an abandoned warehouse, you didn’t wait for orders. You shoved the door open and bolted toward the entrance.

“Wait!” Morgan called after you, but you were already inside, gun drawn, heart pounding.

“FBI! Drop it!” you shouted, your voice echoing through the cavernous space.

The unsub spun toward you, startled, but he recovered quickly, pulling Spencer from the chair to use him as a human shield.

“Stay back, or I’ll kill him,” the unsub hissed, pulling the metal pipe across Spencer’s throat between tow hands.

Your grip trembles as you aim your gun, your finger hovering over the trigger. “Let him go.” you demanded, your voice icy despite the panic swirling inside you.

Spencer met your eyes, breath coming out in pants from the pressure on his esophagus. “Don’t—” he croaked, but his words were cut off as the unsub tightened his grip.

"I’ll do it!" the unsub threatened.

A shot rings out.

The unsub crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, Morgan’s form emerging to fill the space, his gun still raised.

There’s a moment where you can’t do anything but breathe, and then your legs carry you forward to push the unsub’s limp body off of Spencer’s tugging the latter to sit upright.

“Reid—” Your eyes scan the bruises on his face, on his shoulders and down his arms. “How much pain are you in?”

For once, you didn’t care about the team watching. You didn’t care about your reputation as the cold, detached one. All that mattered was that Spencer was alive, and you needed to make sure it stayed that way.

“I need to go to the hospital,” Spencer grimaces, his hand weak against your arm as he uses you as a support.

“There’s an ambulance outside, pretty boy,” Morgan kneels tentatively, hesitantly pressing a hand to his back to aid in Spencer’s effort not to fall over. “We’ve got you from here,”

[paxtito]

and they were roommates

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 2717

warnings: smut 18+, masturbating, oral (r receiving), p in v, swearing

summary: tara is out running errands, she’d be gone for hours- or so you thought

a/n: i’m working on multiple request atm— wenclair x reader one and the radiohead song (i’m just listening and reading the song to get an idea atm) also thank you to the anon for requesting this and their kind words!

The dorm is quiet, unusually so, and it’s kind of nice. Tara had mentioned heading out for the day—something about running errands and meeting up with Sam—and while you’re used to the hum of her presence, the silence isn’t unwelcome.

You glance around the shared space. It’s small but cozy, a mix of her personality and yours crammed into every corner. Her side of the room is meticulously organized—her books stacked neatly, her bed made with precision. In contrast, your side looks… well, lived-in. A pile of clothes rests precariously on your desk chair, and your bed is a haphazard mess of blankets and pillows.

You plop onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Without Tara around, you’re left to your own devices—literally. You snort at a meme, sending it to her out of habit.

“That’s stupid,” she’d probably reply, but there’d be a hint of fondness in it.

After a while, you glance at the clock. Noon. The day stretches ahead, and you find yourself feeling restless. You could clean up your side of the room, but… nah. Instead, you wander over to Tara’s desk.

Her books catch your eye first—old classics mixed with crime thrillers and a few surprisingly heartfelt poetry collections. You pick one up, flipping through the pages idly. A note scribbled in the margin catches your attention, her handwriting sharp and deliberate: “This makes no sense. Why didn’t he just leave?”

You chuckle softly. Even in her annotations, Tara’s blunt honesty shines through.

Your gaze drifts to her bulletin board. It’s a mix of pinned photos, ticket stubs, and little reminders. One of the pictures is of the two of you, taken on move-in day. You’re grinning like an idiot, throwing up a peace sign, while she’s glaring at the camera, her arms crossed—but there’s a subtle upturn to her lips that gives her away.

You flop onto your bed, the old springs creaking under your weight. The small TV in the corner flickers to life as you jab at the remote, the sound of canned laughter filling the room. It's some trashy reality show, but it's mindless and distracting—just what you need right now.

As you settle in, your gaze drifts around the room. Tara's side is always so pristine, everything in its place. It's annoying how tidy she is. You, on the other hand... well, your side looks like a bomb went off in a thrift store.

You reach for the bag of chips on your nightstand, tearing it open with a loud rip. The salty scent mingles with the faint smell of Tara's lavender body spray, creating a strange but not unpleasant odor.

You munch away, eyes glued to the screen, as snippets of conversation from the show drift through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to kill her," one of the contestants is saying, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

You snort. Yeah, right. They're all too busy primping and preening to actually do anything. Unlike the Ghostface killers, they've got no balls.

You check the time again, just to be sure. Tara won't be back for at least a couple of hours. With the coast clear, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. Time to take advantage of the privacy.

You reach over to your bedside table, fishing around in the drawer until your fingers close around the cool, smooth bottle of lotion. You pop the cap open with practiced ease, squirting a generous amount into your palm. The slick, slightly cold sensation sends a shiver down your spine as you rub your hands together, warming the lotion.

With your other hand, you unlock your phone and pull up your favorite porn site. Your fingers fly over the screen as you type in your search, already feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal. A few taps later, and a video starts playing, the sounds of moaning and grunting filling the now-silent room.

You settle back against your pillow, one hand already slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. Your cock is already half-hard, twitching in anticipation. You wrap your fingers around it, giving it a slow stroke as you watch the scene unfold on your screen.

You stroke your cock slowly, teasingly, savoring the building pleasure. Your other hand roams over your chest, pinching and tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. The dual sensations send sparks of electricity shooting through your body, making your hips buck up into your touch.

On screen, the actress lets out a particularly loud moan, and you match it with a groan of your own. Fuck, that's hot.

Just as you're getting into a rhythm, the door to your dorm swings open without warning. You freeze, your hand still wrapped around your throbbing cock, as Tara steps inside.

"Shit!" she exclaims, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. You're sprawled on your bed, pants pulled down, phone in hand, and a sticky puddle of lube on your stomach.

Mortification floods through you, and you frantically try to cover yourself, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your lap. Your face burns with embarrassment, and you can't meet Tara's gaze.

"I-I thought you said you'd be gone for hours!" you stammer, trying to come up with some excuse. But there's no hiding what you were doing.

Tara stands in the doorway, frozen in shock. Her eyes dart between your flushed face and the pillow. After a moment, she seems to shake herself out of her stupor.

Tara's eyes flick down to the pillow, then back up to your face. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a glint in her eye that makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

She steps further into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sound seems to echo in the tense silence.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, her voice low and teasing. She saunters over to your bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sits on the edge.

Your breath hitches as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the pillow in your lap. Slowly, she pulls it away, revealing your straining erection. You whimper at the sudden exposure, the cool air hitting your overheated skin.

Tara's gaze rakes over your cock, and you feel yourself grow even harder under her scrutiny. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Looks like you were in the middle of something," she purrs, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. Her touch is electric, sending shivers racing up your spine.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be back so soon," you manage to say, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Tara leans in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Don't apologize," she whispers, her lips brushing against your skin. "I think I can help with that."

And then, before you can process what's happening, she's sliding down your body, her hands pushing your legs apart. You gasp as her mouth hovers over your cock, her hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, Tara," you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair as she takes you into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue is almost too much to bear, and you buck your hips, desperate for more.

Tara hums around you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She bobs her head, taking you deeper each time, her hand wrapping around the base of your cock.

Your head falls back against the pillows as Tara works her magic. Her mouth is a wonder, hot and wet and so damn perfect. You can feel every ridge and valley of her tongue as it glides along your shaft, tracing the veins and swirling around the head.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," you groan, your hips rocking up to meet her movements. Your fingers tighten in her hair, gently guiding her pace.

Tara hums in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She takes you deeper, her nose brushing against your pubic bone as she swallows around you.

The sight of her, head bobbing in your lap, lips stretched obscenely around your cock, is almost too much to handle. You feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening and your stomach muscles clenching.

"Tara, I'm gonna..." you warn, your voice strained and breathless.

But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her head moving faster, her hand pumping in tandem. She looks up at you through her lashes, her eyes dark with lust and something else, something intense and hungry.

It's too much. With a guttural groan, you explode in her mouth, your cock pulsing as you spill your seed down her throat. She swallows it all, not spilling a single drop, and continues to suck and lick until you're spent.

Finally, she releases you with a lewd pop, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks immensely pleased with herself, a satisfied smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

You collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Your whole body feels like jelly, boneless and sated.

"Holy shit," you breathe, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. "That was... wow."

Tara giggles, the sound low and sultry. She crawls up your body, straddling your hips and leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You roll over, pinning Tara beneath you on the bed. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. You capture her lips in another heated kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste yourself on her tongue.

Your hands roam her body, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. She arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sit up and pull her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your eyes drink in the sight of her, clad only in a lacy bra. You lean down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the swell of her cleavage.

Tara's fingers thread through your hair, tugging gently as she holds you to her. "More," she breathes, her voice husky with need.

You oblige, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, freeing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire them, full and perfect, before lowering your head to take one pebbled nipple into your mouth.

Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed. You lavish attention on her breast, sucking and nibbling until she's writhing beneath you. Your hand slides down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.

"These need to go," you murmur against her skin, hooking your fingers in the denim and pulling it down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, kicking the jeans off and leaving her in just a pair of matching lace panties.

You sit back on your heels, taking in the sight of her laid out before you, flushed and wanting. Your cock twitches, already hardening again. You reach down to push your own pants fully off, kicking them away.

Tara's eyes widen as she takes in your naked form, her gaze zeroing in on your erection. "Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you.

You grind your cock against her, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace. Tara gasps, her hips lifting to meet yours, seeking more friction. The rough drag of your hard length against her clothed clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you both.

"Please," she whimpers, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "I need you inside me."

You don't make her wait any longer. Hooking your fingers in her panties, you yank them down her legs, tossing them aside carelessly. Tara spreads her legs wider, inviting you in.

You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her slick folds. Tara's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as you press forward.

