#“you say ninja weird” yeah and you love it

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff

↳ ✎ᝰ 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)

↳ contains ── so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

It’s simple, really. 

Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted ‘Have a good night!’

And repeat. 

Well, most of the time. 

Occasionally, there’s the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely don’t have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store? 

Total dream job. 

You get paid—as in actual, legit money—to sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong? 

At least, that’s how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like: 

“Can you work nights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, you’re hired.” 

No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate. 

And it’s not like you’re picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someone’s gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across. 

So yeah. Easy work.

At least, that's what you thought.

Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.

Someone?

Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whatever’s left of his identity. You think it’s either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, or—more likely—a vampire who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Joseon era (you’re leaning more towards vampire).

But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.

Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like he’s done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.

You watch, intrigued. And then—horrified.

Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?

You’re barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before he’s already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.

You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.

“Uh,” you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, “That’ll be—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already fishing out the exact amount—three crisp bills—out his back pocket and holds it out for you.

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.

When you don’t show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.

All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.

Wow. Okay. So tonight’s customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.

You internally scoff at the entire interaction, but—unfortunately for you—you can’t look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?

You’re weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.

It’s a curse.

Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously you’re not staring, you’re just…hyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.

Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.

Step two: Ramen into the microwave.

Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.

Step four: Peel the lid back in slowly—so painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.

Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milk—of course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.

Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.

And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mind—he slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.

Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybe—

Nope.

All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyes—barely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.

But even so, you still can’t look away. What even is that color? And why can’t you look away?

Whatever. It’s just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.

Except it is.

Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. You’re probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard you’re trying to decode this guy’s entire identity from literally just his eyes.

You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as you’re trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiar—

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.

Abort mission. Now.

You cough—loudly, dramatically—and your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.

When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see he’s now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you can’t even see his eyes anymore. He’s gone full turtle mode.

You lift a brow.

Weirdo.

A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.

Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?

You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.

And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.

You’re in the clear. At least, you think you’re in the clear. 

After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Face—spicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampire—you’ve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits. 

He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, that’s the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like it’s a Michelin-star ramen bar—and not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (don’t ask). 

By night three, you’ve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur. 

By night four, you’ve decided he’s your own personal karma sent by the universe. 

It starts off with the door chime. You don’t even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule. 

You don’t look up from the colorful juice pouches you’re restocking. You’re halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid display—color-coded, of course—because, clearly, you’ve peaked as a human being. 

Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please don’t perceive me. Same old routine, same old—

Wait. 

He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns. 

And looks directly at you. 

Your face heats up—probably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but it’s close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if it’s your lifeline before you clear your throat, “Uh—is something wrong?” 

He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time in…ever, he speaks. 

Gasp. 

So we can cross mute off the list. 

“They’re out of my flavor,” he says. His voice is deep, which isn’t surprising to you, given he’s the literal human embodiment of the color black, but it’s also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh. 

Almost. 

Because his tone isn’t just serious—it’s accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment. 

Excuse me? 

Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesn’t look good on your resume. 

Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Uh..yeah, it looks like it,” you deadpan, inching closer to where he’s standing to investigate the shelf. 

Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction. 

Nope. It’s empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics. 

“Tragic,” you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. “There are plenty of other flavors. Maybe try…the regular spicy?” 

You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that you’re deranged. 

“No.” 

You blink. 

“No?” 

“It has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.” 

You blink again. 

You wait for the punchline.

It never comes. 

This man is dead serious. 

You’re standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious. 

And he’s staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, it’s looking like you’re facing death. 

But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split second—just a split second—you’re derailed from your rising anger. 

They’re brown. But not just any brown—the kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. You’re literally staring at, like, three inches of this guy’s face. 

And he’s a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N. 

“Uh, yeah,” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. “Sorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But I’m sure you won’t implode by going one night without it?” 

You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood. 

He does not smile back. 

Not even a flicker. 

Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life. 

You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day won’t be so bad afterall. 

“I’m sure the regular spicy one is just as good. What’s the worst that could happen?” you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesn’t explode in front of you—mainly because you’re not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager. 

“I’m not risking it,” he finally deadpans. 

Your jaw drops slightly. 

“You’re not ris—” you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But you’ve come this far. “You’re being…serious?” 

The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh, I understand,” you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. “I understand that you’re just picky.” 

At that, his eyes flash—sharp, unreadable. “I’m not picky.” 

“You won’t eat a perfectly fine ramen just because it’s not named after the ninth circle of hell.” 

Silence. 

He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review. 

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, “Fine. I’ll take the mild one.” 

You blink at the flavor in your hand—the one that’s clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him. 

“You mean regular spicy.” 

“Right. Whatever. Same thing.” 

He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here. 

Before you’re about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store. 

“Hello?” 

Oh. Right. Your job. 

You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible. 

He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two. 

“You know,” you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, “some people would say thank you for the recommendation.” 

His brow arches—or at least, you think it does. It’s hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires back—

“And some people wouldn’t forget to restock the ramen.” 

Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didn’t just verbally body-slam you. 

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic. 

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore? 

Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldn’t legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshoots—you name it—nothing about his life is consistent. 

However—

There are two things—two sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness. 

The first? 

Insomnia. 

Not by choice, of course. He doesn’t love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But it’s a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseung’s insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleep—with a side of existential dread. 

And the second? 

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk. 

Yes, it’s a weird combo. 

No, he doesn’t care. 

This unlikely pairing is Heeseung’s personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world. 

Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace. 

Then—and only then—can Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm. 

Does he have a problem? Absolutely. 

Is he addicted? Without a doubt. 

Does he care? Not in the slightest. 

Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent. 

Well, except for last night. 

Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen. 

He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with. 

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the someone responsible. 

Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last night’s disappointment of an outcome. 

Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter. 

Yup, there she is. 

You. 

The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice. 

You’re here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him. 

But tonight, he’s prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight. 

Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are. 

He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk. 

Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night. 

Except—

Except, of course, you’re watching him. Again. 

He doesn’t even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other night—like you’re seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds. 

He doesn’t get it—what’s so strange about ramen and coffee milk? It’s not like he’s dipping the noodles in it. Why you’ve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but it’s really throwing him off his ramen zen. 

Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voice—because, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What's right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help,” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

By night six, you don’t know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.

The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know it’s him—Ramen Guy. The guy who you’re convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float. 

You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like it’s his newborn child.

He’s so weird. 

You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk? 

Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, “You ever think about switching it up?”

Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesn’t miss a beat, “You ever think about minding your business?” 

“Not really. Boredom makes me nosy,” you shrug. “And at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.” 

He rolls his eyes so dramatically you’re mildly concerned he might sprain something. 

“And I’m starting to think you like judging me a little too much.” 

“Wrong. I like judging everyone equally,” you scan his items, then tilt your head. “But maybe you’re a special case. With issues.” 

To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh. 

“Says the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.”

Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.

Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “What? Too close to home?”

You shift in your spot, “Bold of you to assume I have issues.”

He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shift the attention back to him. “What about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?”

At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanor—the slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight. 

Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.

“Why do you keep working the night shift?”

You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "Touché. But I asked first."

There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatiently—nervously?

"I like the peace and quiet,” he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.

For a split second, you’re startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in tone—it’s almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.

"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.

"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"

You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.

Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.

"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."

It’s an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.

He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.

“So,” he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, “do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?”

You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, “Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?”

For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something smug, something entertained. And you don’t know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.

“Touché,” he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessary—like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.

And you should do the same.

You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasks—wiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productive—you find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.

He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feels…different.

It’s nothing. You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.

And yet—

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him—the way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.

It’s nothing.

Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.

The faint sound of the store’s music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.

And then—he hesitates.

Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightly—just enough to look at you.

“See you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:

"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—you take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat. 

He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.

“What…are you doing?” 

“Having dinner,” you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips. 

His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. “It’s almost 1:30AM.” 

“Okay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,” you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal. 

Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like he’s just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence follows—the only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the store’s playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices. 

Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, “Want one?”

He stops mid-motion, as if he’d almost forgotten you were still here.

Almost.

A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.

You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, “So…what kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?”

It’s a question that’s been on your mind since last night’s conversation. What can you say? You’re a creature of curiosity.

Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, “What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?”

He lets out a short chuckle. “You want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. “Look, I’m just saying—most people are asleep at this hour.”

He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. “You’re here too, aren’t you?”

“That’s different, this is my job,” you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, “Unless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.”

And he laughs. It’s small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, “It’s like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hour…I don’t get a lot of that.”

You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.

Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.

You tilt your head. “So, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?”

A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that.”

You raise a brow at his vague answer but don’t press. Instead, you nod towards his food. “And your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?”

He huffs, “Maybe I just have superior taste.”

“Right, totally,” you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him. 

Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You think you have me all figured out?”

You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, “Oh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward slightly. “Alright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.”

You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.

“You’re a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.”

Ramen Guy doesn’t react, so you continue.

“You’re a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain won’t let you.” Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. “So, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.”

Still no response.

“So now, you just keep showing up here because it’s predictable,” you finish with a small shrug. “And maybe…‘cause you’re kinda lonely.”

That makes him pause.

You immediately regret saying it. Because…what was that?

That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t deflect. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“…Not bad,” he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, kinda harsh, but…mostly true.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that.

A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, “So basically, you’re saying we’re the same.”

You let out a snort, “Not even close.”

“We both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.” He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.

“You just started eating those,” you deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I’m still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.”

“You literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.”

“Okay, you’re the one who made it weird.”

A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, “So you agree your food choices are weird?” 

His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you. 

“Whatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.” 

The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—he’s late. It’s 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.

He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodie—forcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).

When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing before—

“Wow,” you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. “Tragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.”

Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, “You wish. Wouldn’t want you to get bored without me.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, “Wow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?”

Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and he’s glad it’s hiding the way he’s failing to fight the smile growing on his face.

When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. “Okay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?” 

Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few nights, it’s that you’re incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, you’re absolutely terrible at keeping things that way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,” you gesture vaguely at him. “So, spill.”

His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he can’t).

“I do…stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeat, “Quite riveting.”

Heeseung exhales, “Why do you care?”

You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. “You must do something interesting. You’re too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.”

Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"

"Yeah, like—" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."

Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."

Then, he simply shrugs. But there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, like he’s deciding exactly how much he wants to say.

"It’s hard to explain,” he finally says. “I just…have a weird work schedule.”

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in, I don’t really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."

You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."

Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."

For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.

And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels a little too tight—like he’s let you stumble into a part of him you weren’t supposed to see yet.

“Well,” you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. “I’m honored you’ve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.”

He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Don’t let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

He then turns to head to his usual corner when—

“Y/N.”

Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.

“My name,” you clarify, casually returning to sorting the register’s bills. “A lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.”

Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.

And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls out—

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And, this time, he doesn’t fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:

“Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

It happens the moment he steps inside.

Heeseung doesn’t even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.

Familiar because he’s heard it a thousand times.

Familiar because it’s literally his voice singing the line.

His stomach drops.

Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where you’re idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.

The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.

Panic creeps up his spine.

He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.

You jump in your seat.

“Geez—” you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. “What the hell?”

Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, “Did you put this on?”

Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers he’s pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.

“Oh—this? Nah, it’s the store’s playlist,” you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. “It’s some group’s new song. Pretty catchy.”

Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.

You don’t recognize it.

You don’t recognize his voice.

The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problem—because now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.

Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?

“You okay?” Now you’re staring at him, suspicious. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, “No reason.” 

You squint at him.

Then—

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Wait.”

His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.

“Are you a fan?” you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.

Heeseung blinks.

…What.

“Oh, you totally are,” you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. “You came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?”

Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.

“Something like that,” he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.

You beam brightly from your seat, “That’s cute. Who’s your bias?”

At that, Heeseung does laugh—because this is now officially the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause.

And then—after a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious face—he finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.

“This guy,” he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. “Because that’s me. That’s my voice.”

Silence.

You stare at him.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, after what feels like an eternity—

“…Huh?”

Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorry—what?"

Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.

"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."

Another beat of silence.

Then—because you’re you—

You burst out laughing.

"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.”

Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."

"Because you’re delusional?"

"Because you don’t pay attention."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, I’m sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that you’re actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"

Heeseung groans.

He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But no—he had to be honest. And look where that got him.

"I’m serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.

You stare back at him.

Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.

"Oh, we’re doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Let’s see if—"

You stop.

Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.

Then back at him.

“Take the mask off,” you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.

With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what he’s told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.

You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.

"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.

Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.

You don’t know what shocks you more—the fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along. 

"So…you’re famous?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the group’s Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."

Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you don’t have to say it like that."

"Like what? Like you’re a superstar and I’ve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am?"

“Unbelievable,” you scoff, shaking your head. “So you sing. You perform. You—commit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.”

Heeseung groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. “So you’re telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a week’s worth of sodium, and I—” You pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?”

“And are you ever able to mind your own business?” Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.

“Absolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,” you wave your hands in disbelief. “Mystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop star—”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“—and I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like he’s just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Wait—” you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. “—you’re loaded, aren’t you?”

Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, “Why is that your takeaway from this?”

“You are!” you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. “You’re rich and you’re out here eating instant ramen every night!”

Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, “Oh my god.”

Grinning, you bend down to this level. “So this whole time, you’ve been lying to me?”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "It’s not lying. It’s…selective honesty.”

You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. “That’s literally the definition of lying.”

“Look, it’s not like I planned to make a habit out of this,” he gestures to the store around him. “I came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, and—”

“And you kept coming back anyways,” you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.

Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.

“…Yeah.”

A silence stretches between you—charged, almost personal—until you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.

“What if I play your group’s music over the speakers every night?”

The look on his face is deadly. “You wouldn’t.”

Your grin grows, “Wouldn’t I, though?”

“This is the worst night of my life,” Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. “Also can we talk about how you literally just said you’re your own bias?”

“Shut up.”

You’re still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds later—Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.

“Alright, serious question,” you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. “If you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?”

Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.

“That’s straight evil.”

“You must choose, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “You can’t just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.”

“Choose.”

He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.

Then back at his ramen.

Then back at you.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Aw,” you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Like, ever.”

Heeseung shoots a glare at you, “I hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.”

“Oh, it totally does,” you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, “It’s just so awful.”

Heeseung’s lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, “You’re a lost cause.”

You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:

“…I’d give up coffee milk.”

It’s quiet. It’s barely there.

Your jaw drops.

“I know, okay?” He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. “It’s like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.”

You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you don’t). But still, you smile—because you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.

Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. “I hate that you made me think about this.”

“You should be thanking me. Y’know, character growth and all that.”

“More like character damage.”

You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, then—he nudges his ramen cup toward you.

“Here. Try some.”

You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him he’s absolutely psychotic.

“Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why? You scared?”

“No, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.”

He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. “Just one bite. C’mon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.”

You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, because—damn it—he’s looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.

And then he moves. 

He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

It’s ridiculous, really. I mean, it’s ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glint—it feels like time slows down.

You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re overthinking.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.

Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split second—one charged, unspoken, split second—neither of you move.

Heeseung is so close.

So close.

You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.

But then you start chewing.

And that’s when you realize—

No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?

Oh.

Oh no.

Yeah. It’s definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is). 

Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodles—the embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits.

And then—

“Oh my GOD—” you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.

Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.

Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.

His laugh bursts out of him—loud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.

If you weren’t literally physically dying in this current moment, you’d probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.

“No way—” he wheezes through his laughter,“—are you actually struggling right now?”

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!” you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. “You eat this voluntarily?!”

“Every night, baby.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if it’s your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.

At Heeseung.

At the way he’s still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when he’s amused—

Weird.

You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.

You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.

“I hope,” you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, “that when you come in tomorrow, we’re all out of this horrid flavor.”

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.

“You’d still restock it for me, though.”

Damn it.

Your shoulders slump, and both of you know you’re defeated.

He knows you know you’re defeated. 

Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.

You stare at it. Then at him.

His smile grows.

And you accept it.

Begrudgingly.

It’s 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noise—lights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers. 

And Heeseung? 

Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help. 

For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air. 

And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.

“You’re supposed to be helping me restock,” you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him. 

“I am helping,” he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great. 

You cross your arms, scoffing, “Oh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?” 

Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, “Moral support?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you. 

Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks it—

“How do you do this every night? Does it not get…I don’t know, tedious? Boring?” 

You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.

“Hm,” you turn to him, head tilted as you think.

Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box. 

You exhale, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah, the hours suck, pay is…alright. And—” 

You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, “—and I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.” 

Something in Heeseung’s expression shifts. 

“I mean, I’m a college student, for god’s sake,” you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. “And I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was just…watching life pass me by, you know?”

Your voice quiets and it’s just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.

Because he gets it. 

He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.

Because despite the differences in your lives—despite how he’s constantly moving while you feel stuck—you both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if you’re ever going to feel like you belong in it.

Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, “Yeah, I get that.” 

You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you don’t push. 

“But then,” you say quietly, “I started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of a…break. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.” 

And that—that makes Heeseung look up. 

Because deep down, that’s exactly what all of this has become for him too. 

He doesn’t know when it happened—if maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of that—but these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his. 

And he wonders if maybe…maybe you’re the reason for that. 

Maybe you’ve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving. 

And maybe he’s been keeping you from feeling stuck. 

Just maybe.

It’s late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here. 

And you don’t know how, but you’ve both abandoned your usual spots—his self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.

Instead, you’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.

“See this is exactly my problem with this movie,” you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. “One idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyone’s dead! Like, be so for real.”

Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, “It’s a movie, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

“And I don’t have to pretend this isn’t garbage,” you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. “This is objectively the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“I think I just have an acquired superior taste,” Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. “Just like with my food choices.” 

“Right,” your voice drags out. “Superior delusion, maybe.”

Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.

As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. It’s the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind that’s been happening more lately—something you never would’ve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store. 

Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, “You know, this might be the longest I’ve sat and relaxed in months.” 

You glance up at him, brows raised, “What, you don’t get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he huffs a laugh. “But I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes it’s like…”

He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, “Like I’m moving so fast I forget what it’s like to just…be.”

Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.

“Is it hard?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, “It’s…a lot. You’re always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks I’m already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.”

You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something you’ve started to notice over time whenever he’s lost in thought. 

“But there are moments that make it worth it,” he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. “The music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. It’s unreal.”

Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth before—and it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but don’t realize the weight of until they’re carrying it themselves. 

You nudge his knee lightly with yours, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.” 

Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“See, this is why I keep coming back,” he says, chewing. “Gourmet snacks and free therapy.”

You roll your eyes. “Unbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.”

Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beat—

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

When you look up at him, he’s already looking at you with a new…something. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitates—shifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what he’s about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I—um,” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry? For, y’know, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was pretty…” He trails off awkwardly. “Jerk-ish.” 

You don’t move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.

Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.

Then, a smile—slow and sweet—curls at your lips.

And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesn’t regret a damn thing.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, nodding along dramatically. “You were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.”

Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Okay, I get it.”

“But,” you continue, locking eyes with him again, “I guess I should apologize too.”

Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, “For what? Finally admitting I was right about—”

“For judging you and your still…very questionable choices.”

“Ah, there it is.”

You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing. 

“But seriously…you’re, like…” you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.

Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.

“…pretty cool, I guess.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you scoff. “You’re still a ramen-addicted jerk.”

Heeseung hums, still smiling, “Might be too late.”

Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, “You’re pretty cool, too, I guess.”

You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, “Okay, that sounded almost sincere.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, “No, but seriously, it’s…nice. Having someone I could talk to outside of…you know, my whole chaotic life.”

The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t…really talk to people like this,” he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. “Now like how I do with you. Like…I could tell you anything and everything, really.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, “Oh?”

Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, “Sorry. Too serious?”

You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recently—have started to mean something more. They’ve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. It’s like the moment he steps through the store’s doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, it’s just the two of you in this shared space.

A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.

“No,” you say, softer this time. “Not at all.”

You hesitate for a beat before adding, “I…really like talking to you too. It’s—” you let out a small laugh, “almost unnaturally easy, actually.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are serious—no teasing, no usual smugness, just something…real. Vulnerable.

Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.

You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy looking at his face.

Then, without thinking, his lips.

And he’s looking at yours.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly, you’re close. He’s close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.

You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.

But you don’t.

And he doesn’t.

And then—

Ding.

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.

You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter. 

You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, who’s still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, “I should—um. Go back to work.”

Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, “Right. Yeah. Work.”

Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their change—all while pretending you don’t feel Heeseung’s presence still lingering behind you.

You don’t turn around, and he doesn’t move.

And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.

The door chimes as the customer leaves.

Then, finally—Heeseung clears his throat.

Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manage—

“So, uh—same time tomorrow?”

You blink.

Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, “You’re so weird.”

The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, “And yet, you’d miss me if I didn’t show up, wouldn’t you?”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, except—nothing comes out.

Because, unfortunately, you know he’s right.

And he knows he’s right.

So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.

“Go home, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. “Night, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

When he’s finally gone, you’re left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.

And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles in—

You groan, dropping your head against the counter.

Because now he's in your head.

Great.

The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the store’s white noise. But tonight? 

Tonight, it’s your biggest freaking nuisance. 

You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, you’re taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster. 

Why? 

Because, it’s 2:21AM. 

2:21AM, and you’re alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with. 

Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that don’t even need straightening. 

Heeseung’s voice from a few days ago still rings in your head—completely, and unfortunately, uninvited.

You don’t even know why they’re stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.

The worst part?

His words had been entirely untrue.

Because it’s been three days.

Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.

And you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

Frustrated? Yeah, you’re frustrated. But the real question is—at what, exactly?

Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?

Or maybe you’re frustrated at the very fact that you’re even thinking about this at all.

It’s not like he owes you an explanation. It’s not like he belongs to this store…or to you.

So why does it feel like something’s missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?

You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You don’t care.

You don’t care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain—your traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brain—itches with a thought.

A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.

And before you can fully even process what you’re doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldn’t.

You search up his name.

It’s pathetic. It’s sad. Even you’re disappointed in yourself. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is just…Heeseung—the insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.

And to him? 

Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didn’t have to be anyone around. 

His words echo in your mind as you think—just a person he could tell anything and everything to. 

You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrolling—quick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absence—

And then. 

You see it.

A tweet. 

Tagging his group, followed by a message. It’s short. Sweet. Simple. 

Yet entirely soul-crushing. 

“Can’t believe they’re leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!” 

Your breath catches. 

Your eyes flicker over the words again.

And again.

Leaving. For tour.

Tomorrow.

Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accounts—anything to tell you this isn’t real. That there’s some mistake. That you didn’t just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.

Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.

Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.

And he didn’t say a word.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.

And you hate it.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasn’t to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.

Instead, you’re angry. Upset. Hurt.

And what you hate the most?

You know exactly why you feel this way.

And just as that realization settles in—just as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignore—the familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.

You almost don’t look up.

Almost.

But then you do, and your stomach drops.

Because there he is.

You blink, because at first you think maybe you’ve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that you’ve started hallucinating him—manifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.

But, no.

Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothing’s changed.

Like he hasn’t been gone for days, like he hasn’t left you suffering with your own emotions—like he hasn’t been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didn’t want him to be.

“Hey,” Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milk—all like clockwork, all like he never left.

You don’t respond.

Instead, you busy yourself—wiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending you’re looking for something in the shelves beneath you.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.

And you might actually lose it.

Because if you have to stand here and pretend like you’re fine, that these past few days haven’t felt like an eternity for you—you might actually lose it.

Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, “Hey?” 

He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You mad at me or something?” he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.

You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.

Then, you let out a quiet laugh—an empty, humorless scoff.

“Should I be?”

Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, “What?”

You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gaze—uncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiar—you feel your throat close up.

He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that you’ve somehow come to find comfort in.

And that makes you hate this even more.

“Is this because I haven’t been showing up?” Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, I didn’t realize you’d miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Gi—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Your voice is quiet, but he doesn’t miss it.

And he stills.

There it is.

He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.

“What?” he says again, but this time, it’s different. Careful.

You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.

And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.

Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.

And Heeseung stays silent.

“You weren’t,” you murmur, the words caught in your throat. “Were you?”

Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, “I—” 

He stops. Starts again. 

“It’s not—it wasn’t—”

You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.

He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.

“Look,” he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space you’ve unknowingly carved out for him here. “This—this is the only thing that’s felt normal for me in a long time.”

Your stomach twists.

“Everything else—my whole life, it’s all…chaos. But this?” He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. “You?”

His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings. 

“You’re the closest thing to normal I’ve had.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.

You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.

“So what?” your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. “You thought if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t have to be real?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have to lose this yet.”

Your breath catches.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Heeseung didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to ruin this.

Whatever this is.

Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.

You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, “That’s not fair, Heeseung.”

“I know,” his voice is rough now, like he’s tired of saying it. Like he’s already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.

But you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how!” His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. “Because you—this—whatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didn’t want to fuck it up, alright?”

The words knock the air out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling you’ve been trying to convince yourself wasn’t there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.

And worse than realizing how real this is?

Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too. 

But heavier than that realization is the anger.

Not just at the situation.

Now, at Heeseung.

“So you thought it’d be better to just disappear instead?” Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. “You didn’t even think to tell me.”

Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see it—his own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.

“What does it matter, Y/N?” his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. “What difference would it—would you—have made? It’s not like this was ever going to change anything.”

Your heart stops.

At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.

He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.

Because they do.

Because you know what he’s saying.

He’s leaving. And you’re staying.

And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feel—that was always going to be the reality.

“Right,” you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. “Because it’s not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.”

Now your words hurt.

Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.

Then finally—

“…I don’t know,” he mutters.

The final crack.

You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Got it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.

Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, “I should go.”

This time, you don’t stop him.

You don’t say anything at all.

Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you don’t. 

Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything you’re feeling that you can’t even begin to put into words. 

So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting you.

Cold air rushes in.

And then—he’s gone.

And you?

You’re left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.

Heeseung doesn’t think. 

He wasn’t thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly small—when he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days. 

He wasn’t thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didn’t matter. That none of it ever did. 

He wasn’t thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didn’t matter to him. That you never did. 

And he definitely isn’t thinking now, when he’s supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but instead—his feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest. 

The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around him—but none of it matters. None of it even registers. 

Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.

Because Heeseung?

He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.

He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.

He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.

But what he can’t go without?

Heeseung can’t—he won’t—go months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didn’t bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.

That you weren’t the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didn’t.

And if there’s even the smallest chance to fix this—to make sure you know—then nothing else matters.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseung’s heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.

He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart around—only for his stomach to drop.

The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyes—it’s all missing.

And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, too…not you.

Instead, some guy he’s never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.

“Uh,” Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. “The girl who usually works nights. Is she here?”

“Oh, Y/N?” the worker raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, she called off tonight.”

Heeseung stills.

You’re not here.

You’re not here.

And it’s his fault.

Because last night, you were here—waiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.

“Oh,” is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.

His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting him.

Cold air rushes in.

And just as Heeseung steps out—

He sees you.

You.

Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.

You stop.

He stops.

For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.

The neon glow of the store’s sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.

A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, “Yeah, well…neither are you.”

You’re right.

He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.

But instead? Instead, he’s here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.

Heeseung takes one step forward, “I was looking for you.”

You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something in your mind.

Then you take a small step forward.

“And now you’ve found me.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way it’s been aching in his chest—and he can’t hold it in anymore.

You blink, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you won’t believe him. “For everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot about—”

He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.

“About this. Us.”

You don’t say anything right away, just watching him carefully.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes he’s about to lay everything out bare.

“I think I was scared,” he admits. “Of what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didn’t matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realized—”

He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.

“It does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.”

Another pause.

Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if something’s finally clicking into place, “I’m sorry too.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows burrow in confusion.

