#He sees the reflection of the person he loves in this dream girl

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

1. something awful

warnings: nothing, but there might be suggestive content

summary: in which people suspect the singer Y/N Stella left the Miami GP after party earlier because of Lando

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 3.3k

✧ next up

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . MAY. 　⁺ 　 . ✦

INSTAGRAM

paddockgirl

❤️ by user1, ynfan2, landonorris and more

paddockgirl: Spotted: the ever-dazzling Y/N Stella, slipping away from Miami’s hottest ticket—Lando Norris' maiden F1 victory after-party—way earlier than expected. Draped in designer and with her usual charm, the pop starlet didn’t stay to bask in the post-win glow. Instead, she was seen hurrying off alongside Bella Hadid and Y/BFF, each departing in separate cars.

Was the night too electric, or was something more simmering beneath the surface? With those hurried steps and that unbothered demeanor, it seems Y/N was in a rush to leave the celebrations behind. No word yet on what—or who—might have prompted her sudden exit, but in the world of fast cars and even faster whispers, one thing’s for sure: the story doesn’t end here.

You know you love this,

XOXO, the paddock girl

click here to open comment section

user5: ok is it just me or she looks disturbed?

user3: ok what is going on

landofan4: WJAT IS THE MIAMI GP WINNER DOING IN THE LIKES???????? WTF

ynfan8: lando liking this means something.... right?

ynfan10: add fire to fuel lando!!! we love to see it

landofan3: god what is happening???

ynfan8: some fans (like myself) think they have a relationship

ynfan15: yeah sure if they're dating why would she leave her boyfriend's VERY FIRST F1 victory after prty tho??

landofan7: lando like this if you're going after her ❤️ by landonorris

landofan11: SHUT UP HE DID NOT

TWITTER

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

it was long past midnight on May 6th, the night after Lando’s maiden victory.

the party had been good—electric energy, laughter, your father in his element, proud beyond measure—but you couldn’t stay in that stuffy, cramped place for another second, so you slipped away quietly, not warning anyone other than andrea amd zak to step into the cool night air outside the club.

the city’s hum was faint, the night, chilly. you looked at your phone screen to check the time: 1:12am.

you quickly ordered an uber, the car arriving minutes later. as you slid into the backseat, you felt the weight of the night sinking in. your mind wandered back to Lando—his smile, the way his eyes sparkled when he took off the helmet, how he looked so free and so alive, how you hadn’t been able to pull your gaze away from him all evening. there was something about him, something that made you feel all the things you didn’t want to feel, and it was getting harder to ignore.

Lando always made you feel like he completed something inside of you, like you could sit and listen to him talk for hours, just staring and memorizing his perfectly crafted features just so you could have the chance to do it all again in your dreams—the sweet ones and the wild.

you let all your armor fall near him, you let him see you and in return he… existed; he didn't have to do much to satisfy you. and he had no idea that his "baby boss" was falling more and more in love with the person he was every day.

the uber ride was quiet, the streets almost empty at this hour, and your mind couldn’t focus on anything else except the way Lando’s laugh had filled the room earlier, how effortless he made everything seem. as the car stopped in front of the hotel, you paid the driver and stepped out, feeling the chill of the night air hit your skin.

you didn’t want to go back inside. not yet. not when the night felt like it was still unfolding. so you found your way to the hotel’s poolside, the water reflecting the soft light from the overhead lamps. you leaned against the edge, arms folded, gazing up at the dark sky, the stars scattered like whispers above you.

it was quiet here. peaceful. no one else around.

so you just took the moment in: you let out a soft breath, trying to calm the flutter in your chest.

how was it that he could make everything inside you feel so real? it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. but every time you looked at him, every time your eyes met his, you could feel it—something more than just friendship, more than the playful teasing. it was becoming harder to hide, harder to pretend it wasn’t there.

you stayed there laid and thinking for about an hour, letting the cool air settle around you, trying to push all the thoughts of him aside, but they kept circling back. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you or how he made you laugh, it was something deeper. something you didn’t know how to handle yet. but you didn’t want to fight it either.

you were at peace until a stepping noise caught your attention.

you blinked, slightly startled, as Lando dipped his feet in the water next to you, his gaze locking onto yours with that signature mischievous grin. his hair was tousled, his shirt untucked, and there was a casual swagger to his movements, even in his slightly drunken state.

“what are you doing here, norris?”

“shouldn't i ask you that, Cinderella?” he smirked, his voice teasing yet warm, the kind of charm that was both effortless and infuriating.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed the fact that you were glad he showed up. “don’t call me that, Lando.”

“why not?” he leaned back, getting comfortable. “you ran off after midnight! it's the perfect nickname actually, if you stop and think.”

“no it's not,” you shot back, the corners of your mouth twitching in amusement.

“should i stick with baby boss then?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he glanced over at you, waiting for your reaction.

your heart skipped. baby boss. he always said it so casually, yet it carried a weight to it that you couldn’t quite shake off.

"it's not baby boss," you sighed, trying to ignore the way your stomach fluttered. "but whatever, I’m sure you’ll call me something equally ridiculous anyway."

Lando just shrugged, unfazed by your resistance. “it’s either that or Cinderella. take your pick.”

you shook your head, but the warmth spreading in your chest told you that, somehow, it didn’t really matter what he called you. the sound of his voice, the way he spoke to you like no one else did—like you were someone important to him—was enough to make you feel something you couldn’t name.

"you’ve really got no filter, do you?" you muttered, feeling the tension between you start to shift. there was something about him that made it impossible to stay distant, something that kept pulling you in, even though you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“why would i?” Lando grinned, unabashed. “filters are overrated.”

he turned to look at you again, his gaze locking onto yours with that effortlessly charming look that made your heart race.

you two were there, under the midnight sky, staring into the universe's infinite darkness, the soft hum of distant waves mingling with the steady beat of your pulse. the quiet was almost deafening, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze.

and yet, even in this peaceful, still moment, there was a strange intensity in the air between you and him. it wasn’t the alcohol or the high of the night’s events; it was something more—a quiet understanding, a shared breath.

“filters exist so we don't sound stupid, or insensitive. it's made so we know what to say and when to say it. they're not overrated,” you explain.

Lando’s lips quirked up, his eyes never leaving yours. “oh, c'mon, baby boss,” he laughed, rolling his green eyes, glistening with amusement. “there's gotta be a small bit of you that's like... shameless or something.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but deep down, the way he looked at you made it hard to stay detached. you took a breath, the night suddenly feeling a little heavier than before.

“maybe,” you admitted, staring out at the water.

Lando shifted slightly on the beside you to get a better look at you. the warm glow of the pool lights danced across his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his green eyes. he was so close now, his arm resting lazily on the edge of the lounger, his gaze steady on yours.

“then, quick, quick. tell me something awful,” he urged again, his tone playful but low, as though he was sharing a secret with you.

you hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. you wanted to match his energy, to keep it light, but the weight of the night and his persistent gaze made it impossible to hold back. before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“lost my virginity with a guy who only did me because he felt sorry for me.”

the moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. the air seemed to shift, the playful spark dimming as Lando went still. he didn’t laugh, didn’t smirk or tease like you expected. instead, his brows furrowed slightly, and he looked at you like he was trying to piece together how anyone could make you feel that way.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the silence. “i didn’t—”

“it’s fine,” you cut him off quickly, not wanting the moment to linger in the rawness of your confession. your eyes dropped to the shimmering pool water, the ripples almost hypnotic. “really. it’s... a long time ago.”

there was a pause, the kind that made the air between you feel heavier. Lando didn’t move, didn’t look away. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer, like he was sharing something equally intimate.

“you deserve so much better than that,” he said, his words careful but full of conviction. “i mean... i wouldn’t do that to you.”

your eyes flicked back to his, and the sincerity there caught you off guard. Lando wasn’t teasing now, wasn’t trying to be charming. he meant it.

you let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the moment, but it sounded more like a sigh. “thanks, i guess,” you murmured, your voice almost getting lost in the gentle rustle of the breeze.

Lando tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer. “no, i mean it,” he said firmly, leaning in just slightly. “you’re... all due respect, hot as hell.”

his words hit you harder than you expected. it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it, like he was genuinely baffled that anyone could treat you as anything less than extraordinary. you swallowed, your chest tightening in a way that made you feel vulnerable but also... safe.

“you’re full of surprises,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, but your voice wavered just enough to betray the emotion building inside you.

“just being honest,” he shrugged, that familiar grin tugging at his lips again, though his eyes stayed soft. “besides, you know me, Cinderella—no filter. shameless.”

you smiled despite yourself, your fingers brushing over the cool metal of the marble floor.

“what's your big secret, Norris? your awful thing,” you asked, prompting yourself on one of your sides so you could have a better look at him under the midnight hours.

did he look handsome? as usual.

his tousled hair framed his face just right, the perfect mix of messy and deliberate, matching the black dress shirt, wrinkled and unbuttoned, as if it naturally rebelled against perfection.

the soft glow from the pool lights danced over his features, catching in his green eyes and making them look impossibly vivid, like they were lit from within. his cheekbones looked sharper in the low light, and the subtle curve of his lips held that ever-present smirk, the one that seemed to say he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“oh, so now you want my dirty laundry?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“fair trade, i guess,” you shot back, the corners of your lips twitching into a smile.

for a second, his expression shifted—something darker, something more intent flickered across his face. before you could fully register it, he leaned closer to you, barely blinking as he moved toward you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft but curious as your heart began to pick up its pace.

he didn’t answer. instead, he stopped once you could feel his breath against your face, his eyes locked on yours. his beautiful face was so close now that you could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw and the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed.

your breath caught with how he looked at you, his gaze intense but not unkind, the teasing smirk replaced by something that felt... heavier. his voice was low when he finally spoke, almost a whisper but laced with unmistakable intent.

“i know i’m drunk and you're my boss' daughter but... god, i wanna take you upstairs so bad. take that dress out of your body… you do things to me, y/n, do you have any idea of that?”

the world around you seemed to fade into the background, the gentle ripple of the pool and the faint hum of the city swallowed by the intensity of the moment. Lando’s words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying, as if the universe itself had paused to watch what you’d do next.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. his proximity was dizzying, his scent—a mix of cologne, champagne, and something uniquely him—invading your senses. you tried to find your voice, but the way his green eyes bored into yours made it nearly impossible to think straight.

“Lando...” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

he didn’t move, didn’t blink, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to your eyes, and you felt your stomach flip.

you blinked, trying to process the raw honesty in his words. the Lando you knew—the easygoing, cheeky driver who always had a joke ready—was nowhere to be found. In his place was someone far more vulnerable, someone baring his soul without hesitation.

“you're drunk,” you managed to say, though your voice wavered. “you don't mean that.”

he shook his head, a small, almost bitter laugh escaping his lips. “maybe i am. but i’ll still mean it tomorrow. and the day after that.”

his voice still low, intimate. his eyes searched yours, daring you to look away. “you think i haven't been biting my tongue for months? pretending you don’t make me feel like i’m losing my mind every time you walk into a room?”

your breath hitched. you wanted to say something—anything—but the truth was, part of you wanted him to say it again. part of you wanted him to act on it, consequences be damned. and that terrified you.

“i—” you broke off, shaking your head as you sat up straighter, trying to put some space between the two of you. “Lando, we can’t.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. “why not?” he asked, his tone calm but challenging. “because you’re andrea's daughter? because i drive for mclaren? or because you’re scared?”

the question caught you off guard, and you felt your defenses crumble just a little. “i’m not scared,” you lied, your voice trembling slightly.

“liar,” he said softly, his lips curving into a knowing smile. but there was no malice in his tone, just a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten.

you looked away, your gaze falling to the water, the reflections rippling like your thoughts. “this... whatever this is—it’s complicated. it’s not supposed to happen.”

“maybe not,” he admitted, his voice steady. “but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the moment. you wanted to argue, to tell him he was being reckless, that nothing good could come from this. but the truth was, part of you didn’t want to stop him.

the carefully constructed walls you had built to keep your feelings for him at bay were crumbling, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to stop it.

“lando…” you began, but he cut you off, leaning in again, his voice urgent now.

“tell me you don’t feel it too,” he said, his green eyes boring into yours, his vulnerability laid bare. “tell me i’m imagining this, and i’ll stop. i’ll walk away right now.”

you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. you couldn’t tell him that, because it wasn’t the truth. you felt it—the pull, the tension, the way his presence made everything else fade away. and now, under the soft glow of the pool lights, with his gaze locked on yours, it was impossible to deny it.

“at least admit it’s there. admit i’m not crazy.”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and in that moment, you couldn’t lie.

“you’re not crazy,” you said softly, your chest tightening as the words left your lips. “it’s there.”

a silence fell between you, heavy and loaded with everything left unsaid. for a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you suspended in the weight of the confession.

then lando let out a shaky chuckle, a mix of relief and maybe something deeper.

just as you felt his lips brushing against yours, the moment was shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“there you are!” oscar’s voice called out, his tone light and oblivious.

you and lando froze, barely inches apart, before turning to see oscar standing in the doorway to the pool area, clad in a matching pajama set and a sheepish expression.

“fuck’s sake,” lando breathed under his breath, so quiet only you could hear it.

oscar’s eyes flicked between the two of you, slowly piecing together the tension in the air. “oh… uh, sorry to disturb your peace,” he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “but… your father told me to look for you, y/n. he is worried because you weren’t in your room.”

lando ran a hand down his face, muttering something incomprehensible before glancing at you, his expression unreadable now. you swallowed hard, the weight of what had almost happened still lingering between you as you nodded at oscar.

“right,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you smiled. “thanks, oscar. i’ll, um, be there in a second.”

oscar nodded, casting one last curious glance at lando before turning and disappearing back into the hotel.

“great timing,” he muttered, his tone half-joking but tinged with disappointment.

you bit your lip, unsure what to say. the moment was gone, but the tension wasn’t. and you knew it wouldn’t be so easy to push it aside.

“umm… maybe we can do it again, some time?” he joked, his tone light but his eyes searching yours as he got up.

he extended his hand to you, his fingers lingering in the air, waiting.

you hesitated for a moment before reaching out, your hand slipping into his. the warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

“yeah, yeah,” you replied, attempting to match his casual tone. “maybe when you’re not drunk?”

lando chuckled softly, the sound low and almost self-deprecating. “fair enough,” he said, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before darting away.

the air between you was still thick with unspoken words, but his attempt to lighten the mood was enough to ease some of the tension. even so, as you let go of his hand, you couldn’t ignore the lingering spark that stayed long after.

“i might need to get some air before i go inside... today was one of those days,” he smiled faintly, his hands slipping into his pockets.

“sure, yeah. congrats on the race, again. i’m proud of you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

his eyes lit up at your words, a genuine smile breaking through the fatigue. “thank you, y/n. it’s good when baby boss is proud,” he teased, a playful glint in his eye.

you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “good night, lando.”

“good night,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before you turned and walked away, leaving him to the quiet of the night.

as you stepped inside, your shoes on your hand, the cool air of the hall wrapped around you, but it did little to chase away the warmth his smile had left behind.

it wasn’t just his words or the way his eyes lingered—it was the quiet understanding in his voice, the unspoken connection that hummed between you. even as the door clicked shut behind you, you knew this moment would follow you, echoing in the corners of your mind long after the night had faded.

[cutieeva]

Oh shit ! I truly thought that (Y/N) has gone mad but it wasn't that way when I read the second episode !! 😔😔 I am sad for girly yet excited to read the next that's why please please please update fast 😘😘 (Also I love your writing, officially in love with you)

Bullied

Female Reader

Warnings : Bullying. Violence.

⌜ Thank you dearie for loving my art of writing, it never fails to makes me happy and here an belated update. ⌟

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

Loving someone itself is an act of selfish so why is leaving the relationship seen so heinous ? Sometimes one's own sake of happiness is needed more than another's if fallen out of love. The sooner (Y/N) understand the better.

"What is going on in that table ?"

"Is the girl okay ?"

"Why is she making a big deal about all ?"

"He is such a lovely boy yet she is so nasty accusing him for cheating ?"

"If I had a boyfriend like that I would die from happiness".

"He should break up with her".

"She seem toxic".

"(Y/N) ! Stop it and get up". Sophia's irritated voice reach her ears and (Y/N) couldn't help but feel all is jumbled. All is unclear. All is numb because does her suffering doesn't matter ? Yes, perhaps she is overreacting yet is it her fault when he was the one to lie about everything ?

Slowly her (E/C) eyes met Sophia's and other accountances she calls friends and her heart dropped.

Her pale face in snarl.

Other's cheeks red from thoroughly shame.

Another can't even share a glance at her.

The beautiful woman standing in awkward.

The guests are whispering, increasingly harsh, scary and the workers worried.

And lastly Cameron, stood looking hurt. In pain than she was and all her beliefs, reality begin distorting.

Is she a nuisance ?

Is she really overreacting over everything like others ?

Is she the one in wrong for not trusting him ?

Is being dated on bet and built an relationship on lies is alright as long as the faulty party apologize ?

If once the trust she believes was broken in the worst way, then is she the one to create drama ?

Are lies not serious ?

Do lies have little meaning ? Is playing with someone else's feeling is a small price for a relationship she didn't even realize ?

Is she overreacting ? "Am I overreacting ?" Despite people surround her, her own few people even the boyfriend she loved once yet why she suddenly feels so alone ? Lonely ? And hopeless ?

Daze with piling doubts and thousand pairs of eyes watching her, her hand yanked by Cameron. "I am sorry, I apologize for the scene". Smiling like a good man he hold her shoulder and walk her limp body to his car he drove.

In the entirety none dare break the ice in air while Cameron was in disappointment, (Y/N) in utter confusion. All she discover is that she has fall out of love, maybe from the moment he said 'I am now' in front of the men along losing herself. For the fear to let go she latched onto him, gifting him the second chance only to realize her suspicious, love turn into anger and anger form an hatred. An hatred she didn't knew. An hatred so deep she was unable to see his goodness anymore only searching faults.

Her entire being of happy, blunt, forgiving shaped into such a stranger her own eyes have harder to see from the clear fog. She shaped into a vicious, incredulous person. A person she never even dreamed to become.

"Get off". Cameron's that soft, smooth voice rip her from the creeping shadows of words inside her mind and her haze gaze glance to find herself house. His home they decide to turn into their love nest.

Sliding down from the car, she walked towards the lift without waiting for him to follow and press the cold metal button. Her eyes dried from the tears that caught her reflection in the shining metal and she couldn't help find the dark circles weight heavy under her eyes, rim edges red and hair— a mess with barely appropriate clothes on. She looks nothing alike the neat, fresh (Y/N).

She looks wasted, used and worn off self— the door of the lifts snap her out again, she blink twice before stepping in properly. Their floor came faster than she expect and the moment the doorknob twist open. She close her eyes ready to be face with angry lashing, words like knives twisting her guts yet none came.

Rather he remove his coat, wash his hands and smile. "What shall we eat then ?"

She merely stare at him.

He continue to smile. The smile she doesn't find warming, sweet.

"Maybe something different. Like Pollo al Ajillo, in English known as Garlic Chicken ? Hmm ?" A single word didn't slip her lips, standing at her roots.

And without her reply he decided. She watched him not moving her an inch cooking, smiling like a normal couple. Minutes bled into hours and little to no care he serve the food, finally ripping her from her roots and sat her beside him.

Stomach churn in no hunger and eyes burden to open, she look at him. "Let's take a break". The metal spoon his fingers held pause, his smile creased.

"I-I need spac—".

"You don't". He cut off smoothly. His smile wider to it's length than before and the spoon between his fingers lay on the wooden table. "I know what happen today was a little overboard but do not worry. It was my fault after all and it's alright. I forgive you". Soft his eyes he push the plate of food to her, an gesture to eat.

However she couldn't. Her eyes couldn't rip from the oblivious face, acting all normal, when nothing is. Nothing is normal. Their relationship is falling apart, their love draft from one another and trust long out of the picture.

He so easily utter his denial. She doesn't need space, perhaps she doesn't but wouldn't he at least ask the reason behind ? Even if it's known still ask and not play the game of pretend. It's exhausting because they are a real couple not actors in a play.

"Would you not ask me why ?" Her voice in end crack.

"Would it make a difference ?"

"Yes, a lot". Honestly she shares, it will help her a lot to understand the real Cameron, the one who she fell for or the one she saw when the illusion shatter.

He turn his head to her. "We are doing alright. It will be fine. Look am I not improving myself ?" No, she only sees him now complying to her wishes easily.

"I need space". She look away, his face reminding her of those cherish days. "We both need space". She finished, adamant on seperating even if it's for a moment she wants to breath, the tightness on her chest is too much and the alarming mistrust.

Once a pot is broken, even with the finest potter's hands can't fix the remained lines of past.

"Okay". To her surprise he agreed "I see, you need time to cool your head". With that he stood up and went to their shared bedroom leaving her and the cold food behind.

Her finger hold the spoon to take a bite of the dish however few inches from her lips she pause. Staring at the food and can't help but cry of unable to eat at the end. Merely thinking how without waiting for her choice, he cooked the food, only giving an illusion of choices.

☾

When one announce their break up. People's first reaction is : 

"Did he cheat ?"

"Did you cheat ?"

"Is he abusive ?"

"Manipulative ?"

"Controlling ?"

"A bet". (Y/N) would say. "I was a bet he was dared to date and in process he fell for me but he always treated not less than a princess and after I found out he begged, confessed his love. From then he always is perfect. Even ignoring my overreaction". All the voices stopped altogether. The harsh, doubtful all pause because in this picture nothing is wrong apart from the fact he was a liar, who lied and fixed himself for better. He really did but can it patch the wounds of her shattered faith in him ?

People always say second chance can change lives, do wonders and in her she saw. She can see why they give second chances yet she can't bring herself to love anymore. She is angry, stuck on the phrase where all laughed at her like a clown, whispering, betting for how long would she last.

Was she a human or a puppet ? He never defended her, he never share his thoughts with her. She doesn't even know him anymore. She really really is lost.

Even walking towards the metal gates of university seem heavy, scary. Her mind already twisted her vision of people laughing, hating her. Being the center of attention she so wants to be away from. Her (E/C) eyes glance around walking to her class recalling not to stumble upon them or him. She is enough exhausted. She doesn't need more.

BANG! She flinched, her nerves jolting.

BANG! Her eyelids snapped shut, shielding herself from the brutality.

BANG! The sound of flesh colliding with metal reverberated through her ears, leaving a buzzing ache. A human body, crumpling like a rag doll.

"Poor him. He should quit or complain". Not so subtle whispers like flicker of fire circle around, reaching her ears.

"Shouldn't he die at this rate ?" Cruel.

"What a bore. Really ? Everyday ? Isn't it such a nuisance—". Cruel. So, so cruel. Just because a person can't help himself doesn't give these people the chance to pity him. To paint him— the victim the cause of his own suffering. His silence was twisted into consent, his helplessness fuel for their merciless ridicule.

Cruel. Cruel. Cruel. Cruel. Laughter like devilish cackles echoed, faces feigning sympathy, eyes gleaming with fox-like innocence. Cowardly souls, masking their true nature.

She, too, wore a mask, hypocrisy veiling her own darkness.

That's why in a blink of an eye. Her once neat clean palm painted in crimson, stretch of iron reeking the air, painful grunts and horried screams and distorted yells is making no sense to her. She can't understand the aching in her palm, the cries of the familiar boy's underneath her, chanting of word fight and her own tears rolling down.

"Fight. Fight. Fright. Fright". The crowd roar fueling her more and more and more. Why are they encouraging ? Yet why does it feel like she is revelling in it ?

"(Y/N) ! Stop beating Adrian". Oh. Her palms ache because she is punching his face, painted in crimson because it's his blood, cries belong to Adrian who lay beneath her helpless like that boy he was seconds ago using as a ragdoll.

How wonderful.

She can't stop. She punch and punch and punch and punch uttering only three words. "I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry". Not to the bully— no never to Adrian. Never to the boy who is violent to innocent. It's to the victim, to the unknown jester of everyone's joke. For Everyone's play. For the system that enable Adrian's cruelty into fun.

She is sorry for blind. She is sorry for foolish. She is sorry for being coward. She is sorry for ignoring him. She is sorry for wearing mask of pretense herself. She is sorry for falling into the lies of Cameron. She is sorry for saying yes to his proposal. She is sorry for overreacting. She is sorry for suspecting. She is sorry for losing trust. She is sorry for not being happy with a perfect boyfriend.

She is sorry for fell in love.

She is sorry for.....everything.

To herself.

To everything.

☾

Dry tears stain her (S/C) cheeks as in empty space she stare, leaning on the chair in front of director's office. The woman's words faded into background noise, inaudible over the cacophony of her thoughts.

Her mind replayed the chaos: the frantic struggle, the flash of anger, the blur of fists. She couldn't recall who intervened, pulling her back from the brink of destruction. By then, he had already crumpled, unconscious. Her tangled hair bore witness to the scuffle, matted from the grasping hands of his minions, few blood dotted her blue jeans, a crimson constellation from her own nose. Her torn t-shirt hung askew, shoulder exposed while he— lay worse. Broken. Lifeless almost.

Yet no remorse stirred in her stomach, surprisingly. Instead, a lingering sense of justification lingered, eclipsed only by the anguish she felt for the victim. The one she had been compelled to defend, driven by a primal urge to protect she only dreamed.

"(Y/N), can you hear me?" The director's voice cut through the tension. "Do you comprehend the gravity of your situation? You're at risk of expelled !" An humorless laugh almost slip from (Y/N).

Expelled for what ? Punching a deserving scum to death while he punch an innocent boy to death when his skin wasn't even healed from the stitches of wounds Adrian left on him ?

(E/C) eyes stare at the female director who's blue glossy eyes stare at (Y/N) like she was a demon of chao when in her view, the real corrupt could be the adult, this lady who blind these physical, emotion abuse. Pain so small like (Y/N)'s bet and huge imprinting like that boy's scars for eternal to remember. Become something that etched in their memories, their experiences, though grave and painful, would be reduced to cautionary stories, diluted by time and retelling. The true weight of their suffering would remain unspoken, lost amidst the faint whispers of a forgotten past.

The tense standoff ended when the director's blue eyes darted past (Y/N), as if catching something She sighed audibly, her expression softening. "Get out. Reflect on your actions and the reasons for your two-week suspension. Expulsion is off the table." She mused confusing (Y/N)'s daze self a little and when she stood up, walking out of the room.

She understand meeting his concern eyes. Her boyfriend must have used his power.

