#I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST BECAUSE I WAS SEEKING HIM OUT

[elikajinnie]

P: Situationship!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Situationship, Hurt/Comfort, Suggestive Content, Tension, Flirting, Mature Content, Pursuing, Possessive & Needy Behaviour, Jealousy if you squint, Alcohol Consumption, Mentioned Drug Use.

Wordcount: 22k

Synopsis: For years, Lee Heeseung had been in your life—never close enough to be a friend but too familiar to be a stranger. You told yourself you weren’t interested, that he didn’t matter to you. But Heeseung had other plans cause he made it his mission to claim your attention—and eventually your heart. But love is never easy.

a/n: was watching the iconic Kuch Kuch Hota Hai when this idea came! (dont ask how) i also wanted to try something new with the title. (disclaimer! some of the scenes are written from experience)

now playing: truth or dare by tyla | friends by chase atlantic | awkward by sza | bloodline by ariana grande | twenty nights by nobu woods | gi faen by ballinciaga

School hierarchy never interested you—peaking in high school, the whole "king of the cafeteria" nonsense. Why would it? None of that mattered after graduation. You always thought it was a waste of time, all those petty dramas and desperate attempts to be remembered as something more than ordinary.

And yet, somehow, you were known, not because you clamored for attention or played into the social games everyone else seemed obsessed with, but because...well, you were you. Quiet, maybe. Not invisible, though. People knew your name, knew your face, even if you couldn’t recall theirs at times. Maybe it was the way you never fumbled over your words when teachers called on you or the way your presence seemed calm. You didn’t try to stand out, but you were noticed, even if you never asked for it.

Made you wonder what made you noticed.

And that question was solved pretty quickly, to be honest. All because you knew Heeseung since you were young.

And Heeseung? Heeseung was everything you’d expect from someone at the top of the high school food chain. Popular, effortlessly so. Basketball captain, the school’s golden boy, practically born to be the main character in someone’s coming-of-age movie. But beyond all that, he was still totally derpy—the same kid who used to trip over his own feet at recess, the one who cried when you beat him in hide-and-seek because he hid in the most obvious spot.

He hadn’t changed much, really. Sure, he had a little more swagger now, a charm that made people laugh at his terrible jokes instead of groan, but to you, he was just Heeseung.

You’d laugh every time someone brought him up to you, trying to see if you’d spill some secret about what he was like outside of the spotlight. “You’re friends with Heeseung, right?” they’d say, voices dipping into curiosity or jealousy. And you’d shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. Because to you, it wasn’t.

But somehow, knowing him—having that tether to someone like him—had put you on the radar, too. Even if you weren’t part of his crowd, even if you didn’t sit with him at lunch or go to the parties he got dragged to, people noticed you because he noticed you.

And that was the funny thing, wasn’t it? You never cared about being seen, but Heeseung never stopped looking for you in a room.

You were never really interested in initiating anything with him, even if he was very much 100% interested in initiating something with you.

He’d find you in the hallways, leaning casually against the wall, as if it was second nature for him to cage you in, corner you with a smile that made everything around you feel like it had slowed down. He’d ask you about your day, always interested in the little details you never thought anyone would care about. “Are you busy some day?” he’d ask, eyes sparkling, as if he was hinting at something more—something he probably expected you to say yes to.

Other times, he’d slide into the seat next to you in class, talking about his upcoming game like it was an invitation in itself. “You should come watch,” he'd say with that grin, the one that could melt anyone into agreeing. "I’ll even give you my jersey after I win.”

And then there were the parties—he’d invite you to those too, always the center of attention but always making sure you knew you were welcome. Sometimes he’d just come right up to you, all charm and boldness, flirting with you shamelessly, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your skin. His presence was so intense, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t help but get those butterflies in your stomach, no matter how much you wanted to stay calm.

And yet, despite all of it—the smiles, the promises, the hints of something more—you rejected his advances.

Every. Single. One.

You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in it. You wouldn’t. Even if every part of you, every part of your mind and heart, screamed to take a chance, to let yourself fall into whatever Heeseung was offering, you pushed him away.

Mostly because you knew what type of person he was now. You saw how he was with other women in school, how effortlessly he had them wrapped around his finger, how they would come to him at the snap of his finger, eyes wide and eager for whatever he had to offer. They were drawn to him like moths to a flame, following him like he was the sun and they were planets orbiting around him. And, honestly, it was hard not to see the way his charm worked, how his attention seemed to shift from one girl to the next as if it was all just a game.

A game that you weren’t interested in playing.

You weren’t just going to be another face in the crowd, another person who would fall for his flirtations, get swept up in the thrill of his attention only to be tossed aside when someone else caught his eye. You were different. You had to be.

Heeseung was the type who could have anyone, but you weren’t just anyone. You were stronger than that, smarter than that. You didn’t need to be one of his many admirers to feel valued.

So, you kept saying no, keeping a distance, watching the way he’d grin like it was no big deal, then go off to let his attention drift somewhere else. And deep down, you knew you weren’t immune to it. Maybe you never would be. But the answer stayed the same.

That didn’t mean Heeseung didn’t stop going after you.

If anything, it seemed like the more you pulled away, the harder he tried. You'd find him lingering around your classes, catching you in the hallways, or showing up in places where you didn’t expect him to be. It was like a game to him, though you weren't sure if he knew it was to you. Maybe he thought he could win you over if he tried hard enough, if he kept being persistent, kept flashing that grin and throwing out just enough charm to keep you on the edge of saying yes.

He’d joke with you, pretending to be playful, leaning in with a wink like you were both in on some shared secret no one else understood. But you knew better. You could see through the act, see the way his eyes would light up when he thought he was getting close. It was almost like a challenge to him now, something he couldn’t let go of.

But you kept saying no.

And he kept coming back for more.

You would think that someone like him would give up after rejection, after rejection. But nooooo.

If anything, Heeseung only seemed more determined with each "no" you threw at him. You’d catch him looking at you with amusement, as if he were trying to figure you out, like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, plotting his next move. It wasn’t just persistence—it was obsession in its own strange way.

He’d show up at your locker with an extra wide grin, as if all the past rejections were just another small obstacle, one he was determined to overcome. He’d ask about your plans for the weekend, your favorite movie, your favorite ice cream flavor—all these little things that seemed innocent enough but were clearly his way of getting closer to you, of worming his way in until you couldn’t say no anymore. And each time, you’d refuse, hold firm.

It was like a tug-of-war, except you were the one refusing to be pulled.

And yet, he never stopped to one point that there was a part of you that wondered, almost begrudgingly, if anyone had ever resisted him like this before. You could almost hear the chuckles of his friends in the background, no doubt betting on how long it would take before you gave in.

It did kind of surprise you when, one day, you were walking down the hallway, busy trying to find your gum in your bag, when you accidentally overheard a girl confessing to Heeseung. You stopped, pausing mid-step as you heard her voice, trembling with nerves, pouring out her feelings to him.

You looked down the hallway you were passing, and there he was, standing with his back to you, his attention fully on the girl in front of him. She was shy, her words stumbling over each other, her face flushed as she nervously admitted what everyone probably already knew. She liked him. She wanted him.

But what he did next was something you did not expect at all.

He rejected her.

The words hit you before you could even process them. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But there’s someone else I’m interested in. Someone I want." He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even seem to waver. He was polite, but his words were clear and final.

The girl stood frozen for a moment, looking down, clearly embarrassed. You could see the brief flicker of pain on her face, but she nodded and walked away quickly, her head down.

You felt an unexpected sting in your chest, a strange mix of confusion and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You couldn’t decide if it was relief or disappointment or... something else.

And as Heeseung turned around, casually adjusting his jacket, you quickly stepped into a side hallway, out of sight, your heart beating a little too fast for comfort. You had never expected to see something like that, especially not from him. Never from him. And it made you wonder, question everything you thought you knew about him.

Because after that moment, it seemed like he rejected girl after girl, all while still pursuing you with that same relentless determination. It was strange. You would never catch him kissing other women anymore, never saw pictures on social media of him with a girl on his lap at parties, never heard whispers of him flirting with anyone else. It was like the world around him had faded, and the only focus, the only person who mattered, was you.

No one else but you.

It made you question everything. Was he really serious about you? Or was this just some strange game he was playing, a challenge to see if he could win you over when everyone else had fallen for his charm? Or was it something more than the surface-level attention he gave everyone else? You tried to shake the thoughts from your mind, tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when you realized you were the only one he seemed to want.

But the more you thought about it, the more it made you uneasy. Did you trust him? Or were you walking into a trap?

If it was a trap, it was a pretty good one, because something changed between the dynamic of you and Heeseung. You grew more compliant, more willing to give him a little piece of your attention, a little more of your time. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him shift gears. Heeseung, who had always been so confident, so certain, now seemed a little more desperate, a little more eager to make you notice him, to make you smile.

He’d go out of his way to do the smallest things just to get a reaction from you—whether it was showing up with your favorite drink, offering to carry your bag when you were weighed down with books, or trying to impress you with his random trivia knowledge that he knew you secretly found endearing. His usual cool composure was slipping, and in its place was a version of him you hadn’t seen since you were young.

And frankly, it was kinda cute.

It was like he was a little boy again, trying so hard to win your approval, doing whatever he could to get you to look his way, to see him the way he wanted you to.

You expected to play a little around with his attention, to enjoy the way he’d chase you, all while ignoring the stares you got from other girls. It wasn’t anything serious, just a game, a harmless little back-and-forth that didn’t have to mean anything. You didn’t expect it to go anywhere—after all, this was Heeseung, the golden boy who had his pick of anyone. He was just... fun to be around, right?

But how were you supposed to know that one measly party—just one event—would change everything?

It wasn’t even a big deal at first. Just a typical Friday night, with music blasting, lights flashing, and everyone packed together in some house that barely fit the crowd. You had told yourself you’d just go for a bit, maybe chat with some friends, and leave before things got too chaotic.

When you arrived, you decided to go get a drink first, something to ease your nerves. You weren’t exactly the type to jump into a party scene, so you figured a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt. You made your way to the kitchen, and scanned the counter for something that would do the trick. You found a bottle of something strong, poured yourself a generous amount, and started nursing it as you made your way through the house, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd.

The music was louder now, almost deafening, and the air smelled like a mix of cheap cologne, sweat, and the faint scent of pizza. The people around you were lost in their own little worlds—laughing, dancing, talking—but you were searching for someone you knew.

Your search didn’t take long before you spotted a group of people you knew—friends from class, a few people you’d hung out with before. You made your way toward them, grateful for the distraction, and they welcomed you with smiles and waves. You could feel the tension in your body start to loosen as you joined in, taking a sip from your drink and laughing along with their jokes.

You stayed with them for a while, catching up on small talk, sipping your drink more leisurely. The conversation shifted from one topic to another—school, upcoming plans, random gossip about who was dating who—until eventually, the music started pulling everyone onto the dance floor. You found yourself swept along with the crowd, the beat of the song pounding through the floor and vibrating up your spine as you moved with the rhythm, the alcohol in your system giving you a little extra confidence.

It was fun, for a while. You lost yourself in the music, and you could feel the tension slip away with each step you took, each beat you moved to, until everything felt… easy.

Then, suddenly, you felt strong arms around your waist, pulling you close, a warmth pressing against your back. It took a split second for the reality to sink in, but you already knew who it was based on the familiar scent of cologne that filled your senses. You didn’t have to look to be sure, but you turned your head anyway, and as expected, there he was.

Heeseung.

He was right behind you, holding you effortlessly, his grip strong yet gentle as he matched the rhythm of the music with you. His chest pressed against your back, making your breath catch for a moment.

You could feel his chin rest lightly on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and despite every part of you telling yourself to pull away, to keep the distance you’d worked so hard to maintain, something inside you didn’t want to.

For a brief moment, you forgot to question it all. You forgot the reasons you kept pushing him away, the doubts you had about what he truly wanted.

And when he leaned close, his voice low and steady, you felt your resolve begin to crumble as his lips just brushed your ear. "You look so good," he murmured, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Dancing like that, looking so tempting."

The words were playful, but there was something in the tone that made it clear he wasn’t just joking. You could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your neck.

For a moment, you felt dizzy—not just from the alcohol, but from his proximity, the way he had you caught in his orbit, unwilling to let go.

"You’re driving me crazy," he whispered, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as if to remind you of how close he was. The teasing had a bite now and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was testing you, seeing how far he could push.

And God did he push.

Heeseung’s fingers brushed lightly against your waist, sending a ripple of heat through you. "You know," he said, his tone softer now, almost a whisper, "you’re not making it easy for me to behave tonight."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his every move, every word. But it was useless—he was too close, too overwhelming, and you couldn’t think straight.

When you finally found your voice, it came out quieter than you intended. "Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink, Heeseung," you said, hoping to inject some distance, even though your own voice betrayed how unsteady you felt.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. "Maybe," he admitted, and you could hear the smirk in his tone. "But don’t act like you’re not enjoying this."

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was locked on you, dark and intense.

"I’m not—" you started, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"You’re not what?" he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, daring you to finish your sentence.

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your heart raced, how you couldn’t seem to pull away, even though every logical part of your brain screamed at you to step back. But the warmth of his arms and the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the room—it was all too much.

For once, you let yourself linger, not pulling away from his hold, not giving him the usual pushback. He noticed immediately, his smirk growing as if he had won some unspoken game between you two.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Heeseung said, his tone teasing but soft. His fingers traced small circles against your hip, his other hand resting lightly at your waist. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I’m just too tired to deal with your nonsense.”

“Oh, nonsense, huh?” he said with a mock-wounded expression, leaning closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to your skin. “Careful, or you might hurt my feelings.”

“I think you’ll survive,” you shot back, tilting your head to glance at him. But the way his gaze locked onto yours made your breath hitch.

He laughed, the sound low and warm, as he kept still. “You’re enjoying this,” he murmured, the words brushing against your ear. “Admit it.”

You didn’t respond right away, instead letting the music carry you both. There was something about this that felt different tonight. Maybe it was the way he wasn’t pushing too hard, wasn’t making this feel like a game. Or maybe it was just the way you let yourself relax for once, let yourself enjoy his attention without overthinking it.

“And if I am?” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended, but steady enough to hold his gaze.

Heeseung’s grin widened, his confidence shining through. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep doing whatever I’m doing,” he said, his voice full of promise.

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head, trying to brush him off, but he wasn’t having it. “Oh, don’t act so tough,” he teased, “I know I’m getting to you.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping back just enough to put some space between you, but Heeseung wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily. He followed, closing the gap again, his movements unhurried. “Running away already?” he said, his tone mockingly hurt.

“I’m not running,” you shot back, crossing your arms in front of you, though the small smile threatening to form on your lips betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not convinced. He reached out, gently tugging at one of your hands, his pouty expression exaggerated to the point of being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, baby. I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head again. “I’m not your baby , you know that right?”

“But here you are,” he replied smoothly, the grin returning to his lips. “Still talking to me, still letting me hold you like I belong to you. Makes me think you don’t hate this as much as you pretend.”

You wanted to argue, to push him away again, but before you could, Heeseung pulled you closer once more. “Tell me to stop,” he said quietly, “if you really want me to stop, I will.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but you didn’t want him to stop. You couldn’t say it either. And he noticed.

Instead of gloating, though, his grin softened into an almost shy smile. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his hand squeezing yours gently before letting it go, as if to remind you that you were the one in control, even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

“Don’t think this means I’m giving in,” you said, trying to regain some ground, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to sound convincing.

“Sure, sure,” he replied, his smirk returning. “But I’ll take it as a win anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at him, a playful smirk curling on your lips. Leaning in just enough so only he could hear, you whispered, your voice teasing, “Maybe you should work a little harder if you want to win me over pretty boy.”

Before he could respond, you pulled back and walked off toward the kitchen, swaying your hips just enough to make a point and you felt a surge of satisfaction when you glanced over your shoulder.

Heeseung stood frozen in place, his expression both shocked and in disbelief. His mouth hung open slightly, his eyes wide as he processed your words and the sudden shift. For once, it seemed like you had left him speechless—a rarity that made your grin widen.

You turned back around, hiding your amusement as you reached the kitchen and poured yourself another drink.

A few seconds passed, and you felt it—the unmistakable weight of his gaze burning into your back. Heeseung wasn’t one to give up easily, and you knew you’d just ignited a fire in him. It wasn’t a question of if he’d come after you, but when.

You took a sip of your drink, savoring the moment, and braced yourself for whatever Heeseung was planning. You barely had any time to react before you felt Heeseung’s presence behind you. His body pressed against your back, his warmth seeping through your clothes as his arms caged you in on either side of the counter. His hands gripped the edge, locking you in place.

A low, frustrated groan escaped his lips, brushing against your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re really going to do me like that?” he murmured, his voice laced with mock pain.

You tilted your head slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. “Do you like what?” you asked innocently, swirling your drink in your hand as if you weren’t trapped.

Heeseung chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your stomach flip. “Walking away like that,” he said, leaning in closer until his lips almost brushed the curve of your jaw. “Whispering things you know are going to drive me crazy, and then just leaving me standing there like an idiot.”

You giggled as you leaned back slightly, your head resting against his shoulder. “You looked cute like that,” you teased, your tone dripping with playful defiance. “Maybe I should do it more often.”

“Cute?” he echoed, his voice dropping an octave as his grip on the counter tightened. “I’ll show you cute.”

Before you could respond, Heeseung’s lips were so close to your ear that you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he said, his tone softer now, though still playful. “But it’s fine. I like trouble.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, your shoulders shaking slightly as you set your drink down on the counter. “You’re so dramatic, Heeseung,” you said, turning your head just enough to meet his gaze.

Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, the grin on his face softening into something more tempting. “Dramatic, huh?” he murmured, “maybe. But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his nose almost brushing yours. “I think you like the attention,” he continued, his tone smug as his lips curved into that infuriating smirk. “You wouldn’t keep me guessing if you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure despite the rapid thudding of your heart. “Guessing? Please,” you scoffed, tilting your chin up slightly, refusing to back down. “You’re the one who keeps showing up, Heeseung. Not me.”

“And yet,” he countered smoothly, “you haven’t walked away yet. If you really weren’t interested, you wouldn’t still be here. With me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, even as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I’m just enjoying watching you make a fool of yourself.”

“Is that right?” he said, his voice dipping, playful but challenging. He leaned in even closer, so close that his lips were barely a breath away from yours. “Careful, baby, or you might end up falling for me instead.”

His confidence was maddening, but it was that same confidence that made your pulse race.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a raised brow. “Falling for you?” you repeated, your voice steady even as your heart betrayed you. “Don’t flatter yourself, Heeseung.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as his hand left the counter to lightly graze your hip, his fingers lingering just enough to make you aware of every single nerve in your body. “Oh, I’m not flattering myself,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m just calling it how I see it.”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “You’ve got some nerve,” you said, shaking your head as you turned away from him.

His eyes following your every move as you picked up your drink again. “And you’ve got some walls,” he shot back.

You paused, glancing back at him as you took a sip of your drink. “Maybe they’re there for a reason,” you replied, your tone light but pointed.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you. “Yeah, but the thing about walls?” he said, tilting his head with a grin. “They’re meant to be climbed.”

You side-eyed him, the faintest smile tugging at your lips as you raised your glass to take another sip. “Try all you want mountain climber.”

Before he could come up with a response, you smoothly stepped away, moving around the kitchen counter to put some distance between you. His brows furrowed slightly in surprise, the sudden shift catching him off guard.

“Hey, wait a second,” he called after you, quickly sliding around the counter in an attempt to follow. The way he moved—quick but a little clumsy, as if he hadn’t expected you to slip away so easily—made you chuckle to yourself.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” you said over your shoulder, your tone full of challenge as you leaned casually against the far end of the counter, nursing your drink.

Heeseung stopped on the other side, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he tilted his head. “Oh, so now we’re playing games?” he asked, clearly in disbelief.

“You started it,” you shot back, taking another sip and meeting his gaze head-on.

His eyes narrowed slightly as if accepting the challenge. “Fine,” he said, “but don’t be mad when I win.”

“Win?” you repeated, raising a brow at him. “Pretty confident for someone who just got left behind.”

That earned a laugh from him, and in one swift motion, he stepped around the counter, closing the gap between you. “Left behind?” he echoed, his tone playful as he leaned down slightly, his face closer to yours. “Nah. I’m right where I need to be.”

Your breath hitched for the briefest moment, but you quickly masked it with another sip of your drink, refusing to let him see how much his persistence was getting to you.

Heeseung’s smirk widened when you began moving around the counter again, and without missing a beat, he mirrored your steps, chasing after you. “Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?” he teased, his tone light as his eyes tracked your every move.

“You’ll have to be faster than that,” you shot back, a playful laugh escaping your lips as you darted around the other side.

His hands hovered over the counter, ready to cut you off, but you were quicker, slipping just out of reach. The look of mock frustration on his face was priceless, and you couldn’t help but grin at your small victory.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up for a moment as if calling a truce. But you weren’t buying it—not for a second.

When he lunged, you were ready, spinning on your heel and darting out of the kitchen entirely. “Nice try!” you called over your shoulder, weaving your way back toward the dance floor, the thumping bass and flashing lights swallowing you up.

You could hear him groan behind you, the sound half exasperated, half amused. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

You didn’t answer, slipping into the crowd and letting the press of people conceal you. It was easy to lose him in the chaos, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of him standing near the edge of the dance floor, scanning the crowd with a furrowed brow.

For a moment, you just watched him. The way he ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to spot you, made your chest tighten unexpectedly. But you shook the feeling off quickly, turning back to the music and letting yourself have fun.

The crowd seemed to shift and swirl, pulling you deeper into the dance floor. For a moment, you felt untouchable—lost in the freedom of the moment.

But that feeling didn’t last long. You could still feel him, even if you couldn’t see him. And then, just when you thought you’d successfully slipped away, a familiar voice cut through the noise, low and right near your ear.

“Thought you could run away from me?”

You turned your head sharply, only to find Heeseung standing there, a sly grin on his face. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a faint flush on his cheeks, probably from weaving through the crowd to find you.

“How’d you—” you started, but he interrupted with a chuckle.

“You really think I’d give up that easily?” he asked, his tone almost incredulous. “I told you, I’m right where I need to be.”

You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your lips tugged upward. “Maybe you’re just a little too determined,” you said, stepping back slightly, but he followed your movement effortlessly.

“Or maybe you like being chased,” he countered, his voice smooth as he matched your pace.

You opened your mouth to retort, but he caught your hand, gently spinning you back toward him, his movements seamless with the music. It was so smooth, so unexpected, that you didn’t even think to pull away. “Caught you,” he murmured, his voice low as his eyes locked onto yours.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “I let you catch me,” you replied.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he answered as he pulled you a little closer.

The space between you vanished, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of everything—his hand on your waist, his body, his gaze. It was dizzying, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you stayed there, caught in the moment, wondering how on earth he always managed to get under your skin like this.

Heeseung began to sway with you to the music, his hands resting lightly on your waist, guiding your movements with an ease that felt far too natural. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. It was just dancing, just a moment. And yet, you didn’t stop him. You let him lead, let him pull you closer, until his forehead was nearly brushing yours.

But then you noticed something. The way his steps were deliberate, not just moving to the beat but steering you. Slowly, subtly, his touch guided you backward through the crowd.

Your brow furrowed as realization dawned. Heeseung wasn’t just dancing. He had a plan.

“You’re sneaky, you know that?” you muttered, narrowing your eyes as you glanced over your shoulder and saw the wall creeping closer.