You sink into her inch by delicious inch, groaning at the tight, wet heat enveloping you. Tara is so fucking perfect, her walls gripping you like a vice. You bottom out, your hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt inside her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you pant, fighting the urge to just start pounding into her. Instead, you hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

Tara rolls her hips, urging you on. "Move," she demands, her nails raking down your back.

You don't need to be told twice. You start to thrust, setting a steady rhythm that has you both gasping and moaning. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bed.

Tara wraps her legs around your waist, using the leverage to meet your thrusts. Her tits bounce with every snap of your hips, and you lean down to capture a nipple in your mouth, sucking hard.

"Yes, just like that," Tara hisses, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You fuck her hard and fast, chasing your pleasure and hers. The coil of heat in your belly winds tighter and tighter, signaling your impending release.

You can feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening and your thrusts becoming erratic. But you force yourself to slow down, to focus on Tara's pleasure instead of your own.

Tara's nails dig into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into your neck as she holds on for dear life. Her walls flutter around you, tightening and releasing in a rhythm that tells you she's close.

You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Tara keens, her body tensing beneath you.

You reach between your bodies, finding her clit with your fingers. Tara bucks against your hand, her hips moving in frantic circles as you rub tight circles over the sensitive nub. You can feel her getting closer, her inner walls starting to flutter around your cock.

"Come on, baby," you urge, your voice low and rough. "Come for me."

Tara's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm crashes over her. She cries out, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she comes undone.

The feeling of her coming around your cock is too much. With a guttural groan, you pull out, your hand flying over your shaft as you stroke yourself to completion. Your cum spurts out, painting Tara's stomach in thick, white ropes.

You collapse beside her, both of you panting and sweaty. Tara turns her head to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

"That was intense," she murmurs, reaching out to brush a sweat-dampened lock of hair from your forehead.

You grab some tissues from the box on your nightstand, quickly wiping the cum from Tara's stomach. She sighs contentedly as you clean her, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

As you toss the used tissues aside, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her naked form. Tara is a vision, her skin flushed and glowing, her hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the sight sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

But then reality starts to set in. You just had sex with your roommate. Your best friend. What does this mean for your relationship? Will things be awkward now?

Tara seems to sense your thoughts. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her naked body. "Hey," she says softly, reaching out to cup your cheek. "We okay?"

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Tara smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Good," she murmurs against your mouth. "Because I want to do that again. Soon."

With that, she hops off the bed, completely unselfconscious in her nudity. She pads over to her closet, rummaging around for something to wear.

You watch her, your mind still reeling. What have you gotten yourself into?

—

request: where reader and Tara are roommates and reader thinks Tara is out so reader starts to masturbate but Tara comes home early and walks in on reader so she gives a helping hand (a blow job) then they do it yk?

[meazalykov]

mother who stepped up

stepmom!lena oberdorf x mom!reader

summary: lena accepts you, and the mini-you

warnings: one mention of death, nothing too impactful to the story though. very long fic

you’ve never been one for surprises. your life, at least recently, has been built on carefully crafted routines, ensuring that your two-year-old daughter, macy, is comfortable and happy. 

dating? it was something you thought would come much later—if at all. after coming to terms with your sexuality, you didn’t want to date unti you were reassured that you’d be with the right woman for your daughter. 

here you are, sitting across from lena oberdorf, a suggestion from your well-meaning friends, and even though you like her, there’s something you or your mutual friends haven’t told her yet.

everything had been going smoothly with lena from the start. she was charming, funny, flirtatious, and made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time.

you didn’t think you could get used to someone so effortlessly, but somehow, lena just fit into your life—except for that one secret you hadn’t yet shared.

you’re sitting across from lena at a cozy café, sipping your coffee and listening to her talk about her game against wolfsburg– a club she played many years ago. 

it’s easy to get lost in the sound of lena’s voice, the way her eyes light up when she talks about football. you nod along, smiling as she recounts a funny moment from practice. 

for a while, everything feels perfect—simple, like your lives are in sync. in the back of your mind, you know you will have to tell her about macy. the little mini-you that is currently coloring in her daycare class across munich.

the conversation shifts to lighter topics, and you pull out your phone to check a notification. 

you sit your phone flat on the table and as you’re about to lock the screen, lena leans in, catching a glimpse of the photo that displays on both your home and lock screen. 

your heart skips a beat when you realize what she’s seeing—macy, her chubby little cheeks, dimples, and wild curls staring back at you from the lock screen. 

lena’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.

“aweee who’s that?” she asks, her tone casual but with a hint of intrigue.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to respond. 

here we go, you think, heart pounding. swallowing hard, you try to brush it off with a light chuckle. 

“oh, that’s little macy.”

lena tilts her head, staring at the screen for a moment longer before locking eyes with you. 

“macy?” she echoes. “is she… your niece or something? she looks just like you.” she smiles, clearly finding the resemblance cute.

you force a small smile, feeling your throat tighten. this is it—the moment you’ve been dreading. 

“uh, no… she’s not my niece.”

“oh,” lena says, looking at you, then back at the picture. 

“then, what, a cousin? a friend’s kid?”

you can see her mind working, trying to make sense of it. your fingers tighten around the edge of your phone, and you finally decide to rip the band-aid off.

“she’s my daughter….”

lena’s eyes widen, her gaze darting back to the screen, then to you. her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything right away. she stares at the lock screen as if seeing it for the first time, really seeing it.

“your daughter?” she repeats softly, almost like she’s processing the words.

you nod, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. 

“yeah. she’s turning two in a few months. macy’s my little girl.”

for a long moment, lena just looks at the photo, her expression unreadable. you watch as her gaze flickers between the image of macy and you, comparing the two of you. 

“she… she looks just like you,” lena murmurs, her voice almost in awe. 

“i thought she was you for a second, like, as a baby.”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension knotting in your stomach. 

“yeah, she’s basically my mini-me. she’s got my nose and everything.”

lena doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at humor. instead, her brow furrows deeper as she studies the photo. 

“wait, she’s… really your daughter? like, you have a kid?”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. 

“yeah, she’s mine. i know i should’ve told you sooner, but…” you trail off, not knowing how to explain the complexity of it all.

“but why didn’t you?” lena asks, her tone still soft, but there’s something raw in her voice—an undercurrent of emotion that you can’t quite place.

you glance down at your coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. “i didn’t know how,” you admit. 

“i didn’t want to scare you off. most people aren’t exactly thrilled about dating someone with a kid.”

lena leans back in her chair, processing what you’ve said. “you thought i’d be scared off because you’re a mom?”

you shrug, feeling a little defensive but mostly scared. “it’s happened before,” you say quietly. 

“people hear ‘single mom,’ and they run for the hills. i just… didn’t want that to happen again.”

lena is quiet for a moment, her eyes still on the picture of macy. she seems to be absorbing everything, and you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for her to say something—anything.

“is the father around?” lena says her thoughts out loud. 

“oh no no no. um– he didn’t want anything to do with macy. he also passed away shortly after mae turned one. her father and i were never together or even had feelings for eachother– it was just um..” you trail.

“i’m very sorry about that.” lena says, looking up at you before looking back to the photo of your little daughter. 

“oh no don’t apologize.” you say.

there's a pause for a few minutes. its clear that you wanted to switch the topic away from macy’s biological father, who wanted nothing to do with her before his passing anyways. 

lena looks up at you, giving your phone back with her expression softening. 

“you’d thought i’d run?” lena asks, a small, incredulous smile playing on her lips. 

“because of this? because of her?”

you shrug again, not trusting yourself to speak. all your worst fears are bubbling to the surface, and you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the moment it all falls apart.

lena reaches across the table, taking your hand gently in hers. 

“y/n, she’s beautiful,” she says, her voice sincere. “i mean, she really is a little version of you.”

you blink, the words not sinking in right away. “you… you’re not mad?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

lena shakes her head, squeezing your hand. “no, i’m not mad. i just… wish you’d told me sooner. i know we’ve only been official for a week but–” she pauses, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“i get why you didn’t, but… i’m not going anywhere. i like you. and now that i know about macy… i like her too. even if we haven’t met yet.”

the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you feel your eyes welling up. you’ve been bracing yourself for rejection, for lena to tell you this was too much for her. 

though here she is, sitting across from you, holding your hand, and telling you that she’s not going anywhere.

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay,” lena says, her voice firm but kind. 

“you’re a mom. that’s a part of who you are, and that’s okay with me.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart finally starting to settle. 

“thank you,” you whisper, blinking back the tears. “you don’t know how much that means to me coming from you.”

lena smiles, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. “so, when do i get to meet this little mini-you?” she asks with a teasing grin.

you chuckle softly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “soon. i just… didn’t want to spring her on you right away.”

“well, now that i know about her,” lena says, leaning back with a playful smirk, “i feel like i’m the one being kept a secret from macy.”

you laugh, the tension between you finally breaking. “i guess we’ll have to fix that soon.”

lena grins, taking another sip of her coffee. “i’m looking forward to it.”

the next day– lena doesn’t text much. you know that she is busy training at bayern but anxiety consumes you. 

your thoughts spiral. maybe she changed her mind and realized that it was too much for her. maybe she’s having second thoughts. 

by mid-afternoon, you’re glued to your phone while macy is with her aunt (your sister), checking for any sign from her. 

nothing comes, and your heart sinks.

as you’re picking macy up from your sisters, your phone finally buzzes. lena’s name flashes across the screen, and you almost drop your keys in your hurry to check it.

lena: hey, can we talk later? i’ve been thinking a lot.

you stare at the message, panic clawing at your chest. thinking doesn’t sound good. you force yourself to respond.

you: sure. what time?

the reply is almost instant. 

lena: i can come over tonight?

you hesitate. having her over… that means she’ll meet macy, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet. you also know you can’t keep her at arm’s length forever. you type back quickly.

you: yes, come at 7.

you spend the rest of the afternoon trying not to overthink it. 

as soon as macy is fed and bathed, your nerves start creeping back. you’re pacing the living room, glancing at the clock, when the doorbell rings.

macy, sitting on the couch with her stuffed miffy bunny and fluffy blanket, perks up. 