“For not—,” you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. “For not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, I’ve been denying it too. I didn’t even realize how much I—how much you meant to me until I saw you last night and…”

You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an arm’s length away.

“I was just so angry and upset, but I think…I realized it’s only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.”

Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way you’re looking up at him now.

“And…I should’ve been more understanding,” you add softly. “I shouldn’t have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didn’t know how to handle it, honestly.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like it’s about to fully grow legs and escape.

Then, he exhales a breath of relief.

And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.

You blink at him.

“We’re both idiots,” he says finally, shaking his head softly. 

A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The tension eases. Just a little.

Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both. 

“So now what?”

You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, “Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight soon?”

Heeseung’s breath hitches.

Because he knows he should say yes.

That’s what’s been planned all along. That’s the reality.

But, for the first time—

He hesitates.

“Maybe."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"

Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."

The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closer—like you're testing the space between you.

Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out. 

“Here.”

You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.

Heeseung stares at it in his hands.

Then at you.

And you’re looking at him with something gentle—something that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” you say, your voice light and grounding. “Of what’s normal.”

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenly—everything makes sense. 

The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only this—only you. 

You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows. 

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his hands—slightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer. 

And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise. 

You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because then—like a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.

Holding onto him just as much as he’s holding onto you.

Neither of you say anything.

There’s a quiet calm between you two—no need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like it’s syncing with his, like they’ve always known each other’s pace.

Like they’ve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it. 

And in a way, maybe that’s just how it’s always been with you two—balancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didn’t care, yet feeling everything all at once. 

So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else. 

Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.

And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certain—

You were never meant to stay on one side. 

You were always meant to cross it. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?

However—

There are three things—three sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.

The first?

Insomnia.

Not by choice, of course.

The second?

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.

Yes, it’s a weird combo. And no, he still doesn’t care.

And the third?

You.

And honestly?

You’re the only one he really needs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list pt.1 (luv u all):

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )

[corroded-hellfire]

As much as I love AYW after Reader & Eddie get together, I'm in the mood for some AYW angst. Maybe Reader does something so sweet and thoughtful for Eddie and the boys, and Eddie can't stop thinking about her, and he gets mad at himself for lusting over the babysitter. But it's not lust...it's loooooooooove.

I fear there isn’t as much angst as you would like since my default setting is fluff, but I did get him being mad at himself in there. Please enjoy 😘

Warnings: older!eddie, babysitter!reader, Eddie gets a boner

Words: 3.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Daddy? Luke’s being weirder than normal.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over the rim of his Number One Dad coffee mug. He takes one more sip of his morning brew before responding.

“Weird how?”

Ryan’s nose wrinkles up and he shakes his head. “He’s, like…twitching.”

“Twitching?” Eddie pushes his seat back from the kitchen table and rises to his feet. “What do you mean?”

Instead of explaining further, Ryan nods his head for his father to follow him down the hallway. Heaving a quiet sigh, Eddie walks towards his younger son’s room, preparing himself for anything. It’s impossible to guess what’s going on when it comes to Luke.

Eddie ducks into the room behind Ryan, taking care to step around the Hot Wheels and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures that litter the carpet. Luke lies in his bed, squirming around like a bear against the bark of a pine tree. His little face is pinched up and the yellow lion pajama shirt he’s wearing is twisted around his body, proof that the boy has been at this a while.

“Uh, whatcha doing, Luke?” Eddie’s brow furrows as he settles his hands on his hips.

“I was outside too much last night.” The four-year-old’s voice is strained as he continues his wiggling.

“What?”

Luke lifts his right arm in the air in his father’s direction. “I got all these mosquito bites! Must’ve gotten them on my back, too.”

Eddie leans in and squints at the pale skin of his son’s arm. There he sees the red spots his son is referring to, an asymmetrical trail of five or six leading up his arm until they disappear beneath the sleeve of his pajama shirt. Instantly, Eddie realizes that they aren’t mosquito bites. His hands fall from his hips and he releases a deep breath.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

Luke is too busy trying to quell the irritation to hear him, but Ryan looks up at his dad.

“What?” Ryan asks.

Instead of answering, Eddie kneels down beside Luke’s bed and presses the back of his hand against Luke’s forehead. He definitely has a fever.

“Alright buddy,” Eddie says, gently patting Luke’s shoulder. “Let’s sit you up so I can take a look at your back, okay?”

Luke nods and Eddie helps him into a seated position. The little boy twists his torso towards the wall and his dad bunches up the back of his shirt. Sure enough, his skin looks like a game of connect the dots.

“Ew!” Ryan says, looking at the irritated skin.

“What?” Luke’s head snaps in the direction of his brother.

Eddie fixes Luke’s shirt and pushes himself up to his feet again.

“They’re not mosquito bites, kiddo,” he tells him. “Looks like you’ve got the chickenpox.”

Luke’s gaze shoots from Ryan to Eddie.

“I’m a chicken?” His voice squeaks at the end of the question.

An involuntary smile grows on Eddie’s lips as he shakes his head.

“No, you’re not a chicken. It’s chickenpox. It’s when you get these red itchy bumps all over and you don’t feel well.”

Luke falls back against his pillow and his eyes move from side to side, brain clearly thinking over his father’s words.

“Is that why I feel so icky, too? And itchy?”

“Afraid so, pal.”

“Ugh.” Luke dramatically flops his head to the side, his curls bouncing against his pillow.

“Um…Daddy?”

Eddie looks at Ryan, who has gone cross-eyed, trying to look at his own cheek, where his finger is rubbing up and down.

“I feel a bump,” Ryan says.

Gently, Eddie takes Ryan’s wrist and moves his hand away from his face. Bright red, there sits a newly blooming mark.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says. “You’ve got ‘em too, buddy.”

Luke flops his head in the other direction to look at his brother.

“Copycat.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face. Of course, this happens the week Brittany is off visiting her family. Well, Eddie isn’t sure it would be much better if she were here or if she’d just be something else Eddie would have to deal with.

“Do you have them, Daddy?” Ryan asks.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I had them when I was little. Once you’ve had the chickenpox you don’t get them again.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay…let’s see. Let me call your doctor. Wait, first, let me take your temperatures.”

Eddie mentally goes through everything he can remember about the chickenpox as he goes to fetch the thermometer, but beyond recalling that you’re not supposed to scratch the spots, he doesn’t remember much. Both boys have low-grade fevers and Eddie silently repeats the numbers to himself so he can relay them to the pediatrician over the phone. He tucks Ryan into bed and presses a kiss to his forehead before heading into the kitchen to make the call. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long and he isn’t asked to bring the kids in to get checked out. He’s told if the fevers get higher to call again, but it seems like the boys’ illness can be handled at home. The nurse is able to give him some tips to help keep the boys comfortable and Eddie jots them down on a notepad.

“Okay,” Eddie says as he hangs up the phone. He looks down at the list and taps his pen against it anxiously. “Calamine lotion. We don’t have that.”

He gently bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks. There’s no way he can run out and buy it himself. He remembers that Wayne never had chickenpox because his uncle didn’t come visit when Eddie himself was sick with them as a kid. His parents took decent care of him, he’ll give them that much credit. But now Wayne is older and Eddie isn’t going to risk getting the man sick with them now and possibly suffer complications. It’s a Sunday morning so most of his friends should be off work, but most of them have children and, as far as he knows, none of their kids have had chickenpox. He won’t risk passing the infection to any of their families. Who else could he call? One person comes to mind because she is never far from his mind.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of your voice calms Eddie. An immediate smile appears on his face as he leans back against the kitchen wall, clutching the phone to the side of his head.

“Hi there.” Eddie winces and squeezes his eyes shut. Hi there? What the hell, Munson?

“Hey, Eddie! What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Well, I’ve got two little gremlins in bed with the chickenpox.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah. Luke’s looking like a leopard right now. I think I’m going to have to tie mittens to his hands to get him to stop scratching. Ryan’s not too bad yet, but it’s only going to get worse.” Eddie sighs.

“Poor things. I remember when I had the chickenpox; I was miserable. Can I help them at all?”

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. He didn’t even need to ask you anything. You hear that the boys are sick and instantly want to help them. Even their own mother isn’t so willing.

“Actually, I was really hoping that you could. Britt is out of town and Wayne’s never had the chickenpox so I didn’t want to call him and ask. And Steve and Nancy’s kids haven’t had it either I don’t think, so–”

“Eddie.” You cut him off with a chuckle. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m more than happy to help however I can.”

His shoulders sag in relief. “You really are the best, you know that?”

“Oh, stop.”

He can hear the shyness creep into your tone and it only makes his smile bigger.

“What can I do?” you ask.

“I called the pediatrician and they recommended calamine lotion. We don’t have any and I can’t leave the boys alone to run out and get it.”

Keys jingle in the background on your end of the phone and Eddie swears you couldn’t be more perfect if you tried. You’re practically already out the door to help.

“Calamine lotion,” you repeat. “Got it. Is there anything else that you need?”

“No,” he tells you. “And I’ll pay you back for it when you get here.”

You scoff. “I think you’re good. I found a five-dollar bill on the ground yesterday so we’ll say this one is on the universe.”

Eddie chuckles. He wonders if you really did find the money or if you’re just trying to wiggle your way out of getting paid back. Doesn’t matter, Eddie knows he’ll find some way to repay you for this.

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, making him laugh. “I’ll be there in, like, twenty minutes, okay?”

“Take your time, sweetheart,” Eddie says, absentmindedly wrapping the phone cord around his thumb. “They’ll still be itchy when you get here.”

Almost twenty minutes later on the dot, the doorbell rings. There’s a pep in his step as Eddie makes his way over to answer. Your kids are sick. Stop feeling happy, he scolds himself. The moment he opens the door, he sighs. You grin back at him and he cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t think calamine lotion calls for three shopping bags.”

With a shrug, you push past him and walk into the house.

“Maybe this stuff is for me,” you call over your shoulder.

Eddie closes the door behind you and shakes his head in bemusement.

“It’s not, is it?”

“Nope!” Your following giggle makes Eddie’s stomach somersault.

He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you unpack the bags onto the table. In addition to the calamine lotion, you bought four cans of chicken noodle soup, a bottle of kid’s oatmeal body wash, two pairs of mittens, two rooster plush dolls, and a children’s book with a rabbit on the cover.

Eddie shakes his head again.

“What is all this?” he asks.

“Well,” you say as you pick up a can of soup, “this is called soup. It’s got broth and noodles in it and you typically make it for people when they’re sick–”

“You’re such a damn smartass,” Eddie quips, playfully pinching your upper arm.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Oatmeal body wash helps relieve itching, so I figured they could take baths before they get the lotion put on them. That might help lower their fevers, too. Do they have fevers? I just figured since that’s common with chickenpox. And the mittens are because you threatened to tie them to their hands, so I wanted to make sure they were at least soft ones. The stuffed animals are something to give them comfort—and I just thought it was too funny to pass up letting them cuddle with a chicken. And I’m not sure what the book is about, but the rabbit looked cute so I grabbed it.”

“It is cute,” Eddie says as he picks up the purple hardcover book. “I think it’s a little below your reading level, though.”

“Now who’s the smartass?” you ask, bumping your hip against his.

Eddie chuckles and sets the book back down.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really didn’t have to do all of this.”

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction and scoop up the body wash.

“I’m going to say hi. Wanna start a bath?” You offer him the bottle.

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie salutes and you playfully roll your eyes at him.

As Eddie leans down to plug the tub, he hears the boys’ excited greetings as you walk into their rooms.

“Hi!”

“You’re here!”

“We’re sick.”

“Is that a chicken? Is that supposed to be funny?”

“It is funny!”

Eddie smiles to himself as he starts the water. He lets two of his fingers linger in the stream to make sure it’s the right temperature. Once it’s all filled up and good to go, Eddie walks into Luke’s room, where all three of you are.

“Okay, my Patient Zeroes. Who wants to take a bath first?”

Luke looks up at his dad with the most unimpressed expression you’ve ever seen before.

“Really? We’re sick and you’re gonna make us take a bath? Don’t we feel bad enough?”

Eddie scrunches up his face and sticks his tongue out at his youngest son.

“Your favorite person here,” Eddie gestures to you, “has bought some soap for you that will help stop the itching.”

That changes Luke’s tune entirely.

“Me first!” He jumps out of bed with impressive speed for being sick and runs to the bathroom.

After Eddie has bathed both boys and slathered them in the calamine lotion, he wanders into the kitchen.

“I think this stuff stained my hands pink,” he says, staring down at his palms.

At the smell of something cooking, Eddie lifts his head up and sees you at the stove, heating up one of the cans of soup.

“At least it’s a pretty color,” you say with a shrug.

Letting his hands drop down to his sides, Eddie tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks.

“Heating up soup.” You widen your eyes as if this was obvious.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie shakes his head but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“I’m just making soup,” you say with a giggle.

“And you bought all this stuff.”

“I just wanted—oh.” You stop stirring and slowly turn so your whole body is facing Eddie. Heat floods your face but it has nothing to do with the steam wafting up from the pot. “D-Did I overstep? I’m sorry, I just thought that… Sh-Should I go?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes widen and he takes a few hasty steps towards you. “No, no, no! Hey.” The anxiety in your eyes breaks his heart and he flounders as he tries to come up with a way to alleviate it. Gently, Eddie reaches out and pulls you into a hug. He rubs a hand up and down your back. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? That’s not what I meant. I only meant that I don’t want you to feel like you have to do any of this. You’re far too good to us, you know.”

Your body relaxes against his and you let your arms wrap around his waist. Both of you smile at each other's touch, but neither of you see because your face is practically against his shoulder.

“Well, I can’t just do nothing if I hear that the boys are sick,” you say against his Judas Priest t-shirt.

“What smells good?”

The sound of the small approaching voice has you and Eddie jumping apart as if shocked by an electric current. You adjust the hem of your shirt while Eddie clears his throat.