Heeseung’s grin turned wicked, a spark of mischief lighting up his face. “Sneaky? Me?” he asked, feigning innocence, though the way his hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist betrayed him. “Yes, you,” you shot back, even as your back brushed against the cool surface of the wall. He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Can you blame me? You make it so hard to keep my distance.”

You rolled your eyes, though your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your chest as his gaze locked onto yours.

His gaze never left yours for a second. The world around you seemed to fade away as he leaned in just the slightest bit closer, his chest rising and falling faster with each breath. You could feel the heat of his body so close to yours, could feel the tension between you, thick and heavy.

He glanced down at your lips, then back up to your eyes, the look in his gaze unreadable. It was almost like he was testing the air between you, measuring whether you’d pull away or lean in. His hands on your waist holding you in place as if he knew you wouldn’t make a move. His breathing had picked up now, shallow and just a little shaky, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was just as affected by this as you were.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whispered, though you knew your voice was too soft to carry any real force. The words felt weak even as they left your lips, because you knew you weren’t really trying to push him away.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and low, as if savoring the moment. “Like what?” he asked.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t—because the answer was already in the way your heart was pounding, the way your breath hitched every time he got a little closer.

And then, without warning, he leaned in just a fraction more, his lips hovering so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating from them, but he didn’t make the move. He was waiting. Testing.

You both seemed to be holding your breath.

Just as you were about to say something, the world shifted unexpectedly. A figure stumbled into Heeseung from behind, knocking into him, and before either of you could react, the person’s drink splashed all over you. You gasped as the cold liquid drenched your outfit, your heart sinking as you saw the mess, the dark stain had spread across the fabric, leaving a damp, sticky trail. “Are you kidding me?” you groaned, trying to wipe it off, but it only made it worse.

Heeseung, who had been caught off guard by the collision, quickly turned around. His brows furrowed with frustration, but his gaze softened when he saw the mess on your clothes. Without missing a beat, he pushed the person who had bumped into him away with a quick but firm shove. “Watch where you’re going!” he snapped. The drunk person mumbled an apology, clearly embarrassed, but Heeseung didn’t seem to care. His attention was on you now.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand brushing against your arm as he looked you over.

You just sighed, wiping your shirt, but it was clear you weren’t getting anywhere. “This is great,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else, “I didn’t even want to be here tonight, and now this…”

Heeseung didn’t let you dwell on it for long. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand in a way that was surprisingly gentle for all the tension you’d felt earlier. “Let’s get you cleaned up. There’s a bathroom down the hall.”

You didn’t argue, allowing him to guide you through the crowd, his hand on yours was warm, and even though you were frustrated, there was something comforting in the way he took charge.

When you reached the bathroom, he opened the door for you, ushering you inside with a soft “After you,” before making sure the door was securely closed behind you. The bathroom was quieter, and the air felt colder, but it was a welcome change from the chaos outside.

“Sit down, I’ll grab you some paper towels,” he said, motioning to the counter as he quickly moved toward the sink.

You sat down on the edge, trying to assess the damage, but the sticky feeling of the drink on your skin made it hard to focus. Heeseung was quick, his movements efficient as he grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them under the faucet.

“You’re really going to make me clean up after you now?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, though there was still a hint of irritation in your voice.

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you the damp towels. His gaze softened as he looked at you. “I’m not making you do anything,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just trying to help.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the gentle way he was treating the situation. You took the damp towels from his hands, still a little flustered by how close he was standing, how his gaze was focused on you with such intent.

“I didn’t ask for help,” you muttered, not in an angry way but more out of habit, the natural instinct to push away when things got too close, too personal.

He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know. But that’s never stopped me before, has it?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words didn’t come. You couldn’t find the right response. Instead, you just looked at him, your heart doing that erratic thing it always did when he was this close.

Heeseung seemed to notice your hesitation, his smile softening. “You don’t have to push me away every time, you know,” he said gently, his voice almost too sincere.

You blinked, caught off guard. But before you could respond, he stepped back, giving you space, though his eyes never left yours. “I’ll wait outside,” he said quietly, his voice shifting back to its usual tone.“Take your time.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

Heeseung gave you one last lingering look before stepping out of the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind him. As soon as he was gone, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing in your chest. You quickly went to work cleaning yourself up, though the mess on your clothes was much harder to fix.

Your thoughts were spinning. There was something about the way Heeseung was acting tonight, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was definitely something there, and it made your stomach twist in ways.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to collect yourself. Why did he have this effect on you? You couldn’t figure it out, but the longer you stood there in the bathroom, the more confused you felt.

After a few more minutes, you gave up trying to fix the mess entirely. It was too late for that. Instead, you grabbed your things and stepped out of the bathroom. As soon as you entered the hallway, you spotted Heeseung standing by the door, his posture relaxed but his eyes immediately locking onto yours. “Well?” he asked, cocking his head slightly as he gave you a once-over. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, much better,” you replied, trying to act nonchalant, but you could feel your heartbeat quicken again under his scrutiny.

He gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You look… good.” There was a hesitation before the words left his mouth, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to phrase them.

You caught it, and for the first time tonight, you didn’t immediately push back. Instead, you simply looked at him, unsure of what was happening.

Wait.

You suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu wash over you. The way he looked at you, the way he was standing there waiting for you, felt familiar, like it was something you had experienced before.

Your mind wandered back to a memory from when you were younger, one that you hadn’t thought about in ages. You were just a child, maybe eight or nine, playing in the park with Heeseung not too far away. You’d been running around, laughing with the other kids when some clumsy little boy—one of your classmates—spilled his drink all over you. You’d been so upset, the sticky liquid ruining your favorite shirt, and you could feel tears threatening to spill.

But then, out of nowhere, there was Heeseung. He hadn’t hesitated for a second, not like some of the other kids who were too busy laughing or ignoring you. He’d been sitting nearby, playing with a figurine in the grass, but the moment he saw you, he dropped his toys without a second thought. Without saying a word, he had stood up, walked over to you, and gently grabbed your hand.

“Don’t worry,” he’d said with that soft, comforting tone only he had, “I’ll help you clean up.”

He had led you straight to the bathroom of the park’s little concession stand, where he carefully grabbed paper towels and dabbed at your shirt, his face set in a look of determination. You remembered feeling embarrassed, but somehow his presence made everything feel better.

And now, here you were, years later, with him standing in front of you again, doing the same thing—helping you, without hesitation. It made you smile softly to yourself, the memory tugging at your heart in ways you weren’t sure how to explain.

Heeseung, noticing the smile tugging at your lips, raised an eyebrow in playful curiosity. “What’s on your mind?”

You shook your head, trying to hide the faint blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Just… thinking about something,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

He didn’t push, simply giving you a small smile, as though he understood without needing any further explanation.

Before you could think too much about it, Heeseung suddenly moved with a surprising confidence, his hand finding your waist and gently pulling you along with him. The sudden shift startled you for a moment, but the warmth of his hand against your side made your breath hitch slightly.

“You look like you need another drink,” he said, his voice low, but playful, as he guided you through the crowded hallway and toward the kitchen. He left you no time to protest, and you found yourself following him without much resistance. You’d barely processed the familiar feeling of his touch when you were already in the kitchen, the sound of music and chatter fading slightly as you both entered the quieter space. Heeseung let go of your waist once you were in the kitchen, but he still stood close.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he turned to the counter, rifling through the bottles of alcohol, though his gaze never fully left you.

"Something strong this time?" he asked, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine care, as though he wanted to make sure you were really okay. "Or do you want to take it easy?"

You were still caught off guard by the way he had pulled you along, the way he’d moved without hesitation, without waiting for permission.

"Maybe just something light," you replied, trying to play it cool, even though he was making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Heeseung worked quickly, his movements smooth as he reached for the bottle, his back was turned to you. But you couldn’t stop watching him—how his muscles shifted under the fabric of his shirt, how good he looked.

Heeseung eventually finished the drink and handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours again as you took the glass. For a second, you both stood there, neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. It was that kind of silence where it felt like something was about to happen, but neither of you were sure what.

“So, what now?” you asked, trying to break the silence, but you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you spoke.

Heeseung took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now," he said, "we get back to enjoying the night."

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. "Right," you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, but you quickly recovered, giving him a small smile. "Let’s see if I can actually make it through the night without getting drenched in anything else."

Heeseung’s lips curled into a grin, and he chuckled softly. "I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again," he said, his tone playful but with an undertone of sincerity. He reached out and gently took your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

You let him lead you back into the party, the music louder now, the crowd thicker. Heeseung didn’t let go of your hand, and you found yourself walking alongside him through the house, feeling uncertain.

✰ ✰ ✰

Somewhere during the night, you had lost sight of Heeseung. He had been dragged away by his friends, caught up in the crowd, and never returned after that. At first, it felt like a strange absence, the lingering sense of him still there even if he wasn't. But after a while, you pushed it aside, deciding it was fine.

You found yourself moving through the party, chatting with friends, laughing at jokes, and enjoying yourself. And as the night went on, you slipped into the comfort of familiar faces, people you could talk to normally. You were glad for the chance to just have fun, to forget for a moment the heat that always seemed to follow whenever Heeseung was around. You were fine without him, right?

You decided to step outside for a breath of fresh air. The noise and chaos inside had started to make you feel lightheaded, and the stuffy heat of the house wasn’t helping. A little solitude would do you good, you thought.

The cool air hit your skin as you stepped out into the backyard, a quiet escape from the party. You leaned against the outer wall, looking up at the night sky. The stars twinkled faintly above, and for a moment, you let the silence settle around you. It was peaceful, the kind of calm you needed after the madness inside. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the chill of the night on your skin, and took a deep breath.

What you didn’t know was that someone was watching you from the shadows, standing just far enough away not to be seen. The shape of a figure, leaning against the corner of the house, observing you with quiet intensity.

The moment stretched on, the backyard still and quiet, until you felt a presence shift behind you. A movement you couldn’t quite place, and before you could turn around to see who it was, you felt the brush of someone’s body so close to yours that it made you freeze.

You slowly turned your head, your breath catching in your throat, and found yourself face to face with Heeseung. His lips were mere inches from your ear as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. But something was off.

His usually sharp gaze was a little hazy, his eyes unfocused as he smiled at you—though it didn’t reach the intensity of his usual teasing grin. He looked almost… detached. Out of it.

And then the smell hit you—a sharp, pungent scent of weed mixed with the alcohol. It hit you like a wave, and you realized just how much he'd been indulging tonight.

"Heeseung?" you murmured, taking a step back instinctively, your heart picking up speed as you watched him sway slightly, his breath coming out slower than usual.

He seemed to snap out of his daze for a moment, his eyes clearing slightly as he blinked at you. "Hmm?" His voice was low, almost lazy, and there was a softness to it that you weren’t used to hearing.

You studied him for a moment, his breath still tinged with the unmistakable haze of the night’s indulgence. He wasn't himself—at least not the playful Heeseung you knew. "Are you okay?" you asked cautiously, unsure how to navigate this new version of him standing so close.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before a slow, almost dreamy smile curled up on his lips. "Yeah, just needed a break too. The noise gets... loud. You know how it is."

He swayed again, his hand coming up to rest on the wall near you, his face inches from yours.

You stood still, your heart racing as you took in the unexpected sight of him like this. “Hey,” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “Maybe you should head back inside.”

He chuckled softly, but it lacked its usual spark. Instead, it was drawn out and almost tired. “Nah,” he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m fine... just needed a minute.” His fingers brushed your arm lightly as if trying to keep himself steady.

He didn’t back away, though, and neither did you.

You were unsure what to say next, unsure of your next move. "You’re making this... hard," you finally whispered, uncertain whether you were talking about the situation or him.

Heeseung smiled, but this time it was slow, almost seductive, like he was savoring the moment. “Maybe I like it that way,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. He leaned just a little closer, his breath mingling with yours.

Despite everything, despite all the confusion, you couldn’t stop the way your heart pounded. Heeseung had always been a game you couldn’t quite figure out, but right now, you were starting to wonder if maybe it was a game you didn’t want to win.

As he leaned in further, you had to make a decision: pull away, or let yourself fall into whatever it was that had been brewing between the two of you.

Before you could even make a decision, he made the decision for you. His lips parted, and he murmured a low, breathy compliment against your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You look so beautiful baby,” he said, and there was a sincerity in his tone that cut through the haze. But before you could respond, his hand shot up to grip the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your skin, holding you in place. The other hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Then, without warning, he kissed you. Hard. Hungry. His lips crashing against yours as if you were the air he needed to breathe, like this moment was the only thing that mattered.

You gasped into the kiss, caught off guard by the intensity of it. Heeseung’s mouth was possessive, eager, like he couldn’t get enough of you. He kissed you with a desperation that sent a rush of heat straight to your body, his hands pulling you closer, the pressure of his grip firm. It felt like everything had exploded in that moment, every feeling you’d been pushing away suddenly pouring out in a single, stolen kiss.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and even though every part of you knew this wasn’t how you expected things to go, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. The way he kissed you—like you were the last thing he’d ever touch—was overwhelming, and for the first time, you let yourself surrender to it.

His lips were intoxicating, and as he pulled you closer, you could feel the intensity in every movement, every press of his body against yours. The kiss deepened, more frantic now, as if neither of you could get enough. The feeling of him—so desperate, so needy—was something you never expected from Heeseung, and yet it was exactly what you found yourself craving.

You tried to stay grounded, to remind yourself of who he was, of all the walls you’d carefully built between you, but with each second, they seemed to crumble. His hands moved to your back, pulling you in as his kiss grew more fevered, his breathing erratic as he let out soft groans against your lips.

You couldn’t help but respond, your own hands rising to clutch at his shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as if to keep him anchored to you, like the very act of touching him would stop this moment from slipping away. Heeseung’s body was solid against yours, and despite the confusion that still buzzed in the back of your mind, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted this—wanted him.

His breath hitched as you pulled him even closer, you could feel the way his body seemed to tremble slightly as he held you in his arms, groaning lowly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he used one arm to brace himself against the wall, the other pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. His lips were desperate, claiming, his breathing heavy as it mixed with yours.

Your hands moved without thought, one gripping the back of his shirt, the other winding into his hair, tugging him even closer. He let out another low groan, the sound so needy it sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung’s hand at your waist tightened, as if he was trying to merge your bodies into one.

Every part of you seemed to melt under his touch, all that mattered in that moment was the way he felt against you, the way his lips moved with yours, the way his hands seemed to be exploring every inch of your body. His lips moved with desperation, and each breathless kiss made it harder to remember why you had held back for so long.

But then, just as the kiss deepened again, your mind caught up with you. You could feel the weight of it—the gravity of what was happening. The familiar warning signs, the confusion, the uncertainty, all came rushing back to the surface.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands gripping his hair tightly, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths, trying to regain some semblance of control. Heeseung, sensing the shift, finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting softly.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice raspy and gentle, as if checking to see if you were still with him in that moment.

You pulled back slightly, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to gather your thoughts, but your mind was still clouded by the rush of the moment. "We... we shouldn't be doing this," you murmured, your voice shaky, feeling the weight of the situation. "You're drunk, Heeseung. This isn't you."

Heeseung blinked slowly, his eyes still heavy with that lazy, almost dazed look as he played with the strands of your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp. He tilted his head slightly, giving you that smile—the one that always made your heart flutter, even in the most confusing of times.

He leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and he spoke softly, his voice sincere "Even if I wasn't drunk," he said, his lips curling into a slow smile, "I’d still do this." His eyes locked onto yours, the haze in them making his gaze feel even more intense. "Because you're you. A pretty girl I've wanted for years."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the heat of his words curling around you like a blanket, and you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat. His hand on your hair moved down to gently cup your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "This... this is unforgettable. And I’d do it over and over again, no matter what state I’m in."

You were speechless for a moment, but you knew he was being honest, even if his current state made it hard to fully trust his intentions.

"But...," you started, still unsure, trying to hold onto your reason, "this isn't the right time, Heeseung. We both know that."

Heeseung’s lazy smile didn’t falter, though there was a longing in his eyes somthing you hadn't seen before. He slowly moved his thumb down, brushing lightly over your lips before leaning in again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe not the right time," he said, his lips nearly brushing against yours once more. "But you’ve always been worth the wait."

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his hand still cradling your face as if silently asking for permission. Then, he leaned in, placing a soft, tentative peck on your lips. It was gentle and when you didn’t pull away, he did it again, this time lingering a little longer. Each kiss felt like a question, and with every unspoken answer, his confidence grew.

The next kiss wasn’t as restrained. It was deeper, needier, as though the small taste he’d gotten wasn’t enough. His lips moved against yours with increasing urgency, quickly unraveling into something messier. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

The kisses turned sloppy, his control slipping with every passing second. His breath came heavier, mingling with yours as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, making your knees feel weak.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands moving to grip his shoulders, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Heeseung broke away just briefly, as he gasped for air, his lips swollen and glistening. “You don’t know,” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with desperation. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” Before you could respond, he captured your lips again, his kisses feverish, like he was making up for all the time he’d spent waiting. His body pressed you more firmly against the wall, as he completely lost himself in the moment, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece.

You tried to catch your breath, your head spinning from it all, but Heeseung wasn’t giving you a chance to think. His lips trailed down from yours, brushing along your jaw and down to your neck, where he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent a shiver through your entire body. “Heeseung,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say—stop or don’t stop.

“Say my name again,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and raspy. He placed another kiss just below your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I love the way it sounds coming from you.”

You didn’t answer because the way he was looking at you left you speechless. His lips were swollen from the kisses, his hair slightly messy, and there was something in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before. “Heeseung,” you whispered again, softer this time, your hand reaching up to touch his face. The moment your fingers brushed his cheek, he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. When they opened again, there was a softness there that made your heart ache.

Heeseung’s lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss so deep, so consuming, that it left you breathless. You could feel the way his fingers trembled slightly as they slid up your sides. One hand settled on the small of your back, keeping you firmly pressed against him, while the other moved to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough.

He groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine as his lips parted, inviting you to deepen the kiss. The way his tongue brushed against yours was dizzying, leaving your knees weak and your mind spinning. You responded instinctively, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer.

Heeseung’s breathing was heavy, uneven, as if he couldn’t catch his breath but didn’t want to stop. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter. It felt like he was memorizing the feel of you, the taste of you, the way you fit perfectly against him.

Heeseung’s lips suddenly left yours, trailing a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and onto your neck. “You don’t even know,” he murmured, his words slurred slightly but full of emotion. “How long I’ve wanted this… wanted you. God, you’re all I ever think about.” His lips grazed your collarbone, grounding you as he leaned his full weight into you, effectively caging you against the wall.

His rambling continued, each word pouring out like a confession. “I dream about you… about us. It’s always you. No one else even comes close, y’know that? The way you smile, the way you look at me… even when you’re mad at me, I can’t get you out of my head.”

His lips moved lower, pressing kisses along your chest as he spoke, his voice husky and raw. “You’re so beautiful… so perfect. And now you’re here, and I don’t want to let go.”

His words were pure need and desperation, and the way he shielded you with his body only amplified the intensity of the moment. “Tell me you feel it too,” he breathed, his voice breaking slightly. “Tell me I’m not crazy for wanting you this much.”

You were overwhelmed, caught between his touch and his words. Heeseung wasn’t holding back, and as much as you wanted to respond, the only thing you could manage was a shaky exhale, your hands clutching at his shirt to keep yourself steady.

Your voice wavered as you found the courage to speak, breaking through the haze of emotions swirling around you both. “But what about all the other girls, Heeseung?” you asked, your tone softer than you expected. “All the girls you’ve been with? The ones who’ve followed you around, who’ve—” You hesitated, the words getting caught in your throat.

Heeseung froze for a moment, his lips hovering against the curve of your neck, his breathing uneven. His answer was strained. “No one’s like you,” he said, his tone almost pleading. “No one even comes close.”

His hand moved up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “You think any of them matter?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “All those girls… they were never you. Never even close to being you. I don’t care about them. I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you.”

His lips found your collarbone again, lingering there as he continued. “I’ve yearned for you—God, for so long. You don’t even know what you do to me.” His hand slid down to your hips, gripping you as if to anchor himself. “Every time I see you, it’s like nothing else exists. No one else exists.”

He pulled back slightly, his dark, half-lidded eyes locking onto yours. “I’ll drop them all—every single one. I don’t need anyone else, never did. I just want you.”

Heeseung, ever the gentleman suddenly took you by the hand and led you back inside, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers. With a gentle yet firm grip, he guided you through the bustling crowd, his eyes never leaving yours, as he led your way towards an unoccupied bedroom. Once inside the bedroom, Heeseung closed the door behind you, locking out the world and creating a private haven for the two of you, as he leaned in and captured your lips in a desperate kiss.

You responded to his kiss with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, while Heeseung's hands roamed freely, caressing your back.

Heeseung only pulled back slightly, his chest heaving with heavy breaths before he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a well-defined torso.

Well this would be a fun night.

It was a fun night... but what ruined it was the fact that Heeseung suddenly seemed to forget who you were. The next few days at school were a complete shift. He avoided you. He didn’t look at you, didn’t talk to you, didn’t even so much as throw a teasing grin your way in the hallways.

No, instead, he went back to his old habits. He laughed and flirted with other girls, his charm as effortless as ever, like nothing had changed. Like you didn’t exist. At. All.

It was maddening.

But the worst part? Watching him smile at those girls with the same ease he once reserved for you, as if you hadn’t been pressed against that wall, that bed, tangled up in his words and his touch. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You didn’t know what happened. You wracked your brain for answers, trying to piece together where it all went wrong. But deep down, you should have known. Of course, you should have known.

Heeseung wasn’t the type to stay tethered. He wasn’t the type to settle. He was the type to chase, to get what he wanted, and then move on. And now that he’d tempted you, now that he’d had a taste of your attention, it seemed he’d gone on to the next woman.

Why would you be any different?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably. You weren’t supposed to care. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t let someone like him get to you. But seeing him act as if nothing had happened—as if you were just another moment in his life—stung more than you wanted to admit.

And the worst part? You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you that night, the way he touched you, the way his words had seemed so genuine. Had it all been a lie? Or had he just changed his mind?

Either way, you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered you. If he wanted to act like you didn’t exist, you’d do the same. Or at least, you’d try.

And you did try. You really did. Ignoring Heeseung, pretending he was just another face in the crowd—it seemed like the only way to keep yourself sane. And for a while, it felt like it might work. You told yourself you could move on, that you could forget about the way his touch had felt, the way his voice had sounded when he whispered your name.

Yeah, no. You couldn’t.

Not at all.

You realized that the moment you walked by the bleachers and saw a girl perched comfortably on Heeseung’s lap during basketball practice. She laughed at something he said, her hand resting casually on his shoulder. Your stomach churned.

Nope. Moving on wasn’t happening.

And then in the hallways, you would see him leaning against the wall, his signature grin plastered across his face as he shamelessly flirted with other girls. Their giggles echoed in the corridor, and Heeseung would tilt his head, his eyes sparkling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Yeah, moving on definitely wasn’t in the cards.

Each time you saw him acting like you were meaningless, like the night you’d shared was nothing more than a passing moment, it cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

And yet, despite all of it, despite the ache in your chest and the frustration bubbling under your skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him. What would you even say? That he’d hurt you? That he’d made you believe you were different, only to prove otherwise?

No. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But pretending it didn’t matter? That was turning out to be harder than you ever imagined.