“mama, door!”

you smile, ruffling her hair. 

“stay here, baby,” you say softly, walking to the door. 

you open it, and there she is—lena, standing on your doorstep wearing a black outfit along with a grey beanie, looking as unsure as you feel.

“hey,” she says, giving you a small smile.

“hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in. you’re about to close the door when macy toddles over, clutching her miffy bunny in her small hands. lena’s eyes immediately land on her, and she smiles.

“this must be macy,” lena says, her tone soft and warm.

you nod, watching as macy stares up at lena with her wide (reader’s color) eyes. 

“yeah, this is her.”

lena crouches down to macy’s level, holding out her hand. “hey, macy. i’m lena.”

macy looks at you for reassurance before shyly reaching out to shake lena’s hand. 

“miffy bunny,” she says, showing off her stuffed toy.

lena chuckles softly. “that’s a cool bunny.”

you watch the exchange, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. lena looks so natural with macy, and it’s a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

you clear your throat, trying to shake off the wave of emotion.

“so, um, you said you wanted to talk?” you ask, motioning for lena to follow you to the couch.

she nods, standing up and giving macy one last smile before sitting beside you. macy toddles back to the couch, climbing up and sitting between your legs, still clutching her bunny as her small arms hug your waist.

“yeah,” lena says, glancing between you and macy. “i’ve been thinking a lot since last night.”

you nod slowly, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“i know this is a lot,” she continues, her voice gentle but steady. 

“and i understand if you’re worried about how i’ll fit into your life, into macy’s life, but… i want to try.”

you blink, taken aback. “you do?”

lena nods, reaching out to gently take your hand. 

“yeah. i mean, i didn’t expect this either, but i really like you, y/n. and if macy’s a part of your life, then i want to be a part of that too.”

you sit back, still reeling from the way the conversation unfolded. the tension that had knotted up your stomach starts to loosen, but you can’t help feeling the need to set some boundaries—just to be sure lena knows what this really means. 

it’s too early in the relationship to assume anything, and you don’t want to put any pressure on her, especially when it comes to macy.

taking a deep breath, you meet lena’s eyes. 

“i just want to be clear about something,” you say softly. 

“i don’t expect anything from you when it comes to macy. you’re not obligated to her, and i’d never force any duties on you. it’s still really early in our relationship, and i don’t want you to feel like you have to step into a role you’re not ready for. if you just want to date me, that’s okay. i mean it. however i just want you to understand that in a case between you vs. macy– i’ll always choose macy.”

lena watches you closely, her brow furrowing slightly as she listens. she leans forward, resting her arms on the table, and shakes her head gently. 

“y/n, you don’t have to put up walls.”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of her gaze. “i’m not putting up walls,” you explain quietly. 

“i just… i want to be fair. macy’s is the biggest part of my life, but she’s my responsibility, not yours. i don’t want you to feel like you have to take on so much at once. i don’t want you to feel trapped.”

lena sits back in her chair, exhaling slowly. her eyes soften as she takes in your words. 

“first of all, macy isn’t a trap,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. 

“she’s your daughter. i don’t see that as something to run from.”

your heart stumbles at her words, but you try to stay grounded. “but it’s still a lot for you,” you press gently. 

“being with me means being with macy too, and that’s a lot to ask of anyone. especially this soon.”

lena reaches across the table again, her hand finding yours, warm and steady. “i get what you’re saying,” she begins, her voice calm but sincere. 

“and i appreciate that you don’t want to rush things or put pressure on me. but, y/n, macy is a part of you. she’s part of your life, and if i want to be with you, that means i’m choosing to include her too.”

she squeezes your hand, her eyes locked on yours. “i’m not saying i’m trying to be her mom right away, or that i know how all of this is supposed to work. but i want to figure it out. because macy is important to you, and that makes her important to me.”

your heart swells, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. you hadn’t expected this, not so soon, and certainly not with such certainty in her voice. 

it’s like lena had already made the decision in her heart before you even started this conversation.

you blink back the tears, swallowing hard as you nod. “i… i didn’t know if you’d feel that way.”

“of course i do,” lena says softly, her thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. 

“i’m not scared off by you being a mom, y/n. it doesn’t make me want this any less.” 

you take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the depth of her words. “i’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. 

“it’s always been the reason people walk away.”

lena’s eyes soften even more, and she moves her chair closer to you, her hand never leaving yours. “well, i’m not them,” she says simply, her voice steady and sure. “i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere.”

the emotions well up in you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you look down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. she’s serious. she’s really serious.

“thank you,” you finally whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for… for staying.”

lena smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

macy, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, leans against your arm, yawning as she starts to doze off. 

you glance down at her, then back at lena, your heart full in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

from that moment on, things between you and lena shift. she starts coming over more, spending time not just with you but with macy too. 

at first, macy is a little shy around her, but lena is patient, never pushing too hard, just gently easing her way into your daughter’s life. it doesn’t take long before macy is running to the door to greet lena with a grin, her little arms reaching up for a hug.

the first time macy calls her "obi”,  your heart skips a beat. it's a simple moment—you're all sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by toys, when macy tugs on lena's sleeve, her big eyes looking up at her expectantly.

"obi, play?" she asks, holding out a mermaid barbie.

lena grins, taking the truck from macy. "of course liebe."

watching them together, you can't help but smile. it’s becoming clearer each day—lena’s not just here for you. 

she’s here for macy too. sometimes you joke that she is only here for macy.

as the years goes by, lena becomes more and more involved in your life. she starts joining you for bedtime routines, helping with bath time, reading macy her favorite stories as she grows older. 

after lena, macy, and you move into an apartment together— lena is for the tantrums, the messy dinners, the sleepless nights. sometimes, she will take the initiative so you can rest. the more time she spends with macy, the more it feels like she belongs in your little family.

three years after the important conversation, your life with lena feels like a dream. 

macy is five now, full of energy and curiosity, and lena has been there for all of it—every scraped knee, every preschool recital, every bedtime story. your home is filled with laughter and warmth, the life you never imagined you’d have when you were raising macy on your own. 

now, as you sit together on the couch, macy fast asleep in her room, lena leans into you, her fingers tracing patterns on your hand. she’s quiet, more thoughtful than usual, and you can sense something’s on her mind. she glances at the engagement ring on your finger, the same ring you’ve been admiring for months now, and then turns to you with a serious expression.

“i was thinking,” lena says quietly, her voice soft in the dim light.

“about what?” you ask, turning to look at her.

she hesitates for a moment, her hand pausing on your arm. “about macy. and… about us.”

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your voice steady. “what about us?”

“i know it’s still early but…” she says, her voice careful, 

you blink, processing her words. “but…?”

she takes a deep breath. “once we get married i’ll be macy’s stepmom. something i’ve been thinking about for a while. however i don’t want to wait until then. i want to be a mom to macy. if you’ll let me.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you’d always hoped, deep down, that lena would want to be a part of macy’s life, but hearing her say it out loud—it feels overwhelming in the best possible way.

“i know i’m not her biological mom, and i’ll never try to replace that, but… i love her, y/n. i love both of you. and if you’re ready for that, i’d like to be her mom too.”

the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and you reach up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. “we’d love that, obi.” you whisper. “we’d love that.” you repeat in awe.

when macy starts calling her “mama lena,” after she turns six– your heart nearly bursts with love.

macy is seven now, and the bond between her and lena has only grown stronger over the years. she clings to lena in a way that sometimes surprises you—like she’s always seeking her approval or comfort. 

it’s been that way ever since lena officially adopted her after turning thirty-one, and you and lena got married. 

you remember that day so vividly, the moment the judge declared that lena was now macy’s legal mother. the joy on lena’s face, the way macy had leaped into her arms, calling her “mama” with such pure excitement, filled your heart with pride and love.

it wasn’t long after when lena got the call—an offer from chelsea. it was a huge opportunity, one that meant she’d be competing in the women’s super league. after a lot of late-night talks and some serious decision-making, lena accepted the offer, which meant the three of you were moving to london. 

the change was exciting, something fresh and new for all of you. macy was thrilled at the idea of living in a new city, and as for you, the thought of starting a new chapter together made you incredibly happy.

in london, lena is the person macy runs to for almost everything. scraped knees, homework help, even just to ask if she can have a snack—lena is her go-to. most days, it fills you with happiness to see them so close, to know that macy has someone who loves her so much. 

sometimes, like today, you can’t help but feel a little sting.

you’d been in the middle of getting macy ready for school. she was in a hurry as usual, fidgeting in her seat while you knelt to help her tie her shoes. 

before you could finish, she pulled her foot away, laughing. “no, no, mama lena does it better!” she giggled, her bright smile lighting up her face.

you laughed too, even though the words pricked at your heart. “oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“guess i’ll need to practice, huh?”

macy just grinned, her curls bouncing as she wiggled her toes. “yeah, you should! don’t worry, you’re still good at other stuff!”

you smiled, ruffling her hair. “well, i’m glad i’m still useful for something.”

she giggled again, completely unaware of how her innocent words had stirred something in you. 

you shoved the feeling aside quickly, focusing instead on making her laugh as you pretended to dramatically fumble with her shoes. her laughter filled the room, her curls tumbling down her back as she leaned forward in her chair, watching you with bright eyes. 

it wasn’t until you were dropping her off at school that the feeling crept back in, like a quiet ache in the pit of your stomach.