Cameron swallowed under her intense gaze, part his lips to say when she continue to walk, aware of the pain in her body suddenly.

Alone in the empty hallway, she felt a fleeting sense of peace, liberated from the weight of others' judgments. Her footsteps echoed off the walls as she moved, ghost-like. Her eyes drifted to the scattered belongings on the floor, remnants of the chaos. She bent to gather them, her movements slow and deliberate.

A sudden twinge of pain shot through her knee as she crouched. (Y/N) winced, noticing the cut, a crimson gash on her pale skin. She gingerly touched the wound, her fingers tracing the tender edge. This time she felt like crying with clarity, like she knew what she was crying for along a need. Tears swell within her (E/C) eyes waiting to fall.

"It will hurt more if you cry". Calmly she gaze beside her. To the lockers where the boy slumped, his face still smeared with blood. The indifference surrounding him was palpable, as if no one cared about his suffering. (Y/N) press her lips, pulling a white handkerchief to hand him.

He accepted the handkerchief, his fingers brushing against hers. With gentle movements, he wiped the blood from his face, revealing a canvas of bruises and wounds beneath. For the first time, (Y/N) saw his true complexion – pale, with a hint of rosy undertones. The vibrant hues of his injuries – purple, blue, and crimson – stood in stark contrast to his delicate skin.

As the blood was wiped away, his features emerged, and (Y/N) noticed the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the gentle curve of his nose, and the softness of his lips.

"I am sorry". It fell out before she could revise or add.

"Don't be". He shake his head. "Everyone's coward. Even me". (Y/N) desire to protest of his own situation.

"I am talking about you". She blink. "You are Cameron's girlfriend". He utter like a fact. "All business major knew about a bet on a girl. They just didn't knew who until one of Cameron's friend told about your relationship making everyone realize who she is but wasn't sure". Her breath hitched. So they did. All did.

"I too, because I am from business major. Yet I was a coward to not say the truth or at least..." He tailed off. "Warn you". He finished heavy silence weight the air. (Y/N) inhale, not finding words to explain the mess of feelings she is having. Indeed both were jester of everyone's joke.

As she scoffed, her gaze trailed his movements, expecting him to walk away. But instead, he swooped down, his lithe frame folding into a crouch beside her. His amber eyes locked onto her knee, the cut a tiny, crimson gash.

Without a word, he reached out, his fingertips grazing her skin as he applied a band-aid. A shiver danced up her spine at the gentle touch.

"You know you're also being bullied?" His voice was low, concerned. Her eyes lift to his focused ones on her cut, whispering a "No".

"Bullying is not only physical you know. It can be emotional too. And what is happening to you is bullying too. An emotional one where he took advantage of your trust, then play with your feelings, manipulate you into staying in the relationship when you clearly in daze of the complexity and not in right state. If he truly cared about you, wouldn't he have asked how you felt or given you the space to think? Wouldn't he have prioritized your well-being over his own desires? But instead, he rushed you into this relationship, disregarding your boundaries and emotions". His words felt like sting of bees she couldn't process as the image of Cameron's pained face when she accused of him cheating in front of others.

His pure happiness when he pull the chair for her in front of her parents.

His patience when she was crying so suddenly and at the restaurant.

Her colleagues Sofia and others disturbed faces and harsh whispers.

"No. No. He is not perfect, yes. He is not good entirely. He is a liar but he improved. It is I who has problem. I fall out of love, mistrust him and..." Her throat felt dry to speak and she swallowed having difficulty seeing. The problem lies in her. She is the odd, fallen one.

The boy finally gaze his amber eyes and said. "If Cameron really is a good person. Not perfect, good. Then why in the first place are you lashing out and angrily pushing your anger on Adrian ? And in a mess mindset ?" It left (Y/N) shunned. Because truly did she blames Cameron for her misery. Hates him for his mockery of perfection. However never did she blame him for his entanglement to this relationship based on lies for her was truth.

"Let's assume Cameron is a good person who genuinely cares for you and loves you deeply, but isn't able to let you go. However, if being with him no longer brings you happiness— not because of his flaws, but because your feelings have changed and you're staying solely out of guilt or obligation, don't you think it's time to reevaluate? For your own sake, shouldn't you prioritize your happiness even if it's selfishness ?"

As he stood, dusting off his pants, (Y/N) lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes held a gentle intensity. "After all, loving someone is, in itself, a selfish act," he added, his voice low and thoughtful.

"I am saying this because you came out of your cowardness for me and I for you". the boy said, wincing as he gingerly touched his jaw. "I should get to the nurse," he added, his voice laced with discomfort.

She swiftly stood up, her hand brushing against his arm with an awkward yet tender touch. "Let me help."

"No, it's okay..." He trailed off, his mind reeling as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His legs weakened, and he swayed precariously, almost toppling over.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in alarm as she swiftly grasped his arms, her grip tight.

𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅

☾ ────────

[plusvanity]

Some silly little HCS for my fics:

NPD x NPD

-you might think this is the worst combo imaginable and you're damn right, except that they actually make it work because Abbath is overt while Varg is (for the most of the time) covert

-they're practicing mirroring and enabling one another to do stupid and impulsive shit, so they only get worse

-cocky bastards, inflated sense of self, grandiosity and all that jazz that basically hides raging insecurities. One wants to live it up like Lemmy Kilmister while the other is dreaming of being a dictator

-the empty schizoid core dilemma: Abbath is a fucking alcoholic because he cannot stand his own emptiness on a sober and lucid mind. Varg is arguably better because he wants to remain sober and as sharp as possible because he knows that when he drinks a little whisky he's the bottom of Abbath's jokes

-the Dead Mother concept

-Varg inevitably becomes overt because his false ego grows like a tumor on Abbath and it makes things harder for both of them

-narcissistic rage and pity parties

-they never actually give one another narcissistic supply because Varg is too fucking proud to admit he likes taking it up the ass while Abbath doesn't know how to talk with mean girls (especially those who piss while standing, have scars on their faces and like setting shit on fire)

-pyromaniacs, thought it was worth mentioning

-friends with benefits is just an excuse for being deprived together

-Abbath actually makes the fatal mistake to fall in love with Varg and he's massively disappointed when he sees Varg growing a beard instead of tits but he's sad and lonely anyway so he'll take whatever he gets. He's no high maintenance

-Varg is an asshole and breaks Abbath's heart as if it wasn't enough that Abbath breaks his liver every night in Apollon

-neither one is optimistic about the future and that's for a good reason

NPD x ASP

-you would assume that this isn't healthy because Varg can do the automatic bitch move of 'swallowing' Pelle's personality whole but he doesn't. He behaves exemplarily because he's desperate to find someone to love him despite being a sore loser

-the shared fantasy: they both live like elves in Tolkien's little fairytale (although Pelle lives like a strigoi in Transylvania) because real life just sucks and because they're both so deeply misunderstood

-both are very bad at communication, especially Pelle, but Varg is naturally quite observant and tries to find out what's bothering his lover. When Varg is silent, it is mostly because he's either entirely collapsed (narcissistic collapse) or his ego is injured. Pelle usually gives him space, but if Varg doesn't get better in a few days, he'll eventually try to talk with him, which is very tricky because Pelle doesn't speak Norwegian

-nerdy sleepovers braiding their hair together and watching Pelle Svanslös (the 1981 version)

-both are big introverts, but the difference between them is that Pelle is asocial while Varg is prosocial (he still needs narcissistic supply even if he prefers solitude instead of human interaction. It's quite complex and disappointing)

-they both read one another like open books because they have seen everything the other can offer (the good, the ugly and that weird thing in between)

-Pelle's emptiness and ego-death is different from Varg's narcissistic emptiness, but they find comfort in one another no matter what. The most powerful thing that Pelle told Varg was 'if you don't have any sense of self and you are just a mirror that can reflect anything, why not try to reflect me instead of the anger of your parents?' because in this way, Pelle gave Varg a chance to be a better, less hateful and less vindictive version of himself. Of course Varg is still struggling and probably always will

-they desperately need love and they're emotionally depended on one another. Once Pelle cracked Varg's defense mechanisms and vice-versa there was no turning back, they had to be the other's salvation

- trust issues rule over them. Very careful with people around them, they're both paranoid and highly protective with each other

-Varg doesn't look for narcissistic supply in Pelle because he doesn't want to take all of Pelle's energy. It's a boundary that he has for himself in order not to ruin their relationship, so he uses fanboys like Fenriz to tell him how great he is and all this nonsense

-they do love each other deeply. Even if they never experienced true love before, they know that their feelings are true and it's the only thing that makes life bearable

NPD x ASPD

-this is where all the scary shit begins

-every failed psychopath is a narcissist (this should tell you a lot about narcissistic rage because they can't be anything but angry losers)

-partners in crime (or rather Varg is Faust's little chewing toy)

-what happens when you take the ego and the super-ego of an individual? You're right. All you're left with is great, kinky sex. (Freud would've laughed. It's a good joke, actually)

-Faust can and will make Varg worse. It's a matter of time until he breaks Varg's core

-church burnings, vandalism, robbery, murder, gay sex, cannibalism and whatever else you would expect from two mentally deranged, ego-dystonic young and highly hormonal bastards

-Faust's chronic and incurable boredom is just what makes him get an interest in Vikernes in the first place. What they have is not a relationship to him, but an opportunity to have fun

-manipulation, gaslighting, abuse, etc. It's basically a Killing Stalking situation but Varg isn't going down without a fight or a good fuck

-drunk non-consensual coitus

-one of the dirtiest moves Faust does on Varg is shaving his head of after a nasty fight, so he strips him of all of his integrity and dignity to show him who's the boss (for a bit of context: it's Varg's fault that he tried to run off with their stolen money)

-they do a lot of crazy shit but get rid of the evidence. They firmly believe the police are dumb enough not to get them

-the empty schizoid core x2 again, although one of them is even worse

-Faust is able to get Vikernes through the full cycle of narcissistic emotional outbursts from total collapse to needy borderline to secondary sociopathy while Varg is only able to get Faust pissed

-buried past, non existent future, just live in the moment. Carpe diem, brothers ✌✌✌

-the lone wolf and the hungry tiger archetypes. The consumption is visceral and that's all I have to say

[ixtaek]

The fact Legend’s literal dream girl is noted to “resemble [his] Princess Zelda” is frankly way under utilized.

[lilacerull0]

you know that episode really fucked me up this morning

[ahqkas]

♯ THE TASTE OF HEAVEN . . . sugar daddy ! batboys x fem ! reader

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce wayne doesn’t need to flaunt his wealth because he is the wealth. he doesn’t call himself your sugar daddy—it’s just implied in every action, every gift, and every moment he spends with you. whether it’s a sleek black card handed to you with no spending limit or a private plane waiting to take you to an exotic destination, bruce makes luxury feel effortless

you can forget off-the-rack anything. bruce ensures you have custom clothing, jewelry, and even furniture. he’ll casually remark, “i had the designer make a few changes for you,” as though commissioning bespoke items for you is just another tuesday

his gifts are never tacky or gaudy—this man has impeccable taste, and everything he gives you reflects that. think diamond necklaces that catch the light just right, limited-edition handbags, or handwritten invitations to exclusive events where you’re his arm candy

you’re the arm candy !!! bruce’s automatic date to every high-profile gala, charity ball, and exclusive event. he wouldn’t even think of bringing anyone else. he makes it clear you’re not just an accessory, you’re the highlight of his night

you have a tab at nearly every high-end establishment in gotham. whether you’re shopping for couture or just stopping by your favorite café, bruce ensures you’re treated like royalty. everyone knows exactly who’s footing the bill

bruce isn’t the type to throw money at you just because—he always wants to make sure it’s something meaningful or useful to you. if you mention wanting to start a business or learn a new skill, he’ll quietly arrange everything you need, from connections to resources

while his gifts are extravagant, his affection shows in quieter ways too. when you’re stressed, he whisks you away for a weekend spa retreat. if you’re cold, he’ll drape his expensive coat over your shoulders without hesitation. every gesture, big or small, is about making your life as comfortable as possible

people know bruce is your sugar daddy, but they’re far too intimidated to say anything. the whispered assumptions only make him smirk. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks—if anything, he enjoys the power it gives him to make it abundantly clear that you’re his

despite the sugar daddy thing between you, bruce’s affection runs far deeper. he doesn’t just give you gifts—he gives you his time, his attention, and his unwavering loyalty. the material luxuries are just an extension of the way he sees you: as someone deserving of nothing but the best

he’ll sometimes joke about the arrangement with a mischievous smile. “you’re lucky i’m rich,” he’ll say, handing you keys to a new car or sliding over a box containing some ridiculously rare jewelry. but his tone is warm, his teasing more affectionate than condescending

DICK GRAYSON

unlike bruce, dick doesn’t shy away from the term “sugar daddy.” in fact, he might jokingly call himself that from time to time, especially when handing you an absurdly expensive gift

( dick ‘what’s the point of having all this money if i can’t spoil my girl?’ grayson )

while he spoils you endlessly, he does it in a way that feels personal and heartfelt. every gift, trip, or gesture reflects how well he knows you. if you casually mention a dream vacation destination or a favorite designer, you can bet it’ll show up in your life sooner rather than later

he is the kind of sugar daddy who makes spoiling you fun. he’ll turn shopping trips into mini-games, daring you to try on the most extravagant pieces in the store just so he can gush over how amazing you look. “if you don’t let me buy that dress, i’ll be personally offended,” he’d tease, but you know he’s serious

dick loves being seen with you. whether it’s walking hand in hand down the streets of blüdhaven or pulling up to a gala with you in tow, he thrives on showing the world just how proud he is to have you by his side. and yes, he does things like carrying your shopping bags with zero shame, flashing that charming grin at anyone who stares

doesn’t wait for a special occasion to surprise you. whether it’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a new gadget you’ve been eyeing, or tickets to a concert you love, he’s constantly finding ways to brighten your day

with dick, every vacation feels like a scene from a romance movie. he books private villas, sunset yacht rides, and five-star experiences, all while making it feel like the most casual, natural thing in the world. “i just thought we could use a break,” he’d say, as if flying you out to the maldives was as simple as grabbing coffee

he’s always finding ways to make you laugh, even about the relationship itself. if someone gives you a side-eye for carrying a designer purse, he’ll lean over and whisper, “they’re just jealous, babe. can you blame them?” his lighthearted attitude makes the relationship feel easy and natural

with his good looks and high-profile status, the press is obsessed with you two. headlines like “blüdhaven’s golden boy and his stunning girlfriend” are a constant, but dick takes it in stride, often laughing at the exaggerations

“you deserve the world,” he’d say, his blue eyes sparkling. “let me give it to you.”

JASON TODD

jason didn’t immediately step into the role of “sugar daddy.” in fact, he hesitated because he didn’t want his wealth to define your relationship. but as time passed and he saw how much joy he could bring you by easing your stress, he leaned into it—but only his way

for jason, being your sugar daddy isn’t about flashy displays or media attention—it’s about making sure you’re secure and comfortable in a way no one else could provide. he loves knowing you don’t have to worry about rent, bills, or any other mundane stressors. “if i can fix it, i’m going to,” he says simply, brushing off your thanks like it’s no big deal

he might not shower you with gifts constantly, but when he does, it’s jaw-dropping: a rare first-edition book he remembered you mentioned once, a custom leather jacket, or even a dream vacation to a quiet, secluded spot where you can both relax away from the chaos of gotham

jason is practical when it comes to what he provides. he’ll upgrade your phone, stock your fridge with your favorite snacks, and even surprise you with a car when he notices yours struggling. “i’m not about to let you drive around in that death trap,” he grumbles as he tosses you the keys

and while he’s not the type to parade you through expensive stores, jason shows his affection in quieter, more personal ways. he might take you on a motorcycle ride to a hidden gotham rooftop, where he surprises you with your favorite takeout and a designer bag “he happened to pick up”

despite his tough exterior, he has a serious soft spot for you. if you so much as hint at wanting something, he’s already making plans to get it. he’ll pretend it’s no big deal, but his little smirk always gives him away

jason sometimes pretends to be annoyed by how much he spoils you, but it’s all in good fun. “you’re turning me into one of those rich guys,” he’ll grumble, handing you a sleek gift box. but the way his lips twitch into a smile when you beam at him says otherwise

you’ll come home to find an envelope with tickets to your favorite band’s concert or a designer coat hanging in your closet because he noticed the weather getting colder. “what? you think i didn’t notice you shivering last week?”

he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else stepping in to provide for you. if someone so much as jokes about taking you out or buying you a drink, he’s quick to step in, slinging an arm around your shoulders and shooting them a glare. “she’s taken. move along.”

he makes sure you feel safe, cared for, and endlessly spoiled in his own rough-edged, loving way <3

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting . thank you if you do 🤍

[4unnyr0se]

PLS BOKUTO SMUT I WILL SELL YOU MY SOUL VIV 🙏🙏🙏

❥ nepenthe | kotaro bokuto

warnings: timeskip! bokuto, fem! reader, mutual pining, bokuto is emo in the beginning, dry humping/grinding, multiple orgasms, making out, incredibly lewd dialogue, fingering, missionary, two text messages, unprotected sex, tiny corruption kink, possessive! bokuto if u squint, extreme fluff at the end, bokuto is a semi-hard dom in bed, atsumu, hinata and sakusa mentioned, not proofread (unless u count grammarly)

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.3k (lol)

opal i would write anything for u i love u sm

got a request? asks are open!

Being on the MSBY Black Jackals was all the Bokuto could ever dream of. Playing on a team made up of his peers, the adoring cheers from the crowd filled his ears and boosted his ego. He especially loved how cute the girls in the stands were and how they wore merchandized versions of his jersey. People paid good money to watch him play, him. Was there nothing better than the universe could offer him? Indeed, Kotaro Bokuto’s life was perfectly perfect. 

Except until recently. He had missed a significant spike in the latest game against the Alders, which nearly cost him the match. He was not okay. But that was just a first-time thing, right? Indeed, he would not miss a spike in tomorrow’s practice. He’s Bokuto; he doesn’t miss spikes. And then he missed nearly all of his spikes. He was not doing well when he returned to his penthouse apartment that evening. Was he in a slump?

His golden eyes flicked back and forth on his ceiling as he lay in his plush bed, hands crossed over his chest in thought. Why was he acting like this? He occasionally missed a spike, but that was a rare event. Was he missing them so frequently? What if he wasn’t as good of a volleyball player as he thought? Anxiety plagued his mind, making him toss and turn in his cotton comforter decorated with owls (stylish owls, of course). Bokuto’s black and white hair became incredibly messy, reflecting his inner thoughts. Luckily, he had a means of comforting himself. When the opposite hitter wasn’t doing so well at times like these, he could always turn to you, one of his beloved Black Jackal Managers. 

You were the kindest of all the managers he had, that was for sure. While the other seven managers focused on scheduling or payroll, you were the personality hire. Your pretty face automatically boosted the morale of the entire team, like a beam of sunlight poking out from the clouds after a thunderstorm. Bokuto liked you; he really liked you. Every single practice, he would pray that you’d be there, sitting on your chair, diligently taking notes while wearing that MSBY windbreaker that covered the curves of your breasts in the most annoying manner possible. Fuck, you were so damn pretty.

Bokuto reached for his phone, which was charging on the bedside table, scrolling through his messages until he landed on your chat from a couple of weeks ago. The topic was simple: What kind of onigiri did he want from Onigiri Miya? It was just a question, but the notification made his heart race every time he read it. The pads of his thumbs hovered over the keypad for a moment, unsure of how to word his message. He wanted you to visit him. Why couldn’t he just type that? After minutes of contemplation, he had sent his message. Bokuto’s phone was thrown to the other side of the bed, nearly getting lost in the mess of thick duvet. The opposite hitter slammed his face into his fluffed pillow, groaning into the fabric. 

Kotaro Bokuto: Wanna come over and talk? Been feeling really down recently. :( 

It felt like hours since he sent the text, looking at where he tossed his phone every other minute to see if the home screen lit up. Finally, after agonizingly painful minutes passed, his screen lit up with your message, the cute little heart icon next to your name making him break out in a crooked smile. 

Cute Manager: I’ll be over in 30 minutes. Bringing my famous sugar cookies! They always brighten someone’s day <3

Bokuto practically threw himself off his bed, looking around his messy apartment. Shit, had that smell always been there? Why (and how) was there a sock on the ceiling fan? Don’t even get him started on the empty packages that littered his living room floor; this was a disaster. He had to ensure it was perfect for you, his angelic manager. You thought so highly of him; he wasn’t about to lose that due to a messy apartment. 

He cleaned like a man gone wild, sensual R&B music playing from a speaker in his kitchen. He had obtained three full trash bags and one spilling-over hamper, but he had made his apartment look presentable. The counters were no longer sticky, and the sock was down from the fan, thanks to him expertly flinging rubber bands at the blades. Bokuto was proud of himself, bearing a satisfied smirk while his hands rested on his hips in a hero pose. 

The doorbell rang. Oh fuck, how were you here already? Did half an hour seriously pass by so quickly? He didn’t even have time to change out of his black tank top! Maybe that was a good thing? Perhaps you liked looking at his massive biceps. Whatever, he didn’t have time to think about all that. His cute manager was waiting behind that door with a plate of delicious sugar cookies!

Bokuto swung the door open a little too enthusiastically, his crooked smile fully displayed amongst his handsome features. His golden eyes instantly landed on your figure, drinking in your outfit. A low-cut black scoop neck top with oversized ripped jeans; fucking perfection. You offered him a kind smile and held out the wrapped-up plate of cookies, tilting your head to the side. “Hey, Bokuto! I’m here, like I promised. Oh, and I brought the cookies. Don’t ask for the recipe because I won’t tell!” you giggled, stepping inside his apartment. It was cleaner than you imagined, and it smelled like roses. Who knew that Bokuto could be so neat?

“Woah, it’s even bigger than I imagined! Sometimes I forget how much professional athletes make annually,” you joked, kicking off your ballet flats on the shoe stand. “You must have an amazing view at night, look at the city! It’s gorgeous.” you turned to Bokuto and smiled, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s been a while since we last hung out, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah! I guess it has, eh? Time flies when you’re a Black Jackal!” Bokuto awkwardly stammered, growing increasingly flustered as the almond shape of your manicured nails made contact with his muscular shoulders. “Thanks for coming over so quickly; I thought you were at a club or something.”

You shook your head and leaned against the raised kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, I hate clubs. It’s always so stuffy in there, and there’s always a hand on your ass, whether you want it or not.” you brushed your hair to the side, exposing your neck. The perfume you had to carefully put on, a mixture of lilac and jasmine, filled Bokuto’s nostrils. He was only a few feet from your body, yet the aroma drove him secretly insane. “What about you, do you like clubs? You seem like the type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bokuto asked, pretending to clutch his pearls.

“Well, you’re extroverted and love having a good time. That’s what the clubs are for, aren’t they?” you paused your speech, matching his gaze with your own. “But you haven’t been having a good time recently, have you?”

Bokuto shook his head and slumped onto the sofa, his bottom lip curling into a childish pout. “No, you’re right. I just can’t hit my stupid spikes! Atsumu’s been on my ass about it like it’s my fault that I can’t seem to hit them! I mean, I guess it’s my fault…whatever! I don’t know what I’m saying anymore!” he slammed his face in his hands, groaning in exasperation. 

You smiled softly and sat next to him, patting his muscular back. “Hey, it’ll be alright. You’ve hit amazing spikes before, and you’ll hit amazing spikes again. I know you will.” your soft hands ran up and down the thin fabric of his tank top, massaging the tense muscles underneath. “We all have our slumps, you know. Nobody is perfect, not even Atsumu. Besides,” your lips were centimeters away from his ear. “Atsumu is my least favorite.”

Bokuto chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist, pressing your cheek against his pectoral. “Yeah, but he’s really funny! Except when he texts the group chat with me, Shoyo, and Sakusa…then he gets really gross. Usually about the women he slept with or something.”

“Ew,” you blush softly as Bokuto's muscular bicep wraps around your waist, his large hand squeezing the fabric of your jeans. “So, are you feeling any better now? Do you wanna eat a cookie and watch a movie, maybe? What would make you feel better?” you could feel his heartbreak in his chest, the thumbing sensation of the organ being a somewhat calming presence. “Because when you’re sad, the Jackals can’t really get anything done. No offense.”

Bokuto chuckled and squeezed you closer, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. God, you smelled fucking amazing. Did you always smell so good? “I’m down for a movie if you’re down. What kind of movie were you thinking of?”

“Comedy, maybe? I don’t know, you can pick,” you replied.

“Comedy it is,” Bokuto leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table, turning on the massive television he owned. His hand remained firmly grasped on your waist, occasionally running his thumb up and down the denim of your high-waisted jeans. He flicked through a couple of films under the comedy section in his DVR until he selected a random one. He chose it solely on how fantastic the movie poster was, naturally. 

The opening credits played from the surround sound speakers, and his hand was still snug on your waist, his golden eyes occasionally stealing a chaste look. You were smaller than him, so he really only got to see the top of your head, but you were so fucking adorable. Bokuto thought it was vital that you didn’t push him away after he wrapped his arm around you and that you welcomed his touch. You trusted him so much, making his heart beat a million miles a minute. 

The movie's beginning was hilarious, as expected from an award-winning comedy. Bokuto’s laugh was deep in comparison to yours. Of course, your laugh was adorable; why wouldn’t it be? He felt as though his heart would explode from your presence, beating erratically in his chest.

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart is beating really fast,” you questioned, lifting your face from its comfortable resting spot on his chest. “Do you need anything at all?”

Bokuto bit down on his lower lip, unsure of what to say. Should he just confess how much he wants you, how much he craves to have your lips on his own? What if you rejected his advances and quit managing the team? “Uh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Sweetheart, did he really just say that? Bokuto cringed at himself.

A small smile graced your delicate features at the endearing name, your tiny hand resting on his chest. “Bokuto, I’m always going to worry about my team. Especially you, you’re my favorite. Did you know that?”

His mind went blank for a second. He was your favorite. He was your favorite. Out of all the members of the Black Jackals, you liked him the most. “I-I didn’t know that at all, am I actually your favorite? You aren’t messing with me or anything?”

“Why would I lie about that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just…you’re beautiful. And I’m your favorite…it makes me feel special. I know I’m already special, just like, more special. Y’know?” 