“I’m making soup,” you say as Luke steps into the kitchen.

The moment he steps around his father, you burst into a fit of giggles. Luke looks at you in confusion for a moment before remembering that his face is entirely covered in pink lotion. He narrows his blue eyes at you, annoyance clear on his bubble gum-shaded face. Eddie huffs a chuckle as well and gently prods his son towards the table.

“Why don’t you sit down? It’s almost ready. Ry?” Eddie calls down the hall. “You hungry?”

“Yeah!” Small footsteps grow louder and soon there is another boy who looks like he has Pepto Bismol smeared all over him. “Ooh! What kind of soup is that?” Ryan takes a seat next to his brother at the table.

“Chicken noodle,” you say.

Eddie grabs two bowls from a cabinet and hands them to you. He then grabs two spoons and sets one down in front of each of his children.

“Ugh!” Luke groans and drops his head against the back of the chair. “What’s with you and chicken today?”

Your attempt to stifle a laugh fails as you ladle equal amounts of soup into both bowls. When you turn around to serve them, you notice for the first time that both boys are wearing the mittens you bought. Another laugh bubbles up in you as you watch Ryan try and properly grasp the spoon but you bite your bottom lip to keep it inside.

Eddie’s eyes lock in on the way your teeth dig into your lip. He feels his heart rate kick up at the sight.

“Would you like some?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Eddie is shaken out of his reverie. “Do I want…? Oh! Soup. No, no thank you.”

You nod and lick a drop of soup off your thumb, sending Eddie’s mind spiraling back into the gutter. The sound of his sons loudly slurping their lunch brings him back to the present quickly.

“This is good,” Luke practically gargles out through the broth in his mouth.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Even though it’s chicken?”

“Chicken is good,” Luke responds, nodding his head. “Just not the pockets.”

“Pox,” Ryan corrects.

Their bickering amuses you as you take the now-empty pot over to the sink. You get the water running and soap up the sponge, but the slickness leads to the handle of the pot slipping out of your grip and it clangs down on the bottom of the sink. Water splashes up and smacks you across the face and chest.

“Damn,” you hiss as you back up from the sink. “Now I’m all wet.”

Eddie clenches his jaw to keep in his groan. He feels his cock stir within the confines of his jeans and as hard as he clenches his fists, it does nothing to calm himself down.

“Do you want to borrow a shirt?” How Eddie managed to speak those words with only a minimal shake in his voice, he’ll never know.

“No, I’m okay,” you reply. “It hit my face more than my shirt. Okay, let’s try this again.” You step back up to the sink.

“Um,” Eddie stutters before clearing his throat. “I’m gonna go jump in the shower real quick. A-Are you okay with Thing One and Thing Two?”

“Of course,” you say, throwing a smile over your shoulder.

Eddie nods his head and makes a quick escape to the bathroom. Once he’s behind the closed door, he drops his head against the wood and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Get your shit together, Munson,” he grumbles to himself. He forces himself over to the shower and turns the water on. “Stop being such a fucking creep. She’s a sweet girl who cares about your sons. She doesn’t deserve you perving after her like this.”

Eddie shucks off his clothing, getting more frustrated with himself by the second. The shower curtain hooks squeak against the metal bar as he yanks the plastic aside. He steps beneath the hot water and lets it wash over his body. The bar of Irish Spring soap glides along his skin as he takes his anger out on his scrubbing. When his hand reaches his semi-hard-on, Eddie slams the soap down and wraps his fingers around himself. He uses his other hand to brace himself against the shower wall in front of him as he starts to pump his length.

Every sexy scenario he’s ever had of you starts to rush through his head, but Eddie doesn’t manage to get any harder. The nail in the coffin is when he hears the boys laughing out in the hallway. Eddie drops his cock and smacks the tile next to him.

“You’re disgusting, dude,” he berates himself. “Jesus Christ, you’re a married fucking man. With two kids. And she’s in college. Can’t you be a normal human being for once?”

The slick tile causes Eddie’s hand to slip down the shower wall, so he keeps moving it down until he grabs the handle. He harshly pulls it to the right, letting the water turn icy cold. It stings and Eddie clenches his teeth as every muscle in his body tightens. But it helps diffuse his boner.

He steps out of the shower and tugs a towel off the rack. Today’s clothes aren’t dirty since he’s only been wearing them for a few hours, so he slips them back on after he dries himself off.

The hallway is quiet as Eddie comes out of the bathroom. There’s no more slurping coming from the kitchen and he doesn’t hear either of his sons’ voices. But when he stops and listens Eddie can hear your voice. He follows the sound to Ryan’s room, where he finds the three of you all crowded onto the twin-size bed. You’re in the middle with a pink polka-dotted boy on either side of you. Each of them holds their new stuffed chicken as they listen to you finish reading the book you bought for them.

Luke yawns and rests his head against your arm as you set the book down on your lap.

“Did you ever have chickenpox?” Ryan asks you.

“I did,” you say as you tuck him beneath your arm. “I woke up with them on my fifth birthday.”

“On your birthday?!” Luke exclaims.

“On my birthday,” you affirm with a nod. “It was not fun.”

Eddie leans against the door jamb and crosses his arms over his chest. The chill of water droplets falling from his hair onto his t-shirt causes goosebumps to break out along his skin. At least that’s what he tells himself it’s from.

Definitely not from seeing you cuddled up with his sons, taking care of them while they’re sick. Can’t be. Because that would mean he feels something beyond simple lust. And that can’t happen. It hasn’t happened. It won’t happen, he tells himself.

[tammyu-2]

hii can i request tmnt 2012 donnie meeting reader for the first time while the ninjas were at on a mission because she caught them while walking home and him js like falls in love on sight and his brothers tease him ☺️☺️☺️☺️

AHH THIS IS SO CUTE OFC

TMNT 2012 DONNIE FALLS FOR YOU AT FIRST SIGHT

There is no usage of y/n, swearing, female pronouns, awkward,Donnie being in love, and yeah, that's it.

A lil info on me, Leo and Donnie, are my favs

It had been a long ass day for you, to be honest. After all the long hours that occupied you, you were ready to pass out the second you walked into your apartment.

It just so happened that the turtles were fighting the kraang at the same time. In the same area. What a coincidence... even more of a coincidence that you walled right into the battlefield, too tired to even look up as you walked right through it.

The kraang are literal villians ofc they are gonna shoot you. So while you were too occupied looking like the burgains from the movie trolls 1 a kraang saw you and had to get rid of all witnesses. Luckily for you, a certain purple turtle scooped you up and dropped you on top of a building.

Naturally, you are confused. Not only by the fact that you just so quickly got onto the top of a building but the fact that a tall humanoid turtle had saved you. But tbh you read weird shit so it's not that much of a surprise. You looked up at your savior, and your gazes locked.

Now Donnie boy over here has a completely different mindset. Bc Holy shit your so pretty??? He is BLUSHING trust. Bc your hair is swaying from the wind while the moon light makes your eye shimmer. It was like you had made this man putty just by looking at him. Wait, is he staring??

He quickly goes to clear his throat, noting that he had indeed been staring too freakishly long. He doesn't wanna look too weird than he already is.

"Are you alright?"

"What are you-"

YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT. WHAT IF ITS OFFENSIVE TO THEIR KIND DUMBASS.

"I mean not to be rude, you know - I'm just wondering cause you know I've never seen anything like you - but not in a bad way. It's just that- you know you're like a walking talking fighting turtle, and that's freakishly weird - not freakishly weird! it's just - I'm gonna stop talking now.."

You have just insulted a man's (or should I say turtles) existence just by saying two sentences to this ...guy? Congrats.

You felt guilty till you heard him chuckle a bit at your word vomit. You didn't even know you were closing your eyes for anything after that till you opened them to see the turtle smiling dorkishly at you.

"It's fine I get that alot. I'm-"

He paused. Since he should be a secret, should he really tell you his name? May swell tell you the secret turtle base as well, seeing as though you're a cute stranger.

"-just glad your safe."

"Thanks to you. You saved my life."

The sincerity in your voice made his smile grow. You're not running away or screaming or looking away in disgust. It's like you saw him. Like really saw him. That or he is just delulu

"I- you know it's really no b-big deal.."

Smooth.

"It is to me."

"YO DONNIE STOP FLIRTING AND COME HELP OUR ASSES OVER HEAR!"

[If raph could swear he would do it all the time trust me]

Turns out during that awkward exchange, the turtles were yelling at Donnie to help them. Woops. He straightened and sent a scowl to raph. He turned to you, giving you a sheepish grin.

"I uh gotta go.."

"It's cool go do your ninja stuff."

Today might be the day he starts a diary. He waves you goodbye and jumps down into battle.

Huh. Finding a humanoid turtle was not on your to-do list, but you're expecting it. He seemed nice enough... After that, thought another popped up that made you groan. You're trapped on a flipping building.

Once the kraang escaped and the turtles all unloaded into the living room of the liar all tired. Now was time for questioning.

"What the hell was that, Don? You left us to go ask for a chick's number. Meanwhile, we were getting our asses handed to us. And by we, I mean Mikey.

He said, earning an offended 'hey!' from said turtle.

"Yeah you were up there for a while..."

"I was just checking on a civilian that got caught in the crossfire of our fight."

He said back matter a factly. Earning (non-existent) eye brow raises from his brother.

"Dude, you totally like her!"

"Wha- I mean- no- what??"

He spluttered, trying to defend himself, but nothing can convince his brothers otherwise.

"Awe, how cute Don likes someone that isn't April."

"I think so but seriously, not in the middle of a mission."

"DONNIE LIKES A GIRLLL DONNIE LIKES A GIRLLL!"

Please let the earth swallow him up right now.

So as the days went by you two met up a second time and decided to casually meet up a third. You became a trusted friend to him and the turtles. That only made the teasing worse. Such as making kissy faces at Donnie while your back was turned. Making teasing remarks here and there about how long Donnie is taking to pursue you.

Even Splinter lightly jokes about how he approves of you already. And let's be honest. He has a whole wall covered in solutions on how to set up the perfect plan to help him get with you. He always covers it when you come around.

The difference between you and April is that you actually are starting to like him to. You love when he explains stuff you can't understand and how he treats you like a literal princess but knows you can handle yourself. He makes cute gadgets here and there to help you with your every day life and all of this is making him grow on you and you honestly secretly blush too at the teasings of his brothers. But only they can catch that. Donnie is clueless.

Chat what we thinking? I actually really like this. It's so cute I adore this. I love this ask that you so much!!!!!

But yeah, enjoy

~Tammy<3

[unsuperingyournatural]

looks like a win to me

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

fluff

dividers @saradika-graphics

The soundstage hums with quiet busyness—grips moving equipment, lighting techs adjusting panels overhead, and wardrobe rushing a last-minute costume fix across the floor.

You and Pedro, however, are doing exactly nothing.

Or rather—you're doing nothing useful. You're curled into Pedro's side on a pair of canvas director chairs, your legs draped over his lap like it's your natural state of being, while Pedro scrolls aimlessly through his phone.

His free hand strokes absent-mindedly up and down your side, the soft brush of his fingers through the material of your hoodie a lazy, comforting rhythm. It sends little sparks across your skin even though he's barely paying attention—his focus glued to whatever absurdity he's found on Instagram.

You tilt your head slightly, watching him over the tops of his glasses as they slide down his nose, catching every tiny, adorable change in his expression.

The faint scrunch of his eyebrows when he reads something weird. The tiny huff of a laugh when he finds something funny. The way his mouth tugs into these almost involuntary little smiles.

It's ridiculous how badly you want to kiss him for doing nothing at all.

You shift a little closer, lowering your voice so no one else can hear. "I really wanna kiss you right now," you murmur.

Pedro's thumb freezes mid-scroll.

Slowly, he turns his head, a boyish, knowing grin already forming at the edges of his mouth before he even properly looks at you. "Oh yeah?" he says, voice warm, teasing, that easy mischief shining behind his glasses.

You nod, utterly shameless. "Mhm."

"What's stoppin' you?" he murmurs, tilting toward you slightly, the arm around your waist tightening just a little. His grin is pure trouble, but there's a softness under it—like he's already a little undone just by the idea.

You lift your eyebrows and gesture meaningfully to the crew bustling around you. "Maybe the fact that we're not exactly in private?"

Pedro huffs a laugh, warm breath fanning across your cheek as he leans even closer, almost brushing his nose against yours. "They're busy," he says lightly, voice dipped in mischief. "We’re invisible. Ninjas. Plus, you look kiss-starved. I'm trying to help."

You squint at him, feigning deep suspicion. "You're a terrible influence."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he teases, tipping his forehead briefly against yours. "C'mon. Quick one. Right here. I dare you."

You giggle, shoving gently at his chest with one hand, though you don't actually push him away. He's just so there, warm and teasing and wearing that stupidly soft hoodie you love, glasses slipping down his nose—

"Jesus Christ, look at 'em," Jensen's voice cuts in, dry and gruff, but unmistakably amused.

You both jerk back instinctively, laughing as you turn to find Jensen standing a few feet away, arms crossed, shaking his head like he's witnessing a public indecency.

"This," he announces, addressing a cluster of PAs as if delivering important news, "is what we're up against. No self-control. Negative productivity. Someone get a hose."

Pedro flashes him a dazzling smile, absolutely no shame in sight. You hide your face against Pedro's shoulder, laughing so hard your sides hurt.

"Jealousy's an ugly color on you, Ackles," Pedro calls out, voice light, a wicked little glint in his eye.

"I'm not jealous," Jensen fires back immediately, smirking. "I'm concerned. And mildly nauseated. Pretty sure I need eye drops."

That earns a ripple of laughter from the crew.

You lift your head just enough to catch Pedro's grin—lazy, crooked, impossibly fond—and without thinking, you press a kiss to his cheek, quick and soft.

The entire crew erupts in good-natured groans and wolf whistles.