it wasn’t that you were jealous—at least, you didn’t think you were. you loved that macy and lena were so close. you’d always hoped that one day macy would have a strong bond with lena, and seeing it unfold so naturally had been like a dream come true. 

still, moments like this made you wonder if you were slowly being edged out, if macy was starting to see lena as the “cool” mom while you were just… the other one that happened to look like her.

you tried not to dwell on it too much. lena had been nothing but supportive, always making sure you knew how important you were to both of them. and really, you were happy. 

lena had embraced being a mother to macy in every way—going to parent-teacher conferences, staying up late to help with school projects, even helping macy with her football in-between training at chelsea. 

that was another thing: football.

macy had recently started showing a serious interest in the sport, much to lena’s delight. she idolized her mama, always asking about drills and tactics, begging to go to practice with her. 

one afternoon, after watching one of lena’s games, macy had turned to you both, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“i want to play football too!” she’d said, bouncing on her toes.

lena’s face had lit up with pride. “you do, huh? well, we can definitely make that happen.”

since then, lena had been working on getting macy into training, talking to coaches and setting up practice sessions in your backyard. you’d watch them sometimes, lena patiently teaching macy how to pass the ball, how to position herself. 

the way macy looked up at lena, so full of admiration, always made you smile. you were thrilled that your daughter had someone like lena to look up to, someone who could teach her the things you never could.

and yet, in the quieter moments, when macy would run to lena after a long day, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of sadness. it wasn’t that macy didn’t love you—she did, of course.

there was something different about the way she clung to lena, like lena was her whole world. you couldn’t blame her. lena was a natural with her, always knowing just the right thing to say or do to make macy feel safe and loved.

you’d catch yourself watching them sometimes, a soft smile on your face as you listened to their conversations, the easy way they communicated without needing to say much. you’d hide your feelings behind a joke, like the time macy had joked about lena being better at making breakfast, and you’d playfully said, “well, guess i’ll just stick to making the coffee then.” macy had laughed, and you’d felt the sting lessen, pushing it to the back of your mind.

around this time, you and lena had started talking more seriously about having another child. 

this time, you would carry, using lena’s egg along with a donor. you’d been through a few consultations, and after what felt like a whirlwind of planning and waiting, the IVF procedure was finally successful. 

you were pregnant with another little girl.

the joy that filled your heart was indescribable. the idea of adding to your family, of giving macy a sibling, was something you’d dreamed about for so long. and now, with the news confirmed, it was time to tell macy. 

you weren’t sure how she’d react—she’d always been so used to being the only one, the center of attention. but you were hopeful that she’d be excited.

one evening, you and lena sat macy down, her favorite blanket draped over her lap as she snuggled on the couch between you. lena’s arm was around your shoulders, her hand resting gently on your belly, already slightly swollen with the new life growing inside.

“munchkin,” lena said softly, looking at macy with a warm smile. “we have some big news for you.”

macy looked up, her curiosity piqued.

“what is it?”

you took a deep breath, smiling as you leaned forward a little. “you’re going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

macy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her mind clearly racing to process what you’d said. 

“a big sister?” she repeated, her voice uncertain.

“that’s right,” lena added, squeezing your shoulder gently. “there’s a baby in here.” she gestured to your belly. “a little sister for you.”

macy’s face scrunched up, her expression a mix of confusion and hesitation. “but… i like being the only one,” she admitted, her voice small.

you shared a glance with lena, both of you understanding her hesitation. “we know, sweetheart,” you said gently. 

“and you’ll always be our first, our special girl. but having a sister means you’ll have someone to play with, someone who’ll look up to you, someone who’ll need your help.”

macy was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about what you’d said. her little fingers twisted in the edge of her blanket, her brow furrowed as she processed the news. you could tell she wasn’t sure how to feel.

“and you’ll still get to do everything you love,” lena added. “football, school, everything. this just means there will be more love in the house. and maybe, when she’s old enough, you can teach her some football moves.”

macy’s eyes brightened a little at that, the idea of teaching someone something she loved appealing to her. “i get to teach her football?”

you smiled, nodding. “absolutely. you’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

slowly, macy’s frown faded, replaced by a tentative smile. “okay,” she said, her voice soft but a little more certain. 

“i’ll be the best big sister ever. but only if i get to teach her football.”

lena laughed, pulling macy into a tight hug. “deal.”

and just like that, your family took another step forward, your heart full of love as you prepared for the next chapter in your lives—together.

masterlist

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

One morning, after I made my unbreakable promise with Jude.

Kate: [Screen Jolt] Uwaah!

I woke up with a shock.

Kate: W-w-w-why….

Jude: How long ya gonna sleep, damned commoner?

Kate: You’re in my room!

As Jude grabbed me by my chin and locked with my flustered gaze, another face peeks out from the corner of my eye.

Ellis: Good morning, Kate. Hehe, your bangs are sticking up, it’s so cute.

(Ellis?!)

Kate: Hey, hey…..what’s going on?

Jude: Get ready in three seconds.

He roughly tossed me away by my chin, and I bounced back onto the bed.

Kate: Three seconds? Where are we going?

Ellis: To our other workplace.

(Other….workplace?)

We entered a building marked Raven Co.

Kate: ….Raven Company.

This is the trading company run by Jude.

They have branches overseas, and do an extensive range of business….That’s what Ellis told me along the way.

(Jude’s the president and Ellis is his employee.)

(I heard that Ellis is Jude’s assistant….)

The original line translates: “I heard that Ellis assists the company president, Jude.” I felt this was redundant, so I removed it.

It’s a amazing that he’s the president of such a prestigious company, and works for Crown.

As the three of us are walking inside, I listen to Ellis as he explains everything about the company….

Cheerful Young Man: President, Ellis, g‘mornin’.

Theodore also speaks in the kansai/osaka-ben dialect.

A young man with his hair tied up, bows slightly, and greets Jude and Ellis.

Jude: Mornin’.

Ellis: Good morning.

(Perhaps he’s an employee….)

Kate: Good morning.

When the young man spotted me behind them….

Cheerful Young Man: Whoa, what a real pretty youn’ lady! I see, ya must be Ellis’ girl.

Kate: Oh, no I…

Cheerful Young Man: Yer not? Then, couldja be the president’s?!

Cheerful Young Man: Ah —……That’s an unusual taste. Ugh!

The moment Jude kicked the young man, he crouched down, his face distorted with pain.

Jude: You’ve been twaddlin’ on all mornin’.

Jude: Why dontcha use that yappin’ gob of yers ‘n snatch us a sale?

Jude: Unless ya want a pay cut, then that’s a different story.

Cheerful Young Man: No! I can’t endure somethin’ like that.

The young man hopped up and enthusiastically waved both arms.

Cheerful Young Man: Well, I’m gonna go slave away for Raven company today tooo. See ya later!

(He was a very lively and cheerful person.)

Ellis: That’s Theodore Walker. He’s 21 years old and works in the sales department.

Kate: Hehe, he seems like a very kind person.

I can’t help but smile as I imagine his work-style.

(Now that I think about it, I’d like to learn more about the other employees and their jobs….)

Kate: Ellis, you’re the president’s assistant, right? What are your responsibilities?

When I asked Ellis so I could learn more about those around me, he told me as he recalled them.

Ellis: That’s right. Guarding, visiting clients, procurement confirmation, raiding….

(Uhhh? I heard some pretty troubling words just now….)

Kate: You sound busy. Anything else that you do?

Ellis: After that, there’s debt collections, fighting, and retaliation.

(That’s even more troubling…!)

Kate: I feel like I’m listening to the stories of new hires that got hired unintentionally at an unscrupulous company…

Swallowing the words “Criminal Organization,” I expressed my thoughts as tactfully as possible.

They literally have “Anti-Social Forces” written in English and it’s used in Japan to denote individuals or organized criminal groups, (AKA Yakuza and/or syndicates). I changed this to fit the setting of England.

Jude: The president of that unscrupulous company’s given ya a job.

Kate: Hey, you were listening?

Jude: Can ya not speak like yer interested? ‘Sides ya were shoutin.’

Jude: If ya got time to shout, then review these.

In front of Jude, there were lines of letter bins that were overflowing.

The mail that couldn’t fit in the bins were piled messily all over the desk.

Kate: Do you by chance, want me to organize all of this….

Jude: If ya were a postal worker, sortin’ letters should be a piece o’ cake.

Kate: Still, this is way too much for one person to handle!

(Even if I did this non-stop, it’ll take the the whole day…)

Jude: I’m leavin’ it to ya, so don’t complain.

[Answer: Option 3 - At least explain the job +4/+4]

Kate: You can at least explain the procedures, so I know what to do.

Jude: This’s what happens when yer raised a sheltered princess. Use yer head, are yer brains packed with sawdust?

His eyes looked down on me with contempt.

(Well, I’d rather accept the challenge than be made to look like an idiot.)

Kate: I’ll do it!

When I reflexively declared that, a thin smile formed on his lips.

Jude: Great. Be sure to finish by the time I get back.

Jude smiled in satisfaction and then turned on his heel.

Kate: Um, where’s Jude going?

Ellis: Business meeting in the VIP room with British department store.

Jude: Don’t mind ya taggin’ along, if ya think ya can be useful?

(He knows that I won’t be even a millimeter of a bit useful…..)

Kate: ….I’ll stick to sorting the mail.

Jude: Ha.

Jude scoffed and walked away.

(What’s with this sense of defeat….)

Ellis: Kate, would you like my help?

Kate: Ellis…..thanks.

The only thing that saved me - was Ellis’ gentle, encouraging smile.

In an empty room, I silently sorted the letters.

The faint scent of his preferred cigarettes wafted in the air as I kept my hands moving…..

Kate: This goes here, that goes there……hah! All finished!

When I spontaneously dropped myself onto the desk, Ellis, who’d been working on a task on the other side of a partition, applauded me.