“You think I’m beautiful?” your eyes bore into his once more, the chatter from the movie falling on deaf ears. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

Bokuto softly smiled at you, adoring how the light from the television illuminated your blushing face. “Yeah, I really think so. I’ve thought that for a while since you were hired.” his other hand cupped the right side of your face, his calloused thumb running across your cheekbone. “Do you…do you think I’m pretty, too?”

You giggled and rested your hand on Bokuto’s, smiling brightly. “Yeah, I think you’re beautiful, Bokuto. And handsome and adorable.” you leaned upwards, your noses touching. “You’re funny, kind, and sometimes a little too confident. You’re sensitive, and you care so much about your teammates. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I want you to have me,” he whispered, his voice a low baritone. “Please, I’ve wanted this for so long. Tell me that I can have you, even if it’s just for tonight.” his lips hovered over yours, not daring to do anything without your permission. “Because if you say it’s okay, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back, sweetness.”

His hot breath tickled the tiny hairs on your face, mouth slightly agape. You gulped and nodded, closing your eyes while his hands cupped your cheeks. “It’s okay, Kotaro.”

The sound of his given name falling from your lips was all he needed to press his mouth to yours in a searing kiss filled with unfulfilled desires. It was slow and sensual, yet it held so much molten passion. His lips molded with yours so perfectly, the taste of your chapstick making him savor you even more. His hands fled your face and grasped onto your hips, pulling you into his lap with no trouble at all. Bokuto pressed your chest against his own, groaning against your petal-like lips. A spark was set in his lower belly, his hands trailing down to your ass. He squeezed the denim fabric, eliciting an adorable squeak from your mouth. 

You pulled away after a moment, both of your faces incredibly flushed. “Shit,” Bokuto breathed out, toying with the hem of your jeans. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, sweetness.”

“Me too,” you whispered, kissing his neck gently. “I’ve been wanting to do this,” you placed another kiss, then another, and another. “For so fucking long.” you nibbled onto his collarbone playfully, earning yourself a beautiful moan from Bokuto’s bruised lips. 

“Fuck, I never pegged you for a biter. Thought I would always be the one biting you,” he purred, slipping his hands underneath your jeans and panties. You gasped at the coldness of his hands on your warm skin, how his fingers kneaded the supple flesh of your ass. “But I guess I can let you nibble on me for a little longer since you’re so damn pretty.”

“When did you get so good at flirting, hm?” you began to suckle on his collarbone.

“The moment I got signed to the Black Jackals. They’re, fuck, they’re a bunch of womanizers.” he softly moaned at the sensation of your teeth suckling at his tough flesh. “Taught me a thing or two.”

You pulled away from his neck and smiled, kissing his forehead. “So I take it you picked up a thing or two?”

“Damn right, I have,” his hands squeezed your ass once more. “Can you do me a favor and take these off, sweetness? I’ll take mine off, too. That way, we’re even.”

You got off his lap and shimmied out of your jeans, tossing them aside along with your top. You wore a matching bra and panty set, the black fabric hugging your curves tenderly. “Now, you do yours. Don’t keep me waiting, Ko’.” 

His nickname rang in his ears, your voice making it drip like honey. Bokutp practically ripped off his clothes, leaving him in only his MSBY boxers. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” he leaned into the leather couch, spreading his legs. “C’mere gorgeous, sit on my lap.”

Bokuto’s hands once again cupped your ass as you straddled his lap, admiring how thick his thighs were. You had never noticed it before, but Bokuto was a big guy. “That’s it, good girl. Right on my thigh there, pretty.”

“Fuck,” you moaned as your clothed pussy made contact with his bare thigh, unconsciously rubbing against it. “You’re really fucking sexy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Bokuto pulled you into another kiss, aggressively slamming his lips against yours while his hands remained glued to your ass. His tongue prodded against your lips impatiently, begging to be let inside your mouth. You happily obliged, a mewl falling from your lips as his tongue briefly danced with yours. Bokuto pulled away, breaking the strand of saliva that connected your lips. “Your voice is too damn pretty,” his hand cracked against your ass, causing you to grind further onto his thigh. Embarrassed, you hid your face in his bruised neck, earning a smug smirk from Bokuto. “Oh, did that feel good, baby? Don’t be shy now; you can tell me.” he smacked your ass once more, relishing in your pleasurable squeaks and squeals. “Does someone like it when I smack their ass?”

“Y-yeah!” you whimpered into his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your hips bucked against his thigh, your core desperate for friction. “Please, lemme ride your thigh. You feel so fucking good, Ko’.”

Bokuto threw his head back at your begging, his cock growing painfully hard in his boxers. “Yeah, you wanna grind on my thigh, pretty girl?” he squeezed the plushness of your thigh. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this way, right? Because I’m the best. Say it, and you can do whatever you want.” 

You let out a broken sigh and pulled your face out from his neck, your pearly whites nibbling at the shell of his ear. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good, Kotaro.” Your breath was sweet and sensual, and you were full of wanting for your release. “Please, I wanna ride your thigh.”

“Good girl,” he praised, gripping onto your hips. He began to drag you up and down his thigh, embracing the cute little noises you made. “That’s it, baby, talk to me. Tell me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

“So good! So good, Ko’.” you whimpered, a warmth sensation bubbling up inside your belly as your clothed clit rubbed against his thigh. Your small hands rested on his abs, running up and down the prevalent muscle. “T-talk to me, helps me get off–fuck!” you tossed your head back, hair falling out of your face as Bokuto purposefully flexed his thigh muscle. 

He groaned at the sight of you, head thrown back, tits bouncing in your bra as you used his thigh to get yourself off. His goddess of a manager was using him to cum, his thigh. It was so fucking perfect. “You’re so fucking sexy, you know that? You come to practice in those short shorts that show off your ass so well. Do you know what you do to me?”

“Tell me,” you moaned, feeling your climax approach quickly. You were basically rutting yourself against his thigh like a bitch in heat, and it felt fucking incredible. 

“Every time you bent over, I thought about this ass,” he smacked the exposed flesh, definitely leaving a handprint later. “Thought about squeezing it, about smacking it, how it would look wearing slutty black panties.” Bokuto flexed his thigh muscles even more, giving you a sturdier surface to grind on. 

“Thought about you clawing at my back while I fuck you in the locker room, so the rest of the team can back the fuck off. Keep you all to myself, my pretty manager.” he spat through his teeth, gripping your jaw tightly with his hand. “Look at me when you cum, pretty girl. Wanna see that cute little face.” his thumb ran across your bottom lip, pulling slightly.

Your mouth went slack-jawed as your orgasm washed over you, your eyes struggling to look at Bokuto while you continued to ride his thigh until you came down from nirvana. “F-fuck!” you sobbed, your hips ceasing their bucking once your high was finished. “Shit, I made a mess on your thigh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Bokuto groaned, lifting you off of his thigh so quickly. “Fuck, you soaked your panties. I guess you gotta take them off now, yeah? Bra, too. Don’t be shy around me.” he set you down on the coffee table, your form blocking the movie, but he didn’t care about the movie anymore. There was only you. 

Still shaking from the shockwaves of your release, you slowly stripped yourself of your remaining clothes, placing them down on the glass of the table. Bokuto drank in your view, like an artist staring at a finished painting. You were gorgeous, ethereal, out of this world. Surely, it would be impossible for anyone else to match your beauty. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, pushing himself off of the couch to grab your wrist. “Bedroom. Now.”

He practically dragged you into his bedroom, throwing you down onto the plush owl-themed comforter. You giggled at the childish fabric as Bokuto hovered above you, his hands on either side of your head. “I take it you love owls?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I fucking love owls,” he smirked, leaning down to peck your nose. “Not as much as I love how you look right now, pretty girl.” his right hand squeezed your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple while his left hand managed to continue holding him up.

“You’re such a tease,” you moaned as he pinched your sensitive bud, his massive hand encasing your entire breast. “I thought you wanted to fuck me, Kotaro. Am I wrong?” 

“You aren’t wrong, sweetness,” he purred, rolling his hips against yours. You could feel his cock pulsating through his boxers, begging to be inside you. “Just wanna make sure you’re prepped first. I’m a big guy, y’know?” he stuck his fingers inside of his mouth, coating them with saliva before prodding at your entrance with the digits, slowly sticking them inside your heat. “Holy fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Did my thigh make you cum that much, princess?”

You gasped as he curled his fingers deep inside of you, his ministrations slow and sensual. “Fuck! Y-yes, y’made me cum so much! Love your thighs, Ko’!” you squeaked, instinctively squeezing your thighs together.

Bokuto tutted and used his free hand to shove your legs apart, now kneeling above you. “Don’t try to hide it, sweetness. You know I don’t like that.” he was not knuckle-deep inside your weeping cunt, his fingers plunging inside so expertly. “Fuck, gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“S-shit! You’re gonna make me cum again!” you whimpered, grasping onto your breasts for additional stimulation. “God, how do your fingers feel so fucking good?”

“Can’t answer that for you, sweetheart. You wanna cum again, pretty girl? Want me to rub your clit and make a mess all over my hand?” he teased, beginning to massage your sensitive clit with the pad of this thumb. His fingers were still scissoring you open, coating you with the mixture of his saliva and your release. 

“Yes, fuck! Please, Ko’!” you whined, the familiar bubbling sensation in your belly threatening to spill over. Your legs were now dangling over his shoulder, quaking in ecstasy. “Wanna cum, fucking make me cum!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he offered you a mischievous smirk, furiously rubbing his thumb over your clit as you tumbled into pure pleasure once more. Your mouth became agape; your head tossed into the plush pillow behind you. His fingers ceased their movement, sliding out of your cunt covered in your slick. “Shit,” Bokuto mumbled, bringing his fingers to his mouth. “Fucking delicious.”

He gave you another kiss, leaving some of your release on your lips. His boxers were peeled off and thrown onto the nightstand as he fumbled through one of the drawers, cursing at himself. “God dammnit, I know I have one. Where the fuck is it?”

“Looking for a condom?” you asked, the breath still being knocked out of your lungs.

“Yeah, it’s being a pain in the ass to find, though.”

“I’m on the pill.” you plainly state, smiling at him. “You don’t have to use a condom. It’ll be okay with me.” 

Bokuto stopped rummaging through the drawer, turning over to look at you with a look that could only be a mixture of lust and absolute delight. “Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m happy to hit it raw; I just don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

You nodded your head and pulled him close to you by his shoulder, pecking his nose sweetly. “I promise, Kotaro. You don’t have to use a condom when you’re with me.”

“God, that’s music to my fucking ears, baby,” his voice rumbled, his hands resting on the bottoms of your thighs. You were propped up by your elbows and Bokuto’s variety of pillows, his cock painfully hard against his abdomen. “Can’t wait to ruin this fucking pussy.”

You tilted your head to the side in confidence, winking. “Then what are you waiting for?” you spread your legs, exposing your glistening heat to him once more. “Ruin me, Kotaro.”

Bokuto bit down on his lower lip and growled, aligning his cock with your cunt. “You have no idea what you’re in for, pretty girl.” the mushroom head pushed past your folds, the newfound sensation causing the both of you to moan softly. “Shit, you’re still so tight. That’s okay,” he chuckled, snapping his hips against yours. His cock slammed inside of you, filling you up so quickly. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”

“Holy shit!” you sobbed, your fingers scrambling for purchase in the bedsheets. “Kotaro!”

“That’s it, baby, scream my name while I fuck this pussy stupid.” Bokuto hissed, pounding into you without giving you the chance to catch your breath. You looked so fucking pretty underneath him, especially the way your greedy pussy took him so well. The way your sobbing walls enveloped him entirely it was perfection. “Taking me so well, good fucking girl.”

Your pathetic mewls were like that of a morning songbird, the most beautiful melody. Bokuto hoisted your legs above his shoulders once again, his cock hitting you at a deeper angle. You screamed, the head prodding at your cervix. “Fuck, shit, oh my god! Kotaro, f-fuck!”

His thrusts were animalistic as if he were in heat. They were uncalculated and had no rhythm, only a mission to make you stupid on his cock. His hands gripped onto your ankles while he started at your lewd form, admiring how your small hands encased your breasts in an attempt to create more stimulation. How greedy you were. He thought it was adorable. Everything about you was simply adorable. 

“Good fucking girl, that’s my girl,” he groaned as you squeezed around him, pulling him impossibly deep. “Oh, you like it when I call you that? Your pussy is sucking me in, pretty girl.” he teased, smacking the underside of your thigh. 

You attempted to speak, but all that fell from your lips was incoherent babbling. Your mind was all fuzzy, full of nothing but thoughts of Bokuto fucking you senseless. You arched your back further into the mattress, your hair forming the messiest halo above you. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the bedroom, the movie in the living room being a thing of the past. 

“My pretty girl can’t speak now, but that’s okay,” Bokuto assured you, punctuating his sentences with a harsh slam inside of you. “I’ll just make you cum again, yeah? We’ll cum at the same time, okay, pretty girl? I know you got one more in you. Wanna give it to me? Don’t you think I deserve it? I wanna hear you say that. Say I deserve to make you cum again!”

“Fuck!” you sobbed, your orgasm dangerously close. You didn’t think you could handle one more, his cock bullying its way in and out of your weeping cunt. “Y’deserve to make me cum again, Kotaro! F-fuck, think I’m gonna cum soon!”

“Don’t fucking hold out on me, baby. You know I like it messy!” Bokuto bent forward, his thrusts becoming more erratic and needy as his cock twitched inside of you, begging for release. “Gonna fucking cum in this pussy, make it all fucking mine!”

“Shit!” you sobbed, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. “Kotaro!” his name fell from your lips like a broken pair as you came for the third and final time that night, completely coating his cock in your glistening slick.

“Holy fuck, yeah, yeah! Fucking hell!” Bokuto roared, shooting ropes of cum deep inside your core, creating a new warm sensation in your belly. His thrusts grew slower and slower, almost as if he was attempting to fuck his cum inside of you. “Dont wanna…stop fucking you…but I’m tired.” he groaned, letting your legs fall back onto your chest. “Shit.”

Bokuto shamelessly collapsed onto you, purposely landing on your breast. He lifted his hips so his cock could slide out of you, almost with the thinnest streams of his release down your bruised thighs. “Mmm, that was so fucking good,” he mumbled against your breast, sucking on your pert nipple for a moment. “You got the best fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

“You flatter me,” your hands ran through his damp black and white strands, acting as a comb. “You felt so fucking good, Kotaro. I’m glad I could help out. Do you think you’ll feel better at tomorrow's practice?”

Bokuto looked up from your breast and smiled brightly, cupping your flushed face with his hands. “I’m totally gonna kick everyone's ass! Atsumu won’t know what’ll hit him!”

“There’s the Bokuto we know and love!” you chuckle. 

“I’m back, baby!” he weakly flexed his muscle, kissing your cheek playfully. “Guess all I needed was my sexy manager. Best damn cure on the planet!”

You rolled your eyes and kissed the top of his head. “You act completely different when you’re inside of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he titled his head.

“Absolutely not. I think it’s adorable. You’re adorable.” you kissed his cheek once more. “So, uh, is it possible for us to do this again sometime? I-it was nice.” your eyes landed on the floor, embarrassed for no reason.

Bokuto flashed you his signature crooked smile and laughed, kissing your neck. “What a stupid question. Of course, we can do this again! We basically confessed before I fucked you, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot.” you awkwardly chuckled, leaning into his enthusiastic kisses. “Maybe your dick knocked all the brains out of my skull.”

“But then you won’t have any more left when you watch us practice!” Bokuto whined, snuggling his face into your chest once more. “You gotta have some brain left, okay?”

“Okay, Kotaro,” you mumbled, your eyelids growing heavy. “Hey…it’s pretty late. Would it be okay if I slept here for the night? I understand if you don’t want me to.”

“Hell yeah, you can sleep here!” He cheered softly, running his hand up and down your arm. “That way, you can arrive with me to practice tomorrow. Then I can show off my new girlfriend to the team and make them all super jealous.”

You chuckled. “Oh, am I your girlfriend now?”

“Do…do you wanna be my girlfriend?” his voice was soft and unsure.

“Of course I do, cutie.” you pecked the top of his head, pulling up the owl-themed covers. “Now, get some sleep. You got a lot to do tomorrow, yeah?”

“Mm, okay, baby. I can’t wait to wake up in your arms tomorrow.” he innocently whispered, shutting his eyes as sleep overtook him.

“Goodnight, Kotaro,” you whispered, flicking off the lamp as the two of you fell asleep in a mutual embrace, eager for what tomorrow will bring.

copyright © 4unnyr0se 2024 all right reserved

reblogs appreciated ❤

[bunny-1111]

I love love love your writing! I was just re-reading “Theodore Nott who…” and possibly wondered if you could expand on how he reminds reader that he will propose when they are finished school. Kicking my legs giggling thinking about that 😂

Aww, thank you. Of course, I can. Let me know if you have any other requests!! PS I wrote a whole thing, ready to push post now. It was perfect, but something happened, and it didn't save, so I had to rewrite it the best I could, I hope you enjoy this anyway AH I'M SO MAD 🥲,

...

Theodore, at age 11, thought you were the prettiest girl in school

Theodore, at age 13, began to navigate his not-so-small crush on you

Theodore, at age 16, felt his heart in his stomach as he swallowed his pride and finally asked you out

That is where our story starts.

By 17, you got comfortable enough and started spending the night in each other's dorms; one random Tuesday morning, Theo woke up earlier than usual, you were still fast asleep. Theodore was a very productive person. If he woke up early, he would get up, make a coffee, go for a run around the grounds, come back, and shower, all before most had even opened their eyes. As he reached for the corner of his side of the blanket and moved to start his day, you felt him, causing you to stir, your brows quickly scrunching, your body automatically moving towards him; you reached for him even in sleep. Something in his mind slowed, something in his heart raced, something in his soul shook. Dropping the blanket in his hand, he surrendered to you, laying so close, gently caressing your face, feeling peace in your dream state. Then it dawned on him, if I married her, this would be the last face I would see before I slept and the first I would see when I woke up.

That's when it began.

His constant reminders of marriage.

That very morning.

When your eyes fluttered open, Theos wide eyes already met yours, it would've scared you in his eyes weren't so dreamy.

"Good morn-" you start

"Marry me" he interrupted

"What?!" you laughed out. It was too early for this

"Marry me?" he smiled

"shut up" you laughed, reaching your hand under your pillow, softly throwing it at him

"Come on, why not?" he pleaded

"Theodore, we're still in high school, that's why", you smile

"Fine, you fucking time waster, but after we get out of here, I'm gonna marry you", he insisted

You thought it was a passing thought.

Something he wouldn't bring up again.

Boy, were you wrong, he proved that time and time again over the next two years.

Sitting in class, he would peck a kiss on your cheek from behind you. "Kisses for the Mrs" he would whisper with a smile before returning to his own seat

In the great hall, he slapped Matteo's hand away as you and he both reached for the same dish. "Can't you see my fiance wants that slice?" he grits, serving you before Matteo puts it on his own plate. "You aren't fucking engaged?" A defeated Matteo retorts, arms out in confusion. "Don't start", you apologise on behalf of you and your pretend husband

In Hogsmeade, you and Pansy tried on dresses. Theodore was walking past when he saw you in the mirror. Letting himself in, he slithered behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror, slipping a hand down your waist. "You know, if you look this good in this dress, I can only imagine how good you'd look in white," he'd smirk, "you know when we get married," he muttered on his way to the register, leaving money, giving the workers strict instructions to charge him for any dress you bought, for them to keep the change too.

When Theodore had early morning Quittich practice, he would leave a steaming cup of coffee or tea on your bedside, accompanied by a note: " To keep you warm while I'm gone, good morning, my better half, Mrs Nott."

When you studied in the libary, you had a very distinct look of focus. He would lay a bored hand on his face, "Come on, let's go for a smoke", he whined, "No, Theodore, We have final exams soon. You should be studying. Go without me if you want" you explain, fingers pointing at text on his book, "not going without you" he said frustrated under his breath. Theodore kept testing, blabbing nonsense, attempting to distract you, staring at you instead of the open books. "Why are we wasting time? You could be pregnant by now," he said, his free hand twirling your hair. This caused you to slam your book closed, looking up at him, your eyes widening. "What!?" he laughed. "If I had it my way, we would've tied the knot last year, and we would have a kid on the way", he continued; you did nothing but shake your head and fight your growing smile.

Walking through the gardens, you pointed at some hydrangeas. "My favourite flowers" you smiled. "I know" he smiled "I'd walk down the aisle with hydrangeas in my hand," you say softly, leaning in to smell the flowers, "When we get married, I will" you say picking some to take with you. Theodore could've fainted on the spot. 'When we get married,' your voice repeated in his mind, pulling you up into a deep kiss

When you finally graduated, Theodore pulled your father aside. If there was something Teddy valued, it was tradition; he was officially asking for your hand.

Returning to you, smiling ear to ear, he suggests you join him on a walk. Reaching the tree near the Black Lake, he kissed your forehead, one hand intertwined with yours, the other hand in his pocket, fidgeting with a small box.

A box containing a ring.

That he had bought on the year prior, now all that was left to do was kneel.

unedited today, sorry for any incorrection I'm too tired to reread or edit rn LOL

in my mind me and teddy r married

him in a suit KILL ME NOW one chance PLS

[rafecameronssl4t]

Wildflower || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Based on what Wildflower is about, helping your friend get through a breakup only to fall in love with her ex and breaking girl code and feeling haunted by what you know about their past relationship

Warnings: ANGST!!!!

Word count: 1,548

A/n: this song acc has me bawling you guys i love it sm

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Things fall apart and time breaks your heart. I wasn’t there, but I know.

Everyone thought Rafe and Sofia were destined for forever. They were total opposites in every way—personality, interests, dreams—but their love was so deep that breaking up seemed impossible. Yet, as the 2 years went by, something felt off with Sofia. Even from miles away, during your FaceTime calls, you could sense a change in her. She never said a word about it, but you could feel the shift. After all, you were her best friend.

She was your girl, you showed her the world.

Rafe was everything to Sofia. He was her entire world, and though it might sound cliché, it was true. He was her first love, her first everything. He made her happier than anyone ever had, and everyone could see it. It was almost surreal to think that someone who had given her the universe could ever be the source of such pain.

You fell out love and you both let go.

Rafe couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell out of love with Sofia. The transition was subtle, an ebbing tide he couldn’t fully grasp. He couldn’t even bring himself to utter the words that would shatter their shared dreams. Once, he had believed she was the one—his soulmate, his future wife, the mother of his children. Yet now, Sofia found it unbearable to hold onto a love that was no longer reciprocated. The weight of his unspoken truth was too heavy for her heart to bear, knowing that his feelings had shifted while hers remained steadfast.

She was crying on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her. Only made us closer until July.

The second your feet touched the sands of obx, Sofia’s tears soaked through your shoulder like a storm unleashed. You could feel the weight of her anguish, a heavy, unspoken truth that you sensed from the moment you saw her. As she unraveled her sorrows into your embrace, each sob a silent plea, your heart ached at the sight of your best friend’s shattered world. All you could do was offer your presence and comfort, feeling helpless yet determined to be there for her.

Now I know that you love me, you don’t need to remind me.

You stared at the locket, the image of you and Sofia as young girls reflecting back. Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the precious memory. “You really didn’t need to do this,” you sniffled, meeting her gaze with glassy eyes. She smiled softly, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her hand comfortingly stroked your back as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

“I love you,” she whispered, and the weight of her words made you sob even harder. The guilt of being with Rafe behind Sofia’s back pressed heavily on your heart. Each tear you shed was a mix of sorrow for her pain and the crushing guilt of hiding your true feelings.

I should put it all behind me, shouldn’t I?

“She’ll get over it,” Rafe says with a dismissive shrug, his gaze flicking briefly towards you in the passenger seat before returning to the road ahead. His hand rests firmly on your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze that feels more mechanical than comforting.

“But she’s my best friend, Rafe,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you absently fiddle with the ring he gave you, feeling its cold metal against your skin.

“So? If she was your best friend, she’d want you to be happy,” Rafe responds, his tone dismissive and frustrated. His lack of empathy makes the tears well up in your eyes, despite your efforts to hold them back.

“It’s more complicated than that, Rafe,” you cry out in frustration, your voice cracking as you cover your face with your hands, unable to contain the sobs that begin to shake your body. The harshness of Rafe’s chuckle only amplifies your distress.

“How is it more complicated? Please, fucking enlighten me, because I’m sick of you cry about this,” he shouts, his eyes never leaving the road. His words feel like a dagger, deepening the anguish you’re already feeling.

“Because I fucking care about her—” you start to explain, but Rafe interrupts with a loud scoff. “You obviously don’t care as much as you say you do, or you wouldn’t have kissed me back!” he yells, his voice sharp and accusatory. The intensity of his words makes your breath hitch, and you feel the weight of his anger crushing down on you.

“Stop the car,” you say calmly, though your voice trembles with a mix of anger and desperation as you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. Rafe’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What?”

“I said stop the fucking car, Rafe, or I swear to God I’m going to jump out,” you scream, the urgency in your voice leaving no room for argument. He slams on the brakes, pulling over abruptly on the side of the road.

“Are you fucking serious? We’re still in the cut, someone could—” Rafe begins, but you cut him off by flinging open the door and stepping out into the chilly night air. The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud, echoing your frustration and pain. Tears flow freely down your face as you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Glancing at the screen, your heart drops—Sofia is calling. You swallow hard, turning the phone to silent before shoving it back into your pocket.

“Come on, baby. I didn’t mean it!” Rafe’s voice calls out from his truck, his tone desperate as he drives slowly alongside you. “Just go home, Rafe. I’ll be fine,” you reply, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to ward off the cold and the emotional turmoil. Despite his lingering presence, Rafe eventually speeds off, his truck’s taillights fading into the darkness as you are left standing alone on the side of the road.

But I see her in the back of my mind, all the time

You lounged against Rafe’s back, soaking in the warmth of the sun as you lay sprawled on the deck of his yacht feeling the gentle sway of the boat beneath you. His thumb traced absent-minded circles on your hip while you stared out at the water.

“You good? You haven’t said much since we got here,” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, a note of concern laced with a hint of impatience. His hand rested lightly on your thighs, a gesture meant to reassure, yet it only intensified your unease. You snapped out of your daze, feeling the weight of the guilt that had been shadowing you ever since you and Rafe hooked up that one night.

“‘M fine,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You fidgeted with your ring, a nervous habit you had developed over time. Rafe’s gaze, sharp and unyielding, didn’t waver. His frustration was palpable, and you could sense the slight edge in his tone.