Okay, yeah, pretending it didn’t matter was much harder than you thought. Because now, standing in the doorway of your room, staring at a very intoxicated Heeseung, all of those feelings you were desperately trying to bury came rushing back.

His hair was messy like he’d run his hands through it a million times. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the smooth skin of his collarbones, and his belt dangled loosely from his hands like he’d been too distracted—or too far gone—to put it back on properly. The faint smell of alcohol and nicotine wafted off him, making you wrinkle your nose.

This was not how you’d planned to spend your night. You were supposed to be studying, maybe finishing the next episode of that series you were hooked on. A calm night. But of course, Heeseung had to ruin that.

“Heeseung,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, trying to keep your voice steady, “What are you doing here?”

He blinked at you, his eyes glassy but still managing to hold that familiar spark that made your heart do stupid flips. “I—uh...” He trailed off, his gaze flickering over you like he was trying to figure out what to say.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You don’t even know why you’re here, do you?”

“I know why I’m here,” he slurred, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “I just... I wanted to see you.”

You sighed, already feeling the headache forming. “Heeseung, you’re drunk. And not in your right mind. You should go home before you embarrass yourself even more.”

But instead of leaving, he gave you that boyish grin—the one that always made your resolve waver. “Can’t I stay here? Just for a bit?”

“No,” you replied firmly, but even as you said it, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Heeseung’s expression softened, and his voice dropped, almost pleading. “Come on, don’t do this. I... I don’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

You hated how those words tugged at something deep inside you. Why did he always have to show up and mess with your head?

You found yourself hesitating, your hand still on the door, unable to slam it shut in his face, sighing, your hand gripping the edge of the door as you tried to keep your cool. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung," you said, your voice quieter than you intended. "I have too much going on. I'm stressed, and I really don't have the energy for this."

He didn’t back off. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His voice was low and teasing, with that same lazy confidence he always seemed to have. "If you're stressed, I can help with that," he murmured. "Play with me a little, and I promise, you'll forget all about it."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his audacity. “Heeseung—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, a small, mischievous smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, hazy but still focused on you, sparkled with that familiar glint that always left you second-guessing yourself. “I’m really good at relieving stress. Just give me a chance.”

Your mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. The sheer gall of him left you momentarily speechless.

Finally, you shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of the moment. "Heeseung, you're drunk. You should just go home and sleep this off before you say something else ridiculous."

He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Drunk or not, I’m still right,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned a fraction closer. “But if you really don’t want me here…” He gestured vaguely toward the hallway, though he made no actual move to leave.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, trying to summon every ounce of patience you had left. “Heeseung,” you said firmly, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze. “I need you to take this seriously. Either go home, or...”

“Or?” he asked, his voice soft but teasing, daring you to finish the sentence.

Your frustration bubbled over as you only glared at him, the sight of his disheveled figure only fueling your anger. "No! Do you have any idea how mad I am at you right now?" you snapped, crossing your arms. "You ignored me for days, Heeseung. Days! You acted like I didn’t exist, like nothing happened, and now you just show up at my door like—like this?"

Heeseung blinked, the lazy smirk faltering slightly, but he didn’t say anything. That only made you angrier. "Do you even know how humiliating it’s been? Watching you flirt with other girls, pretending like what we had meant nothing? And now, you think you can just waltz in here, drunk and out of your mind and what—fix everything with a grin and some smooth words? You don’t get to do that, Heeseung. You don’t get to mess with my head and—"

Before you could finish, Heeseung surged forward, his hands grabbing your cheeks as he pulled you close. His lips crashed against yours with a force that took your breath away, silencing your ramble in an instant.

Your mind went blank, your words evaporating as his warmth enveloped you. His kiss was desperate, almost as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say out loud. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other stayed firm on your cheek.

You froze, your anger momentarily eclipsed by the intensity of his actions. But then, your hands instinctively pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss as you stepped back, breathless and wide-eyed. “Heeseung, what the hell?” you whispered, your voice shaking, unsure if it was from lingering anger or the way your heart raced in your chest.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted quietly, his voice hoarse. “You were yelling at me, and I just… I missed you. I couldn’t stay away.”

You stared at him, torn between wanting to scream at him and wanting to pull him back in. “You don’t get to do that,” you said, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and think it’ll fix everything.”

“I don’t think it fixes anything,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Before you could respond, he took a small step closer, his forehead gently resting against your shoulder. His breath was warm against your neck as he hummed softly, the sound low and almost comforting. He nuzzled against your skin, his movements slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice strained as you placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away. But he didn’t budge, his larger frame pressing closer as his lips ghosted over the curve of your neck.

“I missed this,” he murmured, the words vibrating against your skin. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss just below your ear, his hand curling gently around your waist to hold you steady.

You tried to push again, but it was weak, half-hearted, especially as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot, sending a shiver down your spine. “Stop it, Heeseung,” you said, but your voice lacked conviction, and he clearly noticed.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and a little smug. “You’re telling me to stop,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, “but you’re not really trying, are you?”

Your heart raced, torn between the anger still simmering in your chest and the way his touch was making your knees feel like jelly. “Heeseung, this isn’t fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softer now. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m sorry. That I’ve been a complete idiot. That I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could sort through your emotions, he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your neck once more, and you felt yourself faltering.

Heeseung’s movements were subtle at first, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as he guided you further into the house. You didn’t even realize he’d kicked the door closed until you heard the faint click of it shutting.

Your distraction gave him the advantage, and before you could voice even the smallest protest, he was steering you toward the couch. His hands were steady, firm, but not forceful, leaving you confused and torn between stopping him and giving in to the pull he had on you.

“Heeseung—” you started, but the words barely escaped your lips before his mouth was on yours again, silencing you with a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved hungrily against yours, leaving no room for argument, and when you tried to push back against his chest, your resolve faltered as he moaned softly into the kiss. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and to your dismay, a small whine slipped out in response.

His lips curved against yours as if he could sense your weakening resolve, his hands started guiding you to lay down on the couch. The weight of his body hovered close, not trapping you but leaving you with the realization that Heeseung wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips, “if you really want me to, I will.” But the way he looked at you, his dark eyes full of yearning and desperation, made it clear he didn’t want you to say the words.

When you didn’t respond, Heeseung’s lips curled into a slow, almost knowing smile. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. He leaned down, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips once more.

This kiss was different—softer at first, unhurried but still filled with that undeniable hunger. His weight shifted slightly, his chest pressing against yours while his hand slid from your cheek to your waist, steadying you. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, as though he wanted to memorize every detail, every sound you made, and every way you responded to him.

You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into him, Heeseung’s lips left yours only briefly, trailing kisses along your jaw, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he murmured, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Your pulse quickened, your heart hammering in your chest. “Heeseung… please,” you managed to whisper, though your voice trembled, making it come out weaker than you’d intended.

But he only shook his head softly, his lips brushing against your cheek as he murmured, “Shh… Don’t.” His voice was low and soothing, almost pleading, as though he couldn’t bear to hear you say anything that might break the moment between you. “Just… stay with me. Don’t push me away right now,” he whispered.

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, this time slower, softer, as if he was savoring the moment.

And you couldn’t help but let yourself fall deeper into the kiss.

✰ ✰ ✰

Yeah, you were getting pretty tired now.

After waking up the next morning to an empty bed, Heeseung having dipped sometime before you even stirred, you couldn’t say you were surprised. Disappointed? Sure. Hurt? Maybe. But surprised? Not in the slightest.

The hollow feeling lingered as you dragged yourself to school, telling yourself to just push through the day like nothing had happened. It was easier said than done when the moment you stepped into the halls, you spotted Heeseung leaning casually against his locker, laughing at something one of his friends said, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And of course, he acted like last night didn’t happen. Not a glance in your direction, not a nod of acknowledgment—nothing. It was as if you didn’t exist, as if you hadn’t shared anything at all.

You bit down the frustration bubbling in your chest, refusing to let it show. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t let him get to you, that you’d play it cool, but damn, it was harder than you thought. Watching him joke around, watching him flirt effortlessly with anyone but you—it stung more than you wanted to admit.

You sighed, gripping the straps of your bag a little tighter as you walked past him, pretending you didn’t notice him either.

It got to the point where your friends couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“What’s going on with you and Heeseung?” one of them asked, their tone laced with curiosity and concern. “He was all over you, and now he’s... not. Did something happen?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything, but their expectant gazes made it clear they weren’t letting it go. So, with a deep breath, you told them everything.

Their reactions were immediate.

“He did what?” one of your friends exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Are you serious? He was with you and then went back to ignoring you? Twice?!” another chimed in, her voice rising in anger.

They were shocked at first, then angry—angrier than you were, which was both comforting and a little overwhelming.

“You need to stop answering his calls,” one of them said firmly, leaning closer. “He’s just using you as a backup plan when he’s drunk and lonely.”

Another nodded, her expression equally resolute. “Don’t let him in, no matter how much he begs. If you let him in, you’re just setting yourself up to kick him out later. And trust me, that’s worse.”

“Exactly,” a third added, crossing her arms. “And don’t even think about being his friend. Friends don’t wake up in each other’s beds after nights like that.”

The last comment stung more than you cared to admit, but they weren’t done.

“If you’re under him, you’re never getting over him,” another said bluntly, her words hitting harder than you’d expected. “And you deserve better than this game he’s playing with you.”

You sat there, their words circling in your head like a storm. Deep down, you knew they were right. You knew you couldn’t keep letting Heeseung in only to get hurt every time he left. But knowing it and doing something about it were two very different things.

One of your friends sighed, shaking her head. “You know what this sounds like, right? A situationship. That’s what this is turning into.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“That’s exactly what it is,” another chimed in, crossing her arms. “He keeps you close enough to make you think you matter, but far enough to avoid any real accountability. Classic situationship behavior.”

You groaned, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t even know if it’s that deep. He probably doesn’t think about me at all.”

“Well…” one of them started, glancing over your shoulder, her expression shifting into amusement and curiosity.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

She hesitated for a moment before blurting it out. “Heeseung’s staring.”

Your head snapped around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. And sure enough, there he was, standing at the edge of the basketball court, holding a ball loosely in one hand. He wasn’t laughing with his teammates or focused on the game. No, his eyes were locked directly on your group—or more specifically, on you.

Your friends followed your gaze, and a chorus of whispers erupted.

“Oh my god, he really is.”

“What is he doing just standing there?”

“Is it just me, or does he look like he’s debating something?”

One of them nudged you. “Okay, spill. What’s going on in his head? Did you say something to him recently? Text him?”

You shook your head quickly, still staring at Heeseung. “No, I haven’t even looked at him, let alone talked to him.”

“Then why is he staring like that?”

“I don’t know!” you said, your voice low but frantic.

Another friend tilted her head, watching him closely. “It’s not just a glance, either. He’s full-on staring. Like he’s trying to figure out if he should come over here or something.”

The thought made your stomach flip, cause there was something more intense in the way he looked at you—like he was fighting some internal battle.

“Well, whatever’s going on,” one of your friends whispered, “he’s definitely not over you.”

You turned back to your friends, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “You guys are making this into something it’s not.”

One of them snorted. “Honey, he’s the one making it into something. Look at him.”

Against your better judgment, you glanced back at Heeseung, and your breath hitched when your eyes met his again. He didn’t look away. If anything, his gaze only grew more focused, like he wanted to make sure you knew he was looking.

You quickly turned back to your friends, forcing a tight smile. “Let’s go,” you said, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

They exchanged knowing glances but didn’t argue. One of them muttered, “Good idea,” as the group began gathering their things.

As you walked away from the bench, you resisted the urge to glance back at Heeseung. Your friends stayed close, their chatter filling the air as they tried to distract you, but it was hard to shake the feeling of his eyes still on you.

When you reached the school gates, one of them broke the silence. “So… are we just going to ignore the fact that he was practically burning a hole in your back with that stare?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, your voice sharper than you intended. “We’re ignoring it.”

Another friend chuckled softly. “Okay, okay. But just so you know, he’s not ignoring you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stepped onto the sidewalk. “Well, he’s doing a great job of pretending otherwise most of the time.”

“That’s the thing,” someone said thoughtfully. “Guys like him—they act like they don’t care, but the moment they think they’re losing you? They start doing stuff like this.”

You didn’t reply, tightening your grip on your bag as the group walked down the street. You didn’t want to talk about Heeseung anymore, didn’t want to think about the way he looked at you.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was a vicious cycle, one you hated but couldn’t seem to break. Each time you told yourself it would be the last, that you’d stop answering the door, that you wouldn’t let him in again. And yet, every time the night fell and he showed up—messy hair, glassy eyes, and a crooked smile—you found yourself giving in, letting him cross the threshold into your apartment.

Heeseung had this way of making you feel like you were the center of his world. His hands were always warm, his voice low and sweet, whispering things that made your chest ache in ways you couldn’t describe.

“Why do you do this to me?” you’d asked one night, your voice breaking as you stared up at him, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He’d only smiled, brushing his thumb against your cheek as if he didn’t have an answer, or maybe because he didn’t want to give you one. “Because I can’t stay away from you,” he’d said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

But then morning would come, and he would vanish like a dream you couldn’t quite remember, leaving behind an empty space in your bed and a heavier one in your chest. And at school, it was always the same. His eyes would find you across the cafeteria or the hallway, and for a moment, it would feel like everything stopped. But he wouldn’t come over, wouldn’t talk to you. He’d just look.

Your friends noticed it, too, how he’d stare at you as if you were the only thing in the room, even when there were other girls around him, laughing at his jokes and vying for his attention.

“You’re letting him ruin you,” one of them said one afternoon, her voice tinged with frustration.

“I know,” you admitted, your voice hollow. “But it’s not like I can just stop.”

You wanted to hate him, for the way he seemed to pull you in only to push you away, for the way he made you feel like you were everything one second and nothing the next.

But you couldn’t. Because even though you knew it was toxic, even though you knew it was breaking you bit by bit, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go.

Because in those nights, when he looked at you like that, when he touched you like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, you felt wanted. Needed. And no matter how much it hurt afterward, you kept holding onto it, hoping that one day, he’d stop running.

It wasn’t until his friend Jake—of all people—came to talk to you that you started piecing things together. You’d been so caught up in the back-and-forth, the way Heeseung would tease you one moment and ignore you the next, that you never truly understood why. But now, hearing it from Jake, it was like a lightbulb went off in your mind.

Heeseung, despite all the other girls he flirted with, never gave them the attention he gave you. He never kissed them, never looked at them the way he looked at you.

And Jake had confirmed it. Heeseung was in love with you. Hopelessly in love, but he didn’t even know it himself. That’s why he acted the way he did. He didn’t know how to handle it, how to deal with it.

Jake had told you Heeseung was scared. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and it terrified him. So, he’d masked it all with arrogance, with distance. But when he was drunk, then the walls came down, his real feelings would surface. That’s why he’d always show up at your door when he was intoxicated—because, in those moments, he couldn’t hide from what he truly felt for you.

You wanted to be mad at him for hiding behind that facade, for playing with your feelings. But now you understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you; it was that he was so afraid of what this all meant, of what it would do to him, to both of you, that he couldn’t face it. So, he ran, and he used everything he could to keep you at arm’s length, to protect himself from being honest with you.

But knowing the truth didn’t make it hurt less. You still found yourself torn between wanting to be there for him, to help him figure it out, and wanting to protect yourself from getting hurt even more. Because at the end of the day, you were both so damn lost in this mess.

“Look, I know you’re confused. But you need to understand, Heeseung’s been a mess about this. He’s never felt anything like it before. And trust me, he doesn’t know how to handle it.”

You shook your head, trying to process everything Jake was saying. It didn’t seem to make sense. Why hadn’t he just told you? “But why does he act like he doesn’t care? Why ignore me at school like I’m nothing, and then do… all that when he’s with me?”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, knowing the weight of your words. “It’s easier for him to push you away than admit it to himself. He’s scared. He doesn’t get why he’s so into you. So he avoids it.”

You stared at him, your heart racing as everything started to fall into place. But you still had questions, things you didn’t understand. “But why doesn’t he just… talk to me? Be honest?”

Jake shrugged, his eyes softening. “He doesn’t know how to navigate this. It’s easier for him to hide behind his stupid behavior than face the truth.”

You were silent for a long moment, processing all of the information you had gotten.

When you didn`t answer, Jake let out a resigned sigh, his shoulder slumping slightly before he gave you a supportive pat on the shoulder. "You’ve got to make him talk," he said quietly, his voice filled with sympathy. "You’re the only one who can get him to open up. Just… don’t wait forever, okay?"

He gave you one last look before walking off, leaving you standing there with your heart racing in your chest, all of your emotions tangled up in knots.

Your footsteps were heavy as you walked away from the scene, feeling the weight of every question that lingered in your mind. Why did you have to talk to Heeseung? You weren’t his therapist, nor his emotional support. Wasn’t he man enough to talk to you? You clenched your fists, frustration building in your chest.

What if Jake was wrong? What if he was just trying to paint a picture that didn’t exist, feeding you some narrative to make you feel better about the mess you were in? What if you were making a fool of yourself? The thoughts spiraled, doubt flooding your mind. Every interaction with Heeseung now felt like a game you didn’t know how to play, where the rules were constantly changing and you were left scrambling to catch up.

What if you were just a sidepiece? The thought stung more than you wanted to admit, and the image of Heeseung laughing with other girls earlier flashed in your mind. He was always so charming, so easy with them, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you were just another stop on his list, a temporary distraction, something to pass the time until someone else caught his eye.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your forehead as you made your way to your car. You wanted to be done with this—done with the confusion, the uncertainty, the constant emotional whiplash. But part of you knew it wasn’t that easy. Nothing with Heeseung ever was.

But maybe Jake was right. Maybe you could be the one to make him talk—to make him finally admit what was really going on in his head, what he was feeling. But was it worth it? Was risking your heart worth it?

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of frustration and sadness wash over you.

✰ ✰ ✰

Okay, to be fair, Heeseung had it coming. You repeated it in your mind like a mantra as you looked down at your phone, the screen lighting up with his constant calls and texts. Each one more desperate than the last, his words slurred, the grammar all over the place—clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. The messages seemed to echo the chaos in your chest, but you refused to reply.

You stared at the phone, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something deep and heavy that you couldn’t quite place. He had done this to himself, hadn’t he? He had made his choices, and now he had to deal with the consequences. The constant buzzing of your phone finally slowed, and you thought maybe he had given up. But then, the doorbell rang.

You froze, your stomach dropping. You crept cautiously to the door, standing there for a moment as the bell rang again and again, each chime making your heart race. The knocking started soon after, loud and urgent, but you stayed still, arms crossed, refusing to move.

You weren’t going to let him back in.

The knocking stopped suddenly, and for a moment, everything was silent. And then, through the door, you heard his voice.

“Please… please open the door…” His voice was shaky, desperate, as if he was on the verge of breaking. “I’m sorry. Please, I need you. I just… please don’t leave me like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t something you were used to hearing from him. It was different.

"I need to see you... I can't stop thinking about you... Please, don't... don't shut me out, not now."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you cautiously unlocked the door, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in the silence. When the door creaked open, you were met with the sight of him sitting on the ground, his posture slumped, eyes staring at the bottle in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

As soon as he saw you, he scrambled to his feet, his movements frantic, as if he couldn't wait another second. Before you could even take a step back, his arms were around you, pulling you into an embrace that was far too tight to push him off.

You gasped in surprise, your hands instinctively pushing against his chest. "Heeseung, wait—" But your protest was quickly smothered as he held you tighter, pressing his face into the side of your neck.

“I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you,” he mumbled, his words slurred and uneven, the alcohol clearly taking its toll. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just…” His grip on you tightened, his hands shaking slightly. “Please, don’t hate me… I need you…” His voice faltered, and you could feel the tremor in his body as he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather the words to say, but before you could form anything coherent, Heeseung’s lips were suddenly on yours. His kiss was urgent, a little sloppy, as though he was trying to drown out whatever feelings were swirling inside him. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you could feel the weight of his need against you.

"Stop," you whispered weakly, your hands pushing against his chest, but it did little to stop him. If anything, he just leaned in further, his lips moving with a frantic energy as he kissed you harder.

You pulled back for a moment, gasping for air, but Heeseung wasn’t letting go. His forehead rested against your neck as he breathed heavily, his lips brushing against your skin. “I need this,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice muffled but laced with desperation. “I need you.”

You tried again, more forcefully this time, pushing him back slightly, but his grip on you tightened. “We need to talk,” you managed, your voice breaking, your hands trembling as you tried to create space between you two. “You can’t just keep doing this—coming to me when you’re drunk, acting like nothing happened—”

But Heeseung didn’t seem to hear you. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you again, this time a little more gently, though it still held that same desperate edge.

You couldn’t help but respond, even if you didn’t want to. Heeseung was like a drug, and you were already too far gone, as his kiss deepened and his hands roamed, you couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that this wasn’t how things should be. You deserved more than this chaotic cycle, more than the confusion, the highs and lows.

But in that moment, you let him hold you, let him kiss you, because you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Not when he needed you like this, not when you still felt that pull, even though you knew it wasn’t healthy.

And when he finally pulled away, looking at you with those dark eyes full of longing, you were left breathless, conflicted, and unable to move.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was like a cruel game he played—one step forward, two steps back. After the night, when he’d clung to you, he’d returned to his old ways at school, completely shutting you out. It was as if the moment he left your apartment, the walls came back up, and he was back to pretending you didn’t exist.

You’d see him in the halls, laughing with his friends, flirting with other girls, completely ignoring you like everything that happened between you two meant nothing. It was maddening.

You tried to act like it didn’t bother you. You went through the motions, keeping your head down, focusing on your schoolwork, your friends, anything to distract yourself from the constant ache in your chest. But the more he ignored you, the more you realized just how much it hurt. And it hurt even more because you knew that he wasn’t like this because he didn’t care. He was like this because he was scared. Scared of what was between you, scared of how vulnerable it made him.

Heeseung was a complicated mess, a boy who wanted everything but feared the very thing that could make him feel whole. And you? You were stuck in this limbo, torn between wanting to confront him and just walking away before you got hurt even more.

It was exhausting.

One minute, he was the boy who couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t stop kissing you, the one who made you feel like the only person in the room. The next minute, he was a stranger.

You were deep in thought, trying to make sense of the mess that was Heeseung, when you suddenly felt a presence beside you. Turning to your left, you saw a guy you barely knew—someone who kept to himself at school, never talking much. He was standing there, a nervous but hopeful look on his face, and before you could even react, he asked, “Hey, would you like to go out sometime? Maybe grab a coffee?”

You opened your mouth to decline, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t make him feel bad, but before you could say anything, an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in close with surprising force.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively stiffened as you turned to see none other than Heeseung standing there. He leaned in just enough to block your view of the guy, his eyes focused on the nervous stranger.

Before you could protest or say anything, Heeseung’s voice cut through the tension, casual but firm. “She’s not interested,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The quiet guy who had been asking you out now looked taken aback, stepping back a bit, unsure how to respond.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Heeseung had just walked up and made it clear to someone else that you weren’t available. You wanted to say something, to protest, but you couldn’t find the words. It felt as if everything had suddenly flipped upside down.

“I—uh…” The guy stammered, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He turned quickly and walked off, leaving the two of you standing there in silence.

You snapped back from the suprise and pulled away from Heeseung’s grip, your mind spinning. “What the hell, Heeseung?” you managed, your voice laced with frustration.