Ellis: Nice work, Kate.

Ellis: You’re such a hard worker, that’s great.

Kate: It’s all thanks to you helping me during your free time, that I was able to finish so quickly, Ellis.

Ellis: I only helped a little bit.

Ellis: Kate, you did most of the work on your own, so give yourself some credit.

(Ellis is so sweet.)

(His angelic smile is so healing, and I get a little bashful when I see him….)

Being with him makes me feel like I’m immersed in a meltingly sweet jam.

(Now that I think about it, I still haven’t heard the reason why Ellis joined Crown.)

I wonder why such a kind person like Ellis is a part of the assassination organization “Crown”, that conquers evil with evil.

Kate: Hey, Ellis. Can I ask you something? It’s just a fairytale keeper question, but..

Ellis: You just finished work, and now you’re working as the fairytale keeper? Haha, you’re so eager about your work.

Ellis: Go ahead, ask me anything.

Kate: …..Why are you at Crown, Ellis?

Ellis: Hmm….I guess because Victor asked Jude, and Jude said okay?

Ellis: I met Jude before we entered Crown, and we’ve been together ever since.

Kate: So, that’s why you chose to follow Jude?

Ellis: Yeah.

(But, why did Jude accept the invitation?)

— To imagine his thought process.

Perhaps he thought that if he worked for Her Majesty, beneficial information for Raven would pour in.

(Be that as it may.)

Kate: I’m glad you didn’t get caught up in it Ellis…..

Ellis: But - we made a promise.

Ellis tenderly narrowed his eyes as he said that.

Kate: …..A promise?

Ellis: I’m waiting for the happiest moment of Jude’s life.

Ellis: In order to witness it, I must stay by his side.

Kate: Will that promise be fulfilled once Jude becomes his happiest?

Ellis: Yeah, that’s right.

(Jude’s happiest moment…..)

I try to imagine it, but I can’t imagine his happiest moment in the slightest because I’ve never seen him with a proper smile.

Kate: Ellis, what’s the promise you want to fulfill?

Ellis just smiled and evaded my question.

Ellis: But, it seems like that moment will never come. …..Jude’s always unhappy.

Jude: Yer bein’ noisy.

When Jude opened the door, he stood there with a sour look on his face.

The line directly translates: "When Jude opened the door, he stood there like he just crushed a bitter bug.” Nigamushi - means to give a soured look, as if one has swallowed a bitter bug. I altered the line.

Ellis: Oh, welcome back Jude.

Jude: Don’t yammer ‘bout unnecessary things.

Ellis: But, we have to cooperate with her fairytale keeper work, right?

Ellis winks at me and it encourages me also.

Kate: Jude, I’ve also got a question for you!

Kate: Why do you keep Ellis by your side?

Jude: Ain’t none of yer business what I do.

Ellis: Jude, Kate is your exclusive fairytale keeper. I think it has to do with that.

With Ellis’ support, Jude gave in with a deep sigh…..

Jude: This guy’s athletic abilities ‘n cursed power’re worth usin’. There’s no way I’d let valuable labor slip past me.

Jude: He’s definitely touched in the head though.

(He answered me…!)

Kate: Thanks for letting me know, Jude.

(Jude uses Ellis as a tool.)

(Ellis wants to fulfill a promise to Jude.)

Each are by the other’s side for the sake of their own benefit.

— The relationship between the two can be called a “contractual relationship”.

That day, I learned some important information about Jude for the first time.

[Main Story Master List] [Chapter 3]

I would just like to say that I was wheezing this chapter when I first read it. They really went into her room like that HELP! Also, I LOVE Theodore, he is this ball of sunshine that's total opposites to our grumpy prez.

Dividers: @.natimiles Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

If you wish to be added or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

[rose24207]

I saw requests and I've read some of your Mafia Lando fics, can you do something where reader and Lando broke up and a few days later reader gets into a accident and the hospital calls him because he's next of kin when they were dating and when he gets there he's freaked and the doctors surprises him by saying the baby's fine.

Bound by blood and fate

Summary: After a devastating breakup, Lando is pulled back into your life when an accident reveals not only your fragile state but also the existence of the baby he never knew you carried, forcing him to confront his love for you and his vow to protect his growing family

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, car accident, pregnancy

A/N: thank youuu for the request. I really love all of your ideas! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The breakup had been ugly.

Ugly and inevitable, or so it seemed. The constant arguments, Lando’s late nights, the secrets he wouldn’t share—it all built up until the tension became unbearable. When you’d finally walked out of his penthouse a few nights ago, neither of you had looked back.

You told yourself it was for the best. You weren’t meant to live in Lando’s dangerous world.

He had tried to shield you from it, tried to convince you that his darker dealings wouldn’t touch your life. But the cracks in his promises had widened over time, and you couldn’t ignore the risks anymore.

The days since then had passed in a blur of loneliness and regret.

Each moment away from him felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you reminded yourself why you’d left.

You couldn’t stay in the shadow of his empire.

You couldn’t live in fear.

But even as you repeated those words to yourself like a mantra, there was something you hadn’t told him. Something that made your stomach churn with every passing hour.

You were pregnant.

You’d found out two days before the breakup. The test had been positive, and your mind had spiraled in every direction—joy, fear, uncertainty. You’d planned to tell him that night, but the fight had derailed everything.

And now? Now it was too late. Lando was gone.

The accident happened on the fourth day after the breakup.

It was raining hard as you drove down the winding roads outside the city. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up, and visibility was poor. You had been heading to your doctor’s appointment, determined to make sense of your next steps alone.

But fate had other plans.

Your car skidded on the slick pavement as you rounded a corner, the tires losing traction. You tried to correct the steering, but it was too late. The vehicle spun out of control, slamming into a guardrail before flipping over and landing in a ditch.

The world went black.

When Lando’s phone rang, he almost didn’t answer it. He had been drowning in his own misery since you’d left, throwing himself into work to avoid thinking about you.

But something about the unknown number on the screen made him pause.

“Hello?” His voice was sharp, impatient.

“Is this Lando Norris?” a calm, clinical voice asked.

“Yes,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“This is St. James Hospital. You’ve been listed as the emergency contact for [Y/N]. She’s been in an accident.”

The blood drained from his face. “What? Is she—” His voice cracked. “Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but she’s in critical care,” the doctor replied. “We need you to come in as soon as possible.”

He didn’t think twice. Grabbing his keys, he was out the door in minutes, driving faster than he had in his entire life.

Lando burst into the hospital, his heart racing as he approached the front desk.

“[Y/N] [L/N],” he said, barely able to keep his voice steady. “I’m her emergency contact. Where is she?”

The nurse nodded, quickly directing him to the ICU. He didn’t even thank her, his focus solely on reaching you.

When he stepped into the room, the sight of you lying in the hospital bed made his chest tighten painfully.

You looked so small, so fragile, your face pale against the stark white sheets.

A doctor stood at your bedside, checking your vitals. He turned as Lando entered, offering a calm but serious expression.

“You’re Mr. Norris?” the doctor asked.

Lando nodded. “What happened? Is she going to be okay?”

“She suffered a concussion and a few broken ribs, but she’s stable,” the doctor explained. “We’ll need to monitor her closely for the next 24 hours, but she’s a fighter.”

Relief flooded through Lando, but it was short-lived as the doctor continued.

“And the baby is fine as well,” the doctor added.

Lando froze. “The… what?”

The doctor frowned slightly. “You didn’t know? She’s about 10 weeks pregnant. The impact was severe, but there’s no sign of harm to the baby. It’s a miracle, really.”

Lando’s world tilted on its axis. Pregnant? You were pregnant? His heart pounded as he looked at you, the realization sinking in like a punch to the gut.

He sat by your bedside for hours, his hands trembling as he held yours. Memories of your last fight replayed in his mind, and guilt twisted in his chest.

If he had known… If you had told him…

But it didn’t matter now.

All that mattered was that you were okay, that both of you were okay.

When you finally stirred, your eyes fluttering open, his breath hitched. He leaned forward, his face hovering inches from yours.

“Lando?” Your voice was weak, but the surprise in your tone was unmistakable.

“I’m here,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I’m here, love.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the reality of your situation came rushing back. “The baby—”

“Is fine,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re both fine. But why didn’t you tell me?”

Fresh tears spilled over as you looked away. “We were already falling apart. I didn’t think it would change anything.”

“Change anything?” Lando’s voice cracked with emotion. “Everything changes, [Y/N]. You and this baby—you’re my everything.”

You turned back to him, searching his eyes for the truth. ���But your world, Lando… it’s dangerous. I didn’t want to bring a child into it.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he considered your words. “You’re right. My world is dangerous. But I’ll protect you—both of you—with everything I have. I swear it.”

Your lip quivered, but before you could respond, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve lost too much already. I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

The days that followed were a blur of recovery and quiet conversations. Lando rarely left your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

He made calls, tightening security around your home and ensuring that anyone who even thought of causing trouble would think twice.

You saw a new side of him—a man willing to go to any lengths for the people he loved. And as much as you’d tried to deny it before, you realized that love had never stopped between the two of you.

It wasn’t going to be easy. There were still battles to fight, both within and outside of Lando’s world.

But as he sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your stomach, you knew one thing for certain:

You weren’t alone anymore.

Thank you for reading!

[satangcrush]

too loved he became slothful

belphie, satan & g!n reader, sfw, not beta-read

cw▸i dont think theres anything for this, author didn’t do any research a/n▸ no idea if belphie can put people to sleep but he's my character now so he can. also coping hard with the news <3

“You need to sleep now.” The Avatar of Sloth says as he stares at you, half-lidded eyes blinking in a hypnotising manner.

“Why are you in my bed?”

He shrugs, looking cosy as he wraps himself in the blanket that Thirteen had gifted you. Supposedly it was meant to ward off “demons” but it mustn’t be doing too much of a great job.