“You’re obviously not, Y/N. What’s wrong?” His words were laced with a subtle annoyance that made you sit up abruptly, breaking the comfortable silence you had been trying to maintain. “I’m going to go inside for a bit,” you said, standing up and stretching. Rafe watched you carefully, his expression softening as he chose not to push further when you clearly didn’t want to talk.

As you moved past him on the sun lounge, he reached out and grasped your hand, making you pause in your tracks. The intensity of his gaze was almost palpable, his eyes searching yours for answers. Slowly, he drew your hand closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles.

The gesture was both affectionate and vulnerable, and his next words made your breath catch. “I love you,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart ache. A shiver ran through. A shiver ran through you as you tried to process the weight of his confession.

You couldn’t shake the image of him saying those same words to Sofia, the unresolved guilt gnawing at your insides. You managed a tight-lipped smile, the weight of your conflicted emotions pressing down on you. “Love you too,” you said quickly, before withdrawing your hand and heading inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Rafe—quite the opposite. You were certain that you’d never felt as deeply for anyone as you did for him. That's why you didn't stop seeing him. But the reality of loving him, especially given that he was your best friend’s ex, made everything feel so much more complicated.

So you couldn’t help but see Sofia in the back of your mind whenever you were with Rafe. It felt unfair to him, but most of all it was so fucking unfair for Sofia. Every time you were with Rafe, all you could think about was how fucked up it was that you ended up hooking up with her ex at a party she had skipped because she was still getting over the breakup. She’d wanted you to have fun, and yet here you were, knowing you were betraying her trust.

[petew21-blog]

Romania dreaming

It has been a few months since I met George on the site for long distance dating for gays. He was from Romania, kind of cute twinkish guy. Never had much luck. I honestly can't say why I went on that website, maybe I was just bored, but it turned out as the best decision of my life.

It was strange cause from the start, we knew we had chemistry between each other, but the distance made it complicated. We often sex-chatted on the website. About what we would do to each other and so.

One day I told him I wanted to jerk off furiously, because of what he wrote, but my rommate was unfortuantely in the room. Then just a strange idea popped into my head. "What if you'd swap into his body? Then you could be with me." George told me about his Romania ancestor magic skills he had, but he did just some small parlor tricks from time to time. The bigger spells were harder. He needed a friend for that. A friend that I could be. And that I could benefit from too

George loved the idea, but was scared at first. "What if the other one in my body ruins my life while he is me? I can't let that happen."

"Ok, you know what. Find anyone hot from your life that you would like me to swap into and I will come to see you. Then you'll swap me back and I'll see what the other person did. Maybe the spell makes them think they're us. That would be neat" I suggested

George was more confident now and even sent me some photos of his straight colleagues from work, so that we could see if they behaved differently after swapping back. I immediately set my eyes on Daniel. His hot, absolutely 100 % straight, colleague who worked out. Insanely hot.

We both agreed. I got ready in my bed. I told George to start the spell at 21:21. I looked at the clock and still had some minutes left. I tried to fall asleep. Maybe Daniel would be asleep in my body and it would be easier. Then it hit me. Strange nauseating feeling and the light

I was standing in the locker rooms. Cold win from the AC on my bare torso. Bare torso? Holy shit. I am shirtless in the locker rooms of some gym. That's something I never expected to happen to me. I looked down. First thing that caught my eye were the shorts. Then I looked at my beautiful muscular torso. My new arms. Then I caught my new reflection. In the mirror was the guy that I saw in the photo. Daniel. "Daniel" I said aloud. His voice sounded so strong and commanding. If he told me with this voice to get down on my knees and suck him, I would. Speaking of sucking I looked in my shorts. Nice flacid shaved cock. "Gotta find out how big you are when you're hard big guy". His phone vibrated. Fuck, I almost forgot I was suppose to send Daniel proof of swapping bodies

I sent the photo to George's instagram. Then I wrote:"This is what you'll be looking up at tonight while you suck me off"

"Peter? I can't believe it. You're really him. You have to come over!"

I wanted to get his stuff and leave immediately, but the some of his friends got to the locker and ridiculed me for being a pussy and leaving without lifting. I don't know if it was Daniel's personality or something else in me, but I felt like I had to prove them wrong. And then I said things I didn't even know. Shit about cars, girls, FUCKING GIRLS. I even lifted without knowing how. This body was on autopilote.

I left early without saying anything. Bunch of messages from George waiting for me and being stressed out what happened. I explained and asked for his adress of his dorms.

The twink I used to talk to late at night was waiting for me in black compression shorts and black shirt.

"Heey...." was all I let him say out loud. I agressively pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Tongues twisting around each other, my teeth biting his lips, hands feeling up and down his body. Slowly we were working our way to his bed. I set him down and took of my shirt. He was visibly shocked, that his work colleague was now in front of him stripping down. I whip out my hard dick and pushed it into his face. He obliged immediately and worked his way with his tongue around the bright purple head of my new dick. He was working it like a pro, trying to swallow it whole, not gagging. But that didn't matter, I had to fuck his ass. Now.

I turned him around, not even stripping him, only pulling a bit of his shorts from his ass. I spit into my hand, got it on my dick and pushed myself in. He screamed out. But I didn't care, I just pused inside and kept thrusting. He was so tight. His ass was so tight around my shaft. I shot my cum inside of him. Pulling out and immediately searching for clothes to leave.

"You're leaving?!"

I snapped out. "Fuck, jesus George I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I think Daniel's personality still had effect on me. I didn't mean to be so rough on you. Please forgive me."

"It's ok. It did hurt at first, but it was worth it. I still can't believe you're him now. And I lost my virginity with Daniel who I crushed over for years! That's so amazing!"

"Wait, this was your first time? But, you told me all the stories. Was none of it true? Jesus, George, maybe if I knew I would have fought Daniel's personality harder."

"I didn't expect we would me irl. I honestly didn't expect the spell would wrok, but here we are. Daniel is here. In my room. Wait, I have a great idea!" he started casting a spell

"Wait!" I wasn't fast enough to stop him.

But now I was looking at Daniel. From his point of view. Already feeling more submissive than in Daniel's body. The personality of the original body truly does have an effect on the one swapped inside.

George was now posing in front of the mirror. His eyes focused on his biceps and all the tense muscles.

I was now in George's twink body. I could feel his ass hurting from the sex with Daniel's body. I could feel the cum in his ass. I felt the attraction towards Daniel's body. But I didn't feel right like I did in Daniel's. I wanted to swap back.

George now got to his new dick, which was already throbbing hard again. How that's possible, I have no idea. But as soon as he started jerking his new cock he looked at me and I felt his predator eyes on me. Fuck, this is gonna hurt

The next morning I woke up sleeping next to George still in Daniel's body. We didn't sleep much tonight, but don't get me wrong, while the sex felt great I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the wrong body. As soon as George woke up I told him about my dysphoria with his body. He got mad. I could tell that Daniel's personality took over. And then few seconds later I found myself in my original body again already in my university lecture.

For several weeks George didn't answer my messages. I could only see as his Tumblr profile had more and more photos of Daniel's body in the gym etc.

Not only was I worried, but I had to admit to myself that I was extremely jealous. I was in that body first. I need it more than he did

I kept spamming him with messages and then one day he answered. The message said:"I need to fuck this guy in gym. I'll swap u with him tonight. Be ready". Man, I think it's better to have one body close to Daniel's rather than be far from him

He did as he said in the message. I woke up again in the bright gym. Now lifting. I proceeded to not cause suspicion.

This guy I was now in was really handsome. More muscular even than Daniel I dare to say. I could feel that his personality was not as strong as Daniel's. He seemed more kind in my eyes, but who knows who he is. I may not know before George tells me. I saw him on the other side of the room eyeing me. Stalking me even. I left the body on autopilote and finished the workout. His body was probably used to take photos after so I let him

Maybe I could stay in his body. He is really hot. And more handsome too. But I don't know. He is the type I would love to have as a boyfriend, not to be him.

I followed George to the showers. We were eventually the last people in the gym. I got into the lockers. Patiently waiting for him to speak.

"You're Mihai now. He's the owner of the gym. So we got the place for ourselves. Let's hit the showers"

I followe him. Mihai, what a nice name for this guy. I don't feel that Mihai is someone who would just follow others and do what they tell him to. Maybe I figured out how to overpower the personality of the person.

We got naked and stared at each other.

"Nah, this is wrong." and yet again he proceeded to perform his ritual

I was now Daniel again and was looking at Mihai. Now the reality of how he acted hit him. And as I suspected before, Miahi was irl a very nice guy. "I am so so so sorry Peter. I didn't know that Daniel had such a strong personality. I tohught I could fight it, but most of the time I just found myself being the passenger, but still enjoying his life. It's so weird. But I feel better now as Mihai. Maybe you should stay in Daniel's body for now. I'll learn to control the personality of others, just as you did and then we can safely try to swap with other people. What do you think?"

"I think" I said as I turned on the water in the showers "that you need a post workout shower. And that George and Mihai need to get to know themselves better" I smiled at him kneeling down to the nice hairy cock already waiting for my mouth

Few months later

Are you asking if we stayed in their bodies? Well yeah, kind off. We made their bodies our main ones. We got them to live together, start a relationship and now even if we swapped into other bodies Daniel and Mihai bodies continue what we established. Romantic right?

Me and George often take trips to some new locations travelling around the world, enjoying life of other people. Most of the time we try to find some straight friends travelling to foreign locations, trying to score some pussy there and slightly changing their vacation plans. Heh, there was this one time where we didn't even exit our hotel room. For a week. Crazy right? That was wild. But maybe I'll tell that story another time and tell you how our life in Mihai and George is proceeding

But now we are in the bodies of these two gym bro friends, waiting for the gay bar to open. See you

A story from messages we came up with while body swap roleplaying with @hunkpossesion

I changed the plot a bit, but still the hot bodies remained.

[shouyuus]

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

roronoa zoro, 4,958 words; fluff and angst, enemies to lovers, relationship progress being made, emotionally constipated!zoro, slow burn, captain!luffy being captain, decent amount of banter, slow healing, strawhat!reader, tru hurt/comfort, no "y/n", domestic fluff

summary: in which zoro helps you make sakura-mochi and you keep good on your promise

a/n: we are indeed getting somewhere in their relationship!!! we get some fluffy moments of respite in this chapter <3 i hope you all enjoy!

< to the table of contents

That night, swinging in his hammock, he tries to picture it, as he’d so often done in the past — wondering about you, picturing you. Before seeing you again, he’d tried to imagine what you might look like, based solely on his memory. He spares a moment now to wonder, staring up at the moon-slatted ceilings of his small room — why? Why you?

You weren’t the only person in that sleepy little town, and you definitely weren’t close enough for him to call you a friend. But then again, he reflects bitterly, the only person he’d considered a friend from then is dead.

So suppose you are the next best thing. Suppose it’s just the nebulous workings of the human mind, of the brush-stroke memories he’d attached to the shape of you simply because you were there. And you were different.

Different from all the other boys and girls at the doujou. Different from him and Kuina too.

And there, something clunks inside his chest, blunt and oppressive, the same way it had when he’d run into that Tashigi girl in Loguetown. So maybe that’s it — maybe he’d held onto the memory of you because it was one of the last solid things that tied him to Kuina. You and the Wadou Ichimonji. But as much as other swordsmen might wax poetic about how a blade is a living thing, he can’t reminisce with a sword, can’t share a drink over those silver-lining days and star-spangled nights.

Sometimes if he closes his eyes, he can still hear it, the sound clear as if it were echoing into his room from the decks above — you and Kuina laughing, your heads bent over the basket of sweets, eyes glittering as you picked all the prettiest ones.

It was the only time he’d ever seen Kuina smile the way she did. The only time he’d seen you look so pleased.

The dull clatter in his chest sharpens to a throbbing ache, as flesh would around a fresh knife wound. He flips over onto his side and sighs.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

The memory comes to him, clear and sharp as fresh-cut glass. The autumn sun paints thick streaks across the doujou floors, and afternoon practice has just ended. You’re sitting by the door, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your hair twisted back in a simple braid that fell over your right shoulder, tied off with a dark red bow. Anyone could see the care that was taken with it — the love inherent in the simple detail.

Zoro makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, yawning as the other boys all scramble towards you, Shimotsuki-sensei tutting as he watches, an indulgent grin on his lips.

“Gimme the blue one!”

“No I want the blue one!”

“Fine then gimme the yellow one!”

“I want the one that’s three layers!”

“That one is the prettiest —”

“As if you know what pretty means.”

“Yeah, well real men don’t like pretty things.”

Zoro scoffs, turning his head resolutely away. But a while later, you patter over with your basket, dropping down in front of him.

“There’s still the sakura one left, if you’d like.”

Zoro frowns, “A — a real swordsman knows the meaning of abstinence.”

You giggle, reaching into your basket to pull out a plain-looking mochi, pale pink and powdered in sugar. Zoro can tell from the dark red bleeding through the translucent skin that there’s an azuki filling — his favorite.

He gulps.

“Well, how can you know abstinence… if you don’t know indulgence first?”

Zoro chews on his lips for a second before making a show of rolling his eyes and plucking the mochi from your hand. He bites into it and swallows passed a delighted shiver. It’s delicious — the azuki sweet and creamy, the cherry-blossom skin perfectly chewy. It sticks to his teeth in the best way and he has to fight down a bright blush threatening his cheeks.

“Th-thanks.”

You smile, clearly pleased.

“Those are my favorite too,” you say, folding a white cloth over the mouth of the basket before pushing it aside — precise movements, not a moment wasted.

Zoro thinks, brashly, that you would’ve been a great swordswoman. Kuina’s always talking about how he’s wasting his movements by swinging wide or cutting too deep.

“Did… did you make them yourself?” he asks, scratching at his cheek, chancing you a single glance. You’re watching him with wide, dark eyes, clear and entrancing. He swallows, his mouth feeling suddenly very, very dry.

“Not all of them,” you look down at your hands, and he sighs with relief. It’s strange, holding your gaze like that — he’d always fancied that you could see more than you let on.

“Just the plain ones — I’m not good enough yet to make the more complicated ones,” you explain, toying with the tips of your fingers. Your nails are short and perfectly filed. There are bits of white stuck under them. Zoro wonders whether it’s sugar or flour or maybe a mix of both.

You look back at him with a crooked grin.

“But just between you and me —” you lean in, your eyes glittering, your voice conspiratorial, “the plain ones are always the best.

— — —

Zoro jerks awake to the sound of laughter, and grumbling, he twists himself out of the hammock, squinting in the morning light. Somehow, he’d slept clear passed dawn, and he curses himself for missing out on his morning katas.

Rounding his door, he follows the sound of voices till he comes into the kitchen, only to find you and Sanji, laughing, standing too close, the air around you a snowfall of powdered sugar. The slanting rays of the rising sun casts the entire scene in a sparkling, ambered glow, as if encasing the moment in honey.

Like this, the pale of sugar falling from your fingers looks like dust-motes caught in the liquid light.

“Zoro! You’re awake!” and there, the laughter in your voice, running undercurrent to the way you say his name. It’s been so long since he’d heard his name said like something more than just a name —

He purses his lips and scowls. An ugly, nameless thing rears its head inside Zoro’s chest.

“Yeah well — couldn’t really sleep last night.”

And he knows it’s unfair to be taking this out on you; he sees it in the flicker of emotions that passes by your face — hurt, confusion, hesitation, regret.

“Zoro —”

“Whatever. Just tell me when breakfast is ready.” He spins around and slinks out of the room, his chest twisting tight as a hangman’s noose, his heart a riot of irregular beats, slamming against his ribs.

“Zoro —!”

He makes it all the way up onto the main deck, his fingers digging into the hilt of his swords, heat pluming up and up and up till he swirls around to pin you with an icy stare.

“What?”

You shrink back, your brows furrowing, and for a second, he almost feels bad, feels like the naive boy he used to be, so desperate to prove himself to Kuina, and to you.

“I — we were just —” you look away, your eyes cutting across the flat deck of the ship towards the trap door that leads to the rooms below.

Zoro lets out a hollow laugh, backing away, his footsteps falling heavy, “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain. We don’t owe each other anything.”

Your gaze swings towards him, eyes wide and lips trembling.

Zoro notes with a savage satisfaction that your gaze is kaleidoscoped in unshed tears.

“No! That’s not — I’m —” your breath catches over your words, time and time again and Zoro allows himself a cruel grin, watching you struggle.

“You’re what?” he asks, unable to keep the poison from his voice.

“I’m sorry!”

Zoro nearly snarls as he rounds on you, a few quick steps carrying him into your personal space; you back away, scrambling back till your back thumps against the main mast.

“Sorry?” he repeats, his voice dangerous and low, “yeah… sure. Whatever.” He jerks back, shaking his head.

You narrow your eyes, “Don’t.”

Zoro’s lip curls, “Don’t?”

“Don’t walk away,” you say, swiping a hand across your mouth, licking your lips as you push yourself off the mast to face him.

“Oh, yeah? What else am I supposed to do, huh?” Zoro asks, casting his eyes up towards the endlessly blue sky. He feels anger bursting inside him like summertime sparklers, the fuses short, the explosions bright and unrelenting.

“Just… let me explain —”

“Explain? Explain what? How you nearly killed me twice? How you threatened me with my life? How you let me believe that you were dead for —” he throws his hands up, turning away from you, shaking his head, “for almost two months?”

“I had no choice!” you shout, your fists balled at your sides, “you really think Baroque Works — Crocodile would’ve let me send you a — a message?”

Zoro scoffs, “Well you could’a done something. Anything.”

You deflate, your fists loosening. You lean back against the mast, looking anywhere but at Zoro’s face.

“I didn’t mean to… to make you worry.”

Zoro lets out a hollow laugh.

“I wasn’t worried.”

Even without looking, he feels you wince at his words. He takes three steps towards you, and jerks your face up with two fingers and hisses into your face.

“I was mourning the death of a friend.”

Your breath hitches — he sees it in the way your pupils constrict, in the way your expression falls slack.

“If I — but I couldn’t — you don’t know what they did —”

Zoro very nearly sneers, the gaping wound inside him pulsing red and fire-poker hot as he lets go of your chin.

“You think you’re the only one with a tragic backstory? Look around,” he gestures around the main deck, where the whole crew’s gathered, with various expressions of shock and trepidation scattered across their faces.

Zoro tightens his hold, bearing down over you as he whispers, “You’re not special. Get over yourself.”

He jerks his hand away, turning to stalk back towards the trap door. He hears you cough behind him.

“You’re a real dick, Roronoa, you know that?”

He’s pleased to hear that at least your voice is shaky, even as your words burrow themselves beneath his skin.

He barely glances over his shoulder, “Yeah. Been told a good few times.”

And he strides from the deck, slamming the trap door behind him as he does.

— — —

“Hey.”

Zoro groans, barely peeling open one eye as Luffy edges his way into the small storage room.

“What?” Zoro asks, casting his eyes back at the wood-beamed ceiling.

Luffy crosses his arms, seemingly searching for the right words.

“That wasn’t very cool of you — what you did back there. But — I can kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Zoro chokes back an indignant laugh, “Yeah?”

Luffy nods, spurred on by his apparent acceptance, “Yeah! Like — I get it! You’re just mad that someone you cared so much about let you believe she was dead! But now that she’s not dead… you don’t really know what to do with your feelings!”

Zoro narrows his eyes, uncertain what to do with the surprisingly accurate diagnosis. Luffy is grinning, looking mightily pleased with himself as he plops down on top of a wooden barrel, crossing his legs.

“It’s a bit more than that,” Zoro says, letting his eyes flicker back to the ceiling.

“Yeah? Then tell me!”

Zoro sighs, considering his words.

“I mean, do you even know what it’s like? Thinkin’ you’ve lost one of your —” Zoro nearly chokes on the word, barbed and abrasive in his throat, but he forces it through, “your friends?”

Luffy nods, his smile never faltering, “Sure! You almost died at the Baratie and that really, really sucked for a while!”

Zoro jerks up, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s not — I mean —” he shakes his head, unable to entirely parse through his thoughts.

“It’s not really that different, is it?” Luffy asks.

Zoro groans, scratching at his scalp with his nails. He can’t refute Luffy, but he can’t verbalize why it had been so different for you either. It leaves him feeling gouged out and hollow as he slumps back into his hammock, leaving it swinging with the weight of his body.

“Its okay,” Luffy says, jumping to his feet and padding over to give Zoro a solid smack on the arm, “if you just say your sorry, I’m sure she’ll forgive you!”

Zoro nearly snarls as he scrambles up, but Luffy’s already bouncing out of the room, humming to himself.

“Oh! She’s in the kitchen — it’s weird, but I think she likes to make sweets when she’s stressed. Kinda nice though — it’s like we’ll never be short of desserts on the ship again!”

“Right,” Zoro says, leaning back into his hammock, scowling at the ceiling.

Luffy pauses by the door, “She’s not a bad person.”

Zoro sighs, hesitating perhaps a beat longer than he should have.

“Sure. If you say so.”

— — —

He dreams of you. He dreams of the later summer day when the air was so tepid that practice had ended early in lieu of letting all the students laze by the small koi pond in the backyard of the doujou complex.

You’d come over that morning with your usual sweets, and had stayed for lunch with the rest of the children.

Kuina had tried to teach you some basic forms with a wooden sword, but even from afar, Zoro could tell that you’re woefully inept at handling anything as long and unwieldy as a katana.

“If you practice, you’ll get better,” Kuina offers, leading you to the koi pond, where you’d peered curiously into the crystal clear water and gasped with pleasure at the white and black spotted fish that flickered beneath, their scales shimmering in the late summer sun.

“Betcha you couldn’t do a hundred swings,” Zoro says, thumbing at his nose, rolling up his sleeves. Next to you, Kuina rolls her eyes, but you stare at him for a long second before smiling.

“Sure! I can do a hundred.” You leap to your feet, and Kuina hands you one of the light wooden training swords.

Zoro takes great pains to pull out one of his real katanas, metal and cloth and all, dropping into a perfect sparring stance.

“One! Two!” he counts, swinging the sword down in a controlled motion, his heels digging in, his toes keeping him balanced.

You follow his movements, though after a good thirty of them, you gasp, the wooden sword clattering to the ground. Zoro turns, only to see you cradling one of your hands. He rushes forward, not caring that his own sword clanks down into the soft grass as well.

“It’s a splinter,” you say, forlorn as you hold up your forefinger to the light, a minuscule shard of wood protruding from the soft pad beneath your nail.

Zoro sighs, reaching out to grab your hand in his. He can’t help noticing the softness of your skin against his own callused palms, how small your hands feel in his.

“Hold still,” he says, peering at the splinter with a frown dug between his brows.

“I-it’s fine! My mom will take it out once I get home — and we’ve still got seventy more swings —”

Zoro tuts, shooting you a dark look, “If we don’t take care of it, it might get fester and get worse.”

You go quiet, your arm going slack as you let Zoro twist your hand this way and that. After a few more moments of silent assessment, Zoro leans in to press his thumb to the base of the splinter. You squeak in protest, jerking your arm back on instinct, but he’s stronger than you, even then, and he holds you still.

“Quit squirming! I’m gonna squeeze it out.”

You clamp down on your lips, eyes wide and watery as you force yourself still, and Zoro goes back to the gruesome work of forcing the splinter out bit by bit.

When finally, the needle of wood falls away from your hand, there’s bead of blood welling up into the wound. You press the finger into your mouth.

“Thanks,” you say, grinning at Zoro.

It’s only then that Zoro processes the blaze of heat that rushes into his cheeks. He looks away, clearing his throat.

“I’ve always hated those old practice swords — the handles aren’t wrapped well enough. Here —” he reaches down and hands you one of his real swords (the best and most well-balanced one), the hilt wrapped with fine black cloth, in a traditional diamond hatch.

Your wrists tip forward as he hands you the sword, but a second later, you hold it upright, marveling at it’s balance.

“Whoa… it’s so… beautiful.”

Zoro crinkles his nose, stepping back to pick up another one of his swords, dropping into a sparring stance again. He makes a concerted effort not to look in Shimotsuki-sensei’s direction, even though he can feel the man’s eyes tracking him, know the exact shape and luster of the man’s soft, knowing smile.

“C’mon, seventy more swings to go,” he gruffs, glancing back at you.

You nod eagerly, trying to mirror his stance. But your legs are too far apart, your knees not bent enough. And it’s plain as day the katana is a bit too long for your body. Still, Zoro smiles to himself as he begins to count again —

“Thirty-four, thirty-five —”

— — —

It’s a week before either of you speak to each other again. Though even Zoro has to be hard-pressed to not notice the delicate little sweets that now seem to accompany the ends of all their meals.

And he can hear your laughter, hard as he tries not to, the sound trickling into him like spring water — clear and sweet. He can see you frequently chatting with Nami, that familiar rosy glow to your cheeks, or hear you joking with Sanji, the pair of you staking opposite ends of the kitchen — you to make dessert, him to make whatever the hell he’s decided to make that day.

As for Zoro, he finds himself circling the periphery of these cheery moments, sticking to the shadows, somber as a vulture, watching you with dark eyes and a nameless weight bearing down on his chest. He knows he’s being unreasonable, that none of this is objectively your fault.

But as he’s heard Sanji say to Luffy more than once — feelings aren’t objective things. You kinda just have to let them be.

It’s a warm, sun-baked afternoon when he pushes into the kitchen and finds you there, by yourself for once, an apron tied around your waist, a bowl of fat, juicy strawberries sitting on the counter before you, the area around the counter dusted in a fine layer of flour and sugar.

“Ow — shit —” you drop the tiny parring knife you’d been holding, bringing your hand up to your eyes.

The late afternoon light cuts slantwise across the entire kitchen, illuminating the shape of you in a solid chunk of shadow, like a piece of cut cloth in the dappled, golden light, inked against the freshly waxed floors (courtesy of Usopp, at Sanji’s snack-based behest).

“What happened?” Zoro rushes forward before he can stop himself.

“N-nothing,” you say, making as if to jerk back, but Zoro catches your hand and forces it forward into the light. He can see the small snick the knife had made on your palm.

Scowling, he looks up at you, a silent question in his eyes.

“I was — I was peeling the strawberries.”

He’s caught momentarily off-guard by the strangeness of your answer.

“Peeling strawberries?”

You blush, the color saturating your skin like the berry juice staining your fingertips.

“Yeah! Cause… the strawberry skins have those little seeds in them, and that creates a strange texture if it’s mixed into the filling so —”

Zoro scoffs, reaching into a drawer to pull out a bandage and a small roll of gauze.