Pedro only chuckles, adjusting his arm to pull you closer like he has no plans of letting you go anytime soon. You settle back against him, your hand finding his again easily, twining your fingers together.

Let Jensen roll his eyes and the crew make their jokes. You wouldn't trade this for anything.

A little later, Jensen who is still lingering nearby, raises his voice just enough to make sure you both hear him. "Five bucks says you two can't go five minutes without touching each other."

A few crew members immediately start laughing, some even pulling out their phones to set timers like this is the best entertainment they're gonna get all day.

Pedro lifts his head lazily, smirking over at Jensen. "Five minutes? That's insulting," he says, mock-offended. "You wound me, man."

"You wound me," Jensen mutters. "With your excessive cuddle agenda."

You stifle a snort against Pedro's shoulder. "I mean..." you mutter under your breath, enough that a few nearby catch it and crack up.

"All right, fine," Pedro grumbles, holding up both hands like he's surrendering. "Five minutes. No touching. Bring it."

He carefully detangles himself from you—moving your legs off his lap, dropping his arm from your waist, leaning back in the chair like he's totally unbothered.

For about thirty seconds.

You both sit there, pretending everything is normal. Pedro tries to focus on his phone again. You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve. Someone coughs pointedly. A timer beeps once.

You sneak a glance at Pedro—and catch him already staring at you over the rim of his glasses, smirking. The second your eyes meet, he cracks first—leaning sideways to bump his shoulder deliberately against yours.

"Oops," he says, completely deadpan. "Guess I lose."

The crew roars with laughter as Jensen throws his arms up. "I knew it!" he crows, pointing at you both. "Absolutely hopeless. Un-coachable. Can't even run drills."

Pedro just shrugs, tugging you back into his side like it was inevitable. "Yeah, well," he murmurs near your ear, voice softer now, "worth it."

You smile into him, your heart feeling so ridiculously full you're not sure how you're supposed to film anything after this.

Not that you're in any rush to move.

A PA walking by slows just long enough to throw a look at you two, then smirks. "Bet you five bucks he knows her coffee order and her hangover cure."

Pedro doesn't miss a beat. "Cold brew with oat milk, extra ice. And a greasy egg sandwich with hot sauce, plus Gatorade—blue, not red."

Then, with a straight face: "And she once cried during a Shrek rewatch, so don't let her pretend she's tough."

You gasp, scandalized. "That was one time!"

Pedro just smiles smugly. "You sobbed when Donkey sang. There were witnesses."

You burst into laughter, covering your face as the crew around you loses it. Jensen groans like he's just been personally attacked. "Oh my god, make it stop. I'm gonna need therapy after this." He clutches his water bottle dramatically to his chest.

Then he adds, deadpan: "And if anyone brings a boombox and plays ‘Accidentally in Love,’ I’m walking."

The PA, already walking away, calls over her shoulder, "See? Told you. Pay up."

Pedro presses a kiss to your temple like he just won a bet himself. You're still giggling, shaking your head, eyes bright, cheeks warm.

And yeah, maybe you did cry during Shrek. But you also got Pedro to admit he's memorized your coffee order, your hangover routine, and your emotional weak spots.

Which, honestly? Feels like a win.

[imababblekat]

Accidental Eavesdropping?

Anon request, "Hey!!! Love your blog and your writing style, it’s amazing and so detailed!!! Can I request Bayverse TMNT Spider-man Au, where the turtles and spider-y/n are in a battle with Bepop and rocksteady. And in the last moments of the battle, spider -y/n saves the turtles but gets unmasked in the process. (They live) If you don’t want to do that idea! You can either delete this OR A moment where the turtles start talking about y/n and they don’t even realize that they’re talking TO THEM!!! This was funny to me for some reason lol 😂"

A/N: Aw thank you, anon! ;v; I went with the second prompt, btw. Leans towards Raphael x reader, but it's mentioned/hinted that the other turts also got the feels for reader. Any who's, I hope you enjoy! <3

◌(s,p) = spider persona◌

~xXx~

You're swinging over traffic, indulging in a rather quiet night despite the sounds of honking vehicles and other night life, when a sudden warm fuzzy feeling beams from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It's not your spidey sense per say, but something akin to it, all you know is that it's a good sense and you follow it with glee. It doesn't take long before the feeling is buzzing and you see the source of the feeling chilling atop a pizza parlor. Well, more like sources. You let out a small giggle, noticing that the four ninja turtle brothers seem to be in some sort of deep conversation or debate.

"Hey guy's, what's going on?!", you greeted, swinging in next to a steaming Raphael.

"Oh you know, just the daily sibling teasing while we wait for our pizza to be made.", Donnie shrugged, watching as you and Mikey did your secret handshake.

"Yeah? Let me guess. . ."

The eyes of your mask squinted as you pretended to skeptically look at all brothers before looking at the glaring gaze of Raphael next to you.

"Is Raphie suppressing his emotions again?", you chaffed.

Said turtle rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to one side as he growled.

"Great, just what I need. And don't call me that."

"Come on, I'm sure I can help! What's up this time big guy?"

Leo chuckled, gaining your attention while Raphael sent him a warning glare from behind you.

"Raph's got a crush on our friend."

At this your eyes widened, a small gasp escaping you as you looked between the two eldest brothers in excitement.

"No way! Who?!"

You're question went ignored as Raph threw his arms up, cheeks flushing a light hue of embarrassment.

"All I said was they smelled nice, and y'all chuckle heads suddenly think I've been struck by cupid or some mushy crap!"

"You complimented them, Raph.", came Leo's retort.

"I compliment people all the time!"

Everyone remained silent, giving the hot headed turtle deadpanned expressions.

"What? I do. Right (s,p)?", he asked turning to look down at you.

You merely shrugged.

"Sarcastically maybe."

Raph huffed, leaning back against the buildings ledge, you hoping up to sit next to him.

"So is anyone gonna tell me who this mysterious person is or nah? Come on people, I want the tea."

Mikey, idly spinning his nun-chucks, grinned widely.

"It's our friend, (y,n)!"

You sat rigid, mask eyes wide once more.

". . .Who now?"

"Oh you haven't met them.", Donnie waved off, checking his turtle made watch to see the remaining wait time on their order.

Raphael clicked his tongue, still slightly aggravated about his brothers earlier teasing. Meanwhile, you still sat frozen beside him, staring into the abyss with a racing heart.

"I still don't have a crush on them.", he muttered.

"You complimented them on their perfume!", Leo loudly pointed out once more.

"Why is that so weird?!"

The two started to banter once more, Mikey enjoying the show while Donnie threw in a few matter of facts to weigh in on Leo's side. You, however, felt never more thankful than in that moment that you wore a full face mask. If it wasn't for the coverage, surely the ninja brothers would see just how closely the color of your face matched Raphaels mask right now.

Raphael growled, fed up with his brothers ganging up on him and his definitely non-existent crush on you. If they were going to call him out, then he would do the same to them.

"Maybe you guys should get off my shell and jump on yours first! I ain't the only one whose been makin' googly eyes at (y,n)."

You just about fell off the side of the building, hands gripping the edge of where you sat, knuckles definitely white beneath your suit. What is happening right now, is all you could terrifyingly but blushingly think.

Leonardo and Donatello were quick to look anywhere but at Raph, trying their hardest to not blush themselves at their brother's call out.

"I seen the way you put on the macho charm, Leo, bowing extra deep and all your swooning romance book crap when they come over. And you, Donnie, sputtering and dropping shit when they try to help you with projects and their hand accidentally brushes against yours. And Mikey. . ."

All eyes focused in on the youngest of the bunch who sat ready and waiting to hear Raph's jest.

"Actually, Mikey you're not that surprising. You think anyone who gives you food is a gift from heaven."

"Hey, it's not my fault their cinnamon rolls are so good!.", Mikey pouted, bottom lip jutting out adorably.

Leonardo shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning towards you.

"What do you think, (s,p)? Are we over analyzing or are we right?"

The boys eagerly waited for your answer, for your input. Surely someone from the outside would be able to better determine the situation the brothers found themselves in. Well. . .should have been able to more like, as the response you gave was not what they were expecting.

A rushed, "Igotgo!!!", was all they got before watching you thwip away at the speed of light, leaving the turtles to look at each other confused and quizzically.

". . .Wait, so you guys don't have a crush on (y,n) too??", Mikey questioned with furrowed brows, innocently confused by how they could not.

Raphael groaned loudly as he and his brothers devilled into another childish debate on why they totally didn't have feelings for you, a familiar smell that had sparked the argument coincidentally wafting lightly into their senses upon the wind in the direction of which you swung off.

~xXx~

[hummingbird24220]

Hello hello ^^ if it’s alright, could I request a scenario where reader gets a nosebleed in response to something Sanji does, I think it’d be cute or funny to have him be on the receiving end of it

(Also I rlly love the way you write the straw hats ^^<3)

hehehehe yes, my leggy boy deserves to be simped for in return.

Enjoy!

Crush à la Carte

Sanji x Reader

The galley smelled like heaven — butter sizzling, garlic browning, the faint, toasty undertone of fresh bread in the oven. But none of that compared to him.

Sanji was plating lunch like a magazine cover model had decided to try food styling as a hobby. Shirt sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, tie loosened just a little, blonde hair falling lazily over one eye, cigarette bobbing at the corner of his lips like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You were mid-sentence with Usopp, giggling about something dumb he’d said — when your brain glitched. All focus dropped out of your ears and straight into the black hole of your dumb little crush. And then Sanji did the thing.

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and smiled. Not the wild-eyed, hearts-for-eyes “mademoiselle~!!” routine he usually pulled. No. This was soft, warm. Lazy, like a sunbeam. It hit your soul like a truck.

You short-circuited.

Blood. Nose. Everywhere.

“GAH—!” you gasped, slapping your hands over your face and practically knocking your stool over as you scrambled backward.

“Y/N?!” Sanji turned, alarmed. “Are you okay?!”

“Nope! Fine! Everything’s cool!” you called out in a high-pitched squeak, already spinning on your heel and sprinting out of the galley like it was on fire. “NOSE JUST DECIDED TO DO A THING, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!”

You could feel his footsteps behind you. That man was fast when worried.

“Wait—! Did you get hurt?! Did something hit you?!”

Yeah, your face hit the full force of his raw, untamed attractiveness.

You dove behind a stack of folded deck chairs on the upper deck, holding your face with both hands, praying your nose would stop bleeding before he found you.

Footsteps slowed nearby. His voice dropped, gentle.

“…Y/N?”

You stopped breathing.

He sounded worried.

But also kind of… guilty?

“Did I say something wrong…?”

Oh no. Oh no no no. Now you felt bad and nosebleedy.

Sanji’s shoes scuffed gently against the wooden deck as he stopped, peering behind the stack of deck chairs. You could see the tip of his cigarette curl a little trail of smoke into the sky. He was about to call your name again.

No time for pride. Only time for damage control.

You popped up like a Meowbanese jack-in-the-box — nose clearly stuffed with two balled-up tissues, hands awkwardly behind your back like that somehow helped your case.

“What? Huh? Oh—just, uh… dropped my… dignity!” You flashed him two thumbs up and the most painfully forced grin imaginable. “Haha! Carry on, Chef Extraordinaire!”

And then you bolted again, tissues fluttering as you turned the corner, slipping through the door like a ninja with no stealth and way too much panic.

Back in the galley, Sanji blinked after you. He looked around, slowly, like maybe someone else had seen what just happened. Nope. Just him. He gave a small exhale, scratched his head, and muttered:

“…Dropped their dignity, huh?”

Shrugging, he went back to delicately arranging garnish like nothing was weird at all. King of cool. Unbothered. Focused on the mission: make this meal perfect.

-

You returned a few minutes later, face scrubbed, tissues trashed, and nose only slightly red — though your pride had taken a direct hit and was bleeding out somewhere in the hallway.

Sliding into your seat as if nothing had happened, you folded your hands neatly on the table and tried to appear so normal. Calm. Collected. A person who definitely didn’t spontaneously bleed from the face over a pretty boy’s casual charm.

Sanji turned and gave you a polite little smile, setting a plate in front of you like usual.

“You’re back. Hope you’re feeling better.”

You nodded. “Much, thank you. Totally fine. Very healthy. Normal blood pressure and everything.”

Usopp, across from you, was barely holding it together.

“Dropped my dignity,” he mouthed at you, shoulders shaking.

You kicked him under the table.

He giggled louder.

You tried. Oh, you tried.

You sat at the table like a model of composure, hands folded, nose clean, staring at your food like you were very invested in the marbling of the grilled fish and not, in fact, in the man who was currently adjusting his tie just out of reach — sleeves still rolled, wrist veins on full display, looking like a romantic tragedy in a magazine spread.

Your blood pressure? Through the roof. Your dignity? Still MIA. Your brain? Scrambled eggs.

Usopp, of course, was living.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked with a smirk. “Not gonna, you know, explode again? Should I move my plate this time? Maybe wear goggles?”

You shot him a death glare. He winked. Bitch.

Chopper scurried up with his thermometer, concern in his giant sparkling eyes. “You do look a little flushed. Do you have a fever?! You did bleed earlier, it could be a sign of internal—”

“I’m fine, Chopper,” you said too quickly, waving him off with the limp enthusiasm of someone in a full-body crisis. “Just got… caught off guard. My body was like ‘hey let’s spontaneously combust’ and I said sure.”

Robin, sipping tea like the queen of ice she is, looked at you over the rim of her cup.

“Sanji flustered them,” she said simply, like she was narrating a documentary. “It’s love.”

SILENCE.

Everyone froze.

Your eye twitched.

Sanji turned from the counter slowly, like a cat who just heard the can opener.

“…What was that, Robin-chwan?” he asked, blinking, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Robin just sipped her tea again. “Nothing at all.”

But the damage was done.

Sanji walked over, that gleam in his eye, like a hunter spotting prey that wants to be caught.