“Come here.” He demanded instead, blatantly ignoring you.

You sighed, depositing your textbooks on the bedside table before making your way over. The RAD exams have been taking a lot out of you, countless nights have been lost to the study tables in the library and around the HOL.

You sat at the edge of the bed, hesitant to get nearer.

“Don’t worry too much, I won’t do anything to you.” He lifts the blanket, motioning for you to come nearer. You let out a snort, thinking of a funny comment but it never made it out of your mouth.

“I still have a study session with Satan later.” You replied but scooched closer either way. Pulling your D.D.D. out of your pocket, you swiped on the screen.

“Let me set an alarm for ten minutes.”

Arms wrapped around you, pulling you down.

.

Yet, the next thing you knew, you could hear the crowings of the birds and your eyelids were heavy. Your body was heavy as you snuggled deeper into the warmth beside you.

…Crowings?

“Belphie, you little–” You stopped yourself in your tracks, taking in a deep breath. Wiping away at the corner of your mouth, you curled your fist tightly into a ball.

“Did you seriously use your power to make me sleep?” You were not going to jump to conclusions and violence was never the answer.

The peaceful sight of the lastborn snoring normally would soothe your soul but all you felt was pure wrath. The little freak was still dozing off so you used the bottom of your fist to smash into the top of his head.

Distantly, you hope it hurt.

He let out a small grunt, holding onto your fist as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

Stupid demons and their strength.

“Great nap?” He asked, giving you a shit-eating grin as he continued to stretch while wrapping his hands around yours. The bottom of his shirt lifted up and you couldn't help but steal a peek. When your eyes flicked back up, he continued to arch an eyebrow. You swear if he was in his demon form, you just know that his tail would be swishing right in your face.

“Yeah, how did you know?” You hissed out, finally wrenching your hand out. With a shake to gain back feelings in your hand, you patted around the bed to look for your D.D.D.

“I’ve let Satan know that you weren’t coming.” He continues, propping himself up to look at you. You carefully shifted his bangs to push them behind his ears. “Aren’t you glad I did it?”

You rolled your eyes.

“You’re just saving your ass.” You flicked his forehead, after finally locating your D.D.D under your pillow. “He would have trashed this room if he found out that I skipped because I was napping with you.”

He tilts his head, staring at you with that calculated expression that you both hated and loved. He gestured for you to look at the object in your hand.

satan: Let’s meet in the living room at about 8.

You: sorry i wont be comin later! im going to revise on my own :>

satan: Are you sure? Didn’t you need help which was why you asked for me?

You: yeah! had a change of mind :p

satan: …Which brother is this?

You: it’s me!

satan: Is this Belphie?

You paused.

“Did you actually leave him on read?” You snickered, holding up a hand to muffle the sound. Suddenly serious, you turn to pin him with a scared look. “Wait, how is my room still intact?”

He laughs, pointing to the door.

You had a horrendous premonition, inching closer to the door. Thankfully, you swung it inwards otherwise, you would hate to wonder what would have been the fate of the Avatar of Wrath.

“I can’t believe it.”

Satan was slumped against the wall, still in his demon form. His hands were raised up as if it was ready to knock at the door.

“Oh my–”

You cleared your throat, lowering your volume.

“You put him to sleep too?” You whispered though it was bordering on a shout. Lifting an arm up, you noticed that he was still limp to the touch. If it wasn't for the fact that you could still see his chest rise up and down, you would have been worried about Belphie's ever-growing list of crimes. 

Totally knocked out.

You suddenly had a headache.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Belphie just continues to grin, burrowing himself further into the blanket.

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (two)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

masterlist | < one

ᡣ𐭩a/n: if you want me to add you to the taglist for this fic send me an ask!

ᯓ⟢

Zach watched the girl on his driveway, drive away. The dumbfounded look didn’t leave his face as everyone stood there confused as to what the hell just happened.

“I knew it,” Miles muttered, looking over at Zoey from his spot on the porch. “You’re not Zach’s girlfriend.”

The accusation rang loudly in Zach’s ears, almost hurting his head as everyone’s heads snapped from Miles to Zoey. She stood there with a shocked look on her face, like a deer in headlights. Zach looked to the car that was turning off of his street now.

He whispered out, “Y/N…” He looked at Zoey, blinking a few time as his memories were slowly coming back. 

Zoey looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

“What are you talking about?” Zach asked his cousin, needing someone to put together the pieces of the puzzle because the pieces he kept trying to make fit wouldn’t connect.

“She’s not your girlfriend, dude,” Miles reiterated, pointing at Zoey with a shake of his head and an unbelievable scoff. “I thought when you introduced her to us… you just got a thing for Zoey’s.”

“Miles, honey, what are you talking about?” Connie asked, looking between the three college students with a look of bafflement splayed across her face.

Miles walked down off the porch, phone in hand, and jammed the screen towards Zach’s face. He was looking at a photo of his own Instagram page, full of photos of himself and the girl who just drove away nearly in tears.

Zach looked between the phone and Zoey, who stood there biting her lips as tears filled in her eyes.

“Look… I…” Zoey started to explain, and everything from the ski trip started to make sense. The signs Zach didn’t realize at first.

ᯓ⟢ THE SKI TRIP

Zach MacLaren was confused, to say the least. Ever since that car hit his bike and he went flying onto the pavement outside the bookstore, everything felt… weird, out of place almost. When the doctor had said that he was experiencing some form of short term memory loss from his concussion, all he could be was glad that was all that it was, and that Zoey was there with him. Though, that felt weird, too. Especially when he could’ve sworn he called her something other than Zoey and was confused why she was confused about the ski trip. 

Hadn’t he invited her to that, or is he forgetting about that, too? Sign one.

At dinner, Miles came through the side door that lead to the kitchen, and Zach watched the way he paused for a second when he saw Zoey standing in the kitchen with his mother and father. Zach just smiled, getting up from the couch and placing a hand on the small of her back.

“Miles, this is my girlfriend, Zoey,” Zach introduced them.

Miles’ eyebrows furrowed downwards, not that Zach knew why. Maybe he thought she was out of his league, which honestly, he felt like she kind of was. They shook hands and when Zoey walked away, Zach caught Miles pulling his phone out quickly, looking down at it and then back up to where Zoey had sat back down in the living room a couple of times. It was like he was comparing something, not that Zach knew what. 

He just figured after his amnesia concussion, he wouldn’t understand a lot of things for a while. 

“Why are they all named Zoey?” he heard Miles ask under his breath, and while that also confused Zach, he didn’t question it. Sign two.

At dinner, his mother, Connie, made the comment, “I thought your name was Y/N?”

Zach tilted his head to the side, confused where that name came from. It did sound familiar. Zach’s dad, Matt, reached for his wife’s hand.

“It’s her middle name, remember, honey?” Matt reminded Connie. “Zach told us her friends back home call her Zoey, but she goes by her first name at their university.”

Zach nodded slowly, as if being reminded of that conversation while his mother said, “Right!”

He looked at Zoey, seeing a small awkward smile on her face. So, her first name was Y/N… He remembered that… didn’t he?

“You guys can just call me Zoey like the people back home, though,” Zoey interjected sheepishly. “I’m still not fully… used… to being called… Y/N…” Sign three.

“Zoey it is,” Matt smiled in agreement.

“So, Zoey, how’s Zach doing in tutoring now?” Connie asked.

“Knowing Zach? Horribly,” Avery teased, earning a mocking “ha ha” from her older brother.

“Tutoring?” Zoey asked, confused as she ate the food on her plate.

Zach just smiled, putting an arm around the back of her chair. “See, my grade in English is so good that I don’t even need tutoring anymore,” he said proudly. “Not that she doesn’t still help me. But as girlfriend, not tutor.”

“Right, English,” Zoey laughed awkwardly, grabbing her water to chug from so she didn’t need to answer any other question she wouldn’t know the answer to. Sign four.

ᯓ⟢ THE MACLAREN HOUSE

“I’m just surprised Avery didn’t say anything either, since I’m sure she’s seen photos of Zoey on your page,” shrugged Miles as he put his phone back in his pocket.

Avery was waving her hands over her neck, as if to tell Miles to shut up.

“You have an Instagram young lady?” Connie shot her daughter a disapproving stare. “You know you are not allowed to have social media.” Then to Zach. “You know she isn’t allowed to have social media.”

“She doesn’t,” Zach shook his head at the change of topic. “I made her give me the password, changed the password, locked her out, and now she can’t use it at all.”

All eyes fell back onto Zoey after the short detour. She had already explained why she did what she did—at first, it was to not stress him out like the doctor requested. Then, it was selfishly to get closer to Miles. Zach felt a pit in his stomach knowing he was actually feeling some sort of connection to her before this, but now he just wanted to throw up.

God, the look on your face when you had walked away… You thought he… Well, technically he… Oh, god.

Zach really looked like he was about to be sick, his head throbbing as the photos of you and Zoey’s story started to job his memory.

“I cheated on my girlfriend…” he muttered under his breath, aching and hating himself. He glared at Zoey. “You made me cheat on my girlfriend,” he spoke louder, a scoff leaving his throat. “How could you do that to me? To her?”

He could barely hear her excuse over the thoughts racing in his head over how he was going to make this one up to you.

“You’re the girl from the bookstore who called me an idiot,” it dawned on Zach.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “It was the name of the book… You’re not an idiot, Zach. You’re so smart… and so sweet… and I didn’t expect to like you, but I… I felt like we really connected this weekend.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zach said with raised shoulders, pointing out into oblivion for emphasis. “Whatever you felt for me this weekend, and whatever the hell connection I thought we had… none of that was real! Me… Me and Y/N… we were real… are real, if I can…”

If he can fix it.

“I’m sorry, I-I…” Zoey tried to find the words to explain.