He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze flickered to where the guy had disappeared, and then back to you.

You stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but instead, Heeseung just stood there, his expression unreadable.

"What’s your problem, Heeseung?" you demanded, stepping back. You couldn’t contain the anger that was rising in your chest. "Why are you acting like this?"

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes avoiding yours for a second. He let out a frustrated sigh before meeting your gaze. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, the words almost sounding like a confession. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Your heart sank a little, but it didn’t stop the fire that was still burning inside you. You’d had enough of this back-and-forth.

"Then figure it out," you snapped, pushing him off. "I’m not going to keep doing this, Heeseung. Get your shit together."

He didn’t say anything more, but the look in his eyes—so conflicted, so full of uncertainty—said everything.

You turned on your heel, walking away before he or you could say anything. You didn’t know if you were making the right decision, but you couldn’t keep letting him drag you around like this.

It was later that night, after you’d gotten a bit of distance and time to cool down, when you heard the familiar sound of your doorbell ringing again.

You froze for a second, unsure if you wanted to deal with him yet again, but the quiet, hesitant knock that followed told you it wasn’t the same as before. You found yourself standing by the door, hands gripping the doorknob, hesitant to open it.

When you finally did, your breath caught in your throat. There he was, but only.. not the usual version of him you were used to seeing. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale, and he looked... broken.

His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time in a long time, there was no bravado. He was standing there, vulnerable, as if unsure of how to approach you after everything.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He wiped his face with his sleeve, almost embarrassed. “I fucked up. I know I’ve been an asshole… but I needed to see you. I need to talk.”

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything. It was hard—too hard. You’d spent so much time questioning his intentions, wondering if he even cared. Seeing him like this, so exposed, made you feel conflicted. Part of you wanted to push him away for all the hurt he’d caused, but another part of you wanted to reach out and hear him out.

“Why now?” you asked quietly, your voice betraying the frustration you’d been holding back. “Why come to me like this? After everything?”

He looked down at the ground, visibly struggling. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know. I’ve been running from this. From you. From how I feel. And now I’m just… lost.” His words were shaky, like he was trying to hold onto his composure but was failing. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Everything felt like it was happening too fast. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead he stepped closer, and for the first time, there was no arrogance in his movements, no cocky confidence. He looked genuinely lost, as if he was desperately trying to figure himself out. “I don’t know what I’m doing… but I know I want to fix it. Fix us. If you’ll let me.”

You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling a little with uncertainty. “You’ve been so hot and cold. One minute you’re all over me, the next you act like I’m invisible. How am I supposed to trust that this is real?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was gathering the courage to say what had been haunting him. When he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper. “I know... I’ve been a mess. I was scared,” he confessed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things that… terrified me. And instead of coming to you, talking to you about it, I ran. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

The way he was standing, so different from how he used to act, made you reconsider everything. He wasn’t hiding behind walls anymore. “I don’t want to be scared anymore,” he added quietly, his voice cracking just slightly. “I want to be with you. If you’ll allow me.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what to say next. You were so unsure now, seeing him spill his heart out for you.

“I don’t feel this with anyone else,” he said softly. “No matter how hard I tried to push it down, it’s always been you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.” He paused for a moment, before he dropped down to his knees in front of you, taking both your hands gently in his, while his eyes never left yours. “I don’t know what I was waiting for. I was stupid, I was scared. But I know now... I love you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry for making you feel like you were nothing. You’re everything to me. Please... let me prove it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a long moment, all you could do was look at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You had never imagined he’d say those words, especially after everything that had happened. But now, as he knelt before you, his hands still holding yours with such gentleness, it felt different. It felt real.

Doubts still lingered, but as you looked at him—really looked at him—kneeling before you, his hands gripping yours, something inside you began to shift.

The truth was, you loved him too. Despite everything—the hurt, the confusion—you couldn’t deny that your heart ached for him. And seeing him like this, open in a way you never thought possible for him, made you realize how much you wanted to believe in him, in this. You took a slow breath, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. “I don’t know, Heeseung…”

He didn’t pull away, didn’t try to say anything more. He just waited, his gaze never leaving yours, hopeful but patient.

You looked down at his hands still holding yours, his fingers trembling slightly. “I’ve been hurt, and I don’t want to be hurt again,” you said, your voice wavering just a little.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve hurt you, and I’m so sorry. But I promise, I’ll do anything to make it right. Just… let me try.”

Your heart ached at his words. And slowly, almost hesitantly, you nodded. “Okay. We can try.”

He exhaled sharply, relief flooding his features, but you could see the uncertainty still lingering in his eyes. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but something inside you told you that this—he—was worth trying for.

He stood up, his hands still holding yours, and pulled you gently into his arms. You let him, your body instinctively melting into his embrace. He buried his face in your hair, his breath warm against your neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I’m going to make you see that I mean it.”

Staning there in his arms, the doubts slowly began to fade. Maybe it would take time. But you felt hope stirring within you. Maybe you could try to make this work.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to read your emotions. His hand still cupped your face gently, waiting for a sign from you. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice low, filled with both uncertainty and hope.

"Yes."

Without another word, his lips descended onto yours, and the kiss was everything. Deep, urgent, and filled with so much emotion that it took your breath away.

When you started to feel breathless you tried to pull away, your breath ragged, but each time you did, he followed you, his lips catching yours again, desperate, insistent. Your heart raced, and your head spun as you tried to pull back for a moment’s reprieve, but Heeseung wasn’t having it.

"Please," he groaned between kisses, his hand gripping your waist tightly. "Just—just let me…" His voice was rough, desperate, as if your lips were the only thing keeping him grounded. "I need you. You… You make my heart beat. You make everything else fade. I want to breathe you in until I can’t breathe anymore."

His words were tangled, like he couldn’t get them out fast enough, like he was trying to make you understand something, but what, exactly, you weren’t sure. His kisses grew more frantic, more needy, and despite your attempts to catch your breath, you couldn’t help but respond to him.

You finally managed to gasp out his name, your voice barely a whisper, "Heeseung... Stop, I need to breathe."

He paused for a split second, just long enough for you to catch your breath, his breathing just as erratic as yours. "I can't... can't stop," he muttered. "You're all I think about... all I want."

✰ ✰ ✰

It was funny how much things had shifted since Heeseung’s confession. You couldn’t deny the change in him. He meant every word he’d said that night, and he made sure to show you just how serious he was about being with you.

Heeseung was intense in everything he did, and his love for you was no exception. It wasn’t just in the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the room, or the way he clung to your hand like letting go would mean losing you. No, it was in the small things too. The way he remembered the little details about you, how he stayed up late just to make sure you got home safe from your late-night shifts, or the way he’d pepper your face with kisses whenever he thought you looked stressed.

And then, there were the nights. Heeseung had always been passionate, but now that he wasn’t holding back, it was overwhelming in the best way possible. He left no part of you untouched, no part of your heart unloved. Your skin bore the evidence of his intensity, faint marks that lingered long after his lips had moved on, a testament to just how much he adored you.

He didn’t just say he loved you; he showed it. In every kiss, every touch, every whispered word, Heeseung made sure you knew just how much you meant to him. And while it could get a little overwhelming at times, you couldn’t deny that it felt good—so good—to be loved so completely.

Heeseung's love was all-consuming, and with it came an intensity that left you breathless. He made it his mission to show you just how deeply he cared. But he never lost the playful side that made you fall for him in the first place.

He still teased you relentlessly, knowing exactly how to make your cheeks flush. “What’s that look for, baby?” he’d smirk when he caught you staring, leaning in close to whisper, “Can’t get enough of me?” His confidence was maddening, but you’d learned to give as good as you got.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with you like you were strangers meeting for the first time. “Hey, gorgeous,” he’d say, slidling up to you with a grin. “Come here often?” It didn’t matter if you were at your desk or in the middle of a crowded hallway; Heeseung always found a way to make you laugh and roll your eyes at his antics.

But then, he’d do a 360 and leave you utterly disarmed. Like the way he’d wrap his arms around your waist out of nowhere, pressing his lips to your ear to murmur, “I love you so much.” It was whiplash, the way he could go from cocky to soft in an instant, and it kept you on your toes.

Now that you had Heeseung basically wrapped around your finger, it felt empowering. He catered to you, always quick to appease your whims, and he seemed to thrive on your happiness. Whether it was picking up your favorite snacks, carrying your bag, or pampering you after a long day, Heeseung was yours—and he made sure you knew it.

But he had his limits.

There were moments when he reminded you that, while he adored you, he wasn’t completely under your control. Like when you pushed him too far with teasing, a playful remark about him being “so soft” for you turning into a challenge in his eyes.

One such night, you’d been cheeky, testing how much you could get away with. “You’ll do anything I say, won’t you?” you’d teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, the shift immediate. “Anything?” he repeated, voice low and laced with something that sent shivers down your spine. Before you could process, he had you pinned, his hand firm but careful as it held your wrists above your head.

“You like to push me, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Think I’m all soft and sweet?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he showed you just how wrong you were. Heeseung wasn’t rough in a careless way—he was calculated, controlled, and oh-so-intense. He left no room for doubt about who had the upper hand in those moments.

By the end of it, you were breathless, your legs trembling as you clung to him for support. Heeseung’s smug grin and the way he kissed your forehead tenderly afterward only made it worse.

“Still think I’m soft?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from your flushed face.

You couldn’t even answer, too dazed to form words, which only seemed to please him more.

The next day, walking was a challenge, and Heeseung, ever the charmer, had the audacity to chuckle when you winced. “Told you there’s only so much I’ll let you boss me around,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

It was infuriating, but it was also Heeseung. And if you were being honest, you loved every second of it.

a/n: finished this while waiting for the train to come, in the snow storm :) reblogs and commentary are appreciated <33

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Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny

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Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — best friends to lovers, riki’s experienced, he’s sweet but still a tease by heart, some begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), pet names, squirting.

WORDCOUNT — 1.2K

NOTE — my riks pussy eater agenda never ends . . sorry for leaving this on a slight cliffhanger >< perhaps i can make a part two if any of you are interested, lmk your thoughts thru my inbox or what not <3

“Ki, would it be weird for a girl not to squirt?” you asked suddenly, catching Riki completely off guard. He choked on his drink, coughing uncontrollably at your unexpected question. “SORRY!” you exclaimed, hurriedly patting his back as he tried to recover.

“You could’ve given me some warning,” he said, wiping his mouth as you sat on the bed, lips pouting.

“Why’d you ask?” he questioned, his brow raised, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely surprised by your curiosity.

“I mean… you’ve had experience with girls, right? Have you made them cum or, I don’t know, squirt before?” you asked hesitantly, your pout deepening as your cheeks flushed. Riki fought back the urge to lean in and kiss you right then but managed to keep his composure.

“Well,” he started, leaning back casually on his hands, “I have sex to enjoy myself and to give pleasure. So yeah, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the person.”

You muttered under your breath, “Man, am I weird,” not realizing he heard you.

“Why would you be weird?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, making you squeak as your face burned with embarrassment.

“N-nothing! It’s just a random thought,” you stammered, laughing nervously, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t buying it. Finally, you sighed in defeat.

“Okay, fine. All the times I’ve had sex with men, I’ve never cum… or squirted. Ever,” you admitted, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “And now, my friends keep talking about how amazing their sex lives are, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I’ve always had to fake it.”

Riki was silent for a moment before speaking bluntly. “That just means those men suck at pleasing women.”

Your eyes widened as he suddenly leaned closer, his hand gently holding your chin, tilting your face toward his. His dark eyes locked with yours.

“Want me to show you how it’s really done?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though the strain in his sweats betrayed how much he was holding back. The room grew quiet, the air charged with tension as you blinked at him, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to whisper, “P-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, Riki closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours as he pulled you into his arms.

He pushed you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body before slipping beneath your shirt. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, giving it a light tug. Riki smirked at your reaction, his lips trailing down your skin before settling near your bottom half. Pausing, he looked up at you, silently seeking permission. You couldn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded. With one smooth motion, he slid your pants and panties off, exposing you to his gaze. His hands spread your legs gently as he adjusted his position.

“Don’t think about me too much tonight, princess. This is all about you, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as his hands caressed your thighs. “Can I?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, a strangled moan escaping as his fingers finally explored your wet folds. He began rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, coaxing more of your arousal to pool between your thighs.

“T-there’s lube in the drawer,” you whispered shakily.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me prep you a bit, yeah?” he replied sweetly, leaning over to grab the bottle. After squirting some onto his fingers, he returned to you, his touch warm and careful.

Gently fondling your folds, he slid one finger inside, stretching you just enough before adding a second. His pace was slow, deliberate, each motion igniting waves of pleasure as his fingers worked you open. You sighed in relief, soft moans tumbling from your lips as he fucked you with precision.

“Feels nice?” he teased, his thumb now stroking your clit in time with his fingers. A high-pitched moan slipped out as your back arched.

“R-Riki~!” you whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure built.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration and lust. “Gonna give it the love it deserves.”

With that, he leaned down, his lips finding your clit as his tongue replaced his thumb. His warm mouth suckled at the sensitive bud, his fingers never faltering in their steady rhythm.

A needy whimper escaped you at the added sensation, your hips stuttering against his face in an attempt to get more of him. The slow, deliberate pace felt maddening, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki simply chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins as he focused on drawing every ounce of pleasure from you.

“That’s it, pretty. Let go for me,” Riki murmured, pulling his fingers from your pussy before leaning down to give soft, kitten-like licks to your folds. His tongue teased you mercilessly, his lips suctioning onto your clit for just a moment before pulling away again. He repeated this agonizing rhythm, slow and deliberate, until your impatience boiled over.

“Riki…” you whined, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed, feigning innocence as his slow, gentle touches continued, driving you to the brink.

“P-please,” you pleaded, looking down at him with desperate, glossy eyes. “Need more… just go faster, harder—I don’t care, just please.”

A devilish smirk played on his lips. “As you wish, princess,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. Without hesitation, he slid his fingers back inside you, this time pumping them faster and deeper. He curled them expertly, finding that spot that had your back arching off the bed, all while his tongue worked your clit with unrelenting precision.

High-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips, mingling with the lewd, obscene sounds of his fingers and mouth as they worked in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the slick echoes of your arousal and his focused attention, and it didn’t take long for an unfamiliar knot to tighten in your stomach.

“W-wait, Riki—!” you gasped shakily, the strange sensation growing too intense. But your protest only spurred him on. His fingers curled deeper, his tongue swirling faster as your body trembled beneath him.

And then it hit. The knot unraveled, snapping violently as your release gushed from you, soaking his lips and chin. You cried out, your body spasming uncontrollably as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki drank it up greedily, savoring every drop before planting one last, tender kiss on your folds.

Rising above you, he kissed your trembling lips, his smirk softening as he wiped a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Well, there you have it,” he said with a satisfied grin. “You’re not weird, princess. You just needed the right man to give you the right treatment.”

You blinked up at him, still delirious from your high. “Y-yeah… um,” you mumbled, your mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

He chuckled, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Don’t worry, angel. If you want to return the favor, I’m all for it—but only if you’re ready. No pressure.”

“Let me help you too, please?” you whispered, your wide, pleading eyes meeting his.

Riki cursed under his breath, his resolve nearly crumbling. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered before pulling off his shirt. He adjusted your position beneath him, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours.

“Just know I won’t be able to stop, princess,” he warned, his voice a low growl as his lips brushed against yours. “Hope you’re ready.”

PERM TAG LIST — @bussolares @rikiives @contyynishimura @aanniikkaa @lilmarsh-t

[blckbrrybasket]

ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- Lesbian (canon)

- Heavy metal is her favorite genre of music.

- Doesn’t have a hand towel in her bathroom. She shakes her hands to dry them and wipes them on her pants.

- Keeps her nails short and hates keeping them painted. She sees it as a waste of time since it chips so frequently.

- Has horrible long term memory but can remember the most random, specific memories or facts.

- Got hit by a motorcycle once and got into a fight with the driver.

- Would have had an emo phase when she was younger without knowing what being emo meant.

- Secretly not so secretly the biggest hater. Does gossip just in her own way of posing things as a fact.

- Hated any type of schooling with a burning passion. Did not do well with the structure it demanded and most likely did not do any schooling after the required amount.

- Snores so loud like a dad and will wake herself up with her own snoring at times.

- Ungodly high tolerance for alcohol…we all see how frequently she drinks.

- Also has an amazing spice tolerance and can eat basically anything. Human vaccum!

- Loves reptiles

- Hates clowns

- Tries to shower often and hates when she’s working for long days without being able to go home to clean.

- She has never done taxes

- When Sevika was younger if she caused something to go wrong she would flee the scene and let someone else take the blame. She isn’t above doing it now.

- Likes being alone. Give her a cigar and some whiskey and she’s set to be alone for the rest of her life. She’s had enough human interaction for one lifetime.

- Honestly bad at handling criticism and tries to rationalize everything she does in her head.

- Gets offended when people incorrectly assume things about her.

- She is completely oblivious to anyone liking her romantically or showing interest in her. She isn’t very conscious of being romantic so it goes over her head if she isn’t actively deciphering if someone is flirting.

SFW (serious)

- Hates hugs but will reluctantly give side hugs to someone very close to her.

- Sevika finds herself blaming Silco some nights and other nights she wants him to come back so she doesn’t have to deal with the chaos Zaun has fallen into.

- She has a love-hate relationship with her parents and ultimately wishes her childhood was better.

- Raised stray dogs on the streets as a kid because she thought of them like her.

- Has insane troubles trying to fall sleep.

- When she does eventually get to sleep she keeps a knife under her pillow. Do not wake her up unless you want to get hurt 😭

- Doesn’t verbally say i love you much. She prefers relationships where you both silently know how much you love each other.

- She can like physical touch at times and seek it out, but she doesn’t like it all the time. Sevika can love deeply, but she doesn’t do well with clingy people.

- She gets overwhelmed pretty easily. Though she doesn’t show it much on her face, it’s easy for her to feel suffocated by lots of things happening.

- She has to get used to cuddling and only cuddles with people she highly trusts where she doesn’t feel as if she is physically trapped.

- Would not be into toxic relationships. She hates situationships where she isn’t secure and/or doesn’t exactly know what she is with someone. Sevika needs something stable or she will not open up.

- Views her childhood self as a completely different person than herself. She mourns the kid who lost their happiness.

- Doesn’t fall in love easily because of the walls she has built up for years.

- Hates receiving help. Hates asking for it even more.

- Was called scrappy when younger and grew up to become ‘a scary lady’. When she’s able to settle down more she realizes how much she hates being stereotyped as this always angry and violent person.

- After becoming a councilor and being alone again years of pain came back. It took her a long time to work through all of it. She could be doing the most random thing and would burst into tears.

- When she hangs out around people she prefers to be in silence.

- Is hard of hearing after the amount of head trauma she has had. By the time she was in her late 50’s she lost complete hearing in one of her ears.

NSFW

- Likes using her strap but prefers feeling you on her skin.

- Loves scissoring, but only does it on special occasions because hit makes her hips ache.

- Likes being bit (are we surprised?)

- Manhandler.

- Loves seeing you drip over her fingers, stretching you out is her favorite part because she always takes her time.

- Is a masochist, not so much a sadist. She sees enough people getting hurt every day by late season two she wouldn’t inflict pain on you in bed.

- Bush!!!! Loves bush, has a bush, wants a jungle.

- Prefers you dressed down. Never complains when you dress up but seeing you in every day clothes, her clothes, or pajamas is her favorite thing.

- It turns her on when you are at equal positions in your relationship instead of one being over the other, but doesn’t mind your subbing or domming more. switch sevika is real.

- PRAISES! Comes up compliments in bed that you didn’t even know she appreciated.

- Loves you dominating her. Giving up all the power she has to constantly hold it turns her brain to mush.

- Every time she is buried between your thighs she will massage them as she gives you head.

- Wears boy shorts underwear and briefs. Keeps them low cut to show her happy trail.

[eldritch-spouse]

At first, Belo believed his Goddess was just really affectionate physically. She frequently cuddled up to him, burying her face in his chest, or absentmindedly stroking whatever area of his body wasn't covering his soft fur, sighing happily as her hand moved. However, every time she's had a friend over, they'd hug briefly, then… hang out on opposite ends of the couch. Between the short greeting hugs, there was little to no physical contact.

…Does his Goddess only enjoy touching… him?

(while not exactly touch-averse, the Goddess in question just generally prefers to have her own space and tends to show affection in different ways. excluding Belo, obviously. his fur is so SOFT and COMFORTING to touch, it feels like her heart will explode from PURE JOY)

[Adorable! I like this. Fem reader.]

He's always thought he was unworthy of such attention.

Powers like him are only meant to guard and fight for their Lords and Ladies. It's not even their job to worship, not to the extent of other casts, but Belo still likes to think he can perform decently in that field... His kind isn't meant to be showered in attention and rewards, they're taught not to expect such for simply executing their duties.

Yet, since shortly after Belo found his place at your service, you've done nothing if not treat him with endless kindless, endless love.

Part of him had wanted to caution you that touching him is beneath your status. That he didn't deserve it.

Hardly ever would those words manifest, because Belo simply couldn't stop himself from enjoying it. He'd hate himself if he said something that made you truly not touch him anymore.

He's always wondered why you did it.

There's no doubt you enjoy the feeling of his fur. He's memorized the way you like to lace your fingers on the tufts that warm his chest, the way you'll slide from the top of his wings to his arms, leaning onto him just so you can feel more of it. Belo often forgets he tends to lean during those encounters, chases after the hand that pets him, forgetting who he's meant to be and who he's in front of. There's no way to describe the way his heart hammers behind his ribcage, how his eyes will flicker everywhere and he tenses all over -Puffing out that fur you seem to love- before he's floating in his own Eden.

Do you like to touch Belo simply because he's, as you put it, "fluffy"? Do you enjoy touching him because you seek to reward him? Do you touch him because you think he should be the only one who gets to receive that privilege?

Selfishly, he silently wishes you'd touch him more. Many, unfortunately, were the times Belo would get distracted throughout the day, daydreaming of you running your hands all over him, unhindered by his outfit, feeling everything everywhere just because you could, because he's your angel and his body is also yours to keep, to order. The blood in his body would rush elsewhere and the celestial would curve to hide his own shame, even as it continued to throb and demand attention until he succumbed.

Pervertedly, Belo did such an experiment once. He dressed casually. It felt wrong, felt inappropriate to present in such a relaxed hammer around the most important figure in his life... But you had expressed delight in his supposed drive to adapt a little bit more, so the guilt was ever so slightly lessened.

That day, there was hardly a limit to your boldness. He remembers you embracing him from behind, arms coming forward to squeeze at his chest and rubbing the soft clumps over his abdomen. The knee-length sport shorts he picked were pushed down slightly. Belo had done it on purpose, and it yielded results. You had, perhaps in distraction, perhaps knowingly, massaged the fur-dense spot right above his slit. The angel couldn't breathe in that moment, he feared he might even collapse if your digits wondered just a tiny but further. He knew that he would react shamefully but the notion wasn't strong enough to make him prevent such.

He was ready to be punished, if it meant having this small guilty pleasure.

Your phone, that blasted electrical contraption that you love so dearly, rang so jarringly loud in that exact moment that Belo nearly yelped. Your hands were off his overheated body in a blink, and the interaction ceased there, with his Lady none the wiser to the state she left him in.

He could barely feel a shred of indignity for the way disappointment radiated off him in thick waves.