You backed your chair up one inch. He took two steps closer.

And then — smoothly, without fanfare — he reached down, took your hand gently in his, and with the grace of a prince at a ballroom, kissed the back of it.

Your brain blue-screened.

The room was dead quiet.

He grinned up at you, eyelashes stupidly long. “For your speedy recovery, mon chéri~.”

You stared at him. Blinked once.

Geyser.

Zoro, without looking, leaned back in his chair and lifted his food just in time as the fountain of nosebleed erupted from your face like a broken fire hydrant. Everyone flinched as it rained down like a cursed blessing from the gods.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t even make a sound.

You just tipped backward out of your chair and hit the floor with a soft thud, one twitching leg still propped on the seat.

“Daaaaamn,” Usopp whispered, poking at your twitching hand. “She’s not gonna make it,” Franky muttered. “She’ll be fine,” Robin said, placid as ever. “…Should I kiss her again?” Sanji asked.

Chopper panicked. “NO.”

-

Your consciousness returned in a wave of lavender-scented horror.

You were on the floor, Chopper gently patting your cheek with his tiny hoof, concern etched across his fuzzy face. “Come on, come on, wake up! I gave you a cotton pad and everything!”

Something burned in your nose. A sharp sting. You jolted upright with a gasp.

“I’M FINE.”

The room stared.

You blinked, pupils dilated like a startled raccoon, hair stuck to your forehead, shirt absolutely soaked in your own blood. Chopper held up a small bottle of smelling salts with an apologetic expression.

“…Okay, not the ideal wake-up scent,” you muttered, dabbing your nose with what pride you had left.

“Y/N,” Sanji started, voice smooth as buttercream, “you didn’t have to faint over me—”

“Shut up, Sanji.”

Usopp snorted.

You pointed a warning finger without looking up. “You too. Shut. Up.”

You kept your eyes locked on the floorboards. Not on Sanji’s stupid, beautiful face. Not on Usopp, who was probably pantomiming geysers behind your back. Not on anyone. Your soul was already halfway out the window. You weren’t gonna risk the rest of it with another glance.

You took the plate Sanji had gently set beside you, now cooled slightly, and just… ate. In silence. Like a haunted Victorian ghost girl. One elbow on the table, spoon shaking slightly. You were fine. This was fine.

Meanwhile, Sanji had gone oddly quiet himself. Not in embarrassment. Not in smugness. Just… quiet.

His eyes softened, watching you out of the corner of his eye as he cleaned up your mess with a towel and a fond little smile tugging at his lips.

“She reacts like that to me, huh…”

He said it under his breath. Genuinely flattered. Like someone who’d just been told a puppy fainted from excitement at seeing them.

And while you definitely heard it, you didn’t acknowledge it. You just shoved more rice in your mouth and gave the table a threatening side-eye.

-

The room was starting to settle again. Forks clinked against plates, Chopper finally relaxed, and you were almost — almost — convincing yourself that no one was ever going to bring it up again.

And then, Luffy — sweet, innocent, chaos-in-human-form Luffy — glanced up from his food mountain, pointed at you with a grin, and said:

“Hey, Y/N! Your shirt matches mine now!”

You looked down. Blood. Blood everywhere. Your once-nice, light-colored shirt looked like it had been used as a prop in a horror movie.

Luffy grinned, proudly tugging at his own red vest. “Twinsies!”

Your head turned very slowly toward him.

“Luffy.”

He blinked at you, still chewing. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to curse your children’s children.”

There was a beat of silence before Usopp howled laughing, nearly choking on a fishbone. Chopper gasped. Robin covered her mouth in amusement. Zoro wheezed into his drink.

Luffy blinked. “Huh. Can you do that?”

You shoved more food in your mouth with dead eyes. “Watch me.”

Sanji coughed behind one hand to hide his chuckle, but you could still see the way his shoulders shook — and that warm, flattered little smile hadn’t left his face since the geyser incident.

He looked at you again. “If you want, I could get you a new shirt. Preferably not red.”

You didn’t look up.

“Preferably made of Kevlar,” you muttered.

[nyuklai]

hi guys i actually have absolutely nothing decent to post but I feel obligated to because so many people liked the last one.. which THANK YOU????? I was definitely not expecting the amount of love that post got, especially with my dead ass account. but anyways here’s some doodles I did on magma awhile ago.

today we have rise Cassandra because I LOVE HER? I just wish we got to see more of her in rise and it is a crime that we didn’t. So yeah that was actually my first time drawing her and I have yet to find a good outfit for her that’s not the weird foot clan ninja uniform. also raph. he’s my favorite I have nothing to say.

I also did some future bad timeline raph, mikey, and BABY CASEY JR. it was purely self indulgent because I love him. I have a million things to say but this is long enough already so I will hold off on that for now. (If y’all are interested maybe I’ll elaborate…) also the one with Donnie is random Au plot my pookie made about rise Donnie going on his 2003 Donnie trauma moment. Basically thrown into the future timeline. Just for funzies yk?

MY GUILTY PLEASURE AND COMPLETELY SELF INDULGENT MIYAMOTO USAGI ART. Guys literally shut up it’s donsagi and I admit I am so cringe but guys please. Anyways Leo totally FUMBLED a bad bitch and I am actually still really salty they never got to talk again after Leonardo’s angst arc in 2003, because what the hell. It made me so sad bc I LOVE usagi and I always want to see more of him. I love the comics and will definitely be posting content of him soon. (I have a fake rise crossover in the works rn but SHHHH.)

Anyways it’s Donsagi because I just think they’re cute and have a fun dynamic in the 2003 show. And also sneak peek Jotaro and Mariko.

Alright enough of my insane ramblings, I hope this post isn’t too long and finds the appropriate audience because HELPPP IM OBSESSED.

[howi99]

The Nest chapter 5

13 yo Adam: *waking up, not feeling the burning sensation on his face anymore* What the-

???: Oh, you're awa-

Adam: *picking up the first thing he could find, brandishing it as a weapon towards the voice*

11 year old Jaune: *looking unimpressed by said "weapon"* You know, i think it's the first time someone tried to threaten me with a porn book.

Adam: *looking at his hands, seeing the cover of Ninja of love* AH! *Drop the book in pure disgust*

Jaune: *picking it up, posing it back on the nightstand* It's actually quite the good read-

Adam: *trying his best to get as far away of Jaune, which was complicated since the bed was against the wall* WHO!? WHERE?!

Jaune: *perplexed* ... Dude, you are like twice as muscled as me. Heck, i'm probably more in danger than you are-

Adam: *snarl, looking ready to fight*

Jaune: *putting his hands in the air with a timid smile* See? No weapon! Just, calm down and-

Adam: *tries attacking Jaune, who grabs his arm and use the momentum to throw the other kid on the ground* Argh!?!

Jaune: *sigh, twisting the arm of the angry teenager behind its back*

Adam: *trying to move around but being unable to do so as Jaune used aura to strengthen himself* L-let me go!

Jaune: *deadpan* You just tried attacking me! Fuck no i wont!

Adam: *angrily* You humans are all the same! Taking pleasure in hurting us! *Trying to move even more so and again, failing* GET OFF ME!

Jaune: *annoyed* Hey, i just fucking saved your eye you stupid bull! The least you could say is thank you!

Adam: LET ME- *realising what Jaune just said* ... Uh? *Blinking, then closing each eye one at a time* What-

Jaune: *feeling the bull faunus weaken his attempt to escape* Shit man, took you long enough.

Adam: *looking around, seeing the inside of a tent* ... This isn't the mine?

Jaune: *sigh, releasing him, dusting himself* Tell me, what would i be doing in a fucking mine? Do i look like a god damn employee to you?!

Adam: *quickly getting up, still wary of the other kid* ... No?

Jaune: *sigh again, pointing the bed* Sit down, there's a shit tone you need to know.

_ _ _

Adam: *touching the almost invisible scar on his eye, looking himself in a mirror* That's... Woah..

12 years old Vernal: *grinning* Not bad, eh? Jaune's semblance is the shit, man! Can heal almost anything as long as it's recent enough!

Adam: *looking back at the teen talking to the weird lady* So you guys-

Vernal: *cutting him with a smile, looking proud* Are badass? Awesome? Exactly like Robin Hood?

Adam: *deadpan* I was going to say "you guys are the bandits i've heard of?"

Vernal: ... Really? We save you and that's all we get?! *Annoyed* Fucking transported you on my back for not even a thank you!?!

Adam: *nervous* I-i mean-

Raven: *walking towards them* So, kid, how do you feel?

Adam: *a bit (lot) intimidated by the woman dressed in war gear* I-i uh-huh-

Raven: *confused* What's wrong with you? You got a concussion or what?... *Looking at Jaune, worried* He didn't have a head injury, right?

Jaune: *shaking his head* Nope, just a dumbass who can't think before acting.

Adam: *glaring at Jaune* You- *sees the big grin on Jaune's face, seeing his lack of seriousness* ... *Sigh* Yeah, i'm fine.

Raven: *nod* Good. You were too hurt to be sent with the first batch, but the white fang should be back in about 3 months to take the others.

Adam: *confused* ... What?

Raven: *looking back at Jaune again* You didn't explain him?

Jaune: Yeah, but i think he was too focused on playing with his scar instead of listening... *Shrug* Which i mean, i'd probably do the same, not gonna lie.

Adam: What's going on?

Raven: *sigh* In short, we raid mines in exchange for food from the white fang. They'll also bring you to menagerie, since you're still a kid.

Adam: ... *Shaking his head* Man, can't believe i was saved by a bunch of humans. Criminals no less.

Jaune: Hey, it's not like we are a bunch of killers. *Smirk* Human, faunus, it doesn't matter much when the law wants you dead, right?

Adam: I... Guess not? Huh... Never thought about it that way before.

Raven: Ah! Can't blame you! *Smirk* It's hard to think about others when you're suffering.

Adam: *looking at both Jaune and Raven's smirk* ... You both have that same punchable face.

Vernal: *nod* You think so too, huh?

[acrux-rising]

to babysit a devil (r. braun x reader)

you babysit reiner's kid cousin gabi for a day. (strangely wholesome) chaos ensues. || modern au, wc: 0.7k

your weekend plans decidedly did not involve babysitting your boyfriend’s thirteen-year-old cousin at his place. (said thirteen-year-old insisted she didn’t need babysitting, but after just two minutes spent with her, you greatly begged to differ.)

and to top it all off, reiner promised to help porco and pieck move into their new place, so you’re stuck with the pre-teen he fondly calls “the little devil.” not quite reassuring. he’d kissed your lips sweetly at the door, stubble brushing your cheek (gabi had made loud retching noises in the background), told you to call if you needed any help, then abandoned you.

in any case, it’s just you and the girl now. you stand awkwardly by the kitchen counter, meeting her unwavering gaze from where she sits cross-legged on your couch.

finally, she breaks the silence.

 “got any snacks?”

“uh, we have chips in the pantry - ”

“gimme.”

“o-oh.”

you toss her the bag of lays (sour cream and onion, which reiner has confirmed gabi loves) and she opens it hastily, stuffing chips into her mouth like she hasn’t eaten in days. sensing your silence, she looks up at you as if daring you to judge her, prompting you to shrug and join her on the couch.

you grab the tv remote off the coffee table. “want to watch something?”

“is it gonna be one of those boring romance movies you people like?”

you arch a brow. “you people?”

“you know. adults who are in love and weird about it.”

you stifle a laugh. “okay, well, you pick then.”

she grabs the remote like it’s a weapon and scrolls rapidly before landing on some ninja cartoon with too many explosions and zero plot. you’ve barely settled into the cushions when she glances sideways at you.

“so… how long you been dating my cousin?”

you hum. “almost seven months.”

gabi shovels another chip into her mouth, chewing loudly. “he talks about you. a lot. like… a lot. it’s gross.”

"that so?”

“yeah. once i caught him smiling at a photo of you and he dropped his phone like he’d been electrocuted.” she snorts. “then tried to act all cool. total fail.”

warmth blooms in your chest before you can stop it. 

“he’s sweet,” you say fondly. “he acts like he's not trying to be, but he is.”

gabi makes a fake gagging sound, then pauses. “you make him happier, i guess. he’s not as serious all the time now. he laughs more. he lets me hog the blanket when we watch movies. that never used to happen.”

you blink. that’s not something you expected to hear today.

“… thanks, gabi.”

she shrugs like it’s no big deal, but you notice she scoots a little closer to you on the couch.

when you return to reiner’s place after dropping gabi back off at her mom’s, it’s quiet. you tidy up the fallen chip bags and gather the mountain of throw pillows back into a corner, settling onto the couch just as the front door opens.

your boyfriend steps inside, a little sore, a little sweaty, hair tousled from the day. his eyes search the room - and when they land on you, they soften instantly.

“hey,” he murmurs, kicking off his shoes. “she didn’t scare you off?”

you smile. “not even close. we watched cartoons, argued about fictional ninjas, and shared snacks.”

“she tell you about that boy falco?”

“even let me read her text messages with him.” you smile. “she’s a menace. i like her.”

he laughs as he drops his keys in the bowl, then crosses the room to sit beside you, his hand finding yours naturally, fingers intertwining. “she told me she had fun. said you’re cool. that’s the highest praise you’ll get from her.”

you nudge his arm gently. “she also told me you stare at pictures of me when you think no one’s looking.”

reiner groans, already burying his face in your neck. “i regret everything.”

you laugh, fingers brushing the back of his head, combing through the soft hair. “don’t. i like knowing how much you love me.”

he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and there it is - that quiet truth in his expression. like the world fades away and it’s just the two of you.