“I… I need to get back.”

He had no classes on Mondays, but there was soccer practice later that evening. He planned to eat lunch at his parents’ before hitting the road, but now he needed to get back to you. God, his phone was broken, and you were going to spend the next two hours driving thinking he cheated on you.

He grabbed his luggage, looking at his parents for a second.

“I gotta go,” he said quickly.

“Good luck,” Avery called out after him as he got to his car, absentmindedly throwing his luggage into the backseat.

He needed to fix this. He needed you to know this was all a misunderstanding, a miscommunication really. That… that Zoey Miller was just a catfish who pretended to be you to a freaking amnesia patient. That he remembered clearly now.

It didn’t matter that his phone was broken when he got hit by that car. He knew the route back to your on-campus apartment like the back of his hand. He turned the radio on and just drove.

[jeongsoo-jin]

Pairing: Idol Song Mingi x afab reader (friends to lovers)

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is called baby and love, oral (female receiving), hickeys, a bit of whiney Mingi if you squint, a bit of overstimulation

Requested: by @18autumngirl for their friend's birthday, their birthday's the 30th if I remember correctly, so this is coming out a little early, so happy early birthday to them!

Your best friend Mingi has been on tour with his band, but never missed a day of calling you to listen to you rant about your day, but as you look at the clock in your living room, you realize its getting late, and he is yet to call. You sigh, and get up to start on dinner, putting music on, of course it's his, it always is. As you're listening to the music and stirring the contents of the pan, you start realizing just how much you miss him, so you decide to grab your phone and text him, asking if everything's alright, telling him that you're worried since he hadn't called or texted all day. You sit your phone back down on the counter, sighing again, but continuing to cook your meal. The music is to loud for you to hear a key being put in the door of your apartment, but you feel the cool breeze from the hallway make it's way inside, and you turn around, slightly alarmed. When you realize that it's your best friend standing in the doorway, you can't help but run to him, excitedly.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming?” you say, tightening your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“I wanted to surprise you for your birthday”

“well it's one hell of a surprise, I fucking missed you”

“i missed you too” he says, placing his hands around your waist to lift you and spin slightly, before setting you back down. He breaks from the hug, and gives you a soft smile

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing” you laugh at him, before making you both plates and sitting down on the couch. You end up watching a movie you both have seen at least a hundred times, and as it progresses, you end up cuddling next to each other, which isn't out of the ordinary for the two of you. What is out of the ordinary, however, is Mingi’s hold on your waist as you lay your head on his chest. Almost like he couldn't stand to let you go in the moment. You make no move to loosen his hold on you, and just continue staring at the television, although you’re not so focused on what's going on in the movie anymore.

The movie ends, but this time it felt like the same film you watch all the time had doubled in length, and still neither of you have made any move to get up, and are both sitting, looking at the screen absentmindedly as the credits play. Only after the screen fades to black, do you finally decide to get up, to take the dishes from the long forgotten meal to the sink. Mingi trails not far behind you, neither of you saying a word, and both of you feel the tension setting in the air as you begin to wash the dishes. After you're done, you turn to look for a towel to dry your hands off with, but Mingi stops you, standing very close in front of you, with you looking up at him with confusion on your face.

“God, I fucking missed you” he says as he cups your cheeks in his hands, kissing you. Your eyes widen in shock, before closing as you kissed him back. He backs you into the counter slowly, and you let out a slight yelp from your back touching the wet counter from where you were washing the dishes. He pulls away, and looking at you with an expression of worry, almost a nonverbal way to ask if he had done something wrong. You walk back towards him, and attach your lips back to his, before walking away towards your bedroom. He takes the hint, and follows close behind, shutting your bedroom door behind you both, and pulling you back towards him, kissing you again, before walking you backwards to your bed. Your calves hit the bed, and you fall back, with him landing on top of you, never breaking the kiss. Both of your hands start to silently wander on the other person's body's, finally seeing each other in a different light.

He goes to take your shirt off, but not before looking at you with the same expression from earlier, but this time with a bit of excitement on his face, silently asking if you want him to continue. You smile up at him, nodding slightly before he pulled your shirt above your head. He begins palming your naked breasts as he kisses your neck. He slowly trails his mouth lower, stopping just above your panty line, before taking his own shirt off. He plants a final kiss on the center of your underwear before sliding them off, and gliding his fingers through your folds. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he begins licking at your cunt. He puts two fingers into you, slowly sliding them in and out to stretch you, but as he looked up at you in time to see your eyes rolling back, he sped up his pace. You reach out to grab his head, pulling him back down to your clit, and when he starts eating you out messily, your elbows give out from under you. He reaches with his hand that's not preoccupied, and holds your hand, rubbing soft circles into the heel of your palm slowly, which is very different from the now brutally fast pace he’s set with his other hand, curling his fingers into the spongy part of your walls. You throw your head back, moaning quite loudly, feeling your orgasm build.

“There you go, baby, come for me” he says, face still between your thighs, and the vibration from his voice sends you over the edge of climax, as you cum on his face. He doesn't stop, but does slow down quite a bit to let you ride out your orgasm. When you pull him away, the overstimulation getting to you, he smiles at you lovingly before glancing to the side of the bed.

“what are you doing?” you ask, following his eyes to the digital clock on your nightstand. You watch the time change to midnight with him, before he turns back to you.

“Happy birthday! Want your present now?” He asks, with a smirk on his face, before standing, and ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He climbs back on the bed, adjusting your legs to straddle his hips as he lines himself up with your hole. He kisses you again as he slides himself in fully, as you whine from his length. You feel so full of him as he begins thrusting into you softly. Though it doesn't stay that way for long. He starts fucking you rougher, as he hiked your leg higher on his torso, and begins kissing your neck harder than before. If he didn't leave marks earlier, there will definitely be some now, but you're not thinking much about that, honestly you're not thinking much at all, all too focused on Mingi's movements. He holds your hand again, while his other hand pushes lightly on your stomach to apply pressure on your g-spot from the outside. It doesn't take too long from all of the stimulation for you to cum again.

“Flip over baby” he says, helping to guide you on your hands and knees. He slides back in, fucking into you slow and deep. He grabs your shoulders to pull you back to him, so your back is against his chest. He moves one of his hands to wrap around your midsection tightly, while the other one goes to your clit, rubbing in circles.

“I love you so much” he says, as his thrusts grow more sporadic, nearing his climax. “Come with me baby, please” his voice having a slight whining tone to it.

He rubs your clit faster, and you feel the knot in your stomach thicken, and your moans grow louder. You feel Mingi start to twitch inside you, and you tell him you're close to coming. He bites on your shoulder lightly to muffle his moans as he cums inside you, with you following close behind. You guys stay like that for a second, with you in his arms, basking in the in each other's warmth, before he pulls out, and helps you to lay down, your legs growing stiff from putting your weight on them. He lays beside you, and you rest your head on his chest, before speaking

“i love you too, Mingi” you look up at him and smile, curling into him more.

“happy birthday, love” he says, grabbing your hand that's on his chest, and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You end up falling asleep like that, and Mingi lays there, admiring you for a little while, before drifting off to sleep himself.

[arabe11as]

not a lot, just forever.

warnings: ur preggers n alex is cute </3

You were supposed to watch Alex’s Glastonbury set from backstage, the anticipation bubbling as you got ready in the hotel room just minutes away.

But right when you were about to leave, a wave of nausea hit hard. You barely made it to the bathroom before getting sick. Alex found you there, rubbing your back with one hand, his voice soft as he told you to rest and promised he’d come back as soon as his set was over.

You tried to insist he goes out with the guys afterwards, to celebrate, but he just shook his head. Even through the haze of feeling awful, you couldn’t help but notice how incredible he looked, stage-ready and electric, and you hated yourself for not being able to be there.

You lay curled up on the sofa, a blanket pulled tightly around you, trying to ignore the nausea swirling in your stomach. Your mind kept drifting back to the pregnancy test you’d slipped into your bag earlier, without Alex noticing.

You hadn’t taken it yet, torn between wanting to know and dreading what it might reveal. Was it possible? Or was this just some bug, maybe something you ate? But deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you’d have to face it and find out for sure.

You turned up the telly, letting his voice fill the room as if it could somehow calm the storm inside you.

The set was echoing from the living room through the bathroom while you stood there, staring down at the pregnancy test in your hand. Heart pounding, you finally took it, set it on the sink, and walked back to the sofa, trying to focus on his performance instead.

As you watched him up there, alive and in his element, tears started to slip down your cheeks. The thoughts came like a flood—what if this changed everything? What if you ruined this for him, this life he’d worked so hard for? Would he even want this?

Knowing he was out there having the time of his life right now only made it harder. You’d have to tell him soon, and in a few hours, this might all come crashing down.

You tried to push the thoughts away, shaking off the weight in your chest as you walked back to the sink. Taking a deep breath, you flipped the test over. In bold, flashing letters, it read pregnant, as if mocking you, taunting you with a life-altering truth.

The sight alone sent you stumbling back, nausea washing over you again as you threw up once more.

From the other room, Alex’s voice floated in, strong and carefree through the television. That only made the tears come harder. You sank to the bathroom floor, curling up and pressing your forehead to the cold tile, feeling trapped and terrified.

After a few minutes, you forced yourself up, brushing your teeth to wash away the bitterness, then slipping into something comfortable, hoping it might steady you.

Hands shaking, you picked up your phone and typed out a message to Katie, the only person you could think of to turn to right now.

Katie texted back almost instantly, even from backstage at Glastonbury. Her reply was steady and sure, telling you that it would be okay, that you’d get through this.

She gently urged you to tell Alex as soon as he got back, reminding you he deserved to know.

You hesitated, typing out your fears—what if he’s angry?—and her answer was quick, reassuring.

he won’t be angry he loves you.