“Hold still,” he says, leaning down to wipe the cut lean.

You sigh, your voice falling flat as you say, only half-jokingly, “Don’t worry — it’s nothing. It won’t kill me.”

Zoro levels you with a sharp glare and you freeze mid-breath, clamping down over your lips as you drop your head to hide your eyes behind your soft bank of bangs. Zoro resumes his work, his heart thundering an irregular beat at the back of his throat.

He finishes bandaging you in silence, and then, he drops your hand and turns to leave.

“Wait —”

He stops, barely sparing you a look over his shoulder.

“I —” you teeter on the balls of your feet; he can feel you weighing your words, searching for the right ones to say. Finally, you settle on, “I’m making sakura-mochi next. Do you… do you want to try some?”

Zoro huffs, turning back around with slightly narrowed eyes. He regards you for a long moment before making his way to the sofa and dropping into it, folding his arms. You let out a visible breath, the tension draining from your shoulders as you make to pick up the parring knife again.

“Here, I got it.” Zoro is by your side in an instant, plucking the small knife from your grasp and tugging the bowl of fruit towards him.

“But —”

“I might not be a waiter, but I can handle my knives,” he says, squaring his shoulders as he starts the methodical work of skinning each strawberry.

The silence coagulates around the pair of you like melted butter, growing colder by the minute. You carefully measure out half a cup of warm water and pour it into the pristine white rice flour, kneading the forming dough as you go.

Zoro plunks one strawberry after another into a separate bowl, dropping the thin strips of pebbled skin into the trash.

After another few moments, you pause. So does he.

“That other day —”

“I should’ve told you —”

You both talk at the same time, both freezing after a single, starling heartbeat.

Zoro sighs, shrugging up a shoulder.

“You first.”

You resume your gentle kneading of the lumpy dough.

“No, it’s just… I… I get it. I know why your mad at me. But… it’s not that simple,” you say, your voice imploring.

Zoro’s shoulders stiffen, “Seemed pretty simple to me.”

“What did you expect me to do? Bare my soul to you the first time we’d met after almost a decade? After you’d been hunting me for weeks — for a bounty?”

Zoro drops his hands, one still poised on the knife’s handle, the other cradling a half-skinned strawberry.

“I wouldn’tve — you know I wouldn’t —” he nearly whips the knife across the room in frustration, but thinks better of it at the last second. It drops from his hand with a dull clatter as he reaches out to wipe his hands on a discarded towel.

“I… I hoped…” your voice fractures along the word and Zoro places the strawberry into its bowl.

“I hoped you might’ve… recognized —“ you try again, but Zoro shakes his head.

“A good hunter always keeps his distance,” he recites, words dull. You nod, pursing your lips. It was something sensei had taught him — don’t strike until you absolutely have to. And when you do, make it quick.

Slowly, you start to knead the dough again, pressing the heel of your hand into the center. Zoro watches the soft white of it bulge beneath your fingers, the rough lumps smoothing out until the entire thing is round and soft and perfect.

Zoro folds his arms, leaning a hip against the counter.

“Why didn’t you tell me? The first time?” he asks, the accusation now gone from his voice, replaced by something much, much worse — uncertainty.

“I couldn’t — not without Baroque Works tracking me and —” you bite off the last bit of your sentence, looking away.

“And what?” Zoro asks, his voice gentle.

“It’s nothing. You’re right — I should’ve —”

“No,” Zoro says, grabbing you by the wrists and forcing you to him, “tell me what they did to you. I — I want to know.”

You lick your lips, your eyes watery, fractaled by the dying light, “But… maybe I don’t want you to know. I don’t want — want to you think of me like — like that.”

Zoro lets out a mirthless puff of laughter, “Bit too late for that.”

Your eyes snap back to his, wide and searching.

He shrugs, grip loosening ever so slightly on your wrists.

“I —” he has to fight through the tightness in his throat, the dryness papering the back of his tongue, “I thought of you all the time,” he admits, licking his lips, “most nights, I’d have these dreams of when we were both —” he breaks off again, his mind mired in the haze of half-forgotten memories.

“When we were both kids?” you offer gently.

Zoro nods.

“So please… tell me what happened.”

You stare at him as he stares at you. He sighs, the edge of his lips twitching up ever so slightly.

“And… you promised.”

A tiny laugh punches out of you, startled and resigned all at once. You nod.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

The last dregs of sunset bleeds the room empty, and the pair of you are suddenly thrown into a pitched, primal dark. In it, your eyes shown, black and glassy.

“My parents were always living on borrowed time,” you say, trailing a finger through the fine dust of rice flour on the counter, “they…” you break off in a puff of laughter, the sound so course it doesn’t even register as a laugh.

“They couldn’t have a child, so they… got creative. They were young and in love, and desperate to start a family.”

Zoro frowns, trying to piece the disparate pieces of the story together.

“Do you know where Devil Fruits come from?” you ask, dusting your hands off before wiping them on your apron and reaching for a piece of wax paper to wrap your freshly made rice dough. Zoro watches you move through the seemingly mundane tasks, his mind spinning.

“Uh — not really. Never really thought about it.”

You nod, pressing the wax paper in around the edges of the dough, folding it in neat, origami lines until the whole thing is wrapped.

“Legends say that Devil Fruits are enchanted by Sea Devils — manifesting when humans want something enough to wish it into existence. Most of the time, the trade-off is simple — the Devil Fruit eater gains some kind of power, but gives up their ability to survive in seawater,” a wry smile plays at your lips.

“Have you ever thought of the average life expectancy for a Devil Fruit eater?”

Zoro shakes his head, frown carving deeper and deeper between his brows.

“Well, I can tell you — it’s not as long as you might think. Most of them end up dying young…”

From beyond the windows, a pale, silvery moon peaks out from the far horizon, casting the room in a cold, alien glow. You wrap your arms around yourself, as if defending against an unseen chill, and Zoro feels the familiar pull behind his navel, to reach out for you and pull you close.

“My parents wished, but when they got their wish, it wasn’t a god that had answered them — it was —“

“A Sea Devil.”

There’s no question in Zoro’s tone, no room for shock or wonder or bewilderment. He’d watched you die; and yet here you are in front of him, traced silver by the moonlight.

You nod, reaching up to drag your fingers through your hair, and Zoro watches, breathless, at the inky spill of it over your shoulder, shielding your face from the burgeoning light.

“What did they trade?” Zoro asks, though a part of him thinks he already knows.

“Their lives,” you answer simply.

Zoro narrows his eyes, “Still doesn’t explain how you ended up —“ he motions at the stagnant air between them. Above decks, he can hear the sound of a fire being built, the clatter of footsteps and the warm trickle of laughter.

You shrug, “The cardinal rule of wish-making, as any good fairy-tale will tell you,” you spin a finger around in the air before pointing it at Zoro, “is… specificity.”

Zoro grunts, casting his eyes down at the bowl of half-skinned strawberries.

“Careful what you wish for…” he says.

You raise your thumb, your forefinger still pointed at him, now in a finger-gun shape, before pulling an invisible trigger. Zoro feels a shiver shake him all the way down to his bones.

“Apparently, when they said ‘we’ll give you our lives’, they didn’t know they’d wished away my life too.”

Zoro swallows, “So… what? They made another deal?”

“Yep,” you sound entirely too bright, reaching behind yourself now to untie the apron, “they made another deal.”

“And what did they trade away this time?”

You slip the apron from around your middle, reaching out to hang it on a hook by the far wall. When you turn around, it’s to find Zoro still watching you, the curves of his face washed colorless by the moon.

You offer him a small, heartbreaking smile.

“The only thing they had left to trade — my death.”

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[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Seven)

Summary: After learning about your encounter with Cal, Tommy swiftly seeks out revenge for your brutal beating on your behalf. But after the dust settles from the days' harrowing events, Johnathan interrupts your quiet evening alone with Tommy. Fracturing your growing relationship beyond repair with his own selfishness.

Warnings: Language, angst, violence.

Word Count: 4550

Authors Note: £150 and £40 in 1924 is worth £7600 and £2000 in today's value.

Having dragged yourself to the safe confines of your bedroom before anyone saw the state Cal had left you in. You sat at your vanity, eyes welling with tears at the battered reflection of the person looking back at you.

How many times had you done this? you absently thought to yourself as you blinked through your tears. Fingers weakly stretching out for the powdery palette to conceal your fiance's sins.

And how many more times would you have to endure his heavy hand? your chest swelled with sorrow, pulling sharp breaths from your lungs until the dam opened and you were left hunched over the wooden table, grieving the fleeting happiness you were cruelly allowed to enjoy through strained sobs.

Anger for the hand you had been dealt in life, for the burdens of others you had to bare. You grabbed hold of the silver-plated comb on your vanity, throwing it with force at the glass mirror in front of you. Shattering the taunting reflection of the women in it, and the dreams she held for the future.

And just like times before, you raised your head with determination, summoning the last of your perseverance to continue on as you cleared your throat of any lingering emotions that dared to make themselves known. The mask you had let slip in Tommy's presence, now firmly fixed back in place.

"Enough" you scolded yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you as you pressed the puffy sponge into it's tightly compacted case. Patting the scented powder to your bruising cheek before heading downstairs.

Born into a duty of service to others, you had come to the realisation that no matter how much you screamed, how much you kicked your feet in protest, there was no escaping your life's responsibilities and the fate they held.

Your and Tommy's promise to each other, now suddenly words of misplaced passion. Only a small inconvenience, your heart would quickly bury under the fractures of life's hardships until nothingness. He was just a quick fling, just...

"Tommy..." your mouth parted, the whisper of his name mumbling past your lips as your fingers clutched fiercely onto the book grasped in your hand as you stepped around the corner of the wooden stairs to see him stood in the foyer, talking with a member of staff.

" Y/N..." his smitten eyes beamed with adoration as he excused himself from the conversation. The sight of you never failing to grab his full and undivided attention.

"Been looking for you" he caught up with your quickened pace as you swiftly tried to slip away from him seeing the bruises of violence that bore your skin.

"Bloody hell, slow down love " He chuckled as you silently paced the hallway to the back door of the house. Intent on avoiding any small talk or show of affection that would make the task in hand more torturous than it already was.

"Hey" he frowned, confused by your sudden silent treatment as his hand grabbed hold of the brassy handle of the door, stopping you from escaping his presence.

"You not gonna tell me how it went?" his stance hardened, his grip tightening around your only means of escape as you dipped your head, letting your hair fall around your face to conceal the swelling truth of your encounter with Cal.

" Fine. It went fine" you cleared your croaky voice of the bubbling emotions caught in your throat as Tommy's hand gently came up to brush the stray locks of hair from your face.

" What's a matter with you, eh?" He shuffled from one foot to the other as he turned your chin to face him, only to abruptly pull back when you flinched away from his concerned touch.

" What happened, Y/N?" His voice suddenly lowered into a gravelly demand, determined to know what had you so skittish.

"Nothing. Everything's fine, Tommy" you huffed with frustration, wanting to be free from his questions and the heaviness sitting on your chest.

" Fine, is it?" He scoffed, shaking his head at that scarcity of your reply and the years of knowledge he had gained to know that your chosen word of response was in fact, one far from its actual meaning.

"Yes fine, Tommy" you snapped, finding yourself matching his irritation as your brain scrambled to find another way to damage your lack of communication.

"I just...I just want to finish my book" you bluntly stated, your pathetic choice of excuse not enough to put your point across to Tommy's arched brow of bewilderment, when you abruptly let your tongue slip and delivered words purposely intended to hurt him.

" We don't have to spend every waking moment of the day together, Tommy" you provoked his feelings. Your tone of voice lacking in the softness you had shown him mere hours earlier.

" Why don't you bother someone else for a change, and stop harassing me for god sake!"

Was this your grand plan? Cruelly push him away without explanation, instead of revealing the burdens of your brother Cal was now blackmailing you with, you thought to yourself as a pang of guilt pooled in your stomach, your eyes sheepishly darting up to see the hurt flash across his face from the coldness your words bitterly stung him with.

" It's that what I am to you, eh? A fucking bother?" Tommy scoffed as his hands came to sit on his waist. The visible tension of upset, straining through the bone protruding through his chiseled jaw.

" Well then. Don't let me stop you from your reading, sweetheart" he gestured to the door. His scorned feelings taking the brunt of his dismissive reply as you clutched your book to your chest, eyes cast down with the pooling tears of shame you had unfairly inflicted.

" Excuse me" you pushed past his strong frame, fleeing before your lies revealed themselves through the sadness streaming down your cheeks.

" Fuck sake" Tommy sighed, running his hand down his face until the calloused pads of his fingers settled above his bottom lip, pinching it together in frustration as he watched you walk beyond the gardens of your home.

Confusion for your sudden change in behaviour and the lasting effect it had on his own stubbornness. Tommy briskly set off for the stables, determined to get to the bottom of things. Whether you liked it or not.

With no destination in mind, you stubbornly plodded through the thick mud of the fields behind your stately home, furiously wiping the tears that had settled on your cheeks when the galloping sound of muddy hooves steadily approached you from behind.

" Come on, get up. It's gonna rain" Tommy trotted in front of you on your white mare, looking up to the greying skies as he reached down for you to take his hand.

" It is, not" you stubbornly replied, irritated by the fact he had seemingly managed to tame your usually jumpy horse as a thunderous roar released itself from the clouds above you.

" Fine, have it your way. Come on girl" he clicked his booted heals against the horses muscled body, guiding her with tethered reigns to turn as he led her into a gallop in front of you.

" You, you..." words stumped you as a splattering of mud hit your freshly laundered dress while Tommy sharply turned to see his handy work with an amused smirk.

" You..." you continued to stutter as he trotted back, shifting in his saddle as he waited with curiosity to see if your slipping lady like demeanor would take one last, triumphant fall of grace.

" Go on, I dare you" he teased the words from behind your taught politeness.

" You pigheaded insufferable bastard!" You replied with a freeing gasp, succumbing to the use of vulgar profanities Tommy had purposely coaxed from you as he snorted a laugh.

" Idiot" you mumbled, eyes darting up to the cocky smirk of satisfaction riddled across his face as you scraped the sludge of your dress with the pages of your once pristine book.

" I think I preferred it when you were giving me the cold shoulder, darling" Tommy cleared his throat as another string of insults left your lips.

" Well, your influence has clearly awoken something in me. Something dark" you stormed off with a scorned face, as a glint of playfulness shone in your lover's eyes, pleased with his accomplishment.

"Right, you've had your little tantrum. Now come on" he called after you, throwing his leg over the horse as he jumped off.

"No!" You shouted back like a stroppy child as the sound of his muddied boots squelched through the thick sludge after you.

"Enough, Y/N. Now tell me what's wrong?" he demanded as he caught up with you, spinning you around by your waist to face him.

As your chest heaved with worry for the explanation you knew he was fairly owed, a sudden peppering of small droplets hit your cheeks, momentarily distracting you as you looked up to the darkened sky.

" Wha...what's that?" Tommy's brows knitted together, his grip tightening around your hips at the pigmented liquidy stream running down your face, revealing your reddened skin beneath. " Y/N?"

"Nothing, it's nothing" your hand came up to feel the powder you had applied now a watery substance at the ends of your fingers.

" Don't move" Tommy's voice ordered with urgency as he held you in place, licking the end of his thumb to brush the rest of your carefully concealed bruise exposed by the approaching storm rolling in.

" I'll kill him...I'll fucking kill him!" Tommy's voice roared as his eyes widened at the sight of the battered skin you had kept hidden from him.

" Tommy stop, wait!" You pleaded, scrambling for him as he turned to leave.

" What happened, Y/N?" He abruptly spun back around, grabbing you by your arms as the rage within him and the severity of his punishment for the bastard responsible waited on your response.

" I started it, Tommy. I hurt him first" you sobbed as your shaky hands pawed at his chest, trying to calm the anger within him you feared would turn on you like it had done so many times before with Cal.

"Hard enough to earn you a blow that's blackened your skin, eh Y/N?" His patience with you defending the man accountable, bitterly spat from his lips as a clap of thunder startled your jittery body.

" What else aren't you telling me?" Tommy shook you back to his attention as the heavens opened, and a peltering of rain stung your skin.

"Y/N, I'm not gonna ask twice" he insisted as your darting eyes met his piercing glare through the drenched locks of hair tousled in front of his eyes.

" Johnathan..." you swallowed your mounting tears, reluctant to share your family's troubles as Tommy nodded his head, urging you to continue before he tore the city apart and found the cunt himself.

" Johnathan owes over £900 to a man in Camden. He said he'll kill him if he doesn't pay it back by the end of the week..."

" Go on" he encouraged, wanting to hear the entirety of the ordeal that had you finding yourself at the mercy of your fiance's heavy hand.

"Cal...Cal, he knows about us, Tommy" your eyes pooled with tears as his jaw tightened with anger. Anger for himself and the little he had done to conceal your affair that hand landed you with a battered cheek.

" He said he will pay his debts, and save my brother's life. In return I marry him in three days time" you let the weight of your brother's burden fall from your lips as you stifled your sobs. Unable to meet the eyes of the man that had let you forget the woes of your life you had done your upmost to keep him from.

"Why didn't you come to me?" A pool of hurt sat in his stomach, unsettled by the notion you hadn't sought out his help and took a brutal beating instead.

"Hey. Why didn't you tell me?" his fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to face him.

"Because it's not your burden to bare. I...I can't...I don't expect anything from you Tommy" you wept as your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, holding onto to the comfort his strong frame gave you.

"Yes you can. You can, darling" his voice softened as his thumb brushed over your bruised skin.

"I'll deal with this. With all of it. You have my word" He reassured your worries, pulling you into his chest as he cradled your head against his thumping heart. A strained sigh of relief that he wasn't the root cause of your sudden change of emotion, releasing from his chest.

"Come on, let's go home, eh?"

Having handed the money to pay off the hefty debts of your brother later that day. Tommy had ventured out into the backstreets of his childhood home after receiving word from his men that the unlikely sight of a smartly dressed man had been seen lurking around Small Heath in search of business.

" And whose it we're looking for?" Arthur questioned, smoothing down the whispery edges of his moustache as he dodged the many potholes scattered along the grimy alleyways of Birmingham. "That posh prick?"

" Yeh, the prick..." Tommy's voice petered out, his eyes narrowing from person to person who had sought out the services the underworld of Small Heath had to offer.

" Tom, ay up" Arthur nodded to a dead end at the far side of the gully to Cal stood behind a tin dustbin, trousers bundled around his ankles, pushing the mouth of a renowned prostitute into his groin.

" Go home, the lot of you" Tommy's gravelly voice ordered, stood at the end of the alleyway with his hands sat comfortably in his trouser pockets as the evening's punters scattered from the dimly lit cobbled street around him.

" Not you" Tommy tutted to Cal pushing the woman's head off him as he scrambled to pull up his briefs.

" Go on Dottie, off with ya" Arthur gave the giggling raven-haired woman a light tap on the bum before sending her on her way with a bundle of notes.

" Well, well, well. I thought you were too good for our town, Mr Astor?" Tommy stalked towards him, watching him slick back his usually pristine cropped hair from his face.

"Thought I'd try out the local delicacies. If they're good enough for you...well, I'm sure I can make an exception for myself. Men of the same taste, hm Shelby?" Cal casually remarked as he pulled a cigar from his suit jacket, his comment that of a man trying to diffuse the precarious situation he now found himself in. An unsuitable and stupid occasion to confront him about his affair with you.

"Try all you like. Plenty to go around, ey Arthur?" Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the nervously darting pair of eyes in front him, watching them come to the satisfying realisation that the alleyway was now deserted.

"An abundance" Arthur gestured to the empty street. It's eery quietness enough to prickle the skin of any intruder unaccustomed to its foreboding darkness.

"But make no mistake, Mr Astor. We're not the same. I've never laid my hand on a woman" Tommy's voice spoke with disgust as Cal's eyes snapped to him, a breathy chuckle of nervousness for his brutal assault on you having been discovered.

" Your whore deserve..." Cal spat, only to have his vapid words of an excuse quietened with a heavy blow to the cheek when Tommy's fingers curled into a fist, knocking him to the ground in one perfectly aimed blow to his face.

Scrambling for air, Cal desperately kicked his feet against the muddy stoned path as Tommy loomed over him. Submerging his reddening face through gritted teeth, and strained veins into one of the many murky watered craters.

" Ey, wakey wakey!" Tommy pulled him up against the stoned wall, slapping his muddy cheek to bring him out of the darkness he'd slipped into.

" I'm curious, Cal" Tommy bent down, pulling his head up by the scruff of his neck as Cal's lungs desperately gasped for air.

"How does it feel knowing I was fucking your wife to be as you stood outside her door?" Tommy's smile curled into a wicked grin of enjoyment as he watched his squirming face of jealously.

"Quite the screamer, nearly got us caught" Tommy toyed with him, relishing at the sight of him learning a cutthroat gangster was the only one to have ever given you pleasure.

"Not that you would know, eh? You just take what you want, what you think you're owed. And if you don't get your way...well, you start throwing fists, don't you, Cal?" His grasp tightened around his collar, ringing the air from his lungs.

" Not very gentlemanly. Ladies always come first" Arthur straightened his back, fancying himself a man of importance more than the scum at his feet.

"Of that you're right, brother" Tommy's piercing stare honed in on at the quivering man under his mercy.

"You look concerned, Mr Astor" Tommy cocked his head to the side as Cal's lip trembled in fear at the sharp blade sewn into the peaked cap inches from his face.

" Maybe you should cut him a smile, Tom? Cheer the poor bastard up" Arthur sniggered, tauntingly kicking the end of his pristine dress shoes now covered in the land of the lower class.

" You're right, Arthur. Let's give him something to smile about" Tommy's eyes glazed over with an unstoppable duty of revenge as he pulled his cap from his head, the teasing sharpness of the blade catching the light of the glowing street lamp as it swung in front of him.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen please, I beseech you..."

"Hear that, Arthur? We're gentlemen now" Tommy scoffed a laugh at the pathetic plea for help, his blade seconds from delivering his retribution.

" Fuck your fancy titles" Arthur found a deep-rooted hatred upon hearing his begging as he spat at the feet of the man that had undoubtedly dodged numerous battles of war his money could buy.

" Now, what do we have here?" a police officer's timely appearance appeared in the opening of the alleyway, baton in hand.

" Scrapping, are we lads?" the officer's brows raised upon seeing the two Shelby men who paid him a generous sum of money to look the other way. But not enough to deal with the headache that would come with the swarm of journalists that would descend onto Small Heath to inquire about the gruesome death of a socialite.

" Boys will be boys" Arthur playfully raised his arms in surrender, a mischievous smirk of deceit toying on the corner of his lips.

" Right, move along" the police officer ordered, taping his black rod of punishment that had seen the back of every criminal's knees in town against the red-bricked wall.

" Keep an eye out, eh Cal? While you can" Tommy's deadly threat quietly warned as he stood up, adjusting his tweed crown firmly back on his head.

" Welcome to Small Heath, Mr Astor" Tommy called out as he and Arthur slipped out of the backstreets into the night.

" Toffs" the officer looked down at the unwelcome visitor before returning to his rounds with a whistling tune.

Unprotected, left to fend for himself in the streets belonging to those that held nothing but hatred for the man that looked down on them. Cal swiftly made a dash for safety through the winding alleyways of unknown territory. Knowing that at any wrong turn, he could see a smiling blade of vengeance come down on his face.

"Whiskey?" you asked, turning to Tommy later that evening stood with his hand resting the weight of his body on the back of an armchair in your shared living room as his eyes scanned over the letter he had recieved on his return from Small Heath.

" Yeh" he absently replied, nose deep in the document and its cementing conclusion of your shared ordeal as you strolled towards him.

" Looks important" you noted, handing him the glass tumbler of liquor as he folded the typed paper into his suit pocket, a look of concern for how the news would effect your growing relationship, etched between his brows.

" Just business" he replied, snaking his arm around your waist as he pulled you in, pressing an urgent kiss to your lips, rich with notes of spice and vanilla from his favourite beverage.

" Business. Do you ever rest, Mr Shelby?" you pulled away from the lure of his intoxicating embrace as you arched a brow.

" How can I with you around, eh?" he smirked into your mouth, taking the crystal glass of whiskey from your hand as his tongue swiped against yours with wanton need.

Trailing his hands under the loose fabric of your flowing summer dress, Tommy guided you backwards until your legs hit the plush pillows of the upholstered settee, when the door flew open and a giggling Johnathan came stumbling.

Fuck sake.

" Johnathan" Tommy huffed, begrudgingly pulling himself away from you as he adjusted his growing desire to have you bent over the arm of the sofa, moaning his name. "Whiskey?"

" A double, old chap" he slurred, fumbling in his pockets for a cigar as his unsteady footing swayed from side to side, causing a bundle of notes to fall from his tailored jacket as your eyes widened with concern.

" Johnathan" you pulled him to the side in a hushed voice as he stumbled to pick up the heavy stack of notes sitting on the polished floor.

" What have you done?" you demanded to know through gritted teeth, grabbing the rolled banknotes from his hand.

" Nothing" he snapped back, as he searched for his lighter. His huffing breath, stinking of champagne and tobacco. Hammered, absolutely hammered.

"Where did you get this? Tell me?" your heart began to race as you watched his lazy fingers struggle to light the cigar between his teeth.

"It's only £150, sissy. Now stop badgering me. You're starting to sound like Grannie" he quietly brushed off your concerns as Tommy watched the hushed conversation from across the room, slowly stalking towards you.

" From the money Tommy gave you to pay your debts?" the realisation hit you as a sickly feeling rose in your chest at the thought of him double-crossing not only a man responsible for crimes beyond your imagination, but a man you fallen head over heels for.

" Johnathan, there's only £40 here" your fingers quickly flicked through the banknotes missing more than one third of it's total sum, as your brother slumped down into the chair next to you.

" My god...you gambled it away" your eyes suddenly welled with tears for the hopelessness you felt pooling in your stomach and the betrayal of trust you suddenly felt. " Tommy paid your debts, and you...you..."

" Y/N?" Tommy's gruff voice rumbled your name as he stood feet from you, the heat of his stare piercing through the back of your head.

"Tommy..." you mumbled as you turned to see the look of disgust for feeling fooled by you and your brother harden his face, having come to his own conclusion as to what your conversation and handling of money was about.

" Tommy, wait!" you raced after him as his thudding footsteps turned to leave before he let the last of his patience with your family's troubles slip into a violent outburst.