Belo hasn't had the courage to try that again, though it's more than safe to say the memory is engraved in the forefront of his mind.

It got him to... Think about you.

Your actions, your behavior around others.

It's not often you allow people into your sanctuary anymore. Belo insists that you shouldn't invite those beneath you into such close quarters. This ground is pure and protected for the sake of your well-being, to allow ignorant outsiders to disrespect and desecrate this location is an act of self-harm the power will simply not stand by!

Yet still, his Lady's word is final on a lot of matters. There is faith in some people, who you see as good and deserving of your holy presence. The celestial sees naught but lessers in delusion of your supposed "normalcy", but if you believe these individuals are somewhat excusable, then he'll try to see things through your eyes.

You've always tended to keep your distance from them. Not emotionally, physically. This was something Belo was initially quite relieved by, he didn't have to warn you not to put yourself in such unsightly positions. Just the thought made him itch in an unnatural way...

Now though, he wonders why, if you're aware of the distance you should keep from others, you still choose to touch him frequently? Belo is still beneath the honor of such, yet never once do you hold the hands of the people you invite, refuse their embraces, look uncomfortable at the slightest unintentional brush... In contrast, you appear to be greatly comforted by the sensation of his physique.

He freezes, mind running so wild with possibilities that the angel's fingers tremble.

You have clearly made a choice.

There's no one you'd ever like to touch, except Belo.

In your eyes, in your actions, in your mind, he's the only one worthy enough

He's the only one who can reach your standards!

You only need contact from him.

Belo understands now.

He feels his chest tighten with delight, feels weightless for a second, the rush of euphoria clawing its way up his spine makes his wings flutter and he makes some sort of noise entirely undignified of his cast.

He remained in a state of barely concealed hysteria until you arrived home that day.

For once in his life, he commits something unthinkable.

" Welcome back, my Lady. "

He greets when you step through the door. Instead of standing by your side as he typically does, the angel crowds you, ruffled and tense. You don't get to answer before Belo summons the courage to reach out, to ghost his hands across your soft face and ever so gently, so carefully -like you'd shun him forever otherwise- embrace you in a comforting hug.

He feels as if he broke a thousand rules in one moment alone, but it was worth it.

Because he felt you smile against him.

[great-septimus]

I want to add to this. I reblogged it before I actually thought of what I wanted to say, but it finally connected in my head. I agree with all of this, but it was mainly the realization that what the fandom calls his sudden "traumadumping", as funny as it is, is literally just him attempting to make Ren feel close to him without any real vulnerability.

He talks about his mom with Ren unprompted, and says he hasn't told anyone this before, and that's true- because he hates feeling pitied. He doesn't want to feel weak, but he does want to be cared for. He wants to be supported, by anyone, but most people would react to his hardship with sympathy that he doesn't need or believe he deserves or earns. So he instead opens up to Ren because he sees them on equal footing. They're on the same page, and he wants Ren to feel a connection to him even if it's entirely fabricated and calculated. It's partially due to habit because, y'know, Detective Prince mask requires him to do this already in general, but also because so much of his real hardship is locked up so seeking a real connection requires the melodrama.

For me, I had this realization remembering when he walked into Leblanc the first time. He sees Futaba and he says "You must be Wakaba Isshiki's daughter" and then after he gets chewed out by Sojiro, he starts talking about how he doesn't feel wanted anywhere. Then seemingly unrelated, he talks about his mom. It feels to me like he's trying to say "if you can care about Futaba, then you should care about me."

He hasn't had a support system, so the need for just someone, anyone to care, even though they don't know him and what he's done, is so strong. He hates being pitied because he doesn't see himself as weak, and he doesn't think he deserves sympathy, so why would he share anything more than necessary? The third semester is the inverse of this. Everyone knows too much, so now the care he craved for so long feels way too exposed. It's too vulnerable, and he never thought he would have earned it if he shared this much, even from Ren. So ultimately the trust he earned has the opposite effect, and now his prior "see me and love me" mask has been replaced by a "leave me alone and hate me" mask.

Just said something about this on twitter but out of everything in 3rd semester that’s meant to show the contrast between akechis behavior pre-engineroom and post-engineroom I honestly think this specific change in sprite expression does it best

The first one looks directly at you because he makes this face when he’s trying to gain sympathy points / connect with whoever he’s talking to. Okay yeah he uses it when he was talking about his mother at leblanc and the bathhouse which definitely drew from a place real sadness but it was still a calculated part of his attempts to endear himself. And the second one is the exact opposite. It barely shows up and when it does it’s only for 1-2 (?) dialogue boxes a piece. It’s the expression he makes when he can’t immediately hide his emotions. The quick turning away / avoidance of eye contact is so you Don’t connect with the little hints of genuineness that manage to slip out for the two seconds that they last. Maybe so he doesn’t have to see your face if you do? Anyway. TDLR I just think it’s nice to focus less on his crazy talk and meangirlisms and acknowledge that they’re 100% also being used to rein in the fact that he’s progressively losing his grip on masking “the real akechi” from sight 100% of the time. At every point in the game he only wants his real self to be seen in tiny, entirely controlled sneak peeks, and only when he thinks it benefits him. agh

[imreidswifey]

The Profiler’s Heart -S.Reid Fanfic-

Words: 20k+

Summary: The Profiler’s Heart, is a heartfelt romance with Dr. Spencer Reid, the brilliant yet socially awkward FBI agent from Criminal Minds. What begins as a simple, chance encounter at a local coffee shop transforms into a deep and transformative relationship. Over time, Spencer slowly lets you into his world, keeping his newfound happiness a secret from his team as he struggles with his own vulnerabilities.

A/n: As you may have noticed I have not been posting as much because I have been working on this!! It is a very long read so get comfortable (Around 20k+ words)

Warnings:

Mental Health Themes, Trauma & Emotional Struggles, Mature Themes & Emotional Content, Slow Burn Romance, Spoilers for Criminal Minds, Language: The story includes some strong language and emotional intensity in dialogue, Romantic Relationship Dynamics, Slow Development.

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The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you pushed open the door to your favorite coffee shop, the bell above jingling softly. It was a small, cozy space, tucked away on a quiet street—a haven for anyone seeking a little peace. You’d been coming here for months, drawn to the warm lighting, mismatched chairs, and the faint hum of classical music playing in the background. Today was no different. You approached the counter, exchanging a quick smile with the barista as you placed your usual order, then made your way to your favorite seat by the window.

You had just settled in with a book when you noticed him walk in. He wasn’t entirely new to the coffee shop—you’d seen him a few times before—but he always seemed to come and go without much interaction. He was tall and lanky, his slightly unkempt hair giving him an air of quiet distraction. Today, he looked even more out of place than usual, wearing a sweater vest over a button-down shirt and a tie that seemed just slightly too tight. As he reached the counter, he fumbled briefly with his wallet before ordering in a low, hesitant voice.

“Black coffee, no sugar.”

He stood awkwardly while waiting for his drink, his gaze darting around the room before landing on your table. The coffee shop was unusually crowded today, and there weren’t many seats left. When his coffee arrived, he hesitated for a moment, then approached your table, holding his cup with both hands as though it might steady him.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the chatter around you. “Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head, offering a polite smile. “Not at all. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, lowering himself into the chair across from you.

He placed his coffee on the table and pulled a thick book from his bag. You tried not to stare, but the title caught your eye—An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.

“Light reading?” you asked, tilting your head toward the book.

He glanced up, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Adam Smith is… surprisingly engaging,” he replied, his tone measured and deliberate.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to describe it. Most people would’ve gone with ‘dense’ or ‘impenetrable.’”

His smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. It’s fascinating when you think about how his ideas laid the foundation for modern economics.”

“True,” you conceded, closing your own book and leaning forward slightly. “But do you ever read anything just for fun?”

He hesitated, as though the question caught him off guard. “I do,” he said after a moment, though his tone carried a hint of defensiveness. “But I suppose my idea of fun might be… unconventional.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not judging. I mean, I’m sitting here reading 19th-century poetry for fun, so I’m probably not one to talk.”

His gaze flicked to the cover of your book, and he nodded appreciatively. “Emily Dickinson. Her work is deceptively simple but incredibly profound.”

“You’re a fan?” you asked, surprised.

“Of her conciseness, yes. She had a remarkable ability to convey complex ideas with very few words,” he said, then added, almost shyly, “Though I can’t say I’ve read all of her work. There are still… gaps in my literary knowledge.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke—thoughtful, deliberate, as though each word had been carefully chosen. It wasn’t the kind of conversation you were used to having with strangers in coffee shops, but there was something refreshing about it.

For the next half hour, the two of you exchanged snippets of conversation between sips of coffee and moments of quiet reading. You learned that his name was Spencer and that he worked in a field he described only as “challenging.” He asked about your interests with genuine curiosity, his sharp mind evident in the way he seemed to absorb every detail you shared.

When it was time for you to leave, you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say anything. In the end, you simply stood, offering him a small smile. “It was nice talking to you, Spencer. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He looked up from his book, his expression softening. “Likewise. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You nodded and walked away, feeling an inexplicable sense of warmth. As you stepped outside, you glanced back through the window and saw him watching you, his book forgotten on the table.

You didn’t know it yet, but that moment was the beginning of something that would soon become a part of your routine—and, eventually, your life.

The coffee shop was quieter today, the usual mid-morning rush giving way to a lull that left most of the tables empty. You had claimed your usual spot by the window, your coffee steaming gently on the table, and a fresh novel open in your hands. You weren’t expecting to see him again so soon, but as the door jingled softly, you looked up instinctively.

There he was.

Spencer walked in with the same slightly awkward air, his satchel slung over his shoulder and his tie slightly askew. This time, though, he spotted you almost immediately. His gaze lingered for a moment, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he moved to the counter to place his order.

“Black coffee, no sugar,” he murmured, just loud enough for the barista to hear.

You went back to your book, though your focus wavered slightly. When he approached your table, coffee in hand, you glanced up again.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone polite but hesitant.

You gestured to the empty seat with a smile. “Not at all. Looks like it’s becoming a habit.”

He sat down carefully, placing his coffee on the table and pulling a notebook from his bag. The book from last time was absent, but he seemed just as engrossed in whatever he was working on. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the faint rustle of paper and the clink of ceramic mugs.

It was Spencer who broke the silence first. “What are you reading today?”

You held up the cover for him to see. “It’s a mystery novel. Nothing as dense as Adam Smith, but it’s a fun read.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Mystery novels are interesting. They rely on a careful balance of misdirection and logic. Do you prefer ones with a twist ending or ones where you can solve the puzzle before the protagonist does?”

You considered the question for a moment. “I like the ones that make you think you’ve figured it out, only to completely surprise you in the last chapter. Keeps things exciting.”

He nodded, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his coffee cup. “The element of surprise is important, but so is fairness. A good mystery should give you all the clues—you just have to know how to interpret them.”

“Is that something you’ve studied?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

He hesitated, his expression shifting as though he were carefully choosing his words. “In a way. My work involves… patterns, logic, and deduction. It’s not exactly the same as a mystery novel, but there are parallels.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That sounds fascinating. What do you do, exactly?”

He hesitated again, glancing down at his notebook as if it held the answer. “I work for the FBI,” he said finally. “In the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s incredible. You’re a profiler, then?”

He gave a small nod, his expression modest. “Yes. We analyze criminal behavior to help solve cases. It’s… challenging, but rewarding.”

“That sounds like the kind of job that would keep you up at night,” you said, your tone curious but gentle.

He gave a faint smile, his gaze distant. “It does, sometimes. But it also gives me a chance to help people, which makes it worth it.”

There was a quiet intensity in his voice that made you pause. It was clear that his work was more than just a job to him—it was something deeply personal.

“Sounds like you’re pretty good at it,” you said softly.

He looked up, startled, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I… try to be.”

The conversation drifted after that, touching on lighter topics. He asked about your work, genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself sharing more than you expected. There was something disarming about his quiet attention, the way he seemed to hang on every word.

Before long, an hour had passed, and you realized with a start that you needed to get going.

“I should probably head out,” you said, gathering your things. “But this was nice. I’m glad we got to talk again.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening. “Me too. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Besides, I’m starting to think you’re better company than I expected.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but he didn’t look away. “I’ll… see you around, then?”

“Definitely,” you said, giving him a small wave before heading out the door.

As you walked down the street, you couldn’t help but feel lighter somehow, as though the conversation had brightened your day in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Back at the coffee shop, Spencer sat for a moment, staring at the empty seat across from him. He pulled out his notebook and jotted something down—a brief note in his neat, precise handwriting.

For the rest of the day, he carried that moment with him, and though he didn’t say a word about it to anyone, his coworkers at the BAU couldn’t help but notice the faint smile that lingered on his face.

It was raining the next time you saw Spencer, a steady drizzle that painted the streets in a muted haze. The coffee shop was busier than usual, filled with people seeking shelter from the weather, and the hum of conversation blended with the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. You were perched at your usual table, a warm mug in your hands, when the door jingled and Spencer walked in, shaking droplets from his hair.

He scanned the room, his gaze landing on you almost immediately. You raised a hand in a small wave, and his lips curved into a soft smile as he made his way over.

“Crowded today,” he remarked, his voice low but warm as he slipped into the seat across from you.

“Seems like everyone had the same idea,” you replied, gesturing toward the line snaking its way to the counter. “You might be waiting a while for your coffee.”

He glanced at the line, then back at you. “That’s all right. I’m in no hurry.”

There was an ease to his presence now that hadn’t been there before, a quiet comfort that made you smile. Over the past few weeks, your conversations had become more frequent, the once-occasional meetings in the coffee shop turning into something you both seemed to look forward to.

“Working on anything interesting today?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook he’d pulled from his bag.

Spencer opened it carefully, revealing pages filled with neat, precise handwriting and diagrams that looked more like they belonged in a science journal than a coffee shop. “Just some notes,” he said, brushing his fingers over the edge of the paper. “It helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Mind if I take a look?” you asked, intrigued.

He hesitated for a moment before sliding the notebook across the table. You skimmed the page, your brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of the densely packed information.

“This… is definitely not light reading,” you said with a laugh, handing it back to him. “Is this for work?”

“In a way,” he said, tucking the notebook back into his bag. “I like to stay ahead, so I do a lot of independent research. It helps when I’m working on particularly complicated cases.”

You nodded, impressed. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

Spencer looked at you, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose not. But I enjoy it. There’s always more to learn, and I find comfort in that.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. There was a vulnerability beneath his words, a quiet admission that spoke to the way his mind worked—always racing, always searching for answers.

“Well, if you ever need a break from all that learning,” you said lightly, “you know where to find me.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The line at the counter finally thinned, and Spencer stood to get his coffee. When he returned, he carried two cups instead of one, placing one in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“I noticed you were almost out,” he said, gesturing toward your empty mug.

You blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Spencer. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his cheeks faintly pink. “It’s nothing. Consider it a… small token of appreciation.”

“For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“For… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the table. “Talking. Listening. It’s nice.”

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. “It is. I’m glad we met.”

For the next hour, the two of you fell into easy conversation, your voices weaving through the ambient noise of the coffee shop. Spencer told you about his love of obscure trivia and his penchant for collecting rare books, and you shared stories from your own life, finding common ground in unexpected places.

At one point, he hesitated, glancing down at his coffee cup as though gathering his thoughts. “Would you… be interested in going to the museum sometime?” he asked, his tone careful but hopeful.

You tilted your head, surprised but pleased. “I’d love to. Which one?”

“There’s an exhibit on mathematical paradoxes opening this weekend,” he said, his enthusiasm breaking through his usual reserved demeanor. “It’s fascinating how something can appear contradictory but still hold a deeper truth.”

His excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

The smile that spread across his face was unguarded, and you realized then how rare it was to see him so openly happy. It was a side of him you hoped to see more of, and as the rain continued to fall outside, you felt a quiet certainty that this was the beginning of something special.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer carried that same certainty with him when he left the coffee shop that day. For the first time in a long while, he found himself looking forward to something outside of work, and though he kept his happiness tucked away like a secret, it shone through in small, quiet ways that didn’t go unnoticed.

At the BAU, Penelope Garcia was the first to comment on the change.

“Spence, you’ve been smiling more lately,” she said one afternoon, leaning against his desk with a knowing look. “Something you want to share?”

He shook his head, his ears turning pink as he focused intently on the file in front of him. “Nothing in particular,” he murmured, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that didn’t escape her sharp eyes.

“Uh-huh,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Spencer didn’t respond, but as Penelope walked away, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles, his thoughts drifting back to you and the quiet joy you’d brought into his life.

The BAU was a place where secrets rarely lasted long. The team’s job, after all, was to dissect behavior and unravel mysteries. As close-knit as they were, each member had an uncanny ability to notice even the smallest shift in one another’s routines. It was only a matter of time before they turned their collective attention to Spencer Reid.

It started with little things.

“Is it just me,” Penelope Garcia mused one morning, leaning dramatically against Derek Morgan’s desk, “or is our resident genius unusually… chipper lately?”

Morgan looked up from his case file, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “C’mon, Baby Girl. Reid’s always in his own world. What are you noticing?”

Penelope gestured emphatically with her glittery pen. “He’s been smiling. Like, actual smiles. And—get this—he whistled in the break room yesterday. Whistled!”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Whistling’s a crime now?”

“No, Derek,” she said with mock exasperation. “But it’s unusual for our dear Doctor Reid. He’s not exactly the whistling type. Something’s up. I can feel it.”

David Rossi, who had been quietly listening from his desk nearby, chimed in. “It’s true. Kid’s been humming, too. I caught him doing it while going through the case files last night.”

Emily Prentiss joined them, holding a mug of coffee and looking intrigued. “Wait. Reid? Humming? What’s next—Reid cracking jokes?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Rossi said with a smirk. “Mark my words: there’s something—or someone—making him happy.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up at the possibility. “Someone? Oh, now this is interesting. What if he’s secretly dating someone and didn’t tell us?”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Just because he’s smiling doesn’t mean he’s got a secret girlfriend.”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Oh, you think so? Then how do you explain the sudden wardrobe upgrade? He wore matching socks two days in a row last week. That’s not a coincidence.”

Emily snorted into her coffee. “Matching socks are the evidence we’re going with?”

“I have my methods,” Penelope said dramatically. “And my gut is never wrong. I’m telling you, there’s a mystery here, and I am determined to solve it.”

Rossi leaned back, a knowing look on his face. “Whatever it is, let him have his secret—for now. If it’s important, he’ll tell us.”

But Penelope wasn’t about to let it go that easily.

Meanwhile, Spencer was doing everything he could to keep his private life private.

He’d always been meticulous about compartmentalizing his personal and professional worlds, but ever since he’d started spending more time with you, it had become harder to maintain the separation. The team’s inquisitive glances and subtle comments hadn’t escaped his notice, and it was making him increasingly anxious.

During lunch in the break room, JJ sat down beside him, her expression casual but her tone careful. “So, Spence. Anything new going on in your life?”

He froze for a split second, his fork hovering over his salad. “Uh… no. Not really.”

“Nothing at all?” she pressed gently.

“Nope. Just the usual,” he said quickly, focusing intently on his food.

JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. She exchanged a look with Emily across the room, who gave her a subtle nod.

Spencer knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

That evening, after a long day at work, Spencer met you at the coffee shop where it had all started. You were already seated at your usual table, a warm smile lighting up your face when you saw him.

“Hey, you,” you greeted as he slid into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he said, his expression softening in your presence.

But you could tell something was bothering him. His brow was furrowed, and he kept fidgeting with the edge of his coffee cup.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s my team. They’re starting to notice… changes in my behavior. Penelope, especially. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to figuring things out.”

You tilted your head, concerned. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just… they’ll want to meet you. And once they do, they’ll start meddling. They mean well, but they can be… overwhelming.”

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “I get it, Spencer. They’re your family, and you want to protect this part of your life for a little while longer. But…”

“But?” he prompted, his eyes searching yours.

“But maybe letting them in wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you said softly. “From what you’ve told me, they sound like amazing people who care about you. I’d love to meet them someday—when you’re ready.”

He looked down at your hand on his, his expression conflicted. “What if they start analyzing us? Or worse, what if they don’t think I’m… good enough for you?”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “First of all, you’re more than good enough. And second, I can handle a little scrutiny if it means being part of your life in every way. Besides, I think they’d like me.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’d more than like you. They’d adore you.”

“Then what are you so worried about?” you teased gently.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I guess… I’m just not used to sharing this part of my life with anyone. It’s new for me.”

“It’s new for me, too,” you admitted. “But we’re figuring it out together, right?”

“Right,” he said, his smile growing.

At the BAU the next day, Penelope was on a mission.

She cornered Morgan in the bullpen, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I’ve been doing some digging, and I think I’m onto something.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Digging? Garcia, you didn’t—”

“Relax,” she said, waving a hand. “I didn’t hack anything. I’m just observing. And based on my observations, Reid is definitely hiding something—or someone.”

“What makes you so sure?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

“He’s been leaving earlier than usual, taking lunch breaks outside the office, and—get this—he turned down a weekend trivia marathon to ‘run errands.’ Who turns down trivia, Derek?”

“Okay, you might have a point,” Morgan admitted, though he still looked skeptical. “But if the kid’s got a secret girlfriend, don’t you think he’d tell us eventually?”

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Eventually? Do you know how long eventually could take with Reid? We could all be retired by then!”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, fine. Keep sleuthing. But don’t push him too hard. The kid’s entitled to his privacy.”

Penelope grinned. “Oh, I’ll be subtle. Like a ninja.”

Morgan muttered under his breath, “Subtle is not in your vocabulary.”

That evening, Spencer found himself staring at his phone, your encouraging words from the night before echoing in his mind. He knew you were right—his team was his family, and they deserved to know about you. But the thought of their teasing, their endless questions, and their well-meaning meddling made his stomach twist.

After a few moments of hesitation, he opened the group chat.

Spencer: Can we all meet for dinner tomorrow? My treat. There’s something I’d like to share.

The replies came almost instantly.

Garcia: OMG, yes! Is this about what I think it’s about???

Morgan: I’m in. But if it’s not about what she thinks it’s about, you’re buying dessert too.

JJ: Sounds great, Spence. Can’t wait!

Prentiss: This better be good. Rossi and I are skipping wine night for this.

Spencer sighed, already regretting his decision, but there was no turning back now.

The next day, as the team gathered at a cozy Italian restaurant, Spencer felt his nerves building with every passing minute. But then he thought of you—your steady reassurance, your warm smile—and it gave him the courage he needed.

“Okay, Reid,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been acting all secretive for weeks. Spill it.”

Spencer took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the table. “There’s… someone I’d like you all to meet. Someone important to me.”

The table fell silent for a moment, and then Penelope let out an excited squeal. “I knew it!”

Spencer winced but pressed on. “Her name is [Your Name]. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, and… well, she means a lot to me.”

JJ smiled warmly. “Spence, that’s wonderful. We’re so happy for you.”

“Yeah, kid,” Morgan added, grinning. “It’s about time you found someone who makes you smile like that.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, his cheeks turning pink. “I just… I wanted you all to know. And she’d like to meet you, too.”

Penelope clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. “When? Where? I need details!”

“Soon,” Spencer said, his smile growing despite himself. “But… promise me you’ll go easy on her.”