“i do,” he says simply. “more than i know how to explain.”

and you believe him. you don’t need a big speech. just this moment, the warmth of his hand in yours -

yeah. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

-> to aot masterlist -> to main masterlist

© acrux-rising

[notbojack]

I love your hcs for the linkuei trio, very funny :3

Can I request hcs of annoying things they do? Like they're messy and stuff like that. I don't think I've ever seen anyone exploring a part of them like that and I'm curious what it would be like 😅

I'll do as best as I can pookie :D

the Lin kuei bros and annoying things they do

Bi han

Dang. Here we go again

The first annoying thing about him that's very noticeable is that he has a resting bitch face

No matter if he's actually annoyed, indifferent etc, he WILL have that same frown. He def had some misunderstandings because of it

"Stop giving me attitude young man" "I'm not doing anything"

Actual conversation between an elder of the clan and him btw

He's judgmental. That we know ofc

If you do something that he deems is not the "right" way to do it, he will try to correct you. That is SO annoying when trying to get something done and someone beside you is like "that's not how you do it"

Anyway-

It's hard to make him laugh honestly. If you make a bad joke he'd just slowly turn to stare at you

When he jokes, it's probably a smart quip said in a deadpan tone that most people have to actually think about it for a few seconds to get it

Yk when teachers randomly come up to your desk to stare at your work in a tense silence while you stress out? Yeah that's bi han

He'd just come randomly to you at training to see if you're getting better. Does he know it stresses out most students to get stared at when training? It's a mystery, but he doesn't look like he cares much

Sigh. People, I'm sorry to say it, but he probably wouldn't like shy people

He just doesn't understand how someone can be shy. For him it's a sign of weakness

He won't mind if someone is mostly silent and efficient, but he will mind if someone is too shy to get job done

He mostly cares about competence after all

Oh, last thing, he's a sore loser

He's not allowed to play board games in this household anymore

Kuai liang

Why is Tomas being a pretty princess behind kuai liang-

Anyway

He's similar to bi han. He honestly copies him without noticing. At least he did that when he was a kid

It can come off as annoying if you're trying to joke around and he does bi han's slow turn

You have to explain the joke for him to crack a smile most of the time

He's stubborn. Yk the type of stubborn to actually write up a Wikipedia text to confirm his opinion even when he's wrong. Ik they're not familiar with the internet, but he'd be the type to do that if he was so

He gossips

Ik it sounds odd said like that, like "how can a trained ninja gossip like a schoolgirl!". Well, he does, just more discreetly

If someone starts talking shit about someone he dislikes (example bi han after his betrayal COUGH COUGH) he WILL get in the conversation

Though he tries to be subtle, he's obviously liking tea time from time to time

Guys.. he forgets anniversaries

Don't take it personal though. It could be valentine, anyone's birthday, new year, it doesn't change the result

I can see him randomly ask for the date after people act weird and then hearing what date it is (again, any special event) and he'd be like "really?" LIKE BRO DIDN'T KNOW

I think it's because he doesn't care much about what date it is, having other things to worry about

He's ridiculously charming

Ik people when hearing that would be "how is that annoying?" Well, it is if you're his partner and see other women flirt with him. He'd probably be polite but refuse the advances

Still annoying af though

That and because he can get away with many things because of it. Countless of times when they were kids, one of his brothers would get scolded instead of him because their father believed more in kuai liang and thought he could never do such thing

He did

He just has a way with words. He understands social cues and use it to his advantage

Yes, it is pretty manipulative, but most people just see him as a cool dude anyway so he gets a free pass

Tomas vrbada

Bbg (war criminal)

He's a prankster. That can be annoying when he does it to you instead of his brothers

He will always pretend to have done no wrong with a smirk that CLEARLY tells you he's the one you did it, but you have no proof of it

As I said, he's a little shit-

He will tease about quite literally anything, just to annoy

Why? Why not

Yes, he is a kind and noble man. No, that does not keep him away from being mischievous

If you have some typpa crush on him, he WILL know. No matter how much you try to hide it, he's unfortunately very observant

Example, he will flex his muscles while training if he notices you looking, though subtly and making it look accidental of course. He might even wink at you if he's feeling particularly bold that day

He's one of those that "doesn't want to take sides" when a conflict comes up, though he ends up taking a side anyway because he's forced to

Is a nerd about animals. He's the type that's like "Well actually-" if you get a fact wrong about an animal

He knows, he's been a hunter before

It is irritating if you talk about your favorite animal and he corrects you. like bro let me enjoy stuff

"I like raccoons, they're funny-" said anyone (or you) before Tomas corrects them by saying weird ass facts about raccoons

He's a "no, you pick" in a relationship most of the time. And most of the time, it's chill, but sometimes it is kinda hard if you both say that. It just won't end

Yk that annoying couple that's giggling and all "no, you pick!" Until it actually turns into an argument? It reminded me of that

He's insanely lucky at board games. Like BRO wdym you just picked a card that said you own the bank now?!

He'd taunt about it too

As I said, he's very perceptive. Don't try hiding stuff, he will know if you're hiding stuff or if something is wrong and etc

"Did you eat my dessert in the fridge?" "No" "I know you're lying"

Actual conversation between one of his brother and him

He'd pester until he gets the truth, too

Well that's all bbg, I hope it's alright!

Gifs not from me. I got inspired by some mk fanfics and environment lol

[kindaasrikal]

Exploring the stupidity of the fact that Morro and Garmadon are stuck in the departed realm together, part 2:

Part 1 - Part 3

Garmadon: Alright Morro, let’s at least try and get to know each other.

Morro: what do you not get, Garmadon? I don’t WANT to know anything about you, or your pathetic life.

Garmadon: Well, if only you had a choice in the matter.

Morro: *tied to a tree after coming across a wild Garmageddon*…i demand a rematch.

Garmadon: Sure!

Morro:…really?-

Garmadon: After we get to know each other, of course!

Morro: i demand freedom.

Garmadon: Uhuh. *pulls out a stack of papers* By any chance, have you ever heard of 21 questions? It’s quite an entertaining game Lloyd introduced to me. *he says with a nostalgic smile*

Morro: yeah, that brat tried playing it with me when i took away his free will.

Garmadon:…You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?

Morro: no sh-mmph!

Garmadon: *covers Morro’s mouth, who is now wriggling around like a trapped chicken* Enough of that. Now let’s see…*he flicks through some of the papers* ah ha!

Garmadon: My first question, child, shall be finding out your most favourite colour!

Morro:

Garmadon:

Morro:

Garmadon:…I see that was a foolish question to ask, so let us move to a different one-

Morro: ifti pifksbsv

Garmadon: What?

Morro: *glares at Garmadon*

Garmadon: Ah, right. *removes his hand* what is it that you said?

Morro: it’s pink.

Garmadon: Huh.

Morro: pink. Thats my favourite colour.

Garmadon:

Garmadon: Hm

Morro: shut up.

Garmadon: I didn’t say a word.

Morro: i can see your face, you old fart.

Garmadon: Well, is it my fault green seemed more likelier than pink?

Morro: don’t ever say i like green. That colour disgusts me.

Garmadon:…Is it because-

Morro: your son’s eyes only made the disgust worse, not create it.

Garmadon: Aren’t you a sweet one, child.

Garmadon: Morro.

Morro:

Garmadon: Morro?

Morro:

Garmadon: Morro, now is not the time to ignore me.

Morro:

Garmadon: Are you really going to act so childish, simply because I had made you call me uncle once?

Morro:

Garmadon: Child.

Morro:

Garmadon: Nephew.

Morro: *a slight twitch has occurred.*

Garmadon:…..

Morro:…….

Garmadon:…..

Morro:…….

Garmadon: Morro Wu, stop ignoring me this insta-

Garmadon:

Garmadon: Now, I highly doubt throwing the top of a mountain at me will help.

Morro: you know, i always wanted to ask you or Sensei this.

Garmadon: *sitting in a meditative position* Hm?

Morro: why’d the First spinjitzu master name you Garmadon Garmadon?

Garmadon:…My meditation can wait, excuse me???

Morro: i mean, seriously, Garmadon Garmadon sounds ridiculous. No wonder you turned evil, i would too if i was given such a dumb name. Not to mention, where the heck did he even get the name Garmadon from? Like, i understand Wu, that one makes sense, but Garmadon? It sounds like the name of some weird species of animals thats only just been discovered or something.

Garmadon: Pot, meet kettle.

Morro: what

Garmadon: Nothing. Now, why exactly do you think my name is Garmadon Garmadon?

Morro: uh, your son? His last name is Garmadon?

Garmadon: Do you mean Lloyd?

Morro: what, do you have a secret son hidden away or something?? Yes, the Green Ninja!

Garmadon:….Child, why exactly do you think I call you Morro Wu, instead of Morro Garmadon?

Morro: cause your name’s ugly?

Garmadon: You really are your father’s son.

Morro: wu is nOT MY FATHER-

Morro: why are you so old.

Garmadon: What-

Morro: but not bald?

Garmadon: *baffled* Just because I am old, does not mean I would go bald, Morro.

Morro: but…

Garmadon: Hm?

Morro: Wu is bald, and he’s younger then you, why do you have hair???

Garmadon:

Morro:

Morro: Oh my GOD. YOU WEAR A WIG???

Garmadon: NO I DO NOT STOP SCREAMING-

Yeah thats all i got, rlly long ones that im not even sure are good but i find them funny and i have school work so maybe thats effecting my humour atm :(

Anyways i love the Morro and Garmadon duo and if you havent heard in my last few posts i gave them a duo name. Heres more of the Tempest duo!

[chebyshevptera]

What do you think about Jaya dynamic in this season?

ok. honestly? i liked it…….

i’m a sucker for jaya and they’re acting exactly like I thought they would. jay being reluctant to receive help and companionship, and nya butting heads with him and being stubborn and not taking no for an answer, and jay caving because wow this lady is so annoying, there’s no point in arguing with her ? Yeah that’s them to me

yeah yeah, I know, the “i will always hate you” stuff floating around, maybe it’s weird to see jay behaving like this with nya, but I don’t mind it. they could play around with it in part 2, for all we know , but even if they don’t, idk, that makes sense to me? his eyes turned red in that moment, it was probably the influence of shatterspin lol

and it’s not like Jay has warmed up to her. he “let her” help him down the stairs, but then in the next scene, we see that he’s walking on his own with nya close by. I have a feeling he pushed her off when she finally would let him go . he’s only at the monastery because he needs treatment , he wouldn’t have gone with them willingly otherwise. he doesn’t LIKE the ninja, doesn’t ask them permission from stuff, he avoids them, says rude things to them. He probably tones it down with Nya cuz… she’s Nya. She already punched him once, he’s probably not looking to get punched again

I liked their bickering too. the “why do you wanna help me?” / “because I know who you are, you big dummy” is just…. Ohhh it’s so perfect. Literally exactly how I thought they would act. Nya isn’t taking nonsense from Jay because she knows him, he’s not some big tough mercenary with a cold heart, he’s just a guy with a lot of feelings that are pretty hurt right now 😭

but also, important to remember, Jay still retains a lot of his interests, even if he doesn’t have the memories that relate to them. You don’t have to remember stuff to have emotional reactions to certain things . there’s probably something about her that makes him feel warm and fuzzy, even if it’s underneath anger and frustration. after all, he still loves video games, he’s been inventing… and he’s still got that perpetually uncomfortable demeanor 😭

but yeah. idk. I should wait until p2 to say more about them, but so far, I LOVE them so much… Jaya you will always be real to me

[sadiepeach]

Small ninjago dragons rising theory (s3p2 leak spoilers below)

I feel like I'm about to point out the obvious right now, but at the same time, I've seen no one talk about this, so I might as well share my thoughts.

I've been thinking about all the new information we got in s3p2 regarding Jay's circumstances with the Administration.

I used to consider Jay's post-merge arc to be something like this:

Administation Agent Era -> Wolf Clan Era -> Rogue Era

But the more I think about it, the more I start to believe that it looks more like this:

Administration Agent With Memories Era -> Administration Agent Without Memories Era -> Wolf Clan Era -> Rogue Era

Let’s recap all the information that Jay has provided.

1. The first thing he remembers is waking up in the Land of Madness without ANY information about himself whatsoever, not even his name.

2. Some agents found him and told him his name and that he worked at the Administration like them, doing Realm Reassignment.

3. The Administration had photos of Jay. (Although Jay says they're fake. Actually no, he just says that stuff like that can be faked. Hm.)

4. Leaving the Administration is something no agent ever does. (Theoretically)

What I'm trying to get at is that, it seems weird to me that anyone would just walk up to Jay, call him by his actual accurate real name and give him a job at the Administration that is pretty high in the hierarchy if they hadn't actually known him before and he hadn't actually worked there at some point and earned that spot, because he is not just some random intern / subagent, he is a MANAGER.