" You've been playing me, haven't you? Playing on my affections for you?!" Tommy snapped back to you with a pointing finger of misplaced accusations.

" Wha.. No. No!" Your eyes brimmed with tears as he pushed your once welcome touch forcibly away.

" Was this your plan all along, eh? Tell me your little sob story, so I'd pay your fucking brother's debts off and line your pockets?!" Tommy's voice boomed throughout the foyer as he grabbed hold of the sides of your cheeks, his blood pumping with rage for the scam he was convinced you were both mutually in on.

" You think I'd do that to you?" your lip wobbled as your shaky fingers gingerly reached out for his burning face, reddened with fury for the betrayal he felt.

" My brother's weaknesses are not shared, Tommy. They're not mine" you wept through the sobs caught in your throat.

" Just leave, Y/N. Get out of my house, both of you" he pulled your hands off him in fear he'd succumb to the blazing fire of anger you had ignited in him and tarnish the memories of the time he'd foolishly spent on you. The love he foolishly felt for you.

" This is my home too!" you sniffed back your cries as you defensively straightened your back against his demands.

" That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. Arrow House is mine" he quickly corrected you as he pulled the letter he had kept you from seeing only moments before from his pocket.

"Lawyer drafted a new copy after my meddling Aunt and your Grandmother decided it was best kept from me" he let the document fall into your hands as your eyes darted across the neatly typed words.

" I've no where to go" you tearfully looked up to see him stood watching your pleading eyes, his anger with your deception eclipsing any pity he once had for you.

"That's not my problem, is it?" Tommy's voice snapped, turning away before he let himself fall into the beckoning trap of your weeping sobs.

"Now leave, Miss Y/L/N. Leave my house" he ordered once more as he turned his back to you, his stubborn scorned heart abandoning you to a frightful destiny and your only remaining choice of survival.

" Saturday then?" Cal's bandaged hand snaked over your shoulder as you sat at the bay window of your grandmother's small cottage the next day.

" Yes" you quietly replied, as your reddened eyes blinked through the last of your tears you had cried since fleeing your childhood home.

" Good girl" he praised, pressing his lips to the crown of your head before turning to leave with the guarantee of your future now in his hands.

" Grannie" he bid your grandmother goodbye with a cunning smirk of satisfaction.

As her eyes welled with tears for the unstoppable hands of times honing in. Her aged fingers, marked with browning spots of wisdom, clutched tightly around her cane as she looked up to the framed picture of a woman dressed in a sequinned gown sitting on her mantle.

" I'll get to the bottom of this, my dear. Mark my words" Grannie quietly promised the woman in the picture that had sacrificed her last dying breaths to keep her only granddaughter from a life unworthy of living. Your mother.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted (unable to tag) @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium

@peakyswritings @tiedyedghoulette @mostly-marvel-musings @classygirlything21 @dana-rmz

@mrsnms

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 147 }

light in the darkness.

antares!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

warnings: some suggestive themes, but nothing too explicit. still, if you’re a minor, or don’t wish to read it, i highly suggest you skip this story.

the monarch of destruction hated the fact that he had been trapped in some weak human’s body the moment he awakens. currently, he looks in the mirror while mocking such weak features, hating his boring grey eyes and the way his black hair fell across his face. as he was berating his reflection, a series of knocks were heard coming from his apartment.

he clicks his tongue in annoyance, walking away from the bathroom. he takes great strides toward the door while complaining, “who dares to disturb me at this hour?”

he slams the door open, making a shy and meek looking woman jump back in response. he glares down at her, yet felt his chest twist painfully at the mere sight of her.

“who are you?” he manages to spit out at the girl, all while feeling his heart racing from within the confines of his chest. what was this? did the meek human fall in love with an equally meek woman?

she seems taken aback by his question. “jinwoo, did you hit your head? i’m your girlfriend, remember? and i wanted to check on you. people were saying that you had a fever and had to miss out on yesterday’s raid… so i came here to see if you needed me.”

ah, so his assumptions were correct, she was someone important to this weak human after all. the fact that this woman was his lover made things a bit more fun for him-

how positively amusing.

perhaps he should have some fun with her after all?

“i do need you. you’re coming with me, love.”

her eyes widen in response to the sudden, deep tone of his voice, letting out a gasp when he steps closer to her.

smirking down at her, antares’ eyes glow red the moment he takes her into his arms and carries her back to his bed. he basks in her stutters and tosses her body against the mattress, kissing her deeply in response.

her soft moans was enough to set his heart aflame; this human heart was completely and utterly devoted to her as he slotted his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. despite how this was the first time he ever kissed her, it was as though this newly reborn body of his remembered her. each kiss felt like a homecoming he didn’t wish to move away from, his lips kept locked with hers as he uses his hands to gently brush back the fabric of her clothes.

his hands work on sliding off her clothes in a fast pace as he dominated her, suddenly not minding this pathetic human form of his-

because he knew that when he finally possessed her body… then she wouldn’t be torn apart by him.

the moment the woman was left bare for him was when he pushes himself deep inside of her, basking in her moans while trapping her against the sheets. the feel of her warmth surrounding him was like his own personal sanctuary as he groans in response. he holds on to her hand while moving with a desperation, feeling his heart become lighter when her arms wrapped around him, practically clinging to him as he became one with her over and over again.

and when he finally reaches his peak, he spills everything inside of her with a growl-

claiming her as his completely…

{ … }

jinwoo awakens with a start, eyes going wide as a deep blush paints his features.

his heart was pounding at the memory of that strange (yet seductive) dream. he sits up in bed, allowing the blankets to fall from his form as he looks down at you, still sleeping peacefully from beside him.

he remembers the dream vividly, making his heart pound as he began to ache for you. leaning over to admire your sleeping features, he thinks to his soldiers who were currently watching him.

close your eyes and give me some privacy with your queen.

each of his shadow soldiers nod in unison before disappearing out of sight, allowing jinwoo to hold you in his arms as his lips met with yours in a sweet kiss. his gentle movements were enough to help you awaken, meeting his gaze with a tired, but loving, smile.

“hey jinwoo…” you call out his name sweetly as he takes a hold of your legs and wraps it around his waist.

“ah…?!” you began to feel flustered when he lay you back down on the bed, eyes becoming dilated with desire for you as he gently frames at your face with his two hands.

“will you let me… make love to you?”

he could feel the embarrassment coming off of you in waves, but jinwoo knew he had to do something to get rid of this jealousy…!

“i-i-“ you were stuttering, but jinwoo was practically pleading at you.

“please… i just… i just need to feel you, that’s all.”

he watches as you purse your lips while looking away from him, your cheeks completely heated up in response to his request.

“f-fine…” you finally relent to him with a pout, earning a smile from him.

with his eyes glowing brightly with happiness, jinwoo hovers over you and begins to kiss you, allowing his hands to admire and touch each and every inch of you.

even though he knew that it was all just a dream and that you never once slept with a version of him that didn’t exist, jinwoo couldn’t help it-

you were his and his alone; there was no way he’d allow a selfish and alternate version of him claim you.

which was what prompted him to make love to you for several hours while in the safety and comfort of his bed, basking in your sighs of his name as he thanked the gods for allowing this to be his reality.

a.n. - my face is so hot while writing this! i’m still not brave enough to write detailed intimate and nsfw things with jinwoo, even though i have had many fantasies ahhhh everyone do not perceive me right now !! 😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[nextchae]

embers – choi soobin

word count: 16.4k

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: After a devastating breakup in Seoul, Y/N returns to her small hometown, seeking solace in the familiar but finding her past more complicated than she remembered. As she reconnects with her family, twin brother Beomgyu, and her childhood friends Ryujin and Soobin, the unresolved feelings she has for Soobin begin to resurface. Amidst the backdrop of small-town life and the warmth of old friendships, Y/N must navigate the pain of her past to discover whether her heart truly belongs in the place she left behind—or in the arms of the person who's always been there, waiting.

genre: love next door!au, childhood friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, suggestive themes

The train slows as it nears the station, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks gradually fading. Outside the window, the cityscape of Seoul has long since given way to the rolling hills and open fields of Gwangcheon, the small town you once called home. You haven’t been back in years, not since you left for university and the bright lights of the city. Now, the sight of it fills you with a mixture of anxiety and reluctant nostalgia.

Your reflection in the window stares back at you, eyes still puffy from the sleepless nights that have plagued you since the breakup. Seoul was supposed to be your fresh start, your escape from the confines of small-town life. Instead, it became the place where everything fell apart.

His name was Daehyun. You met during your second year of university, in a café just off campus where you both liked to study. He had a warm smile, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, and a outgoing personality that drew you in. He was different from anyone you’d ever met—sophisticated, ambitious, and completely in control of his life. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

For a while, everything was perfect. He introduced you to a world you’d only ever dreamed of—fancy restaurants, art galleries, weekend trips to places you’d never been. He made you feel special, important, like you were part of something bigger. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, things began to change. 

He became distant, absorbed in his work and his own life. You told yourself it was just a phase, that he was busy, that he still cared. But the late-night arguments started, his voice cold and cutting as he accused you of being too needy, too demanding. You tried to make it work, to hold onto the relationship that had once made you so happy. But it was like trying to hold water in your hands—the more you tried, the more it slipped away.

The final straw came when you found out he’d been seeing someone else, a girl from his work. The betrayal cut deep, shattering the last remnants of the trust you’d once had in him. You confronted him, hoping for an apology, for some sign that he still cared. But all he said was that he didn’t see a future with you, that it was better to end things now before it got worse.

You left his apartment that night, your heart in pieces, the life you’d built in Seoul suddenly meaningless. You couldn’t stay there, surrounded by memories of him, by the constant reminders of what you’d lost. So you packed your things, bought a train ticket, and left the city behind without a word to anyone.

As the train pulls into the station, you force yourself to take a deep breath. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face your family and the questions you know are coming. But there’s no turning back now. The past few months have been a blur of pain and confusion, and all you can do is hope that coming home will help you find some semblance of peace.

The station is small, just as you remember it, with only a handful of people waiting on the platform. As you step off the train, your suitcase rolling behind you, you spot Beomgyu leaning against the hood of the family car. He hasn’t changed much—your twin brother is tall and lean, with the same mischievous glint in his eyes that’s been there since you were kids. But there’s something else in his expression now, something softer, more understanding.

When he sees you, his face lights up with a smile that makes your heart ache with a bittersweet mix of relief and guilt. He pushes off the car and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug before you can say anything.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice warm and familiar. “You made it.”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Yeah. I’m here.”

He pulls back, studying your face with a concerned frown. “You okay?”

You manage a shaky smile. “Not really. But I will be.”

He nods, seeming to understand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The drive through town is quiet, the silence between you and Beomgyu filled with unspoken words. The streets of Gwangcheon look almost exactly as they did when you left—small shops with faded signs, the old school building, and the park where you and Beomgyu used to play. The familiarity is comforting, but also disorienting, like stepping into a past you’re not sure you belong to anymore.

Beomgyu keeps glancing over at you as he drives, his expression thoughtful. “Mom’s going to be surprised,” he says after a while. “You didn’t give her any warning.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell her. Or what to say.”

“She’ll understand,” he says firmly. “She’s just going to be happy you’re home.”

You nod, hoping he’s right. You haven’t told anyone the full story—not your parents, not Beomgyu, not even your closest friends. It’s too raw, too painful to put into words. But you know you can’t avoid it forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face the questions, the concern, the inevitable pity.

When you pull up to the house, the familiar sight of it brings a rush of memories. It’s a modest place, with a small garden out front that your mother has always taken pride in. The curtains in the living room window flutter slightly, a sign that someone inside has noticed your arrival.

Beomgyu grabs your suitcase from the trunk and gives you a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you follow him up the path anyway, your heart pounding in your chest.

He opens the door without knocking, calling out, “Mom! We’re here!”

You step into the entryway, the familiar scent of home—lavender and something faintly floral—washing over you. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. You can hear footsteps coming down the hall, and then your mother appears, her face lighting up with surprise and confusion as she sees you standing there.

“Y/N?” she says, her voice filled with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You try to smile, but it feels forced. “Surprise?”

For a moment, she just stares at you, as if trying to convince herself that you’re really here. Then she steps forward, pulling you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with a familiarity that brings tears to your eyes. You can feel the tension in her shoulders, the worry she’s trying to hide, but she doesn’t say anything, just holds you like she’s afraid to let go.

After a long moment, she pulls back, her hands still resting on your shoulders as she studies your face. “What happened, sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I…I needed to get away. From Seoul. From everything.”

Her expression softens, and she nods, understanding without you needing to explain further. “You’re home now,” she says gently. “That’s all that matters.”

Beomgyu sets your suitcase down by the stairs and gives you a small smile. “I’ll take your stuff up to your room.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his quiet support.

Your mother guides you into the living room, where the afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the familiar furniture. You sit down on the sofa, feeling the weight of the past few months pressing down on you. Your mother sits beside you, her hand resting on yours, offering silent comfort.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly, her voice full of concern.

You shake your head, the tears threatening to spill over. “Not yet. I just…I need some time.”

She nods, squeezing your hand gently. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. We’re here for you.”

The warmth of her words wraps around you like a blanket, easing some of the tension that has been sitting in your chest. You lean back against the sofa, letting out a long breath as you try to relax. The house is quiet, the only sound the distant ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

Beomgyu returns a few minutes later, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. “Everything’s in your room,” he says, sitting down on the armchair across from you. “Figured you might want to unpack later.”

You nod, too exhausted to do much more than that. “Thanks, Beomgyu.”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s just as relieved as you are to have you home. “What are brothers for?”

Your mother glances between the two of you, her expression a mixture of relief and concern. “Why don’t we have some tea? I just made a fresh pot.”

You agree, grateful for the distraction. As she heads to the kitchen, Beomgyu gives you a knowing look. “Want to sneak out?”

You laugh, slightly taken aback before shaking your head. You’ve been away so long, too long, and it’s made you momentarily forget how much you missed your brother and all of his mischief.

When your mother returns with the tea, the three of you settle into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the house seeping into your bones. For the first time in weeks, you feel a small flicker of hope, like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay again.

You sit with Beomgyu and your mother, sipping tea in the cozy living room. The warmth of the tea combined with the comforting atmosphere starts to thaw the cold ache in your chest. Your mother chatters about the latest town gossip, the news she knows you haven’t kept up with since moving to Seoul. Beomgyu chimes in now and then, adding his own commentary that makes your mother smile and shake her head in that fond, exasperated way she always does with him.

You’re beginning to feel a sense of normalcy, like maybe you can fit back into this life, even after everything that’s happened. But just as you start to relax, the sound of the front door opening interrupts the moment.

Your father’s voice echoes from the hallway, a familiar deep rumble that always made you feel safe as a child. “Honey, I’m home! You’ll never guess what—” He stops mid-sentence as he steps into the living room, his eyes landing on you. For a second, he just stares, as if trying to process whether or not you’re real. 

“Y/N?” His voice is filled with disbelief, his eyes wide as he looks at you. “Am I dreaming, or is my daughter really sitting on my couch?”

You stand up, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s me, Dad. I’m home.”

He blinks a few times, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Well, I’ll be! The prodigal daughter returns!” He strides across the room and wraps you in a bear hug, lifting you slightly off the ground like he used to when you were little. You laugh, the sound surprising you with how natural it feels.

When he finally sets you down, he steps back and gives you a once-over, his expression a mix of concern and affection. “What brings you back to our little corner of the world? You didn’t even tell us you were coming!”

Your mother, who had been watching with a fond smile, steps in before you can answer. “She needed a break from the city, that’s all. And we’re just happy to have her back, aren’t we?”

“Happy?” Your dad scoffs playfully. “That’s an understatement! This calls for a celebration!” He claps his hands together, then turns to Beomgyu. “Go grab that cake from the fridge, son. We’ve got something to celebrate now!”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes but grins, heading to the kitchen to fetch the cake. You can’t help but smile at your dad’s enthusiasm. He’s always been the lighthearted one, the one who could turn any situation into something to laugh about. It’s comforting, especially after everything you’ve been through.

As you all settle back into the living room with slices of cake, your dad starts telling stories from work, exaggerating the mundane until you’re all laughing so hard your sides hurt. For a moment, you forget about the heartbreak, the betrayal, and the uncertainty. Here, with your family, things feel almost normal again.

After a while, the conversation turns quieter, the evening settling in around you. You glance out the window, the sky a deep indigo as night takes hold. It’s been a long day, and the emotional toll of coming home is starting to catch up with you.

“I think I’m going to head up to my room,” you say, rising from the sofa. “It’s been a long day.”

Your mother looks up at you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Of course, sweetheart. Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Beomgyu nods, still munching on his cake. “Yeah, you’ll need your energy for Mom’s full interrogation tomorrow.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sadness in it, too. You wave goodnight and head upstairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps under your feet. Your room is exactly as you left it—well, almost. There are a few changes, little signs that your mother has kept it clean and cozy even in your absence. The bed is freshly made, and the shelves are dusted, but everything else is just as it was when you left for Seoul.

You set your suitcase down and walk over to the window, looking out at the quiet street. It’s so different from the bustling chaos of Seoul, where everything felt like it was moving too fast, too uncontrollably. Here, everything is still, calm, almost eerily peaceful. You sit on the edge of your bed, the weight of the day finally pressing down on you. The ache in your chest that you’ve been holding at bay all evening starts to grow, and you can feel the tears welling up behind your eyes.

But before you can let yourself break down, there’s a soft tapping at your window.

You freeze, confused, then look over. Your heart skips a beat when you see Ryujin standing outside, a wide grin on her face, her breath fogging up the glass. She waves at you, her smile so familiar it makes you want to cry.

You scramble to open the window, and she immediately climbs inside with the grace and ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. As soon as she’s in, she tackles you in a hug, nearly knocking you off the bed.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Ryujin says, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. “When my mom said she saw you coming home, I thought she was joking!”

You laugh, the sound choked by the emotion in your throat, and hug her back tightly. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face with concern. “I knew something was up when I didn’t hear from you for a while, but I didn’t expect this. Are you okay?”

You shake your head, tears finally spilling over. “Not really. But being here…it helps.”

Ryujin’s expression softens, and she wipes away your tears with her thumb. “You’re home now. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod, unable to speak as more tears fall. She pulls you into another hug, her presence a comfort you didn’t realize you needed so badly. The two of you sit there for a long time, just holding each other in the dim light of your room.

Eventually, Ryujin pulls back and flops onto your bed, patting the spot beside her. “Come on, let’s catch up. It’s been way too long since we had one of our late-night talks.”

You smile through your tears and join her, the two of you lying side by side like you used to in high school. The conversation flows easily, like no time has passed at all. She tells you about everything that’s happened in Gwangcheon since you left—who’s dating who, the latest school scandals, and all the little things you’ve missed.

As the night wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your breakup and the move back home easing just a little. 

“So…have you seen Soobin yet?”

You stiffen slightly, the name bringing back a flood of memories you’ve been trying to keep at bay. Soobin, your childhood friend, the boy who lived next door. The boy who was always there, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him. 

“No,” you say quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

Ryujin rolls onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. “He’s been around, you know. Helping his mom with the garden, hanging out at the old spots. I think he’ll be really happy to see you.”

You nod, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and fear. You’ve kept in touch with Soobin, but it’s been sporadic, the two of you drifting apart as you got older and your lives took different paths. But now that you’re back, there’s a part of you that’s terrified of what seeing him again might mean.

Ryujin seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to squeeze your hand. “It’ll be okay, Y/N. He’s still Soobin, and you’re still you. Just…talk to him. Like old times.”

You nod again, but the knot in your stomach doesn’t loosen. You know you’ll have to face him eventually, just like you have to face everything else. But for tonight, you’re grateful to have Ryujin by your side, helping you navigate the tangled mess of your emotions.

As the two of you talk late into the night, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more like the girl who used to lie here with her best friend, dreaming about the future and everything it held. 

You wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs, the scent of your mother’s pancakes filling the air. The sun is just beginning to filter through your curtains, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace, as if the world outside your window isn’t so complicated. It’s a sharp contrast to the rush and chaos of Seoul mornings, where you barely had time to grab a piece of toast before running out the door. 

You roll over, half expecting to see Ryujin still curled up next to you, but the spot beside you is empty. Her absence pulls you from the cocoon of warmth you’d wrapped yourself in. Your mind flickers with the memory of last night, the way she’d asked about Soobin, and how much his name had unsettled you. You stretch out the tension from your limbs, a part of you grateful that she didn’t push the conversation further.

After quickly changing into something comfortable, you head downstairs, following the sounds of clattering dishes and the hum of conversation. When you reach the kitchen, you find your mother at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease. Your father is seated at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper. Beomgyu, ever the night owl, is half-asleep with his head on the table, barely managing to keep his eyes open. 

“Good morning,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Beomgyu. He grunts a sleepy response, still not fully awake.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother replies brightly, turning to give you a warm smile. “I was just about to call you down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Your dad peers over the top of his newspaper, giving you a nod of greeting. “Morning, kiddo. Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you say, though the truth is that your sleep was fitful, your mind too busy with thoughts of everything that’s changed. But you don’t want to burden your parents with that, not when they’re so happy to have you home.

Just as you’re about to ask where Ryujin went, the front door swings open with a loud creak, and she bursts into the kitchen, a wide grin on her face. And right behind her is Soobin.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, the memories of last night’s conversation rushing back. He looks almost exactly as you remember—tall, with that familiar mop of dark hair falling into his eyes. There’s something in the way he carries himself that’s different now, though—a quiet confidence that wasn’t there when you were kids.

“Look who I found wandering around outside!” Ryujin announces, her voice full of mischief. She’s practically dragging Soobin by the arm as she pulls him into the kitchen. He gives her an exasperated look, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” Soobin says, his voice warm but slightly hesitant as his eyes meet yours. You can tell he’s unsure, probably wondering how you’re going to react after all this time.

“Morning, Soobin!” your mother says cheerfully, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be here. “Sit down, I’ll get you a plate. We’ve got plenty of pancakes.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Soobin replies, taking a seat at the table. Ryujin plops down next to him, grinning at the both of you like she knows something you don’t. 

You offer Soobin a small smile, still feeling the awkwardness lingering between you, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of seeing him again. “Hey, Soobin.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, returning your smile. His voice is softer than you remember, but there’s a steadiness to it that reassures you. The tension between you begins to ease just a little.

“Finally,” Beomgyu mumbles, pushing himself up from the table, more awake now that the smell of pancakes has fully roused him. “I thought I was the only one getting dragged out of bed this early.”

Ryujin snickers. “Oh, please, Beomgyu. You’re always the last one up. I had to do all the work to get him here.”

Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “She practically jumped through my window to get me up. I’m still not sure how she got into my house.”

Beomgyu grins, the drowsiness now fully replaced by his usual humor. “That’s just Ryujin for you. No one is safe from her morning raids.”

“Exactly,” Ryujin says, unrepentant. She looks at Soobin, then at you, a glint of something in her eyes. “Anyway, I figured you’d want to see each other. It’s been way too long.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, but you quickly focus on your breakfast, not wanting to let the moment become too heavy. Still, you can feel Soobin’s gaze on you, and when you glance up, he’s watching you with that same soft, almost nostalgic expression.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “It has been.”

The conversation around the table soon picks up, with your dad jumping in to share some of the ridiculous stories from his job, while Ryujin and Beomgyu start bickering over the last pancake. Soobin joins in, his laugh filling the room and making you remember all the times the three of you hung out here after school, eating snacks your mom prepared while you joked around until your sides hurt.

For a while, the stiffness between you and Soobin fades, and you find yourselves slipping back into the easy childhood friendship you once shared. He teases you about your terrible aim in the old treehouse slingshot wars, and you fire back about his disastrous attempt at baking cookies that one time. Even Beomgyu gets in on it, reminding Soobin of the time he got stuck in the fence trying to sneak into your backyard.

“Oh my god, I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” Soobin groans, his face turning slightly red as everyone laughs.

“No way, man,” Beomgyu says, grinning. “That’s one of the all-time classics. Right up there with Ryujin breaking the garden gnome.”

“That gnome was creepy anyway,” Ryujin protests, but she’s laughing, too.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, the sound coming easier than it has in weeks. It feels good, like a small piece of the puzzle that is your life is clicking back into place. The breakfast stretches longer than you expected, the food mostly forgotten as the four of you talk and joke like old times.

Eventually, though, the clock on the wall chimes, reminding Soobin that he has to go. He glances at it and sighs, reluctantly pushing his chair back.

“I should head out,” he says, looking a bit regretful. “Work and all that.”

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment that surprises you. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for coming over.”

Soobin smiles at you, and this time, it reaches his eyes. “Anytime, Y/N. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you say softly, and you mean it.

He says his goodbyes to your parents, who wave him off with promises to invite him over for dinner soon. Ryujin walks him to the door, but not before giving you a knowing look over her shoulder.

Once he’s gone, the house feels a little quieter, a little emptier, though the warmth from breakfast still lingers. Beomgyu leans back in his chair, stretching with a contented sigh.

“Well, that was nice,” he says, then gives you a teasing smile. “You and Soobin seemed to get along pretty well, huh?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush slightly. “Shut up, Beomgyu.”

“Come on, he’s just teasing,” Ryujin says, returning to the kitchen with a satisfied grin. “It was nice seeing you two together again. Felt like old times.”

You smile, though there’s a lot left unsaid. “Yeah, it did.”

The sun hangs low in the sky as you make your way back home, the weight of the grocery bags in your hands grounding you in the moment. The streets of your hometown are quieter now, bathed in the soft hues of evening, and the familiarity of it all is both comforting and unsettling. You pass by houses you know so well, each one holding memories from a time when life felt simpler.

When you reach your house, you notice a familiar figure standing on a ladder just outside the front door. Soobin is there, fiddling with a light fixture, his tall frame stretched to its limit as he tries to reach the wiring. You pause for a moment, watching him, a mix of amusement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. 

As if sensing your presence, Soobin glances down and catches your eye, a grin spreading across his face. “Back already? I thought I had more time to finish this before you got home.”

“Guess I’m faster than you thought,” you reply, smirking as you walk up to the door. “What are you doing, anyway? Isn’t that light Beomgyu’s job?”

Soobin scoffs, shaking his head as he returns to his work. “Beomgyu can barely change a light bulb without breaking something. Your mom called me over. Said this thing’s been flickering for weeks.”

You chuckle, knowing all too well how disastrous Beomgyu can be with household tasks. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m surprised you’re the one she called, though.”