“No promises,” Rossi said with a smirk, raising his glass in a toast. “To Reid and [Your Name]. May we get to meet her soon—and may she survive this group.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and for the first time, Spencer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain: with you by

The day had arrived, and Spencer was pacing his apartment like a man preparing for battle. He had gone over every possible scenario in his mind: what his team might say, how you might respond, and how much teasing he would inevitably endure. Despite your reassurances that everything would be fine, his anxiety hummed like static in the background.

“Spencer,” you said gently, stepping into his path and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Take a deep breath.”

He halted mid-step, looking down at you with wide, nervous eyes. “What if they don’t like you?”

You smiled softly. “Then they’d be the first people in your life to have terrible judgment.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “You don’t know them like I do. They’re going to analyze everything. And Penelope… she’s going to want to know everything about you.”

“Good,” you said, squeezing his arm. “I’m an open book. Besides, it sounds like she already likes me, and she hasn’t even met me yet.”

Spencer hesitated, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m overthinking this.”

“You? Overthinking? Never,” you teased, earning a small smile from him. “Come on, Spencer. Let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can stop worrying.”

The restaurant Spencer had chosen was cozy and unassuming, with warm lighting and a menu that promised hearty Italian fare. You arrived hand in hand, his grip tightening slightly as you walked through the door.

“Over here!” Penelope’s cheerful voice rang out, and you turned to see her waving enthusiastically from a large round table in the corner. The rest of the team was already seated—Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner, all watching your approach with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Hi, everyone,” Spencer said, his voice quieter than usual. “This is [Your Name].”

You offered a warm smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as six pairs of eyes turned to you. “Hi. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you.”

Penelope was the first to react, jumping up from her seat and pulling you into a hug before you could blink. “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve been dying to know who’s responsible for putting that adorable smile on our boy genius’s face.”

“Uh, thank you,” you managed, laughing as you hugged her back. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

When Penelope finally released you, Derek stood, his expression warm and teasing. “So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Reid all to yourself. I’m Derek Morgan. You ever need anything—or if he ever gets on your nerves—you call me.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” you said, shaking his hand. “And don’t worry, Spencer’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Of course he has,” Derek said with a wink. “The kid’s a saint.”

The introductions continued around the table, each team member greeting you with a mix of curiosity and warmth. JJ’s smile was kind and welcoming as she shared stories about Spencer’s quirks, while Emily’s dry humor had you laughing within minutes. Rossi was effortlessly charming, offering you a wine recommendation before the server even approached.

And then there was Hotch.

He was quieter than the others, his expression measured as he shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said simply, but there was something in his steady gaze that felt like approval.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how much this group felt like a family. They teased each other mercilessly, but the underlying affection was unmistakable.

“So,” Penelope began, leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand. “How did you two meet? Was it one of those adorable movie moments where you bumped into each other and spilled coffee everywhere?”

“Not quite,” you said, glancing at Spencer, whose cheeks had turned pink. “We met at a coffee shop, though. He was sitting in the corner reading a book, and I… well, I couldn’t help but say hi.”

“Classic Reid,” Emily said, smirking. “Always with his nose in a book.”

“Hey,” Spencer protested weakly, earning a round of laughter.

“It worked out, though,” you said, smiling at him. “Because he said hi back.”

“And the rest is history,” JJ said warmly.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself feeling more at ease. Penelope’s bubbly energy was infectious, and Derek’s playful jabs at Spencer had you laughing until your sides ached. Even Rossi, with his sharp wit, made you feel welcome, sharing anecdotes about Spencer’s early days in the BAU.

But it was Hotch’s quiet observation that stuck with you the most.

“You make him happy,” he said simply when the others were distracted by a debate about dessert.

You glanced at Spencer, who was laughing at something Derek had said. “He makes me happy too.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Good. He deserves that.”

By the time dinner ended, you felt like you’d known Spencer’s team for years. They walked you to the door of the restaurant, Derek and Penelope insisting on giving you a round of hugs before you left.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Penelope said. “We expect you to join us for trivia night sometime.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling.

As you and Spencer walked to the car, his hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt easy and natural.

“Well?” you asked, glancing at him. “How do you think it went?”

“I think it went… really well,” he said, his voice tinged with relief. “They love you.”

“And I love them,” you said sincerely. “They’re amazing, Spencer. It’s no wonder you consider them family.”

He smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “Thank you for doing this. I know it wasn’t exactly a quiet night out.”

“It was perfect,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walked. “And now I understand why you were so nervous. They’re protective of you, but it’s only because they care.”

“They do care,” he agreed. “But I care about you, too. And seeing you with them tonight… it just felt right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and when you reached the car, you turned to him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “I’m glad we did this, Spencer. You don’t have to keep parts of your life separate anymore—not with me, and not with them.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I’m grateful for that. For you.”

As the two of you drove home, the city lights blurring in the distance, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment. You had taken another step forward together, and as you glanced at Spencer, who was humming softly along to the radio, you knew that this was just the beginning of the many adventures yet to come.

The case had hit Spencer harder than he had anticipated. It wasn’t the nature of the crime—it wasn’t even the investigation itself that had him on edge. It was the familiar feeling of helplessness, the weight of memories he had long buried surfacing unexpectedly. The case involved a series of abductions, and the helplessness of the victims—who had been taken from their homes, without a trace—was something Spencer couldn’t ignore. It brought back too many painful memories of the time when he had been kidnapped, the hours that had stretched endlessly as he fought to stay alive. It wasn’t the first time a case had triggered his trauma, but something about this one felt more personal. The terror in the victims’ eyes, the hopelessness in their families, was too close to home.

He had been quiet all day, retreating inwardly, the weight of his thoughts dragging him into himself. His usual sarcasm and jokes were absent, and his responses to questions were short and distant. Spencer wasn’t the type to show weakness, especially in front of his team, but anyone who knew him well could sense the shift. Penelope had been the first to notice, giving him a concerned look across the room as he sat staring blankly at his computer screen. Derek, always the observant one, had seen it too.

It wasn’t long before Spencer excused himself, claiming to need a break from the team’s discussions. He knew they’d want to talk about the case—everyone was anxious to make progress—but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t give them what they needed. Not now.

You had been waiting for Spencer at home, preparing dinner when he texted you that he would be late. You knew the team had been working a difficult case, but you hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect him. As you set the table, your thoughts turned to Spencer. Lately, you had noticed that he seemed more closed off than usual. He had always been a bit reserved, but it felt different now. More distant. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering him, but you didn’t know how to help. You had tried talking to him a few times, but he always brushed you off with a smile or a joke.

When Spencer arrived home, it was later than usual. He walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his usual energetic stride replaced by a slow, weary gait. You had been waiting in the living room, a quiet concern in your chest as you stood to greet him.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice gentle.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond, his eyes lost in thought as he dropped his bag on the floor and hung his coat. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“Spencer?” you said again, a little softer this time, stepping closer to him.

He finally met your gaze, his eyes glassy, though he quickly tried to mask the vulnerability behind a forced smile. “I’m fine,” he said, though the lie was evident.

You stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm, offering him the comfort you knew he needed, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. “Spence, you don’t have to hide it from me. What’s going on?”

His eyes flickered away from yours, and for a moment, he seemed like he might retreat into his usual defenses. But then, without warning, he let out a long breath, the weight of the day settling on him. “I… I’m not sure I can handle this case. It’s bringing up too much. Too many memories I’ve tried to forget.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. Spencer’s past, his time being held captive, his struggles with addiction, and the emotional toll of the job—it was a lot for anyone to carry. You had seen glimpses of it in the months you had been together, but he had always kept the more painful pieces of himself hidden, buried beneath his intellectual armor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

Spencer’s eyes briefly flickered to yours, as if measuring how much he was willing to share. After a moment of silence, he sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he murmured, voice breaking ever so slightly. “I just… I feel like I’m reliving it. The helplessness. The fear. It’s all coming back, and I can’t stop it.”

Your heart ached for him, but you remained quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I thought I was over it,” he said, his voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way you had never heard before. “I thought I had it all under control. But this case… it’s like it’s ripping open old wounds I never knew were still there.”

You took a step closer, gently placing your hand on his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems. You deserve someone who isn’t broken.”

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words. “You’re not broken, Spencer. You’re human. You’ve been through so much, and it’s okay to feel all of it. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here, no matter what you’re going through.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his emotions beginning to show on his face. Spencer had always been the one to hold it together, to be the strong one for everyone else. But in this moment, you could see that he was human, too, and that he needed someone to lean on just as much as the rest of them did.

“Tell me what you need,” you whispered, cupping his cheek gently. “Let me help you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, searching your face as though looking for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe understanding. Maybe even permission. “Just… stay with me,” he whispered. “Stay with me while I try to make sense of it. I don’t know how to handle this, but I don’t want to be alone.”

You nodded immediately, pulling him into an embrace. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the full weight of his exhaustion. He didn’t have to say another word. You could feel the turmoil within him, the fear, the confusion, and the deep sadness that clung to him like a shadow. And as you held him close, you knew you would be the steady presence he needed to get through it.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you murmured into his hair, your voice steady. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. You simply held each other, letting the silence comfort you both. Spencer’s breathing began to slow as he relaxed into your embrace, but you could feel the tension in his body—the tightness of unresolved emotions still lurking beneath the surface.

After what felt like an eternity, Spencer pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know what to do with all this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

“You don’t have to let it go,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You just have to process it. And I’ll help you. We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “Okay.”

Over the next few days, Spencer allowed himself to lean on you in ways he hadn’t before. He didn’t bury his emotions as deep, didn’t retreat into the quiet isolation that had once been his defense mechanism. You were there, offering him space to talk when he needed it, and offering silence when that was what he craved. You didn’t push him to get over it, didn’t try to fix him. You simply gave him the one thing he had needed all along: your presence, your unwavering support.

And slowly, he began to open up. He talked more about his past—the things he had never shared, the things he had never wanted to confront. He spoke about his time in captivity, the moments that still haunted him, and the way it had affected the person he had become. He spoke about his mother, his struggles with addiction, and how he sometimes felt like he was walking a tightrope between who he wanted to be and who he feared he might become.

Through it all, you listened. You didn’t offer solutions, didn’t try to change his perspective. You simply let him speak, giving him the safe space to express what had been locked away for so long.

One night, as you both sat on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, Spencer spoke again, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his words barely a whisper. “Scared that I’m never going to be okay. That I’ll always be carrying this with me.”

You turned your head to kiss his temple softly, your hand gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “We’re going to figure it out together. You don’t have to carry it alone, Spencer. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time in a long while, there was a glimmer of hope in them. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for him. “I’ll never give up on you, Spencer. Not ever.”

And in that moment, as you held him close, you both realized that despite the challenges you faced, you were stronger together. Spencer had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now, he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were his support, his rock, and in return, he had begun to trust that he wasn’t just surviving—he was healing. Together.

The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but one thing was certain: you would face it side by side. And with each passing day, Spencer found himself thinking more and more about a future that was no longer clouded by fear, but illuminated by the love and strength you had built together.

The drive to the small town was quiet, the world outside the car slipping by in muted shades of gray and green. Spencer’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming lightly to a rhythm only he could hear.

His gaze was fixed on the road, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air. You sat beside him, your hand resting on your lap, but your mind was elsewhere.

Today was different. Today, Spencer was taking you to meet his mother. Diana Reid. You had heard about her many times—the challenges Spencer had faced growing up, the deep bond they shared despite the complexities of her illness. Spencer had always spoken of her with such tenderness, but there was also a sadness there. A reluctance. As if meeting her, truly being part of that chapter of his life, was something he had only now begun to feel ready for.

You could sense the nervous energy radiating from him, even if he wasn’t overtly showing it. He had always been a man of intellect, his thoughts swirling around his cases, his team, his work—but today, it was personal.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the quiet between you. Spencer glanced over at you, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know?” You nodded, understanding completely. “I know. But I’m here, Spence. Whatever happens, I’m here.” He gave you a brief, grateful look before focusing back on the road.

The drive was longer than you expected, and as you neared the outskirts of the town, Spencer’s usual quick pace slowed. He turned onto a smaller, tree-lined street, eventually pulling up to a modest house at the end of the road. The house had a quiet charm to it—simple, cozy, the kind of place where the walls held memories and time moved at its own pace.

Spencer parked the car in front of the house, but he didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he sat there, hands gripping the wheel, eyes fixed on the house in front of him. You waited patiently, knowing this moment meant something significant to him.

“I’ve never really brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to meet her. But it’s not easy for me. I…” His words faltered as he turned to you, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “I want you to understand why she’s so important to me. But I also want you to understand that it’s not always easy with her. Her illness…it’s complicated.” You reached over, placing your hand on his arm. “I know, Spence. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, for whatever comes.” Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out, holding his hand out to you. You took it without hesitation, your heart swelling as you followed him to the front door.

Spencer rang the doorbell, his finger tapping nervously against the frame. A few moments later, the door opened, and standing there was a woman whose face you had seen in countless photographs and heard about in Spencer’s stories. Diana Reid. She was dressed simply, her hair long and silver, her eyes slightly unfocused but kind. There was a certain fragility to her, a delicate air that made her seem more like a bird than a person. But her smile was warm, genuine, as she looked from Spencer to you. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice wavering slightly. “It’s so good to see you, my boy.” Spencer smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of her. “Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice gentle. “I brought someone with me today. This is my girlfriend, [Your Name].” Diana’s gaze shifted to you, and you offered her a soft smile in return. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, searching your face. You could tell she was processing everything, trying to make sense of the new person standing in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, stepping forward. Diana’s smile deepened. “I’m glad you’re here,” she replied, her voice soft but sincere. “Spencer doesn’t bring people around much, so this must be special.” Spencer chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of discomfort in his tone. “Yeah, well, I figured it was time.” Diana gestured for you both to come inside. “Please, come in. I’ve made tea. You’ll need it, with this weather.” As the three of you sat down at the kitchen table, you could sense the delicate dance taking place. Spencer and his mother—there was so much unspoken between them, so many years of history that only they truly understood. But as you watched them interact, you could see the love between them, even through the layers of complexity. Spencer was patient with his mother, always attentive, never rushing her. And Diana, in turn, looked at him with a quiet pride, her eyes softening whenever she spoke to him.

“Spencer tells me you’re very smart,” Diana said after a pause, her voice light and teasing. Spencer flushed slightly, but you could tell he was touched by his mother’s words. “Well, he’s a genius,” you said with a smile, nudging Spencer gently. Diana smiled, her expression softening even more. “I see,” she said. “You seem to make him happy.” Spencer’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes. His mother had always been his anchor, the one person who truly understood him. And now, you were here—his two worlds, the most important parts of his life, coming together.

“She does,” Spencer said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. Diana’s smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. “I’m glad,” she said simply. “I know how hard it is for you, Spence. You deserve someone who sees you. All of you.” You squeezed Spencer’s hand, offering him a silent show of support. The rest of the afternoon passed with small talk and shared laughter. You learned more about Spencer’s childhood, his mother’s struggles with her illness, and the depth of their bond. As you got up to leave, Diana hugged you warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Take care of him,” she whispered. “He’s a good boy, but he needs someone who will help him believe that.” You smiled, a lump forming in your throat. “I will. I promise.”

On the drive back to your apartment, Spencer was quiet, but there was a peacefulness in the air. You could sense the shift in him, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “How are you feeling?” you asked, glancing at him. Spencer took a deep breath, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m… I’m okay,” he said softly. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” You nodded, offering him a smile. “I’m proud of you, Spence.” He glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks. I think I’m finally ready for this… for us.” You reached over, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence, both of you reflecting on the significance of the day. When you arrived home, Spencer turned to you, his expression soft. “I’m glad we did this. I’m glad you’re here with me.” You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad too. I’m excited for what’s to come, Spence. For all of it.” That night, as you both settled into bed, the weight of the world seemed lighter. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right. The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities, and as you drifted off to sleep, you knew one thing for certain: together, you could face anything. The adventures, the challenges, the quiet moments—they would all be yours to share. And no matter what came next, you would face it as a team.

[accio-boys]

prophecy | fiyero x reader

summary; just a seer, prince, secrets, love, & destiny.

author’s note; I totally knew I had to write something new after reading a whole ass fanfic about star-crossed lovers. fiyero lovers should I do a whole ass fiyero x reader fanfic? But what kind of plot? I also wanna do The Wizard x reader but would any read it? Jeff Goldblum is just ughh…iykyk…Btw everyone, REQUESTS ARE OPEN! REQUEST ALL YOU CAN PEOPLE!

Reserved yet academically brilliant—that was who Y/N L/N was, a late enrollee at Shiz University. She stepped off the small boat onto the school’s grounds, her movements cautious yet purposeful. Her gaze darted around the sprawling campus, seeking a sign of faculty or staff to guide her. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, keeping her head low, trying not to attract attention.

And yet, attention found her.

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure where to go, Mr...?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Fiyero,” he said with an easy smile. “Just call me Fiyero.”

There was something about him that struck her. Maybe it was the carefree confidence he exuded, or the way his grin seemed to challenge the very notion of seriousness. But Y/N simply nodded, her expression neutral.

“Oh, okay. Have a nice day, Fiyero.” She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, intrigued and slightly off-balance. He wasn’t used to being dismissed so quickly—and certainly not by someone as mysterious as her.

Fiyero couldn’t shake her from his thoughts. There was something about Y/N that made him curious, something beneath the surface she seemed desperate to hide. He sought her out, always finding excuses to cross her path, but their encounters were less than pleasant.

“Why do you keep showing up?” she snapped one day after he "accidentally" ran into her outside the library.

“Maybe I just like a challenge,” he shot back, his grin turning mischievous. “You’re not exactly the warmest person, you know.”

She glared at him, her green eyes flashing. “Maybe that’s because I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Or maybe you’re just afraid to let anyone in,” he countered, his tone softening for just a moment before he turned and walked away, leaving her stunned and fuming.

The tension between them only grew. Fiyero’s playful teasing grated on her nerves, and her sharp retorts stung more than she intended. But underneath the barbs and glares, there was an unspoken connection neither could deny.

One evening, during a school event, Fiyero caught her alone in the garden.

“Why do you hide yourself away from me? From everyone?” he asked, his voice devoid of its usual teasing edge.

Her eyes, bright and sharp, flickered with something unreadable. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied softly, turning away. “And I don’t care.”

“You do care,” he said, stepping closer. “You just don’t want to admit it. But I see you, Y/N. You’re not as invisible as you think.”

Her breath caught, but she refused to let him see her falter. “Maybe you should stop looking,” she said, her voice colder than she felt.

But he didn’t stop.

The problem was, Y/N had a secret. A dangerous one. She was a seer, burdened with visions she couldn’t control and truths she often wished she didn’t know. Her gift—or curse, as she saw it—made it impossible to lead a normal life. People who got too close to her either feared her or tried to use her. She’d sworn to herself that Shiz would be different. She would keep her head down, stay invisible. 

No attachments. 

No risks.

And then there was Fiyero.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N’s resolve faltered. Fiyero had found her once again, his presence as insistent as ever.

“I wonder,” she whispered, almost to herself, her voice trembling as her gaze met his.

Her hand reached up, almost of its own accord, brushing against his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, the softness of it disarming him completely.

Her heart pounded as she leaned in, her lips brushing his softly. The moment they touched, the world seemed to shift around her. But it wasn’t the warmth of the kiss that consumed her; it was the vision that followed.

Images flooded her mind. She saw them together, standing side by side through trials and triumphs. But the vision turned dark, shadowed by an ominous foretelling. One of them would fall. One of them would die.

She gasped, pulling away as if burned. Her hands trembled, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Fiyero reached for her, his concern evident.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and worry.

“It’s not you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me. It’s… us.”

She turned and fled, leaving him standing there, his heart aching with the weight of her words.

Y/N tried to avoid him after that, but Fiyero was persistent. His determination to understand her only grew stronger.

“Why are you running from me?” he demanded one day, cornering her in an empty hallway. “What are you so afraid of?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” he pressed, his eyes searching hers. “Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it. If I let you in, if we…” She trailed off, unable to say the words. “I saw it, Fiyero. I saw what happens if we’re together. One of us dies.”

He froze, the weight of her confession sinking in. But instead of stepping back, he took a step closer.

“And if we’re apart? What then?” he asked. “Do we just live half-lives, pretending this doesn’t exist? Pretending we don’t exist?”

She stared at him, her resolve crumbling under the force of his words. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to know,” he said gently, his hands reaching up to cradle her face. “You just have to trust me. Trust us.”

It wasn’t until much later that she let her guard down, piece by fragile piece. The change was slow, marked by stolen moments and quiet confessions. The bickering turned to banter, the walls between them crumbling with each shared glance and unspoken understanding.

“Would you love me if you knew?” she asked him one night, her voice barely above a whisper.

“If I knew what?” he pressed gently, his eyes searching hers.

She hesitated, her heart pounding. “If you knew who I really am. What I can do.”

His answer came without hesitation. “I would love you if the sun burned out and the moon disappeared. I would love you if the stars fell from the sky and the earth itself crumbled beneath our feet. I would give up everything—my title, my name, my future—just to have you by my side.”

His voice cracked with emotion as he reached for her, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streamed down her face. “Just say the word, Y/N. Say you’ll be mine, and I’ll move heaven and earth for you.”

Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled through them, her heart finally yielding to the truth she could no longer deny.

“I love you, Fiyero,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the flood of emotions. “With bonds no one can break, I am yours.”

He pulled her close, their foreheads touching as they breathed each other in. “And I am yours,” he murmured.

Their lips met again, but this time, it was a kiss of certainty, of promises made and futures entwined. Whatever storms lay ahead, they would face them together. For the first time, Y/N let herself believe in something more than fear or duty.

She let herself believe in love.

tags; @tn22220-blog

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Five -> Next Chapter

“What do you mean you told him you didn’t know?!” Clove pressed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, it was early morning, not even dawn and now everyone was back from their patrols and it was just you and your friends, and they were all gathered in your room and they all lost it when they saw the open ring box on your bedside that Gabriel had left behind with you.

“I mean I told him I didn’t know, I mean it came out of nowhere.” You responded to her as you towel dried your hair, having just got showered and dressed. “It’s not like I don’t want to-“

“Then say yes!” Nettle urged you, who laid across your bed, scrolling on his phone but slamming it down when he heard your pitiful excuse for your seek on time with your boyfriend. “Look, you’re our friend, but you can’t do this forever, this is the life you’ve always wanted, I know because you’re an honest drunk and you told us-“

“Okay, enough said!” You snapped, slamming your towel on the bed next to Nettle before sitting down next to the two on your bed with a heavy sigh. “I will think about it, it’s not a no, it’s just a pause-“

“You should reject him.”

You all screamed when you heard a voice that was not one of your own speaking into the conversation as if they have been here the whole time. You all turned your heads about to see the familiar face of Damian, or rather Robin standing in your bedroom doorway. Your brother just rolled his eyes and walked over, he reached a hand out to your nightstand where the ring was but Foxglove, who was sitting on the edge of your bed, slapped his hand away and grabbed the navy blue velvet box before he could and handed it back to Nettle who passed it to Henbane, who was leaning against the far wall of your bedroom.

“Damian… how did you-“

“Father and Barbara found the way into your system with the scraps of your gear and used your so-called friends’ trackers to find…” He glanced around the room, your bedroom, a judgmental look in his eye as he did so. “…place.”

“…fuck.” You heard Foxglove mutter under her breath, not even realizing your security had been slipped behind and used against you all.