It was a lifeline you clung to, even as the weight of the news still pressed down on you.

Before you knew it, his set was over, and you watched him blow kisses to the crowd on the screen, his face alight with joy.

But as the cheers faded, anxiety gripped you. He was on his way back, faster than you’d expected. Moments later, your phone buzzed:

I’m on my way back !

You swallowed hard, fingers trembling as you typed out a calm reply, trying to keep it together.

Now, all you could do was sit there and wait, feeling every second stretch out as you prepared to tell him the news that might change everything.

You paced the room, heart racing as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering how you’d even begin.

Should you wait for him to ask what was wrong, or just blurt it out the second he walked in? Your phone buzzed again, another message from Katie:

Jamie asked if he can be the god father.

You laughed at her message and it distracted you from what was happening but it disappeared the second you heard the door open. You froze, pulse-pounding as Alex stepped inside, still buzzing from the stage, his smile so bright.

As the door clicked shut, you couldn’t wait a second longer. You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him before he could even set his things down.

He held you close, his heartbeat still racing from the show, and leaned down to whisper, “Did you like the set?” You nodded against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him grounding you even as silent tears slipped down your cheeks.

Normally, you’d pull back by now, and tease him about some part of the show, but this time you clung to him, not ready to let go.

He noticed right away, his hold tightening. “You alright, love?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes softened as he took in your tear-streaked face, hands lifting to gently cup your cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, worry written all over his face.

When he asked, the floodgates opened, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. You tried to speak, but your throat tightened, and no words came.

“What’s wrong, lovely?” he repeated, concern deep in his voice. Without hesitation, he pulled you back into his arms, cradling you gently. “Come here,” he murmured, practically lifting you off your feet and carrying you to the sofa to sit down.

He wiped away your tears, his fingers running through your hair as he murmured soft reassurances.

“Was I that bad?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood with a small laugh, but you could only manage a faint smile in response.

“Alex…” you choked out, your voice breaking.

“Yeah?” he replied, squeezing your hand, his thumb gently stroking over your skin.

“Please… don’t be mad…” you muttered, the words barely escaping you.

“Mad? What? Why would I be mad, love?” he whispered, his tone soft and confused, as he pulled you closer, his warmth wrapping around you like a safety net.

You tried to speak, but your breaths came in short, panicked gasps, the anxiety tightening around your chest.

“Right, breathe for me, Y/N,” Alex said softly, rubbing your arm in slow circles. “Before you say anything, just calm down.” His voice was steady, and you focused on his words, trying to slow your breath. Slowly, you took a few deep inhales, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“I promise you, whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance, trying to anchor you.

After a few moments, you managed to calm down enough to grab the test from the bathroom. You returned to the sofa, sitting beside him, his eyes full of confusion as you placed the test in his hand.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, so you covered your eyes, waiting for him to speak, the silence stretching between you.

He didn’t say anything right away, just stared at the test in his hands. After what felt like forever, he finally spoke. “Did… did you take this today?” His voice was gentle but unsure.

You nodded, the weight of the moment heavy in your chest.

Alex set the test down on the nearby table, his expression softening as he looked at you. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms.

“Come here.” You melted into him, his warmth and steady presence grounding you as he held you close, his fingers gently stroking your hair.

“I would never be mad at you for that,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of certainty.

“I’m scared, Al,” you murmured, your voice breaking as the sobs came harder.

“I know,” he replied, his voice trembling with the weight of it all. You pulled away slightly when you noticed the tear slowly slipping down his cheek. Seeing that, your heart ached even more.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered, feeling a heavy guilt settle over you.

“Don’t be, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he gave you a gentle smile. You reached up to wipe the tear from his cheek, your heart pounding.

“Do you… wanna have a baby?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, full of so many unspoken fears.

He paused, looking at you, before replying, “That’s not up to me, Y/N.”

You felt a rush of gratitude for him, the way he was letting you decide this, but you knew it wasn’t just your decision to make. “It is, Al. You get a say in this too,” you whispered, your fingers still resting against his cheek.

He nodded, his smile still soft but mixed with uncertainty. “Listen… if you want to keep it, I’m fine with that. If you don’t, I’m fine with that too.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but there was still one question left that you needed to ask. “But… what would you prefer?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his answer.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice gentle as he said, “I’d love to have a baby with you.” The warmth of his words filled you with relief, and you smiled, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” you asked your voice light despite the whirlwind of emotions still swirling inside you.

“Woah, you’ve just known its existence,” he teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. But then he paused, looking thoughtful. “…A girl,” he whispered.

“Is that what you would want?” you asked, feeling a flutter of hope at the idea.

He smiled, his eyes soft. “Another version of you? I’d be so happy.” His words made your heart swell.

“If it’s a boy, can we call him Alex Junior?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

“Ooo, I dunno about that,” he laughed, the sound of it warming you. You could feel the tension easing, both of you settling into the quiet joy of this shared moment, whatever the future might bring.

Alex scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to bed with ease, his lips brushing over your forehead every few steps. “Get some rest,” he murmured as he set you down, his eyes lingering on you before he disappeared to change out of his stage clothes.

When he returned, he couldn’t stop touching you—small kisses on your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, his hands gently stroking your hair, making sure you were okay.

Finally, he slid into bed behind you, pulling you close with your back pressed to his chest. His arms wrapped protectively around you as you both relaxed.

You giggled quietly, breaking the silence. “I loved throwing my guts up to body paint by the way it was very enjoyable.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against your shoulder. “Bit of a soundtrack for the moment, eh?”

You both laughed softly, the tension from earlier easing. You turned your head slightly, your voice soft. “You were so good tonight, Al. Like, ridiculously good.”

He chuckled quietly, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Yeah? You watched the whole thing, then?”

“Course I did,” you said, smiling. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were amazing. The crowd loved you.”

“Means a lot, love” he murmured, his voice tinged with affection. “But I’d trade it all to have had you there with me.”

You felt the familiar ache of guilt tug at you again, and before he could say anything else, his tone shifted, gentle but curious. “Why were you so scared to tell me?”

You hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “I didn’t want to ruin your career,” you admitted quietly, the weight of your fears spilling out.

Alex shifted, gently turning you around to face him. His eyes locked onto yours, warm and steady. “Ruin my career?” he whispered before leaning in to kiss you softly, his lips lingering against yours. “You could never ruin anything, Y/N. I’d choose you over anything, every time.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and tears welled up again. You sniffled as they spilt over, but before you could get too far into your emotions, Alex smiled and teased, “Ah, there it is—pregnancy hormones, in full swing.”

You laughed through your tears, playfully swatting at him before snuggling closer, burying your face in his neck. His arms tightened around you, his chest a steady rhythm beneath your ear as you drifted off, feeling safe and loved.

[meiguicha]

Handmade Love

Sunday x Reader - Idol AU

Please sunday pleasepleasepleek

//

Meticulously, a small hook goes between weaves of baby pink yarn as golden eyes peer over each stitch with intense focus. A few rows having already formed beneath his watchful hand, he briefly looks up just to check the short-hand instructions he had written down before continuining his work.

A few dolls standing at 10cm are standing in a single file line, each of them wear different articles of clothing ranging from hats and scarves to shoes and dresses. Regardless, everything on the pristine dolls are likewise crocheted with the same precision.

Photo cards, albums, photo booth frames, keychain replicas, the multiple dolls of your mascot, perhaps it would be more than safe to say that Sunday has a problem when it comes to you.

Of course, it wasn't as if he was throwing everything into a haphazard pile. That would be rude, to you and to him.

Just like the dolls, he had your photo books chronologically lined up on a shelf, CD's kept in their cases near the ones he bought of his sister's, not a single item was misplaced. Even the many clothes he had made, a hobby he hadn't foreseen picking up, were packed up in a pseudo-closet when not in use.

Maybe that was the most perplexing part of this... fixation? He's still not quite sure what to call it. Yet still, his many Darlings, a horribly apt name for how he treats them (and you), are absolutely spoiled to ruin with how many things he has bought and made for them.

Currently, he was giving his hands a break by watching one of your live streams. Tucked away in your hotel room, you had been simply reading comments and making conversation when a thought seemingly crosses your mind.

"Oh you all, I need to show you this," the higher lilt in your voice immediately caught his attention and as you fiddled with something out of frame, something unknown to him makes his heart speed up.

"Look! Isn't it so cute?" You smile, eyes crinkled into crescents as you hold up a doll clad in a baby blue and pink dress. With a delighted chirp, "My friend said someone wanted to give it to me but was too shy, so he passed it to her instead."

Displayed so very clearly on his screen was your Darling, in his handiwork. Moments of the past two days flashed past his head like a train and suddenly it all makes sense why Robin had been smiling behind her wings when he gave her the dress. Nonetheless, Sunday thinks he can feel the neurons in his brain shortcircuit.

"You guys are so talented, I wish I could do all this too."

"Maybe then Darling wouldn't be so exposed all the time," With a light laugh, there was a twinkle in your eyes as you glanced between the doll and the camera.

As if conditioned, his own twitching wings come up to hide what must certainly be his flushing cheeks from view upon your teasing giggle. Even if it wasn't directed at him specifically, he couldn't help but fluster at your praise.

Though he hesitates, and god knows hesitates, he brings up every ounce of willpower to type up a comment. And when he's finished, his fingers are shaking ever so slightly from the adrenaline.

You laugh again, sweet and dulcet and all too tempting for his ears, "Thank you Restdaysfordarling! Maybe next time you can give it to me yourself?"

Though he can so clearly see the screen burst to life with speculation and squeals alike, he doesn't process any of it.

No. Instead, as his wings flutter in excitement and fear alike, Sunday is forced to cover his eyes with his hands lest his scarlet face be known to the world.

Truly, what have you done to him?