Soobin shrugs, still focused on the light. “She knows I’m good at this stuff. And I guess I can’t say no to her.”

You stand there for a moment, watching as he works. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing him like this, so at ease with himself, even in the small, mundane task of fixing a light. It’s a stark contrast to the image of him you had in your mind all those years in Seoul, where he was just a memory, something to miss in quiet moments.

Finally, he finishes up, stepping down from the ladder and giving the light a final check. “There. All fixed,” he announces, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Impressive,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe. “But you missed a spot.”

Soobin’s eyes narrow playfully. “Where?”

You point to a random spot on the light, smirking as he follows your finger. “Right there.”

He rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re messing with him. “Very funny, Y/N.”

You laugh, pushing off the doorframe. “You’re welcome. Now, help me with these groceries.”

He obliges, taking a few of the heavier bags from your hands as you both head inside. The house is warm and cozy, the smells of dinner already wafting through the air. Your mom calls out a greeting from the kitchen, but it’s clear she’s busy with preparations.

You and Soobin head to the living room, where you set the bags down on the coffee table. The room is quiet, save for the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and it’s strange being alone with him again, after all this time.

“So, how long are you staying?” Soobin asks casually, breaking the silence as he takes a seat on the couch.

You hesitate, knowing that question has been on the tip of everyone’s tongues since you arrived. “I’m not sure yet. I guess it depends.”

“Depends on what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You shrug, avoiding his gaze. “A lot of things.”

He watches you for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure you out, then changes the subject. “You still remember how to cook, right? Or do I need to take over in the kitchen?”

You scoff, grabbing the bag of vegetables and heading to the kitchen. “Please, I’ve been living on my own for years. I’m pretty sure I know how to chop a few vegetables.”

Soobin follows you, leaning against the counter as you start to unpack the groceries. “Just checking. You never know, city life might’ve turned you into one of those takeout-only types.”

“Not a chance,” you say, setting a cutting board on the counter and grabbing a knife. “But thanks for the concern.”

He smirks, watching as you begin slicing the vegetables with practiced ease. “I’m impressed. Maybe you have changed.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re the one who’s changed, not me. I never would’ve pegged you as the handy type.”

He laughs softly. “People can surprise you.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, exchanging banter as you prepare dinner. It feels almost like old times, the bickering and teasing coming naturally, even after all the years apart. But there’s an underlying tension, a sense that there’s more to say, more to ask.

As you chop up the last of the vegetables, Soobin clears his throat, the casual tone of the conversation shifting slightly. “So, uh… are you still with that guy? Daehyun, or something?” he hesitates when saying his name, like he can’t quite remember it, but it sounds almost as if he can exactly remember.

Your hands freeze for a moment, the knife hovering over the cutting board. You knew this question would come eventually, but you hadn’t expected it so soon, or so directly. You glance at Soobin, who’s watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

“No,” you say quietly, resuming your chopping at a slower pace. “We… broke up.”

Soobin’s brow furrows in concern. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, forcing a smile as you set the knife down. “It was… a long time coming, I guess.”

He nods slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You take a deep breath, debating how much to tell him. You haven’t even told your parents the whole truth, not wanting to worry them more than necessary. But with Soobin, it feels different—like maybe you owe him at least some of the truth.

“It just… wasn’t working out,” you say, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “We wanted different things. Or rather, he wanted something I couldn’t give him.”

Soobin’s gaze softens, and you can tell he’s piecing it together, but he doesn’t push. “Sounds like he was an idiot.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I was the idiot for sticking around as long as I did.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious. “You’re not an idiot, Y/N. Sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to.”

You meet his eyes, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. I just wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, Soobin’s presence a steadying force as you let the weight of your words settle between you. It’s not the whole story, not by a long shot, but it’s more than you’ve told anyone else. And for now, that’s enough.

“Well,” Soobin says after a moment, his tone lighter as he pushes off the counter, “if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to make fun of, you know where to find me.”

You smile, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Soobin. I appreciate that.”

He grins, that easy, familiar smile that you’ve missed more than you realized. “Anytime, Y/N.”

As you both continue preparing dinner, the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable, more familiar. It’s strange how quickly you’ve fallen back into this dynamic, but it’s also comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

And you allow yourself to think for a moment that maybe being back home wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur of small-town rhythms, a stark contrast to the constant noise and motion of Seoul. You find yourself falling back into old routines, hanging out with Ryujin, spending time with your family, and catching up with Soobin. It’s comforting, in a way, but also unsettling—like you’re living in a strange limbo, where everything is familiar but slightly off-kilter.

Ryujin is a constant presence, as she always was, dragging you out of the house whenever she can. Whether it’s to grab a coffee, take a walk around the neighborhood, or just sit and gossip like you used to in high school, she’s there, her energy relentless. She never pushes you to talk about why you came home, though. She’s content to let you come to her when you’re ready, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your parents, on the other hand, aren’t as subtle. Your mom, especially, hovers more than usual, her concern evident in the way she keeps asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if there’s something you want to talk about. You deflect with practiced ease, reassuring her that you’re fine, that you just needed a break from the city. She seems to accept it, but you can tell she’s not convinced.

Soobin is around often, whether he’s coming over to help with something around the house or just hanging out with you and Beomgyu. You fall back into an easy friendship with him, the teasing and bickering coming naturally, just like it always did. But there’s something different now, a tension that lingers beneath the surface, something neither of you acknowledges but both of you feel.

It’s on one of these typical days that Soobin invites you out for dinner with some of his coworkers. “It’ll be fun,” he promises as the two of you lounge in the living room, flipping through TV channels. “They’re a good group. Plus, I could use someone to keep me in check.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Since when do you need someone to keep you in check?”

Soobin grins. “Since I started working with these guys. They like to drink. A lot.”

You laugh, but you agree to go. The thought of getting out of the house, doing something different, is appealing. Plus, you’re curious to meet the people Soobin spends his time with these days.

That night, you find yourself in a cozy, bustling restaurant, surrounded by Soobin and his coworkers. They’re a lively bunch, full of jokes and stories, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel at ease with them. The drinks start flowing almost as soon as you sit down, and before long, the whole group is in high spirits.

You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your veins as you listen to Soobin’s coworkers tell ridiculous stories about him. Soobin, for his part, takes it all in stride, grinning sheepishly as his friends poke fun at him.

At some point, the conversation turns to confessions—nothing too serious, just silly admissions brought on by the alcohol. One of Soobin’s coworkers, a guy named Jisoo, starts it off, confessing that he once got caught sneaking into his girlfriend’s house by her parents, who thought he was a burglar. The table erupts in laughter, and soon everyone’s sharing their own embarrassing stories.

When it’s Soobin’s turn, he hesitates, glancing at you with a mischievous grin. “Alright, but you can’t judge me too harshly, okay?”

You raise your glass, already giggling. “No promises.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. So… back in high school, I had the biggest crush on someone, and I spent an entire year pretending to be terrible at math just so she’d tutor me.”

The table bursts into laughter, but the alcohol and thoughts in your mind start suddenly swirling around rapidly. Didn’t you give him algebra lessons in 10th grade? Maybe he’s talking about someone else…

“Did it work?” someone asks.

Soobin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I passed algebra, didn’t I?”

The laughter continues, and you feel a strange warmth in your chest, and his added comment only continues to make your mind race. The night goes on, and the drinks keep coming, until you’re all a little too tipsy, the world spinning just enough to make everything feel surreal. The drinks have taken off the edge about Soobin’s comments, for a little while at least.

At some point, Soobin leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You know, I really did have a crush on you back then.”

You blink, surprised by the sudden confession, but before you can respond, he pulls back, his eyes a little unfocused as he gives you a lopsided grin. “Too much to drink, huh?”

You smile softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I guess so,” you breath out, the word increasing its spinning around you but you’re not convinced it’s because of the alcohol anymore.

He chuckles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs between you, charged with an intensity that’s almost too much to bear. But before anything else can happen, Soobin’s head lolls to the side, his eyes slipping shut as he mumbles something incoherent.

“Great,” you mutter, half-amused, half-exasperated as you try to shake him awake. “Soobin, come on, don’t pass out on me now.”

But he’s out cold, his breathing steady as he slumps against the table. You sigh, realizing there’s no way you’re getting him home by yourself. With a resigned smile, you pull out your phone and call Beomgyu.

He answers on the second ring, sounding more amused than concerned when you explain the situation. “Of course, he passed out. Why am I not surprised?”

“Just hurry up and get over here,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I can’t carry him by myself.”

Beomgyu arrives a short while later, looking entirely too amused by the situation as he takes in the sight of Soobin slumped over the table. “Wow, he’s really out, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to laugh as you stand up. “Think you can handle him?”

Beomgyu snorts. “Do I have a choice?”

With some effort, the two of you manage to get Soobin on his feet, though he’s mostly dead weight, mumbling incoherently as you half-drag, half-carry him out of the restaurant. The fresh air hits you like a shock, clearing your head just enough to realize how ridiculous this all is.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter, struggling to keep Soobin upright as Beomgyu does most of the heavy lifting.

Beomgyu chuckles. “It’s a disaster you walked right into.”

Before long, you realize that even with Beomgyu’s help, getting Soobin all the way back home is going to be nearly impossible. You try to be optimistic, but when Soobin starts to slip from your grasp, you realize you need reinforcements.

“I think we need to call Ryujin,” you admit reluctantly, pulling out your phone again.

Beomgyu groans. “Do we have to?”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. “We don’t have a choice, Gyu. I can barely keep him up, and you’re not exactly faring much better.”

Reluctantly, Beomgyu agrees, and you call Ryujin, who answers after a few rings, sounding half-asleep but entirely too eager to hear about your predicament. After a quick explanation, she promises to be there in a few minutes.

When Ryujin arrives, she takes one look at the situation and bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, I knew you two couldn’t handle this on your own.”

“Not helping, Ryujin,” Beomgyu grumbles, though there’s a smile on his face.

Together, the three of you somehow manage to get Soobin back to his place, collapsing into a heap of laughter and exhaustion once he’s safely on his bed. By then, the humor of the situation has fully set in, and you’re all giggling uncontrollably, the night’s events replaying in your minds.

Finally, when the laughter dies down, Ryujin nudges you playfully. “So, what was that about Soobin confessing his high school crush?”

Your cheeks flush, and you try to deflect, but Ryujin is relentless, teasing you mercilessly as Beomgyu joins in. It’s all in good fun, though, and you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, a sense of belonging that you’ve missed more than you realized.

Eventually, the night winds down, and you all head home, leaving Soobin to sleep off his hangover. As you climb into bed, you can’t help but replay the night’s events in your mind, the memory of Soobin’s confession lingering in your thoughts.

It’s been a long time since you felt this way, and despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but wonder what the future might hold.

You wake up to a dull throb in your head, the remnants of last night's drinks still pulsing behind your temples. Your room is far too bright, and you curse yourself for not closing the curtains before collapsing into bed.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already late morning, far later than you usually sleep, but considering the amount you drank last night, it’s a miracle you’re awake at all. Groggily, you swing your legs out of bed and stand, feeling the slight wobble in your knees as your body adjusts to being upright.

The house is quiet as you pad downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The smell of coffee hits you as you enter the kitchen, and you sigh in relief. Your parents must already be up. Sure enough, you find a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the counter, a few mugs stacked neatly beside it. You pour yourself a cup, cradling it between your hands as you savor the warmth seeping into your skin.

After a few sips, you feel more human, the caffeine doing its job. Now that you’re awake and somewhat functional, you start rifling through the fridge and pantry, searching for the ingredients you need. You’ve made hangover soup enough times to know the recipe by heart, and it isn’t long before you have everything laid out on the counter.

As the soup simmers on the stove, filling the kitchen with its comforting aroma, you smile to yourself. Soobin is in for a rude awakening, but you know he’ll appreciate it in the end. With that thought in mind, you grab a spoon and taste the broth, nodding in satisfaction at the flavor.

Once the soup is done, you ladle it into a bowl, then take a deep breath and head to the house across from your own, belonging to the Choi’s. You knock lightly on the door at first, then a bit louder when you don’t hear any response. A moment later, Soobin’s mom opens the door, a surprised smile on her face.

“Y/N! What a lovely surprise,” she says warmly, stepping aside to let you in. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. How are you feeling?”

“Morning, Mrs. Choi,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m okay, just a little hungover. I figured Soobin might need this more than I do, though.”

She glances down at the bowl in your hands and chuckles. “Hangover soup? You’re such a thoughtful girl. He’s still asleep, of course, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You step inside, the familiar scent of the house comforting in a way that makes you feel instantly at ease. “I’m going to wake him up now,” you say, feeling a little mischievous. “He’s had enough sleep.”

“Good luck with that,” Mrs. Choi says with a knowing smile. “He can be a bit grumpy in the mornings, especially after a night out.”

You grin. “I’m counting on it.”

Heading upstairs, you push open Soobin’s bedroom door with your hip, balancing the bowl in one hand. The room is dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut, and Soobin is sprawled out on his bed, completely dead to the world. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed, his hair a tousled mess. 

You set the bowl down on his nightstand, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful he looks when he’s sleeping. But only a moment. You can’t resist. Reaching out, you grab his pillow and whack him over the head with it—not too hard, but enough to jolt him awake.

He groans, a low sound of protest, but doesn’t move. So you hit him again, a little harder this time, just for good measure.

“Soobin, get up!” you say, your voice tinged with amusement. “I made you breakfast.”

He mumbles something incoherent, burying his face deeper into the pillow. You roll your eyes, leaning down to speak directly into his ear.

“Choi Soobin, if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to eat all this soup myself.”

That seems to do the trick. He slowly lifts his head, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “Y/N? What… what time is it?”

“Time for you to wake up and eat,” you reply, smirking. “Come on, I’ve got hangover soup ready. You need it.”

Soobin groans again but finally drags himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. He looks terrible—pale, with dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up in all directions—but you have to admit, there’s something endearing about seeing him like this. Vulnerable, almost.

“Ugh, my head is killing me,” he mutters, wincing as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you drink like a fish,” you tease, forcing him up and down the stairs. 

Once seated at the table, you pour him a bowl of soup before placing it down in front of him. “Here, this will help.”

He takes the bowl from you, staring down at it like it’s a lifeline. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, his voice thick with gratitude.

“I know,” you reply with a grin, sitting down in front of him. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”

Soobin takes a tentative sip, then another, his expression softening as the warm broth soothes his hangover. “This is really good,” he mumbles between spoonfuls.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” you say, your tone light but with an undercurrent of truth. You’ve made this soup more times than you can count, for yourself, for friends… for your ex. But you push that thought away before it can take root, focusing instead on Soobin.

As he eats, you chat idly about nothing in particular, keeping the conversation light. Soobin slowly comes back to life, the soup and your presence working their magic. He’s still a bit pale, but at least he’s awake and functional now.

Just as he’s finishing up, you hear footsteps approaching from the hallway, and a moment later, Soobin’s mom pokes her head into the room.

“How’s our patient?” she asks with a smile, looking between the two of you.

“He’s alive,” you reply, grinning at Soobin’s unamused expression. “Barely.”

Another set of footsteps sound in the hall behind as Soobin’s father suddenly appears, his face a mix of surprise and happiness as he spots his son and yourself seated at the kitchen table. Soobin’s mom has moved into the kitchen behind you now, getting started on breakfast.

“Y/N! I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” he says warmly. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Mr. Choi,” you reply, returning his smile. “Just thought I’d check on Soobin and make sure he was still alive.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing you did. He always overdoes it when he goes out with his coworkers.”

“Morning, Dad,” Soobin mumbles, reaching for a piece of toast as his mother immediately sets the plate down on the table.

“Morning, son,” Mr. Choi replies, his tone amused. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Soobin mutters, shooting you a glare when you snicker. “Don’t think it was much for for Y/N either,” he responds, an amused smirk flashing upon his lips as he swiftly avoids your kick from underneath the table.

As you all start eating breakfast, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and light teasing. You’ve always felt comfortable around Soobin’s parents—they’ve known you since you were a kid, after all—and it feels good to be here, surrounded by the warmth of family, even if it’s not your own.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Choi says at one point, turning to you with a curious expression. “How long are you planning to stay in town this time?”

You pause, the question catching you off guard. You haven’t really thought that far ahead, and the uncertainty of your answer weighs heavily on your mind.

“Um, I’m not sure yet,” you reply honestly, forcing a small smile. “I’m just taking things one day at a time.”

Mrs. Choi nods understandingly, reaching out to pat your hand. “That’s perfectly fine, dear. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by her kindness. “That means a lot.”

The conversation shifts after that, and you’re grateful for it. As much as you appreciate the Choi family’s concern, you’re not ready to delve into the reasons behind your return just yet.

As breakfast winds down, Soobin stands up to clear the table, but you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily. When he passes by you with a stack of plates, you subtly stick your foot out, and before he realizes what’s happening, he trips, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

He catches himself before he falls, but not without glaring at you, his eyes narrowed in mock anger. “Really?”

You flash him an innocent smile. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

His parents watch the exchange with amused smiles, clearly enjoying the banter between the two of you. “Careful, Y/N,” Mr. Choi says with a chuckle. “He might actually get you back for that one.”

You laugh, already stepping out of Soobin’s reach as he finishes clearing the table. “He can try,” you say, still grinning.

Soobin just shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but you can see the fondness in his eyes as he glances at you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” you retort, dodging under his arm as he reaches out to flick your forehead. 

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of laughter and lighthearted teasing. After breakfast, you help Soobin’s mom with the dishes, the two of you chatting about everything and nothing. Soobin joins in occasionally, but mostly, he just listens from his stance half standing and half supporting his weight on the kitchen counter, still recovering from last night’s blackout.

For a while, it feels like nothing has changed, like you’ve slipped back into the easy life you’ve always had with Soobin and his family. It’s a comforting thought, one that brings a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. And one that allows you to forget about what Soobin said last night, for just a moment.

As you finish up the last of the dishes, you glance over at Soobin, who’s lounging on the couch in the living room, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed.

“You okay over there?” you call out, drying your hands on a dish towel.

He cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy smile. “Yeah, just trying to recover from the abuse you put me through this morning.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He just grins, not even bothering to argue. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he’s right—maybe you do love this, being here with him, with his family. Maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what you needed.

The summer sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. You sit at the kitchen table, absently stirring a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold. The house feels still, too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. You’ve managed to avoid any serious conversations with your mom since you returned home, but time has eventually caught up to you. 

Your mom enters the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She glances at you, then at the untouched tea, her brow furrowing slightly. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, offering her a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

She doesn’t buy it. Of course, she doesn’t. She’s your mother, after all. She sighs, crossing the room to sit across from you, her gaze gentle but probing. “You’ve been back for weeks now, and you still haven’t told us what really happened in Seoul. You left so suddenly, without any explanation. Your father and I… we’re worried about you, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your throat tightening. You knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Mom, I just… I needed a break. Things weren’t going well, and I thought it would be good to come home for a while.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the evasiveness in your tone. “Not going well? You mean with your job? Or… was it something else?” She pauses, her voice softening further. “Y/N, was it Daehyun?”

The mention of him sends a pang through your chest, but you force yourself to stay composed. “We broke up,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s technically the truth, even if it’s not the whole story.

Your mom’s expression shifts, a mix of concern and confusion crossing her features. “You broke up? Why? I thought you two were serious. You were always talking about him, about how he was the one.”

You look down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “We were serious. But… things change, Mom. We just weren’t right for each other anymore.”

She shakes her head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “What do you mean, ‘not right for each other’? Did something happen? Did he do something?”

You shake your head quickly, too quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. We just… grew apart, I guess. It happens.”

Your mom’s eyes narrow further, the doubt clear in her gaze. “Grew apart? That doesn’t sound like a reason to just up and leave everything behind. You quit your job, Y/N. You loved that job. You loved your life in Seoul. And now you’re telling me you threw it all away because of some vague ‘growing apart’?”

“Mom, please,” you plead, your voice shaking. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

But she doesn’t relent. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Y/N. If something happened, you need to face it. You need to tell me what’s really going on.”

“I told you, we broke up!” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I needed to get away, so I came home. That’s it.”

Your mom’s frustration finally boils over. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You broke up, so you threw your entire life away? You’re being ridiculous, Y/N! You had everything going for you—your career, your relationship—and you just walked away without a second thought?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. But you can’t take them back now, and the look of shock on your mom’s face only fuels the anger burning inside you. “You don’t understand, Mom. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Then help me understand!” she shouts back, standing up from the table. “You can’t just expect us to sit here and watch you fall apart without knowing why!”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “I didn’t fall apart,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. I’m trying to move on, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Move on?” she scoffs. “You’re not moving on, Y/N. You’re running away, and you’re dragging us into it with you. You can’t just quit when things get tough. That’s not how life works!”

The dam finally breaks, and the tears spill over, hot and angry. “I was miserable for so long!” you cry, pushing back from the table. “You don’t know what I went through, and you never will because I can’t—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Your mom’s expression softens slightly, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Y/N, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your mother. I just want to help you.”

But the anger has taken hold of you now, and you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I can’t! You’ll never understand what it’s like to have your whole world ripped apart by someone you thought you could trust!”

Her face pales, the realization dawning on her as she finally grasps the gravity of what you’re saying. “Y/N… what did he do to you?”

You can’t answer. The words are stuck in your throat, choking you as the pain of it all comes rushing back. You can’t tell her the truth, can’t bear to see the look of pity and disappointment in her eyes.

Without another word, you turn and bolt for the door, the need to escape overwhelming. You can hear your mom calling after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You burst out of the house, tears blurring your vision as you run down the driveway.

And that’s when you run straight into someone, nearly knocking them over. You stumble back, wiping at your eyes to see who it is.

Soobin stands there, his expression a mix of shock and concern. He’s holding a small basket, likely something his mom sent him over with, but he’s clearly forgotten all about it as he stares at you.

“Y/N? What happened?” he asks, his voice soft, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks too loudly.

You shake your head, trying to brush past him, but he gently grabs your arm, stopping you. “Wait, just… slow down. Talk to me.”

You can’t. You can’t talk to him, can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re going to fall apart. But the gentleness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, it’s too much. You can’t hold it in any longer.

You sprint down the street, the sound of your mother’s angry words still echoing in your ears. Your vision blurs with tears as you race toward the park, the one that sits just at the edge of the neighborhood where you spent so many summers playing with Beomgyu, Soobin, and Ryujin. It feels like you’re running from more than just the fight—like you’re running from everything you’ve been trying to hold together since you came back home.

The park is quiet, almost eerily so. The swings sway gently in the evening breeze, the only movement in the otherwise still space. You stumble to a stop by the playground, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you collapse onto the sidewalk, your legs unable to carry you any farther. Hugging your knees to your chest, you finally let the tears fall, your sobs quiet but intense, the weight of everything you’ve been bottling up crashing down on you all at once.

You don’t hear him approaching, but you sense Soobin before you see him, the sound of his hurried footsteps catching your attention. He’s out of breath, clearly having run after you the moment you bolted from the house. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stops a few feet away, his eyes searching your face with a mix of concern and sadness.

“Y/N…” he starts softly, taking a cautious step closer. “Come on… What happened back there?”

You don’t answer right away, too overwhelmed to speak. But Soobin doesn’t push. He just sinks down onto the sidewalk beside you, his presence solid and steady, like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s giving you the space to find your words, to figure out what to say.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you take a shaky breath and start talking. “I left because of him,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “My boyfriend… my ex. He cheated on me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with pain and betrayal. You can feel Soobin tense beside you, his hands curling into fists on his knees. But he stays quiet, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I found out a few months ago,” you say, your voice trembling as the memories flood back. “He’d been seeing someone else for weeks, maybe longer. I don’t even know how long it was going on. I just… I couldn’t stay after that. I couldn’t be around him, or our friends, or… or anything that reminded me of him. So, I left.”

The tears come harder now, spilling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the images of him with someone else, the lies he told you, the way everything fell apart so quickly. “I quit my job because I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t do anything without thinking about him, about what he did. I felt like I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to keep going. I didn’t sleep or eat for days at a time. I wasn’t taking care of myself and… well it was either this or me going completely under. So, I ran away. I thought if I came back here, if I was with my family, I could start over. But it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.”

Your voice cracks, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally too much to bear. You can’t hold it together anymore. The sobs wrack your body, and you bury your face in your hands, feeling utterly broken.

Soobin doesn’t say anything, but you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close. He holds you tightly, his grip firm and reassuring as he lets you cry into his chest. His other hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle but grounding, like he’s trying to anchor you to the present, to keep you from getting lost in the storm of your emotions.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “None of this is your fault, Y/N. You did what you had to do to survive. Don’t ever feel ashamed of that.”

You want to believe him, want to take comfort in his words, but it’s hard. The pain is still so raw, so overwhelming. But being here with Soobin, feeling his warmth, his steady presence, it helps. It makes the hurt just a little more bearable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely making it past your lips.

“What are you sorry for?” Soobin asks, his tone soft and confused.

“For everything,” you say, your voice shaking. “For not telling anyone, for shutting everyone out. For being so weak. I just didn’t want to be looked at like that girl anymore. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Hey,” Soobin says, gently tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That’s not weakness, Y/N. That’s strength.”

His words hit you hard, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to dismiss them. He means it—he really believes you’re strong, even when you don’t believe it yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard as you try to calm your breathing, your tears finally slowing. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now. Enough to make you feel a little less alone, a little less like you’re drowning.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace, letting yourself take comfort in his presence.

Soobin just squeezes you a little tighter, resting his chin on top of your head. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You stay like that for a while, the two of you sitting on the sidewalk in the quiet park, the world around you fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe again, like the weight on your chest has lifted just a little.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Soobin watches you with that familiar mix of concern and fondness, his eyes soft as he takes in your expression.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks gently, nodding toward the direction of your house. “Or we can stay here for a bit longer if you need more time.”

You glance around the park, the memories of your childhood flooding back in a rush of nostalgia. This place has always been a refuge for you, a place where you felt safe. And now, with Soobin by your side, it still feels that way.

“Maybe just a little longer,” you say quietly, your voice steadier now. “I’m not ready to face her yet.”

He nods in understanding, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, the two of you sit in the fading light, side by side, the comforting silence between you speaking more than words ever could.

The weeks that follow your tearful confession in the park pass in a blur of change and acceptance. You finally muster the courage to tell your family the whole story, no longer holding back the pain and betrayal you’d been carrying alone. Your mother, after her initial shock and anger, softens as she listens to the truth of what happened in Seoul. The harsh words you exchanged that night seem distant now, replaced by an understanding that’s long overdue.