“Father was going to come retrieve you himself later tonight, but I thought I would spare him the trouble, but it seems you have been running about Gotham telling everyone who you were.” He glared daggers at you and to all your friends, stepping forward towards where you stood, poking his finger into your chest, which made you wince as your body was still bruised and recovering from what happened to you two nights prior on the bridge. “Do you know what would have happened if he had figured out all of our identities, the danger you would have put everyone in all because you decided to be a selfish little brat!?”

“Selfish… I’m selfish?” You muttered under your breath as you just looked Damian in the eye, too overwhelmed and overcome with emotion to look away. You gritted your teeth, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting it back. “I had no life before this, and now that I have my own world outside of your own you call me selfish?!”

“You live in a warehouse, you left everyone behind for this of all things?” You felt in a sudden moment his other fist come down onto your wrist of the hand that held onto his, breaking your grasp. Before you had a moment to recover you felt him blow a punch to your gut, knocking the air out of your lungs, and if that wasn’t worse enough he kicked up into your gut, knocking you to the ground. He looked over your body, glaring down at you. “If you are so strong now little sister, then fight me, beat me and I will leave without a word to father.” You could only cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath in your already weak state, but you could not manage to in time before Damian dragged your body up and pinned you against the brick wall, his face only inches away from your own, feeling his hot and angry breath against your skin. “Of course you can’t, you are weak, you were a fool for leaving all those years ago and you were a fool for running again.”

“Get off of her!” You heard Nettle’s voice shout before there was a grunt of pain from Damian, his grip loosing up enough for you to slip out and for Clove to shove you behind her and Nettle. Then you got a good look at what Nettle did, he stabbed Damian in the shoulder, one of the throwing knives he used on his own patrols. “You can leave, she didn’t need you all then and she certainly does not need you all now.”

“She has us now.” Clove spoke along with Nettle, standing up to the assassin trained vigilante. “We look after her and she looks after us. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck, it’s like you all are stalking her.”

Damian glared down at the knife that stuck out of his shoulder before glancing up at you all, the four of them standing in front of you as if to protect you from him. He ripped the knife from his shoulder, not flinching as it did so. He tossed the blade onto the floor and turned around, walking away, but he stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

"Father will be coming for you soon."

With those words, Robin was gone, disappearing out of the room and the warehouse, leaving you and your friends behind.

"We need to go, pack everything, we are leaving tonight, we can't stay here any longer." You said to your friends as you pushed past them, limping towards the metal staircase that led down to the main level of the warehouse.

"Where are we going to go?" Henbane asked from the bottom of the stairs as the rest of them followed behind you.

"Somewhere... anywhere that isn't here."

"Wait- you mean like, leave Gotham?" Nettle questioned, looking at you as he jogged up to catch up with you. "Why would we leave? This is our home."

“No… we can’t leave, we need to keep working…” You paused in your tracks, glancing back up at your friends and then back down to your feet. “I’ll call Mr. Austen, see if he can help, get a new security network and comm lines back up and get us somewhere else to hide out.”

“And for you to rest, right?” You stiffened up at Henbane calling out your shit which everyone noticed and you swear you could practically taste their disappointment. “Change of plans, we’re gonna find a place to hide out and we’re going to find you a place to recover.”

_______________________

“Thank you for this.” You spoke to your boyfriend as he helped you walk to the couch, one hand holding yours and letting you lean your weight on him and the other carrying a duffle bag of your clothing that Clove packed for you. You felt guilty when you informed that Clove had reached out to him again, asking for his help in taking care of you. You had just told him that you did not know if you wanted to marry him or not yet after all. “I don’t deserve you, Gabriel.”

“Yes you do, I’m the one who does not deserve you.” He sat down with you as you sat down on the couch, leaning into the plush surface with a heavy sigh. You felt his arm come around your shoulders, pulling you close. “The chef is making caprese sandwiches for lunch with those garlic fries I remembered you liked. My parents know you are here but they are going out for dinner tonight after their meetings so I thought salmon rice bowls would be nice or maybe carbonara pasta.”

It felt weird, stepping back into all of this. When you were little, when it was just you and your mother, you had private chefs, a household staff, your mother’s personal assistants. Then when you ended up back here in Gotham you were never left to care for yourself since Alfred always looked after all of you, even when you stayed with Dick in Blüdhaven he never even let you near the kitchen. When you ran away you had none of that, you were eighteen and had to learn basic skills because no one ever bothered to teach you on top of learning how to fight, all of that on top of being separated from your mother and not knowing if you’ll ever see her again, having to part with your whole identity, becoming a no one. You never got a break, never let yourself rest until now, four years later.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you alright?” You heard Gabriel speak to you, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and guide you to look him in the eye, he always knew when something was wrong. “Are you alright, dove?”

“Oh… y-ya, I’m okay…” You leaned into his hand, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax into his touch. “That sounds nice, I skipped breakfast this morning anyway.”

“Oh okay, I’ll text the chef and let her know to give you extra fries and make an extra sandwich for you in case you want more.” He took his phone out and typed something up before setting it down and pressing a kiss to your face, just beside your eye. “Can’t have my favorite girl going hungry on my watch.”

“You treat me way too well.”

“I treat you like the way you deserve to be treated.” He smiled before his phone buzzed with another text and he looked down at it and then back up at you. “Do you want orange chocolate cheesecake or lemon cream cake for dessert?”

“Mmmm, you’re going to make me sick.”

“Then I get to take care of you even more, doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

_______________________

“Say ah.” You laughed as your boyfriend pressed a spoonful of cheesecake to your lips, he was practically doing this at this point to smear some of the chocolate drizzled on top onto your face so he can kiss it off. But you just opened up your lips and pulled the cheesecake off with your tongue, your lips trapping the sweet treat in your mouth as he slipped the spoon out. “Atta girl.”

You two sat at the dining room table next to each other. You were dressed in your pajamas and he was dressed in a white button up shirt and black dress pants with black matte leather lace up ankle boots. Honestly it did not surprise you how he dressed, he was the heir to one of the biggest fashion companies on the East Coast, it made sense. You had finished your lunch and there were plates of cheesecake for each of you, but still Gabriel slipped you bites of his own plate.

But honestly it was the best thing you have tasted in years.

“Hey Gabriel…”

“Yes Dove?” He looked at you, setting down his spoon on the side of his plate, he was giving you his full attention. “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking… I want to marry you, I really do, I… I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” You felt ashamed, you could not make yourself look him in the eye, but yet he was so gentle and patient with you. “I don’t know how to settle down or what I want to do… I was expected not to go to college when I was young and honestly I just feel trapped where I am right now but I can’t do it forever, what if I get hurt beyond repair.”

“Well why did you go into… vigilantism in the first place?”

“To spite my father and siblings… and to protect Gotham, I suppose.”

“Well… that was not the answer I thought you were going to give, but we can work with that.” He responded in a tad awkward tone as he pulled out his phone. “You said you didn’t think you would be allowed to attend university and get your degree? Do you still have your grades from high school and your ACT scores?”

“No… those are all with-“

“Don’t worry about it, I can get those for you, just a few calls to clear everything up.” You watched him turn the phone around to face you, the home page of the Gotham University website. “Applications end in a month but my family is the largest donor to the school so I’m sure they’ll give you a second chance, they also have online classes as well.”

“This is sweet and all but I have no clue how I’ll pay for this-“

“I will.” He spoke, setting his phone down on the table and picking up his spoon again, cutting into his slice of cheesecake again. “The tuition is pocket change to me.”

“I still can’t let you do tha- mph!” He shut you up by shoving cheesecake into your mouth mid word, and your surprised reaction made him laugh as you swallowed the cheesecake down your throat.

“You can’t stop me, I am telling you what I am going to do, dove.”

_______________________

“Dove, are you ready to go?”

It has been almost two weeks since you have started staying with your boyfriend and his family. Foxglove has recovered from her own injuries and is back on patrol and you are on comm lines and cameras, you’ll be sitting up in bed with Gabriel cuddled up into your side, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Now you are fully recovered, or at least recovered enough. There was to be a charity gala tonight, Gabriel was going to stay behind with you and his parents were going to go by themselves and then you told them something at dinner last night…

“I… I could go if you want me to.”

And my oh my did they absolutely adore that idea, especially Mrs. Christel, she practically dragged you off to find dresses for you like you were a doll, though she picked items you actually liked, not everything that your family dressed you in when you used to attend these sort of events.

“Yes, I’ll be out in just a second.” You called out to him from the bathroom as you slipped on the back of your earring onto the earring in your earlobe. You opened the bathroom door as you grabbed your phone from the counter, a new one after you had to get rid of your old phone in case it was getting tracked, another gift from your perfect boyfriend. He was sitting on his bed, dressed in a black tuxedo with a small pink peony pinned to his suit jacket. His eyes went wide at the sight of you and his lips fell slightly agape and now his reaction made you laugh. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, dove.” He spoke to you as he stood up from the bed, walking over to you and setting his hands on your waste and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trailed down to your hand, pulling you along to head out. “My parents are waiting for us in the car… wait a second.”

He paused after his fingers intertwined with yours and he felt something off, he glanced down at your intertwined hands to see what was on one of your fingers…

The engagement ring.

The way he looked at you was the same way an overextended puppy gets when they hear their owner say ‘park’ or ‘walk’.

“Is this… I… do you?”

“I do.” You replied, reaching your hand up to his cheek and leaning forward to kiss him on the other cheek, leaving a slight lip gloss stain. “I want to marry you.”

_______________________

You are truly regretting saying you will go to this charity gala. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat in the car with Gabriel and his parents, his hand resting on your thigh while you could hear the over excitement in all of their voices as they talked about your future wedding, you suppose the apple never fell far from the tree.

You felt as if you were going to vomit as you felt the car slow down, the sign as the car pulled up to the museum that the party was being held, the Gotham Art Museum. You could see the flashes of paparazzi cameras and the loud shouts of conversations and attempts to catch people’s attention.

“Hey, you’ll be alright.” You heard Gabriel tell you as the car door opened and you saw his parents step out of the car first and a part of you wanted to shrink off into the corner of the backseat of the car, letting the car drive off. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

You could only nod as you watched your boyfriend step out of the car, giving a brisk nod, smile, and wave to the paparazzi before reaching a hand back to you to help you out of the car like the gentleman he is. It took a huge act of courage for you to take his hand and allow him to pull you out of the car and the moment your foot took a step onto the concrete all eyes were on you.

It felt like you were going to have a heart attack or a panic attack as you heard the paparazzi shout your name, your old name, your real name. It all made you want to vomit especially when the flashes of the camera blinded you.

“Miss Wayne, where have you been?”

“Is your disappearance anything to do with your relationship with your family?”

“Why are you not with your family tonight?”

“Wait…”

Damn it, it was only a matter of moments before they noticed the ring on your finger.

“Are you engaged to the heir of the Christel family?”

“Does your engagement have anything to do with-“

You looked up to the top of the stairs that led up to the museum entrance and your heart absolutely plummeted as you made eye contact with your father.

[semetarydrve]

Extra Credit

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CW: smut, light corruption kink, teacher x student, blackmail

Pairing: teacher!Remus x student!Reader

WC: 3.8k

AN: already thinking abt a prt 2 where remus gets territorial abt yn if this one does well ill try to post it next week

╰─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────╯

“(y/n)!”

Your head shot up from the absent-minded notes you had managed to jot down, barely legible due to your seemingly never ending exhaustion. You looked up to catch your Defense Against the Dark Arts professors rather disappointed gaze.

“Yes Professor Lupin? I’m sorry I didn’t quiet catch that last part can you repeat the question.” He sighed and shook his head.

“It’s quite alright, you can just speak to me after your last class.” A wave of hushed snickers drifted through the room. Your face flushed in embarrassment and you nodded meekly. “Right, well on that note the deadline for the essay for your quarterly paper is due next week! Feel free to seek help after school tomorrow if you’re struggling.” He finished, people rushing to pack their things. You graciously took the opportunity to pack your things and attempt to slip by your professor in the crowd.

Unfortunately for you he’d been watching carefully, he couldn’t help himself. As the full moon drew closer he couldn’t ignore the thoughts plaguing his brain. His perverse fixation on you was far from new, still able to clearly recall the first day he laid eyes on you. You’d walked in at the tail end of the sea of new faces, quietly finding your seat conveniently at the front of the room. He’d watched inconspicuously, thinking that even under the unflattering cut of your uniform you brought on a deep primal urge to bury his knot deep inside of you.

When you finally passed by his desk he called out for you. With a shaky and apprehensive breath you diverted your path to reach him. He was now sitting at his desk shuffling around papers as students filed out, rolling up the sleeves on his cardigan and button up to expose his scarred arms. You pushed down the rather inappropriate thoughts about him that had plagued your mind since he’d begun teaching at Hogwarts. When the last few people had left the room he beckoned for you to sit in the chair next to his desk.

“Don’t worry this will be quick. First off I want to say (y/n) you have been nothing but an amazing student this year. But the last month or so I’ve noticed a decline in the quality of your work and it’s affecting your marks in my course. Is there something I can help you with?” He inquired. You sighed and shook your head, heart dropping at the idea of your grades being lowered.

“I’m sorry Professor. I’ll do better.” You said softly. His kind hazel eyes found yours and he shook his head.

“No need to apologize. I’m telling you this because I want you to succeed in my course. With just a bit of extra credit you’ll be back on track in no time.” His reassuring gaze made you feel more at ease.

“It’s not just your class I’m struggling with. Because of the workload I have I’ve been having trouble keeping up with everything. Truthfully I’m exhausted.” You sighed. It felt nice to be honest about how hard it was to stay afloat in school. He nodded sympathetically and smiled, placing a warm hand on your knee. This action was innocent enough but just the feeling of the physical boundaries between you being broken for the first time made him twitch in his pants. Now that he was close enough he could let your scent ingrain itself into his memory.

“I understand, I’ve been in your shoes. The last year is always the hardest. Perhaps when we meet after class I could offer some help to steer you in the right direction?” He offered.

“That would be very helpful if that isn’t too much to ask.” You replied, feeling relieved your favorite professor was willing to do that. He thanked you for your time and said he was looking forward to helping you later today.

As the door closed behind you he sighed heavily. He absolutely knew the complications of being involved with a student but never had he met one he was so tempted by. He did his best to keep it completely professional but once in a while he’d find himself staring at you. Dreaming of pinning you down and having his way with you. Even your sense of humor and sly way of thinking drew him in. Sometimes he wondered if you noticed his lingering gaze. His hand absently drifted to his crotch, palming at his growing erection. With a frustrated groan he sat up and ran his hands through his hair, attempting to pull himself together. He situated himself at his desk and began dealing with the mess in front of him, checking the clock during his next periods in anticipation of your return.

Finally class was dismissed for the last time and he sat down in his chair. He’d thought of this opportunity a million times but now that it was happening he was unsure of how he’d actually approach it. When the soft wrapping of your knuckles on his door echoed out, he swallowed the lump that had been building up in his throat thinking about you.

“Come in!” He called out. You quietly closed the door behind you and made your way to the seat he had placed in front of his desk.

“Thank you for offering to see me Professor. I was too nervous to ask on my own.” You said shrugging off your robe and pulling out your embarrassingly sparse notes.

“Nervous for what?” He chuckled. The question was light hearted enough but your face flushed. He spoke with such a sly tone, completely different from his nurturing instructor one. It gave you goosebumps, feeling slightly put off by his gaze. Not only did he sound different but his eyes had also lost their softer nature. Now they focused on you pointedly, slowly raking over every inch of your body. Finally he looked up to catch your eyes and you felt like he could read your discomfort.

“I just figured you were busy with all your other work I didn’t want to be a bother.” You replied trying to fill the silence, your eyes trailed to the two scars running across his face. 'i wonder how he got those?' You thought taking a moment to admire the way they enhanced his rugged look.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked chuckling. You shook your head. “And I could never be bothered by my favorite student.” He added making you smile and put aside the feeling that something was off. Perhaps you were just over thinking it because you did have a bit of a crush on him.

“Well thank you. If you don’t mind I have a few questions actually.” You said moving to pull out today’s notes. He nodded and stood up, circling around the desk and standing behind you. He bent down to get a closer look, his hands resting on the back of the chair. You crossed your legs and leaned slightly to the side to give him a better view of the paper.

“I see there’s more than a few things you forgot to write down today. I guess it would be best to start by covering what you seemed to have missed yeah?” He said gently placing a hand on your shoulder. He peered down at the notes from over you and slowly began massaging you.

“Sorry about that Professor. I just zoned out for a second during the lecture.” You stammered, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers working over your sore muscles. His right hand found its way to the other shoulder as he planted himself directly behind. The grip was strong and comforting.

“You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Remus for now. And you what (y/n) I thought of an extra credit assignment that’ll fix your marks.” He said quietly as he leaned down to your ear.

“Just one assignment?” You inquired, trying to ignore the feeling of his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You felt frozen, mostly confused and a bit afraid, but nonetheless a wet spot marked your panties.

“Mhm. Just one. And you could have it done tonight if you do it right. Does that sound good?” You nodded, unable to speak as you tried to process what was happening. You just knew it felt like saying no wasn’t a wise choice. You were in the last half of your final year, maintaining good marks meant everything. “You’re going to be a good girl and do what I say, and be quiet about it. Do we have an understanding?” He whispered, breath labored as he started to smell you break a sweat.

“Is there no other option? This just doesn’t feel right.” You said shakily, not wanting out right confrontation. He hummed pretending to think about it. His hands left your shoulders and came down to rest flat on the desk before you, effectively trapping you.

“You have two options. You can let me ravish you on this desk…” He started, trailing off.

“Or?” You asked afraid to move or look at him.

“Or you can leave and I’ll slowly but inevitably fail you. Assignments being counted as late, maybe even not turned in at all.” He threatened.

“That’s not fair! I’ll tell the Headmaster.” You protested.

“You could try. But he’s far too busy dealing with Sirius Black on the loose.” Even without being able to see his face you could hear that he was smiling. From your perspective he had a valid point. “So what will it be?”

“Fine.” You said quietly. His mind moved a mile a minute as the very situation he had dreamed about presented itself.

“I knew you’d come around.” He purred. “Now be a good girl and stand up for me.” He stepped back, giving you room.

“Yes Professor.” You said meekly, getting to your feet. For a moment you stood still facing away from him, too nervous to look at him. He gently spun you around by your waist. He looked down at your innocent face and felt his cock throbbing. What a beautiful little plaything you were. He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, your hands instinctively reaching for his bicep. The contact made his body feel hot, thinking about how long he’d been fantasizing about bending you over every surface possible.

"I've wanted to fuck you since the day you pranced into this classroom." He said pulling away breathlessly. Your eyes widened and cheeks flushed.

“Really?” You asked, unable to deny the way his words made your stomach flip. You weren’t used to this kind of attention.

“Yes really.” He said leaning in again for another kiss. He could feel your muscles relax, slowly letting your guard down. Good. "Now be a doll and get on your knees."

“But Professor-“

“Ah ah ah. Remember? You’re going to be good and listen right?”

“I’ve never done that before.” Your words came out small and timid. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You haven’t huh? It’s okay I’ve heard I’m pretty good at teaching others.” He joked. You shook your head and he gently caressed your cheek. “Don’t worry you’ll do great.” He said planting a kiss on your lips and stepping back. You swallowed, now painfully aware of your lack of experience.

“Okay Sir.” You said sinking to your knees. He watched as undid his belt and pants, your hands fumbling. You let out a small gasp as you freed him from his confinements. Bigger than expected was a light way of putting it. You hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of embarrassment flood your system.

“Go ahead.” Remus commanded, his voice no longer soothing but instead dripping with frustration. He watched as you took the head of his cock in your mouth. He unbuttoned his shirt as you slowly inched him down your throat. He groaned and gripped your head with both hands, pushing you down harder. You gagged and he began thrusting slowly, building up speed making your eyes water. You blinked away the tears making your makeup begin to run down your face.

"Is it too much? Am I fucking your little throat too hard?" He taunted. Your fingers dug into his thighs as you fought his grip. He watched as you struggled, spit dripping down your chin onto the white, now almost sheer, button up. Eyes watery and pleading for mercy. The sight made his hips snap forward, almost cumming right then. "Over the desk. Now." He growled, pulling you to stand by your hair and pushing you onto the desk. Any ounce of self restraint or composure had flown out the window. Now all that mattered was getting to break in his new toy. He yanked your panties down. "Spread your legs." You did as you were told and stepped out of your panties as you opened your legs. He raked his fingers over your hips and thighs giving you goosebumps. Your brain reeled, thighs pressed together for relief from the dripping wetness between your legs and the knot in your stomach. He roughly pried them apart and began lightly tracing his fingers on your inner thigh, inching closer to your clit.

"Please." You cried squirming uncomfortably. He smiled devilishly and removed his hand.

"Please what?" He teased.

"Please touch me." You cried, pushing back against him. He watch in amusement as you begged for his touch, tightening his grip on your flesh and pulling you closer. His cock began slowly sliding between the folds of your pussy, just enough to tease you. The feeling was driving him crazy but now that he had you in front of him he’d savor every moment. Without a word he slipped his cock in carefully. You whimpered and he groaned, shocked by how perfect you felt.

“Now I want you to be very very quiet okay?” He breathed, slowly beginning to rock his hips. You let out a barely coherent ‘okay’ as your focus drifted to adjusting to his size. You reached behind and flipped up your skirt for a better view. He chuckled at your eagerness and gently grabbed the back of your head in one hand and pinned one of your wrists behind you with the other. In one swift motion he started pounding into you, your body pinned in place as he picked up a relentless pace. Without thinking you cried out loudly, immediately regretting your actions as he pulled out.

“Please put it back Remus.” You whined reaching with your free hand to guide him back inside of you. He tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed your face harder into the cool wood surface.

“I told you to be quiet but clearly you can’t.“ He said leaning over you. The adrenaline pumped through you at the feeling of being trapped under him.

“I’m sorry.” You cried, not yet daring to fight against his grip. He released you, stepping back and tucking himself away.

“Don’t be sorry, be better.” He said as you slowly straightened and turned to face him. The look of pure desperation on your face drove him crazy. You closed the distance and placed your hands on his chest.

“I promise I’ll be quiet. Anything you want.” You begged watching his eyes study your face. He actually didn’t have an intentions on stopping this encounter, just curious to see how quick he could have you wrapped around his finger.

"Lay on your back, now.” He watched you scramble to take off your skirt and get onto the desk. He stepped between your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. His lips worked in sync with yours as he pushed your legs open. He ripped open your top, buttons scattering as he toyed with your nipples before running his hands down your body. He stopped at your hip and the other hand wandered farther down. He ran two fingers up to your clit, eliciting a needy moan from you. He pulled away from the kiss to put his fingers to his lips.

"You even taste sweet princess." He said as he licked them clean. He held eye contact as he began to rub slow circles on your clit. You jolted at the contact and laid back on the desk. He admired your cunt, small trickles down your legs making him chuckle. “Fuck you’re wet I might have to cum in your tight little hole.” He said slowly pushing into your heat. You moaned at the sensation, your walls gripping his fingers tightly. He leaned down and seized your throat with his free hand. You raised a hand to the one around your neck, using your fingers to indicate you wanted it tighter. He smirked and replaced the wary grip with a tight, more restrictive one. The combination of his fingers in you and around your throat was heavenly. He curled his fingers slightly sending a wave of unexpected pleasure through you. He took note of this and continued the same motion. Your eyes glazed over and you nodded fervently.