My theory is that Jay probably ended up at the Administration right after the Merge, with his memories intact and thought that he would maybe be able to find / intersect with the other Ninjas if he worked in the Realm Reassignment Department and then they'd escape together. He does just that, gets promoted to manager, but he waits for so long that he starts to lose hope, so he decides to search for them himself. Since the Administration doesn't take leaving lightly at all, I wouldn't be surprised if they were pretty pissed that Jay tried to escape and just. Took his memories and then acted like whoops actually we just found you without memories but yeah you do work with us here's actual photos please come back with us 🥺🥺🥺 and from there we vaguely know what happens. Jay, with no memories, gets upset with / sick of the Administration for an unknown reason and tries to leave, gets rescued by Ras yada yada

So yeah, I'd love to hear everybody else's thoughts on this and if you have another theory, I'd love to read about it^^

[bananaman-mp3]

[ID: A screenshot of a reblog with the blog's url and profile picture scribbled outin red that reads: "...conditionally and only if you never disagree with them? O.o"

the tags underrneath read: "#it never stops baffling me #how fandom turned these two into some idea of love #when the story is literall Naruto obsessign over Sasuke who is not interrsted #and then beating him almost to death because Sasuke doesn't think genocide is good pooitcal move actually #like FFS pls read more mangas people" End ID]

are you serious... if naruto only loved him conditionally why did he risk everything to save him, even when everyone else was set on killing him for being a traitor to konoha?

the guy threw his dignity away, in the eyes of everyone, to defend public enemy #1

he always called sasuke his friend, he never stated that he would only consider him a friend only if he returned as a konoha ninja.

loves him conditionally my ass.

and like- the idea that naruto can only love people that never disagree with him is so fundamentally against his character it's almost comical. if that were true naruto wouldve simply killed nagato. he wouldn't have tried to understand him or talk him out of it the way he did, once he heard his story. he wouldn't have tried talking to obito either. or even neji, konohamaru and inari, as small as those moments look in comparison.

the obsession part would make more sense, given how much he thought about him and wanted him back, to the point even his friends and the girl who was in love with sasuke thought it was too much.

yet the part about naruto beating sasuke up is... weird. they do realize naruto was fighting him because sasukes idea of a revolution meant to martyr himself for the sake of peace, the way his brother did, right?

they do realize that sasuke wanted to kill him at that point too, right? that it wasn't naruto beating a defenseless sasuke, right?

if anything, naruto was leaning on the defensive side and sasuke was the one trying to beat him up. but the were pretty fucking tied in terms of power. thats why he came close to killing sasuke (and viceversa. stop treating sasuke like a weakling.)

now, that doenst mean naruto is completely in the right to simply undermine or ignore konohas wrongdoing just because it only fuels the cycle of violence. naruto himself is victim of konohas shit system, and he has acknowledged many of the problems it caused. he promised to nagato that hed help amegakure when he became hokage.

of course you could argue that narutos methods may not be as effective for change as sasukes more aggressive plan, since systemic change is rarely if ever achievable by working within it. but im not that good with politics so i dont think im the best to talk about it, and that already goes beyond the topic here.

sasukes violent reaction to konohas mistreatment of the uchiha was completely understandable and anyone in his place wouldve don the same. lets make that clear here. i think saying he was highly justified is not a controversial take, at least here. konoha and the shinobi system ARE fucked up.

also, love that 'sasuke is not interested' bit. op, why did sasuke want to kill naruto? tell me.

me when im not interested:

so yeah i think that's a pretty inaccurate take on sasukes feelings towards naruto.

[l0sercat]

I keep coming back to request 2012 shredder fics and I’m doing that again

Could you possibly do a regular civilian x shredder (gender neutral possibility???) getting tangled up with his work

Also thank you for writing these fics I am deprived and this is were I get my feast 🙏

I love you so much, thank you for sending requests about my fav! And it's my pleasure I'm always happy to write about my bbg, I'm glad I'm able to feed you lmfao. This is kinda trash cs I think he's a little ooc but I hope you enjoy anyways:)) Idk I just want him to be all soft w me 😭🥺

2012!Shredder x reader

Maybe you were a civilian who liked to explore abandoned buildings and you stumbled upon him and his henchmen with the mutagen

Or you simply stumbled upon him fighting the turtles, you were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and after he had his ass beat because of the turtles plot armour You gasp and help him, thinking some weird mutants or aliens beat up this poor dude, yeah its strange he is wearing all that armour, but maybe its his hobby or something

If it's the second option, he is in so much pain that he can't register that your some stranger pushing debris off of him and tearing your clothes so you can make them in makeshift bandage's for him, your ready to call an ambulance when he grabs your wrist and shakes his head

He stares at you with a unknown look in his eyes, your confused and before your able to speak he says something "Who are you?" You blink at him and give a awkward smile "I'm ____, your badly injured please let me call help" He groans as he sits up and stands up although he's shaking

"That's not necessary, leave now and do whatever you were doing before, don't tell anyone what you saw or else" You give him a bewildered look "I- what? Sir your critically injured I don't think you should be walking anywhere. You are likely to collapse please at least let me help you get wherever you are going..?" Saki sighs and turns his head to glare at you

You are so persistent in helping him, he wonders why. Do you expect something out of him? Or are you truly a good person? He knows your right though, he is likely to collapse on his way back. His vision is blurry and it hurts just to breathe. "Fine you can take me to my place" you beam at him and rush to his side, you side yourself under his arm and let him lean on you for support

He suppresses the sounds of pains, he doesn't want to seem weak. His whole body hurts, but he can't deny that you helping him makes it hurt less. You try to start some small talk but he doesn't answer. You get the hint and stop talking, you let your eyes roam over his body.

How his face seems a little scarred under the helmet and mask, his eye is bloodshot. His muscles are evident and you can't helo but admire them. His biceps and his thighs are big and strong. You bet he has at least a nice pack of abs under the armour. You can admire the dedication and work he must have put in to get that buff. And gosh you'd be lying if you said he wasn't attractive...

Saki notices your staring, your gaze burning into his skin. How your face heats up and you let out a startled sound and whisper an apology looking away when he looks down at you making eye contact. He raises a brow a small smirk forms on his face. You were amusing, his hand grips on you upper arm.

When you finally reach the big building your eyes bulge. You were expecting an apartment not a huge tower. You stuttered and looked at him "Are you sure this is your place? Did your head get hit too hard?" He chuckles and immediately regrets it as his body is shot in pain. "Yes..I'm sure..Come on" he talks slow as to not be in more pain

You nod your head and you help him inside, your arm that's wrapped around him tightens. A little intimidated by how creepy the building is, how there are so many people dressed as ninjas. You dare not say anything though, you don't want to offend him. You both make your way to the medical facility. You let him sit down on the bed. He sighs and lays down, his body is on fire.

You don't know what to do. "Um excuse me sir, do you need me to help you? Or am I free to go?" He eyes your form, you look so nervous, your fidgeting with your fingers. It adorable "Go get supplies to fix my injuries, and then you can leave if you want" You nod your head and you make your way towards the cabinet

He peels off his armour, not worried if you would try to attack him. You were small and weak compared to him. He knew you wouldn't try anything and if you did, even in this shape, there wasn't much you could do. You see his topless form and can't help but to bite your lip, damn did he look good. But you shake off those thoughts and help him. You tend to his wounds, your touch is gentle and everytime he groans you whisper an apology.

Saki doesn't remember the last time he felt such a gentle touch. Someone who is nice with him, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. So he did the only thing logical, he asked you to work for him. More exactly, act as a doctor for him and you would receive many benefits. You would stay in the tower in your own room. Everything you need would be provided, you just need to be able to take care of Shredder and his mens wound's.

Although Shredder doesn't like sharing his little nurse, he wants to keep you for himself. Not let anyone feel how gentle you are or hear your laughter. He is a very selfish man, but he knows his men need someone to help them. He would always make sure he is last so that way you can take your time. He talks with you more than he talks with anyone. You are the only one he is vulnerable with.

He feels some kind of comfort and is very relaxed with you. He likes the side you bring out of him. It took you some time to bring down his walls slowly. But he eventually, little by little, lets you in. He always visits you even when he doesn't need to. Invites you to eat dinner with him and Karai. Karai doesn't say anything but she smirks, she'll make a private comment to him later. Tease him about having a soft spot for someone. He'll just grumble under his breath and storm off all moody.

But the truth is, she's right. He knows, everyone knows it. It becomes obvious to you to, but you just don't know how to approach the subject. So you keep on doing your duties, you know he'll purposely act like he's hurt. You can tell he inflicted some of these injuries. You know how he loves the attention you give him. You love how his eyes soften and his face reddens, his lips form a very small smile, how his body relaxes when you brush your fingers over his skin. How you coo and make a 'fuss' over him. "Reprimanding" him for always being so careless.

Like always you take care of Shredder, applying ointment and then wrapping up the wounds. Without thinking you brought his scarred and bruised knuckles to your lips. You placed a soft chaste kiss into them, letting your lips linger onto the skin. Shredder's eyes widen and his whole body tenses. You don't even realize what you've done before it's too late. You pull back immediately and profusely apologize. He gets up without a word and walks out, placing his helmet back on his head.

Your trembling, scared you just ruined everything. But he isn't mad, no infact he couldn't be happier. His heart races but he doesn't know how to confront his feelings. So he decided to run away, he may be very intelligent but not emotionally. No, so instead of being a man and talking to you. He avoids you, even when you try to talk to him. He dismisses you and ignores you. Even if he is seriously hurt he refuses to go to you. He just doesn't want to confront his feelings, his 'weakness'. He is closed off again, Karai frowns and tries to convince her father. To try to talk to you that this isn't good for him. But he doesn't listen, he gets harsher to everyone.

So your only option is to go to him when he is just sitting on his throne. Sulking like always, it makes you smile. He was so childish sometimes, he notices you and stiffens. He gets up and tells you to leave, but you ignore him. You confess your feelings to him and he stares at you. He doesn't know what to say, but his body moves without thinking. His hands cup your face, his head leans down and your foreheads press against each other's. He closes his eyes and yours flutter shut as well. He doesn't say anything but you know he feels the same way

He takes your hands in his and brings them close to his chest. Letting you feel how fast his heart is beating. Under the mask his face is flushed and he has a small smile. (I know this is sooo ooc and honestly should be more slowburn but damnit I want him now! Plus who cares imma self indulge, idc if he'd kill me/us in canon, in fiction that man wants me/us)

Now if you discovered them with the ooze. That's even more slowburn right there. Maybe your a test subject for the mutagen. But instead of turning you into a hideous mutant. It only works halfway, giving you animal features. You have ears and a tail but your not fully formed. Shredder is intrigued and keeps you as a personal pet. You do little task he wants you to do.

And he rewards you, he also loves to infanilitize you. He will talk down on you for the power trip, he loves feeling superior. He'll pat your head, scratch behind you ears. Maybe even play with them and then mockingly boop your nose. He pulls your tail to get your attention. If you try to attack him he'll threaten to declaw you

You are his property and he doesn't start to see you in a different way until a over a year. You both have to break down each other's walls. You are the first to break, starting a small conversation with him. He is the only one your around most of the time. Your so lonely and isolated and you break and try to converse with him. He responds and converses back with you. If he has nothing better to do than to ponder on plans, then he'll tell stories of his past or missions. He'll walk you around the tower so you both can clear your head.

He only opened up because he felt a sense of trust with you. He knew you wouldn't say anything to anyone. Plus it felt nice getting everything off his chest and sharing with someone. He soon stopped treating you like a pet and more like a 'friend'. Now I use the word friend lightly because friend is a strong word when it comes to him.

In every scenario, You have to confess first, Saki is too headstrong and prideful to do so. But he will accept the confession and say he feels the same way. And things turn out good, Saki is very sweet and loving in his own way. And Karai couldn't be happier for the both of you. Saki is found someone else to obsess over. He is still wanting to kill them, but it doesn't consume his mind as much anymore.

Only happy endings for these routes!!!!

[hellsballz]

Jay and Kai please? For the character dissection thingymabob?

HELL YEAH! tysm for the ask<3 some dr s3 spoilers will be mentioned in jays text! JAY How I feel about this character: I LOVE HIM LOTS! I always say i dont have a favourite ninja and its because i think all of them are awesome and they all balance each other out. i love jays personality in early seasons especially. he is pretty hyper which makes sense for a lighting ninja and he is a literal defenition of unmedicated adhd (me!). i love this guy hes so fun. but i also love the new direction dr is taking him in. making him more serious and making him a depressed dude and is also unmedicated and has amnesia is so interesting and i LOVE IT SO MUCH! i cant wait for s3 to see more of rogue.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: NYA... NYA... NYA!!!!! jaya is my favourite jay ship i think, but mostly because of dragons rising. they make my heart ache and i want to squeeze doc wyatt for breaking my heart like that. i also really like plasma:) im a bit of a multishipper so in my mind they can co-exist (not in the same universe plane ofc). early season plasma is my fav though! esp pilots and seasons 1-2. i dont think i ship him with anyone else though? i might be forgetting someone bc bad memory but oh well, might edit this later to add other ppl

My non-romantic OTP for this character: COLE. oh my god they are my everything. jay and cole are best friends always and forever in my heart, i know its literally canon but its so unutulized it makes me so sad. i hope we can see more of their friendship shine through in dr! cole missing jay, his best friend... rogue having some faint memories of haging out with a black-hair, bushy browed boy when he was younger... UGHHH

My unpopular opinion about this character: okay this may be more of a prime empire opinion but i dont like prime empire as a jay season. at all. i went in to watch it for the first time expecting something good and fun but it did not do him justice. like boy why are you talking to a mecha dragon on top of a rooftop about how your parents left you bitch the poeple that RAISED YOU are literally well and alive you can call them right now😭🙏

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: i wish we got to see more of ed and edna in later seasons. i want to see more of their relationship! family dynamic! they stopped appearing after day of the departed which breaks my heart. why didnt they say anything to jay during/after nyas funeral?! come on! KAI How I feel about this character: I ALSO LOVE HIM! like with jay i especially like early season kai but this time it may be my nostalgia shining through as he was my favourite ninja as a kid (even though like i said i now dont have a fav ninja). him being a hotheaded guy that does not give a single shit about all those other losers and that weird old man and just wants to save his sister is so fun, it poses such a cool dynamic between him and other ninja. but i of course love later kai too. him caring for lloyd, being a little mean to jay... oh i love him lots!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: plasma as stated b4... esp early season but i already said that. i dont really have many ships for him because i feel like even tough there are many girls that are head over heels for him he cannot flirt to save his life. i mean... theres def the kailor situationship. its so funny to me i love it. i also like destiny but its more of a rivarly/enemies to making out gay-ly then romantical. him and morro would jump to eachothers throats and tear eachother down like two dogs but in a gay way if you know what i mean <3

My non-romantic OTP for this character: EUGH RBG SIBLINGS DO I NEED TO SAY MORE

My unpopular opinion about this character: okay also more of a season opinion like with jays prime empire but oh well - i think hands of time has too much kai in it 😭SORRYYY SORRYYYY i once saw someone say that in hands of time kai is doing everything and nya is just there and i wholeheartedly agree with that One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: let him worry about shit more PLEASE