Your father, though quiet during your confession, offers you a comforting hug afterward, his voice filled with warmth as he reassures you that you’re home, and that’s what matters. Beomgyu is the easiest to talk to—his playful teasing makes it easier to break the tension, and soon, you find yourself laughing with him like old times.

Telling Ryujin is harder. You’ve always been able to rely on her, but admitting how broken you felt, even to your best friend, is difficult. But Ryujin listens without judgment, her eyes filled with the fierce loyalty you’ve always admired in her. When you finish, she wraps you in a tight hug and tells you that you’re stronger than you think, and that she’s proud of you for coming home.

As the days turn into weeks, you start to accept that Gwangcheon is where you’re going to be for a while. It’s not Seoul, but there’s a comfort in the familiar streets, the warm smiles of the people you’ve known your whole life, and the gentle pace of small-town living.

With Soobin’s help, and through one of his friends, you land a job at a good company nearby. It’s not the high-powered position you left behind in Seoul, but it’s steady work, and you find yourself gradually falling into a new routine. Your days become a mix of work, spending time with your family, and reconnecting with old friends.

The more time you spend with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu, the more you start to feel like yourself again. You laugh more easily, the pain of your past starting to dull as the present takes over. You’re still cautious, still a little guarded, but the walls you built around yourself are slowly coming down.

As summer draws to a close, Ryujin suggests a trip to a nearby beach town for a late summer getaway. It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and the idea of a weekend away with your closest friends is too tempting to resist.

The four of you—Ryujin, Beomgyu, Soobin, and you—pile into Beomgyu’s car early one Saturday morning, the air filled with excitement as you drive toward the coast. The weather is perfect, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and the anticipation of a carefree weekend ahead makes everything feel lighter.

When you arrive, the small beach town is bustling with tourists, the streets lined with colorful shops and restaurants. You check into a charming seaside inn, your room offering a stunning view of the ocean. The salty breeze and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore immediately put you at ease.

For the first day, you decide to hit the beach. You slip into a light, flowing sundress with thin straps that tie at your shoulders, the fabric swaying gently in the breeze. It’s a pale yellow, the color brightening your complexion.

The four of you spend the day lounging on the sand, swimming in the crystal-clear water, and playing beach volleyball. Beomgyu and Soobin are a hilarious team, their competitive streaks coming out in full force, while you and Ryujin try to keep up, laughing so hard you can barely hit the ball back.

As the sun begins to set, you take a walk along the shoreline with Soobin. The air is cooler now, and you’ve changed into a pair of denim shorts and a loose, sleeveless top that flutters in the breeze. Soobin, in his usual casual style, wears a plain white T-shirt and board shorts. The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

“I’m glad you came,” Soobin says quietly, breaking the silence. He glances at you, his expression soft in the fading light. “I’ve missed this… missed us hanging out like this.”

“Me too,” you reply, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s nice to just… be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.”

There’s a pause, and then you both stop walking, turning to face each other. The tension between you has been growing stronger with each passing day, and it’s undeniable now. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, how his hand brushes against yours as you stand there, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Soobin…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence. You’re not sure what you want to say—what you need to say.

He looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small smile, he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

The moment is so charged, so full of potential, that it feels like time has stopped. You find yourself leaning into him, drawn to the comfort and warmth he offers, but before anything more can happen, Ryujin’s voice calls out from the distance, breaking the spell.

You both step back, the tension between you still thick in the air, but the moment has passed. You force a smile, trying to shake off the nerves that are buzzing under your skin.

“We should head back,” you say, your voice a little too bright. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Soobin nods, and without another word, the two of you start walking back toward the inn. But even as you rejoin Ryujin and Beomgyu, the electricity between you and Soobin doesn’t fade. Instead, it lingers, a constant undercurrent that makes your heart beat just a little faster every time your eyes meet, every time your hands brush against each other.

That night, after a dinner filled with laughter and more teasing from Beomgyu and Ryujin, you find yourself sitting on the inn’s balcony with Soobin. The others have already gone to bed, exhausted from the day’s activities, but neither of you seems ready to end the night.

The stars are bright in the clear sky, and the sound of the waves is soothing as you sit together, wrapped in a shared blanket to ward off the evening chill. You’re wearing a soft, oversized sweater, and Soobin has a hoodie on, the two of you huddled close for warmth.

For a while, you talk about everything and nothing— jobs, childhood memories, the places they’d like to visit one day. But eventually, the conversation drifts to more personal matters.

“So… what’s next for you?” Soobin asks quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Now that you’re settling in, do you have any plans?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t know the answer, but because you’re afraid to voice it. “I’m not sure,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about staying in Gwangcheon for a while, maybe longer than I originally planned. It’s… it’s starting to feel like home again.”

Soobin smiles at that, a warmth spreading through you at the sight. “I’m glad,” he says. “It’s good to have you back, Y/N. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply softly, your heart swelling with emotion. There’s so much more you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath under your cheek.

Soobin’s hand finds yours under the blanket, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. The touch is comforting, grounding you in the moment. You sit like that for a long time, neither of you saying anything, just content to be close.

But as the night wears on, the tension between you becomes harder to ignore. Every time you shift slightly, your legs brushing against his, it feels like a spark of electricity zips through you. The quiet, intimate atmosphere only amplifies the connection that’s been building for weeks, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.

Finally, you turn your head to look up at him, finding him already gazing down at you. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach as you tilt your face up, waiting…

But just when it feels like something monumental is about to happen, Soobin pulls back slightly, his expression conflicted. He lets out a slow breath, breaking the moment. “We should get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

You’re disappointed, but also relieved. You may have felt something for Soobin during your youth, but you had not expected any sort of remaining spark between the two of you upon moving back. It’s a mixture of conflicting feelings: comfort, fear, desire, and enough more to dizzy you.

But even as you part for the night, there’s an unspoken understanding between you— that this moment isn’t an ending but rather just a momentary pause.

The next morning, the four of you wake early to catch the sunrise on the beach. The air is crisp and cool, the sky painted in hues of pink and gold as the sun peeks over the horizon. You feel a sense of peace, standing there with your closest friends, the tension from the night before easing into something more hopeful.

As you pack up and head home later that day, you can’t help but feel like this trip was a turning point. For the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to the future. And though you don’t know exactly where things with Soobin will go, you feel both compelled and terrified to find out. 

The weeks after your beach getaway with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu pass in a blur of cozy evenings and lingering touches. The tension between you and Soobin has become almost palpable, an undercurrent that hums beneath every interaction. You find yourself gravitating toward him, seeking out his presence in ways that feel both natural and inevitable.

It starts with late-night talks, the two of you sitting on the porch of your house or his, wrapped in blankets as the night air grows cooler. The conversations are deep, touching on everything from your childhood dreams to the fears that keep you up at night. Soobin listens with a quiet intensity that makes you feel heard in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Sometimes, when the conversation drifts to a comfortable lull, his hand will find yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin, and the simple touch sends shivers down your spine.

As fall begins to creep in, the annual town festival is the talk of Gwangcheon. It’s a tradition that dates back decades, a celebration of the harvest season with food stalls, games, and music that bring the whole town together. Despite Soobin’s protests about it being the “same old thing every year,” you manage to drag him along with you, promising that it will be fun.

“You say that every year,” Soobin grumbles as you walk through the festival grounds, his hand intertwined with yours. The evening air is crisp, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider. “But it’s just a bunch of food stalls and cheesy games.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “You’re such a grouch. Admit it, you secretly love this stuff.”

He huffs, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Maybe I just like watching you get excited about it.”

You smile, your heart warming at the admission. The truth is, you do love the festival, not just for the nostalgia it brings but because it feels like a part of your roots—a reminder of the simpler times before everything got so complicated.

The festival is in full swing by the time you arrive. Strings of warm, twinkling lights hang overhead, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. You and Soobin wander through the crowded streets, stopping at various stalls to sample local treats and play a few games. You end up with a small plush bear from a ring toss game, a prize that Soobin wins for you after several failed attempts.

“See? Told you this would be fun,” you say, beaming as you hug the bear to your chest.

Soobin just shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his words.

As the night goes on, you run into Beomgyu and Ryujin near the center of the festival grounds, where a makeshift dance floor has been set up. The four of you spend some time chatting and catching up, reminiscing about past festivals and sharing updates on each other’s lives. The atmosphere is light and joyful, a perfect escape from the weight of everything else.

At one point, Ryujin drags you into a dance, the two of you twirling and laughing while Soobin and Beomgyu look on in amusement. It feels good to let go, to simply enjoy the moment without any worries.

Eventually, you and Soobin find yourselves walking hand in hand again, wandering away from the crowd to a quieter part of the festival. The lights are dimmer here, the sounds of the festivities fading into the background. You can feel the warmth of his hand in yours, the closeness between you more pronounced than ever.

“So… what’s the verdict?” you ask, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “Still think the festival’s boring?”

He looks down at you, his gaze softening. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” he concedes, his thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand. “But only because you’re here.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the tension between you thickening as you come to a stop. The moment feels charged, like something is about to happen, and you find yourself leaning in closer, your breath hitching as his eyes flicker to your lips.

But before either of you can move, a voice interrupts the moment, shattering the intimacy between you.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name, spoken in that familiar, deep voice, makes you freeze. You turn slowly, your heart dropping into your stomach as you see him—your ex-boyfriend, standing just a few feet away.

He looks almost the same as he did the last time you saw him, tall and handsome with that same confident aura that used to draw you in. But now, all you feel is a cold dread pooling in your chest.

“Daehyun…” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.

His eyes flick from you to Soobin, who is still holding your hand, his expression hardening as he takes in the sight. There’s a tense silence, the air between the three of you crackling with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“So, this is why you left Seoul?” Daehyun’s voice is sharp, accusatory, as he steps closer. “To play house in some small town with your high school friend?”

Soobin stiffens beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Watch it,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous.

But Daehyun ignores him, his gaze fixed on you. “I thought we were going to work things out, Y/N. But instead, you just… ran away?”

You feel a pang of guilt, the old wounds reopening at his words. But then you remember why you left in the first place—the lies, the betrayal, the hurt he caused you. The memories flood back, and with them, a surge of anger and resolve.

“I didn’t run away, Daehyun,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I left because you fucking cheated on me! Last time I checked, you didn’t want me anyway. Why are you even here?”

Daehyun’s expression falters, the confidence slipping for a moment. But then he scoffs, shaking his head and entirely avoiding your question. “You’re really going to throw away everything we had for… this?”

Before you can respond, Soobin steps in front of you, blocking Daehyun’s view. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation,” he says, his tone firm. “So why don’t you leave her alone?”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu and Ryujin arrive, their expressions shifting from carefree to protective in an instant as they assess the situation.

“Is there a problem here?” Beomgyu’s tone is light but laced with an underlying threat as he steps up beside Soobin, crossing his arms over his chest. Ryujin moves to your other side, her presence a comforting shield as she glares at Daehyun.

Daehyun scoffs, turning his attention back to you. “You’re really going to let them speak for you now? Is this what you’ve become?”

“Leave her alone, Daehyun,” Ryujin snaps, her eyes blazing with anger. “You’re not welcome here.”

For a moment, Daehyun looks like he might argue, but the combined glares of Soobin, Beomgyu, and Ryujin seem to weigh on him. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and reluctantly takes a step back. “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbles, his gaze flickering to Soobin. “Have fun Y/N.”

With that, he finally turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving a suffocating tension in his wake. 

As soon as Daehyun is out of sight, the energy shifts. The air feels heavy, charged with everything left unsaid between you and Soobin. He stands there, his hand still resting on your shoulder, but the warmth that once comforted you now feels like a burning reminder of the distance that’s crept between you in just a few short moments.

You search his face for some kind of reassurance, something to tell you that everything is okay between you. But all you find is a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—in his eyes before he steps back, dropping his hand to his side.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible above the festival noise. He’s looking anywhere but at you, his usual confidence and ease replaced by a discomfort that twists painfully in your chest.

“Wait, Soobin, you don’t have to—” you start, reaching out to stop him, but he’s already shaking his head, taking another step back.

“I need to go,” he mutters, the words clipped and hurried. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your hand half-raised, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You watch his retreating figure, your heart pounding in your ears as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

When he disappears from sight, the weight of it all crashes down on you. Your knees feel weak, and you stumble to the nearest bench, dropping onto it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You bury your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body as the emotions you’ve been trying so hard to keep in check burst free.

You’re so caught up in your grief that you don’t notice Ryujin and Beomgyu returning until Ryujin’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Ryujin’s voice is laced with concern as she kneels beside you, her hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.

Beomgyu stands awkwardly to the side, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a worried frown. “Y/N, you don’t have to cry over him,” he says, trying to sound comforting. “Daehyun’s not worth it.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to correct them. They think you’re crying because of Daehyun, that seeing him brought all the pain of your breakup to the surface. But it’s not Daehyun you’re crying over—it’s Soobin. It’s the way he looked at you like he couldn’t bear to be near you, like something had shifted irreparably between you, and the way he just left without a second glance, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

But how can you explain that to them when you’re just now understanding it yourself? 

The realization hits you like a truck and you suddenly jump up, slightly unsteadily on your feet. But it’s not really a realization after all. It’s something you’ve known deep down for a while. Forever, it feels like.

The world feels like it’s spinning, your thoughts tangled in a whirlwind of panic and desperation. You can barely hear Ryujin and Beomgyu’s voices through the haze of your own mind, their concerned words just background noise to the single, overwhelming thought that suddenly consumes you.

You need to find Soobin.

The tears are still streaming down your face, but you don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is reaching him, before this suffocating tension between you turns into an unbearable distance.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Ryujin calls after you, but you’re already running, your heart pounding in time with your frantic footsteps. 

You don’t answer her, your feet moving faster than your thoughts. You’re driven by pure instinct, by the gnawing need to fix this before it’s too late. Before you lose him.

His house isn’t far—it never has been—and it’s that familiarity that drives you faster. The image of his retreating back is burned into your mind, propelling you forward through the dimly lit streets of the neighborhood. The sound of your breath is loud in your ears, mingling with the rapid beat of your heart as you round the final corner and see his house come into view.

His house is dark except for the porch light, and a flicker of doubt crosses your mind. What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he won’t even open the door? But you can’t stop now, not when you’re so close. You run up to the door, and without hesitation, you start banging on it with all your strength.

“Soobin!” Your voice cracks as you call out his name, your fists pounding against the wood, the desperation in your voice echoing through the quiet night. “Soobin, please, open the door!”

For a moment, nothing happens, and your heart sinks with each second that passes. But then, you hear the sound of footsteps inside, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.

When Soobin’s face comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. He looks surprised, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. His gaze immediately locks onto your tear-streaked face, and the shock deepens.

“Y/N?” He frowns, his eyes flicking over your smudged makeup and tear-stained cheeks. “What are you—are you okay? Did… did he do something else? I thought he left.”

His voice is soft, laced with worry, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re fragile, like you might break at any moment—only makes the tears well up in your eyes again. But it’s not because of Daehyun. It’s because of him.

You shake your head, trying to find the words, but they all come out in a frantic rush, jumbled together with your raw emotions. “No, it’s not—it’s not Daehyun, Soobin. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your words, but you don’t give him a chance to respond. The words pour out of you, all the things you’ve been holding back for so long, spilling over in your desperation to make him understand.

“I don’t care about Daehyun,” you continue, your voice trembling with the force of your feelings. “I never did, not the way I care about you. I dated him because I was trying to get away from these feelings, because I was scared of how much I liked you, because I thought… I thought maybe if I was with someone else, it would go away. But it didn’t. I just made everything worse.”

Soobin’s expression shifts from confusion to something softer, something that almost breaks your heart all over again. He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re not done yet.

“I thought I could just… run away from it, from you, by moving to Seoul, by throwing myself into a relationship that I didn’t even really want, but it was all a lie. Everything with Daehyun was just a distraction, a way to pretend like I didn’t want to be with you. But I did. I do.” You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally say the words that have been eating away at you for so long. “Soobin, I like you. I like you so much it hurts, and I’ve been pretending that I don’t for so long that I almost convinced myself it was true.”

There’s a silence that follows your confession, the kind that feels like it stretches on for an eternity. You can’t bear to look at him, to see the rejection you’re sure is coming, but you can’t look away either. 

Soobin doesn’t speak right away, his eyes searching your face, and you wonder if you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. The silence between you is thick with tension, every second that passes weighing heavily on your chest.

Finally, he reaches out, his hand hesitating just inches from your cheek. When he finally cups your face, his touch is so gentle that it sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and when he speaks, his voice is soft, almost disbelieving. “You… like me?”

You nod, unable to find your voice, your heart beating so loudly that you’re sure he can hear it.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable, and you brace yourself for the worst. But then, slowly, a small, almost tentative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You idiot,” he murmurs, his tone affectionate, even as his words make your breath hitch. “You really thought I wouldn’t feel the same?”

Before you can even process what he’s saying, he’s pulling you inside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet click. The next thing you know, his hands are framing your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.

Then, without another word, he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. The kiss is desperate, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have. His lips move against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, as if he can’t get enough.

You respond with equal intensity, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. Every pent-up emotion, every unspoken word, every lingering touch that you’ve shared over the years is poured into this kiss, and it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepens the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. It’s like everything else fades away—Daehyun, the fight with your mom, all the pain and confusion you’ve been carrying with you. All that matters is Soobin, his touch, his warmth, the way he’s holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

Soobin doesn't waste any time. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together as he pulls you deeper into the house, the intensity between you building with every step. His other hand never leaves your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest as he leads you through the familiar hallway, your breaths coming faster with each second. The anticipation crackles between you, a living thing that makes your skin tingle and your pulse race. His grip on your hand tightens when you reach his room, and without breaking the kiss, he pushes the door open, guiding you inside.

The moment the door shuts behind you, his lips are on yours again, more desperate this time, as if he can't bear to be apart from you for even a second. He walks you backward toward the bed, his hands sliding from your waist up to your shoulders, then back down to your hips, pulling you closer until you're pressed against him.

Your back hits the edge of the bed, and he nudges you down onto it, his hands cupping your face as he hovers over you. His kiss is relentless, stealing your breath away as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours with just enough weight to make you feel grounded in this moment.

You respond eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you arch up into him. Every touch, every kiss, is like a spark of electricity, igniting something deep within you. His lips trail down to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he presses soft, lingering kisses there. Each touch makes you melt further into the bed, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips.

Soobin's breath hitches as you slide your hands up under his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his toned body. He pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips find yours again, his kiss more heated, more urgent than before. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your toes curl, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he touches you, the way he whispers your name against your lips like a prayer. The world outside his room fades away until it's just the two of you, tangled together in a mess of sheets and emotions. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a confession, an unspoken promise that this is just the beginning of something more.

“No more running,” he murmurs against the crown of your head, breathing in your scent he only could dream of being able to fully take in.

A smile curves its way onto your lips and you smile against his gentle touch, nodding as though there was not a single better thing he could suggest. Because there is nothing you would rather do than stay right here, the very place where a piece of you has always been and where you’ve always belonged.

thank you for reading! <3

[flwrstqr]

𖥔 CATALOGUE : INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS.

DISCLAIMER. please be aware that plagiarism is strictly prohibited. do not repost, alter, or translate any of my content without my consent.

all idols depicted in my work are distinct characters and do not illustrate their real-life identities. they are fictional personas created for the purpose of entertainment and should not be seen as an accurate reflection of reality.

LEE HEESEUNG —⁠이희승

necessary love — you realized you were in love with him the whole time / fluff

under the rain — kissing under the rain with him / fluff

how to lose a guy in 10 days ( long au )

SYNOPSIS: an advice writer, you, starts on a bold new project for an article aiming to explain how to drive a man away in just 10 days. your editor is supports, so you set out to find a suitable man for her experiment. meanwhile, executive heeseung is equally confident in his ability to make any woman fall in love with him within 10 days. when you and heeseung cross paths, things slightly go off plan.

taste of your lips — when he takes the lip balm off your lips by kissing you on the lips / drabble

falling in love accidentally (or not) ( long au ) **TOP PICK** 📌

SYNOPSIS: babysitting wasn't your dream job that you always wanted. as you start babysitting a new girl, lee jihyeon, you meet her older brother, lee heeseung. You end up getting closer and closer to heeseung and ultimately fall in love amidst the chaos.

one thing before you leave —heeseung stealing a kiss from you before he lets you leave his lap / oneshot

call me yours ( long au ) **HIGHEST PICK** ⭐️

SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.

painting day — you have many favorite moments with heeseung but your favorite is especially when you paint your boyfriend's nails for fun / oneshot

missed target — heeseung said you missed his kiss, but it was an excuse / fluff

PARK JONGSEONG —⁠박종성

loving morning — when you come back to meet your husband after a trip / fluff

kissing your tears away — when he kisses your tears away / comfort

someone's jealous — after jay and you had an arguement before the concert, he gets jealous after seeing you sing to a guy / one shot

2:02 — when jay tucks you to bed again / timestamp

stealing your boyfriend — when your baby cousin steals your boyfriend / one shot

SIM JAEYUN —⁠심재윤

if you do it, i'll do it — when you were about to kiss jake until he woke up / one shot **TOP PICK** 📌

look away —when jake gets jealous at his patient checking you out / one shot

scent change — when he notices your scent changed / fluff

8:08 — jake pressing his forehead against yours to check your temperature / timestamp

soft kisses your pain — jake leaving soft kisses on your fresh bruise / drabble

one win, one date — jake places a bet to take you on a date if he wins the game / oneshot 📌

PARK SUNGHOON —⁠박성훈

sickness days together — you, suffering from cramps and snapping at sunghoon, later feel guilty and buy him antacids, apologizing and finding comfort in each other’s company. / one shot

who knew babysitting was this hard? — when you and him babysit your best friend's kids / one shot

9:37 am — sunghoon cheering you up with kisses / timestamp

failed proposal — when you find your engagement ring / one shot

princess diaries ( long au )

SYNOPSIS: you are a shy, awkward teenager living with your artist mother. your life is turned upside down when you discover you are the heir to the throne of genovia. at first, you're reluctant to accept your new identity. as you face challenges at school, with the media, and within yourself, you struggle to balance your normal life with your royal duties. sunghoon, who has secretly liked you for a long time, finds himself falling even more for you as he sees you grow into your new role. as you navigate your new life, you and sunghoon grow closer, sharing quiet moments and, most importantly, falling in love.

boyfriend sunghoon texts — bf!sunghoon texts / smau

i want you so bad — sunghoon falls in love with a pretty girl who follows him / smau

KIM SUNOO —김선우

is this falling in love — when you start falling in love with your mc partner / drabble

YANG JUNGWON — 양정원

10:45 — when you wake up with jungwon / timestamp

how to kiss a girl — he asks you how to kiss his crush, when your his crush / one shot

there's something there — jungwon excuse to just kiss you

nightmares — calming you down when you're having a bad dream

NISHIMURA RIKI —西村力

maybe meant to be ( smau )

SYNOPSIS you're in a hot rookie group called luminaraverse under source music entertainment. the next thing you know after your debut is you become the music bank president with the one and only nishimura riki from enhypen. which is a chance for you to get closer to him. or in which he falls with you, you fall harder, and he falls the hardest

soulmates in a second universe — when you ask riki if you're soulmates in another universe / fluff

stealing your kisses (or gum) — he steals the gum from your mouth / fluff **TOP PICK** 📌

focused in your eyes — when he can't help but stare at you with love as you talk

10 things i hate about you ( long au ) **TOP PICK** 📌

SYNOPSIS: there are two sisters: yu karina, a popular girl who's eager to date, and yu y/n, an antisocial girl who is totally uninterested in dating. their overprotective father finally agrees to let karina date, but only if y/n does too. to solve this problem, new student eunwoo, who has a crush on karina, teams up with daeho, a wealthy but narcissistic student. daeho pays the school's bad boy, nishimura riki, to take you out on a date. at first, you are a bit resistant, but soon you find yourself gradually falling in love with riki, who starts to genuinely care for you.

© 2024 — all rights reserved to user flwrstqr, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work without prior permission from me

[cipheramnesia]

Dr. Stevenson would have had to take Athena when she was a very young child. Maybe four years old, give or take. It could happen so many ways but it would have been so very easy for her to put just a little pressure on one or two people to have CPS take custody of the girl. This is all just a dream, and Athena's whole life after that is one neutral colored room after another with a slightly different ergonomic office chair every few years, and her only solid memory to hold on to is a reflection of light off water. Sand and water, surrounded by big trees with branches all bent heavy and green. A half open, half broken rusty gate clinging onto a couple concrete pillars long bereft of their accompanying wall. Athena would hold onto that for dear life, treasure any little sliver of color from a light blue hoodie to a cheap pair of headband bunny ears to blue and yellow rain-boots. They would have accumulated over the years of the taped on monitors, blood draws, urine samples, hair clippings, annual spinal tap.

Sometimes she'd go days without food, or her room temperature would swing from frigid to boiling, then the big orderly and the phlebotomist with Dr. Stevenson's sharp voice over them all would come in. "Be careful," she'd snap out, slapping off hands that gripped too tight, never once spoken out of love or even empathy. "Don't damage her, we don't know if we'll ever find another one." The concern only spoke of a rare and treasured object, perhaps a Cartier wind up music box. The others calmed her like an animal, "easy girl, just a moment and it's over." Sometimes when there was a new phlebotomist, Athena got a small piece of candy. She never had the same one more than a few months. She'd try to savor the hard lollipop or drop of chocolate and ignore the sound of Dr. Stevenson through the hollow doors, "This subject is on a specialized diet to ensure consistency of results, you are not to bring any such personal items-" and it went on.

Learning math and reading and writing after a fashion, information provided by Dr. Stevenson with grudging irritation, but once in awhile short and tantalizing sidepaths of the personal. "These sides are you, much like you and the light, you control both sides with the shared information. Oh, nevermind. Figure it out yourself." Athena would never know what kind of a monstrosity Dr. Stevenson was building from her blood and their studies, only the day that something went terribly wrong, and Dr. Stevenson didn't come to see her anymore. The time she'd showed the room the light and it hurt Dr. Stevenson, she still came back a few days later, but this time she left and Dr. White started taking care of her. He was much nicer, but wouldn't let her have her room in the dark, and did not think all the work Dr. Stevenson had been doing was very interesting. Sometimes he would talk about Dr. Stevenson's huge promotion with a sure bitterness. He showed up with a younger girl he called Alice.