“Don’t stop. I’m so close.” You mewled quietly.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re enjoying this. Maybe I’ll have to keep you to myself.” His words sent you over the edge. Biting your knuckle as the pressure in your lower abdomen built up, your eyes fluttered shut as you came on his fingers. He continued his motions, relishing in the feeling of you tightening around his digits. Your body felt hot and shaky as you rode the high. He slowly withdrew his fingers and cleaned them with an eager tongue. His hum of approval bringing a small smile to your face. You slowly sat up and placed your hands on his exposed chest where his shirt hung open.

“What happened?” You asked studying the scars that peppered his body.

“It’s a long story.” He replied as your eyes found his. He leaned in for a kiss. It was deep and passionate this time. His hand slipped behind you so he could pull you to the edge of the desk. You melted at the feeling of your bodies pressing together. His teeth bit down softly on your lower lip as he pulled away. “You’re doing so good for me.” He murmured against your lips.

“Thank you. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Your bare cunt brushed against his pants as he leaned into you making you jump. He took notice of this and smirked as he began to slowly rock his hips.

“That’s okay, you’re a quick learner.” He said, trailing kisses down to your neck. His warm breath gave you goosebumps. “ ‘Nd I guess you aren’t as delicate as I thought.” His hand wandered down your stomach, stopping between your legs. Using his fingers he spread your lips causing you to involuntarily push back for more. “Don’t move.” He smirked and moved to bite your earlobe as he moved his fingers to your clit. You breathed deeply, fighting the urge to buck your hips.

“Professor shouldn’t we hurry? I don’t want you to get in trouble.” How sweet. You were worried about keeping your little secret.

“Unfortunately you’re right my love.” You watched excitedly as he made quick work of dropping his trousers. He pulled you in for another slow and tender kiss while lining himself up with your entrance. You both let out a sigh of relief as he used the hand on your lower back to keep you close while he slid in.

“Remus you feel so good.” You said in a hushed voice. He replied with a half hearted ‘my god’, his attention now focused on watching his cock slowly slide in and out. Slick with the taste of you. He almost couldn’t look away but the small whimpers coming from you drew his gaze up.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said breathlessly, speeding up his pace and rubbing your clit. You dropped your head back as he fucked you, your orgasm building quickly until you felt like you were gonna explode. You dug your nails into his shoulders and he watched in awe as profanities fell from your lips and your body began to quiver.

“I think I’m gonna cum.” You said, starting to feel overstimulated by his fingers.

“That’s my girl.” He cooed. “I don’t know if I’ll last much longer myself.” His voice faltered at the end as he felt himself getting closer to his own release. Your nails buried themselves deeper in his shoulders, earning a feral snarl from Remus. He liked when you lost yourself in the feeling of him. You might shape up to be his favorite fucktoy. A few more strokes and you were unraveling before him. You writhed and panted under him, unable to keep quiet. He grunted and withdrew, cum spurting on your lower half.

There was a brief pause as he held you.

“Did I do good, Sir?” You asked dropping your head on his chest.

“Very. But next week I’d like to-”

“Next week? I thought this was just a one time thing.” You said looking up at him confused.

“Did I say that?” He asked slyly. He cupped your chin and titled your face to give you a soft kiss. “But wasn’t this fun?”

“Yes, Sir I had a lot of fun.” You said nodding, fighting the butterflies in your stomach. It felt wrong but you could help but enjoy his presence.

“Good. Then you’ll be here same time next week. Now get dressed. And quickly.” He said beginning to fix his shirt. He watched proudly as you did what you were told. After your skirt was on he helped you put on your robes, pulling the front shut tight now that your shirt was basically useless without its buttons. As you opened your mouth to ask him a question there was a soft knock on his door. He shot you a ‘follow my lead’ glance before walking over to the door as you quickly fixed your hair. Professor McGonagall stepped in the room and looked over at you curiously.

“(y/n).” She said greeting you.

“Hi professor.”

“She was actually just leaving our tutoring session.” Remus said.

“Oh well I hate to interrupt Lupin but Dumbledore has requested to see you in his office.” She said giving him a knowing glance.

“Ah I see. Thank you Minerva.” He said turning his attention to you. “If you don’t mind (y/n), I’m going to step out if you’d like to gather your things. We can pick up where we left off next week.” He said giving you a small smile. You nodded, turning to pick up your parchment and other belongings. Your mind raced, grappling with the situation. As you grabbed the last of your things you turned and said goodbye to your teachers.

“Brilliant student isn’t she?” You heard McGonagall say as you left.

“Oh she’s a gem for sure.” Remus replied with a chuckle.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

This may be an odd request, but if you are into it, can I request headcanons of Smiley, Helen, and Jason (or characters you want to write) where their partner (reader) dies in front of them on a mission of something, but somehow and for some reason, time gets reversed to start at the beginning of the day, so their partner is alive and sleeping on their bed. Please and thank you!

I sort of imagined it as them going to sleep at the end of the day and waking up and it's the previous day, I hope that's okay <3 This request also made me remember Helen and his heart jar for his dead s/o so we're just gonna pretend that doesn't happen this time :p

This got so long I'm sorry I'm posting this so late-

Smiley:

He was never made for field work, with his preference for medical assistance at the mansion he was never meant to be standing out there in the field. He was never meant to watch you take that fatal injury, to do everything he could to save you out in the woods surrounding you and fail so miserably at it, much to his extreme distress. The following hours before he'd eventually passed out at his medical table had been a mash of absolute pain and misery, feelings he'd assumed he'd be waking up to once more the following morning, but instead, he was met with your beautiful face smiling at him. He'd thought he'd died himself for a moment, after all, he hadn't fallen asleep in bed, but here you are beside him, just as snug as you were the previous morning. It doesn't take long for him to realize what's happened, and Smiley isn't going to waste the chance before him. He's quick to come up with some bullshit but believable reason about why you can't go out on the mission you're meant to, citing doctor's orders and him needing to monitor a concern that came up on a pre-mission health check.

Nobody questions him, although you're left quite concerned by his actions. Nobody else can see it, but you can see the tenseness of his body, his eyes darting about anxiously, the heavy beating of his heart. You can tell he's worried about something, but he won't tell you what it is, he simply can't. He can't bring himself to admit what he saw, what he experienced, not when it's still too fresh in his mind. Perhaps he'll tell you later, but for now, he instead chooses to seek comfort in the fact that by the time the two of you go to bed that night, you're still safe and sound in his arms, just as you are the following, brand new morning, and nothing else other than that matters. It takes far longer than he thought to tell you what truly happened that day, why he refused to let you go on the mission, years down the line, and it's only with your comfort and love for him at that time that allows him to truly grieve and let go of those horrible memories. Suddenly all those days of him being more concerned about you going on missions makes sense, and you apologize for ever questioning his judgment or doubting him, promising to always come home safe to him, just as he does for you.

Jason:

The scream leaving his throat feels as though it should rip it apart, just as he feels like he's being ripped apart at the sight of your dying body crashing to the ground. Jason can barely tell what's happening in the next few hours, between trying desperately to resuscitate you, weeping for your death, and the others trying to keep him from doing something drastic. He barely realizes when he's falling asleep, his mechanical body simply powering off due to overcharge of his emotions, and when he awakes the next morning, he can't help but immediately begin sobbing once more when his eyes land on you. You're still in his satin sleep shirt, oversized on your body and revealing your skin just as it had the morning before, a sleepy smile resting on your cheeks as you gaze at him as he wakes up, but it's different this morning because now you're replaced with immense concern over his sudden outburst. You cradle him close and attempt to comfort him as best you can as he cries and crushes you against his body, so scared that any moment you could slip away again.

It must have been a dream, he reasons. A terrible, horribly bad dream, one that felt far too real, and so he tries to calm down, but he can't. Not when everything in the day progresses the exact same day, and so he shatters, begging you not to go on the mission. He tells you of his "dream", tells you of everything he saw, how he's scared it might actually happen, and you're so devastated by the clear distress he's in, so, of course, you switch out with someone else and stay home. He's so thankful you listened, so thankful a stronger creep took your place, considering the sorry state said creep was in when they got home. It could have been you, but it wasn't. Not this time, not ever again. Jason will never allow you to die in such a way, not now that he knows it's a definite possibility, no. He'll keep you safe and comfortable in his arms, safe from any dangers, just as he is right now, and will continue to do, for the rest of your life. He treasures you far too greatly to ever allow you to truly experience something like that again, and if he can help prevent it in any way at all, he will do so, for you, the love of his life, someone who deserves to live and die in peace.

Helen:

He had such an odd feeling. He'd elected to stay home last minute, as Slender had assumed not all of you would need to attend this mission. However, he felt this clawing, nagging feeling in his chest, and so he ran, ran faster than he ever had before, but he'd been too late. Your blood was fresh as you lay collapsed against a tree, your eyes unfocused as he sat before you. He tried everything he could to try and help you, but it was too late. Others had to find the two of you, as Helen had sat there before you for hours, crying and screaming, revealing emotions nobody other than you had ever seen before. He felt as though he should be dead, as though he should have died with you, but instead there he was, laying in your shared bed, now far colder than usual due to the lack of your body heat. So, if it had been so cold, why was it suddenly so warm when he woke up? Rare tears slip from his eyes as you snuggle into him, just as you had that morning, and he clutches you tightly. He feels as though some god out there must have finally taken pity upon him and done something good for him for once.

You ask what's wrong, and he simply asserts he'll tell you later, instead choosing to look after you that day, to be far more affectionate than usual. When Slender once again offers for someone to fall back, Helen disagrees, saying he has a bad feeling and that maybe someone extra should go to be safe, and so a few do, and Helen is so unbelievably thankful that he and the extra few went. He can't believe you were basically fighting all of these people by yourself, and he hates himself for so casually staying home. He kills the person who was meant to kill you with ease, and the mission is successful. You all make it home, and it's when you're cuddled up once more that night that Helen finally tells you what happened, how you had died, how it could have been his fault, how painful it was. You're momentarily confused, but with how earnestly he's retelling it, you feel as though it must have been true, and so you thank him for saving you this time, thank him for keeping you safe, and he swears to you that he'll continue to do so. For the rest of your careers for Slender, he'll always be there, on every mission, fighting to protect the one true blessing in his life.

[ddollfface]

lm a bit nervous asking this but it’s okay ^u^

I was wondering how your ocs would react to their darlings hurting themselves sorry if this is too weird for you!! I absolutely love your writing btw!!

𝐏𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲

LoveSick!Characters reaction to reader doing self-harm

Warnings; obviously self-harm, possessive behavior, crappy writing, me rambling, yandere characters, little suggestive on LoveSick!Friends part whoops! I wrote reader with a fem!person in mind sorry ╥﹏╥ You’re totally fine! I don’t mind these asks whatsoever, thank you for requesting, love! Just a small thing though, and this isn't necessarily directed toward you, but if you're ever, ever having thoughts of self-harm, there's no shame in seeking help! Take it from a gal who went through it herself! You are loved! Always remember that, babes ♡

....

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲

He’s not mad, just disappointed, which is arguably worse. LoveSick!Athlete could never ever be mad at you. You’re the love of his life! The center of his universe, and all he ever thinks about, so how could he be mad at you? It’s just that… He hates, loathes even, the fact that you didn’t trust him enough to come to him! He’s your boyfriend, your future husband (not that you know that, yet), for God’s sake! 

Anyways… It’s likely you didn’t tell him, and he found out by accident, seeing new and old scars when your hoodie lifts up, or when you guys go to the beach (something along those lines). The first thing he does is pull you into a hug, pressing your face against his chest, just so you don’t see the intense gleam in his eyes. There are so many things that are spiraling in his mind, so many thoughts, and so many feelings that he can’t exactly pin them down. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, and he doesn’t exactly know what he’s feeling, but he knows he doesn’t like it. The idea of you ever, ever, harming yourself never came to mind. He never even thought that’s something you’d ever end up doing! He thought that everything was fine and dandy, that you were enjoying the relationship, that you loved him, but apparently not. 

LoveSick!Athlete scolds himself for not seeing the signs, for seeing how you seemed to take longer in the restroom, or how you covered more, even when it was oh-so warm outside. How did he not see the signs? How could he fail you? 

After a moment or two, he pulls you away from his chest, staring at you with an uncanny look, as if he’s trying to pry into your very being. He needs to know why! Why are you doing this to yourself? Is it because of him? Don’t say it’s because of him (it is), or else he think he might start spiraling. Of course, you make up some half-assed excuse, attempting not to place any blame on him, and so, the next thought in his mind is that it’s someone else. After that thought flickers in his mind, let’s just say that you’re not going to be going out with your friends for long while. 

He’s convinced that he cannot leave you alone, that he needs to be there for you at all times. He cannot let these outside influences spoil your beautiful mind! He has to protect you, and he will. Don’t worry, baby. He understands that you’re going through a hard time, but he’s here now! And he’ll take care of you, just let him do everything.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁

Okay, now he’s mad, very mad, extremely mad even. LoveSick!Artist is very emotionally constipated, very quick to anger, and violent with his tendencies. He hates what you’re doing to yourself, and it makes him mad at himself, you, and just the world! What did he do wrong? Why are you harming your beautiful body? 

You’re his muse, his inspiration, and he hates that it’s being tainted by your own hands! Immediately, his mind goes to who else has caused this because there’s no way that you, the sweet angel he’s made you up to be, could ever do this to themselves. Someone, some evil, nasty person, has pushed you to this, and he’s going to find them and make them wish they were never born. He’s already conjured many different scenarios in his mind, but not a single world slips from his mouth, which just makes the situation all the worse for you. It’s awkward. On the inside, he’s scathing, thinking of so many things to say, to do, but on the outside, he’s just staring at you with fiery eyes. 

You can tell he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and that makes you nervous. Like LoveSick!Athlete, LoveSick!Artist likely found out by accident or something of the sort, probably when he was painting you. At the time, he didn’t find it odd that you were more hesitant, refusing even, to strip off your clothing, to change into the skimpy dress he wanted you to wear, scraping it up to be you just nervous. He found that cute, and let you be, what he thought, was your flustered self. What he didn’t realize is that you were hiding something from him of all people, which just made the reveal all the worse. 

Even though he’s unreasonably pissed, he’ll try to calm himself down for your sake, knowing that it freaks you out whenever he gets amped up. This means that he’ll grab your arm or push you onto some surface to take a look at your leg, this all depends on where you’ve marked up, and he’ll huff as he looks over the old and new scars. His eyes are fiery, flammed with an intense heat that makes you nervous, too scared to do anything. LoveSick!Artist will wait until his mind is, somewhat, cleared, standing up to grab your cheeks, pulling you into a oddly, and uncharacteristically, soft kiss, and wrapping his arms around you.

You can feel him shake as he hides his face against your neck. You’re so stupid, he’ll mutter, suddenly you feel your skin get slightly wet, God, don’t pull this shit again. Next time just… just be fucking normal and talk to me, you dumbass. You guys will stand there for a moment before he storms off, slamming the front door, not knowing what to do with himself.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗕𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗼

Okay… She’s a little insensitive when it comes to this topic. Actually, it’s more like a culture shock, in a weird way? I’m not too sure on how to describe it, but it’s in the sense that it’s impossible for her to think that you would hate yourself. To her, you’re absolutely stunning! You’re her hot girlfriend; how could you ever think of yourself like that? It’s something she doesn’t understand, and so she kinda goes into shock when hearing about it. 

She’s very quick to comfort, tackling you into a big hug, tucking her face into your chest as she cries, and cries, and cries, and cries. She cannot believe this is happening! Why would you ever do this?

A situation where you should be the one comforted has turned into you holding her, trying to explain yourself as she straddles your waist, staring down at you with puffy eyes. Her lips are puckered as she cups your cheeks. With the tilt of her head, LoveSick!Bimbo will begin to list off every. single. thing. she loves about you. 

Her hands will start on your cheeks, blubbering out how she loves how full they are because it fills out your face, and then she’ll graze your eyelid, bringing her thumb up to your brow. Oh, how she wishes she had your brows! They’re so, so natural! But she has to get hers done, and God, your eyes. They’re super duper pretty! They’re one of her favorite things about you, can’t you see that? Why would you ever hate such a pretty face, when it’s all so cohesive, all so matching? She’ll go on and on, touching every part of your body as she names something positive, not caring as you try to push her off. LoveSick!Bimbo will hold you down, even using her fluffy, pink handcuffs if she has to! She has to prove to you that you’re an absolute beaut!

Once she’s done with that, she’ll bring you into a big hug, lying next to you as you, somehow, managed to end in her bed. LoveSick!Bimbo will force your face into her chest as she pats your head, urging you to go to bed, baby! I think you’re suppperrr sleep-deprived from finals, and that’s why you’re thinking so silly! Curling up to you, she’ll sniffle a little, huffing under her breath that she can’t believe you’d ever do such things… Maybe we can get our nails done! Manicures always make me feel better!

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱

Baby, she already knew what you were doing the moment you put a blade to your skin. LoveSick!Friend has adopted the knack for reading you like a book as she’s been around for quite a while and has watched you like a hawk. You think she doesn’t know when you’re falling into fits of depression? Please, baby girl, she clocked it when you started avoiding your guys’s girl's nights. 

Immediately, she took to action, subtly trying to pinpoint exactly why you were doing this to yourself and finding a solution to said problem. Of course, it wasn’t easy as she didn’t want to make her intentions known as she was a little worried that you’d recede into yourself if you knew. She wanted to find out organically, get you talking to her, and then comfort you. 

After all, she is your best friend, and you are hers, so why would you not spill your heart out to her? She’s always been there for you, comforting you whenever your shitty ex dumped you, or when you had a fight with your parents, or even when your other friends conveniently stopped calling (which may or may not have been her doing, but I digress).

Really, because she understands you, and is quite the manipulator, she got you spilling to her in days. All it took was soft touches and sappy eyes, and you folded, not that she didn’t want you to. She wants to be the gal you come to. She wants you to come talk to her instead of tearing through your skin. Baby, you don’t need a therapist when you have her! She’ll hold you through the night, rocking you to sleep as she whispers comfort into your ear. She’s the perfect one for you, don’t you understand?

And don’t question it when her lips travel from your temple to your scarred wrist, and then your scarred thighs. Maybe she can make you feel better? Babydoll, she’ll make you understand how beautiful you are, just you wait. Just lay back, relax, and listen to her. This is what friends are for, right?

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗞𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

And… What’s that going to do, love? Now, he’s just confused, a little annoyed, but mostly confused. Why would you, the Empire’s Beaut, ever harm yourself? I’m not too sure if this is accurate, but I don’t think self-harm was too common back in the day. From what I know, the only recorded self-harm was self-whippings as a form of penance in the Church, or condoned by the Church at least (someone correct me if I’m wrong, but this is what I’ve found from surface-level googling lol). 

Based on this, the idea of you taking a blade to your skin is insane to LoveSick!Knight. He didn’t understand why you’d ever do such things as you live in the finest conditions he can provide! You’re served the finest meals in the nation and are treated with the uttermost care. To him, those are the only things one could ever ask for, so this is one bitch of a situation you’ve put him in. It’s frankly annoying to him, but he loves you so he’ll sit you down and speak with you.

Scooping you up in his arms, he places you on his lap as he combs your hair back, looking at you with an unamused expression as he gently holds your arm/thigh (whatever you choose to harm). With the click of his tongue, he’ll pinch your cheek and scold you, asking you if you understand what you’ve just done, darling? You’ve gone and scarred your beautiful skin. So now, what shall we do, hmm? Want me to go and patch you up, yes?

Of course, you’ll just nod your head with teary eyes, having no idea how to respond to his softened demeanor. Honestly, you were expecting far harsher treatment, seeing as LoveSick!Knight has done far worse to you before, so this was much preferred for you.   The two of you will sit in silence as he bandages you up, and surprisingly, he’ll mark each scar with a kiss, looking up at you with loyalty. In sickness and in health, he swore to you that he’d always be by your side, even when you’re making silly decisions like this. In the past, he may have harmed you in such ways, but he refuses to see you do such to yourself. Even with his hardened exterior and violent tendencies, you are still his wife, and he your husband, so he’s stuck with you until he dies, whether you like it or not.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗣𝗼𝗲𝘁

Oh… Yeah, you thought he was scared of you before? Now, he’s avoiding you like the plague, absolutely terrified that he’s the one that caused you to harm yourself. LoveSick!Poet barely talks to you, and when he does, it comes out in stutters and flushed cheeks. He’s not the best when it comes to talking to girls, so he gets nervous, but you’ve always been so kind to him. However, the moment you open up to him about your self-harming, whether is present or past, he kind of freezes, not knowing what to do. Does he comfort you? Well, duh! But how do you comfort a girl? Does he hug you? No! You guys aren’t that close yet… A handshake? No, that’s awkward…

God! He doesn’t know what to do! And because of that, he disappears for a while, and you fall into your own pit of self-loathing, wondering if you overshared. I mean, he is just your neighbor, a weird one, but one that you see every morning, and one who leaves you little notes. You know that LoveSick!Poet is a sweet guy, and now you’re scared you ruined all that because you’ve told him something personal…

But all that ends when you find a little gift basket at your front door. Inside, there’s a letter, one that looks made out of very fine, very expensive-looking paper, and was written in fancy handwriting. You never knew his handwriting was so pretty. It was in purple ink, and there was a photo of the two of you, albeit a little awkward, attached to it. You forgot the exact occasion, but you think it was a neighborhood potluck? You’re not sure…

In the letter, LoveSick!Poet wrote a beautiful poem (obviously) about you, aimed toward your appearance, but also your personality. It had tiny details that you didn’t even notice of yourself! You were a little confused about how he even knew that, but you brushed it off as you felt your heart thump a little faster. It was very sweet, very genuine. And it was accompanied by a small bouquet of flowers, cheap(ish) perfume, and some chocolates. 

Although you would’ve really liked it if he’d said all these things to your face, as it would’ve saved you a week or two of anxious suffering, it was still sweet to know that he cared, even if it was in his own, weird way. Catching a small note on the bottom, you couldn’t help but feel warm, giggling at the note that wrote to please look at the bottom of the basket. I got you something I think you’d love ♡

And at the bottom, folded neatly was a portrait of you, smiling softly as you seemed to be looking somewhere else. There were pretty, lilacs framing the photo, and you looked otherworldly, if you don’t say so yourself. You have to admit, it was definitely an ego boost, knowing that this is how LoveSick!Poet saw you. But who knew he could draw?

[variousqueerthings]

rewatched the due south pilot again with someone new. gradually pspspspspspssss at everyone i know about this show.

but yeah, two scenes really stick out to me this time about ray in terms of core features in how i come at him:

the second time they meet: their first meeting did not go well, he thought fraser had ruined his case, he was generally quite done with Stuff (and later on of course we will learn more about why he's so run down), there's this stranger demanding his time, and oh- oops he's just insulted his dead father accidentally and, huh, this oddity of a person is taking it pretty well to be honest... the second time they meet is entirely on ray. he seeks fraser out having done research on the case, but first he apologises to him very sincerely for having said those words. that is the first, big thing that ray offers fraser (the next, of course, is giving over his entire life and soul to him, but i don't think he realised that in that moment...)

after he gets blown up and is lying in hospital: he apologises again, this time for screwing things up. we know by now that he had a bad relationship with his own five-years-dead father who never thought he was good enough, that he's struggling under his caseload at work, we've got a sense he isn't super respected there either, and although we've met his family which is actually very loving (if loud and argumentative) he's giving a sense of being pretty lost in the world at that point and nothing that happened before was his fault. he's been helping fraser, against his superior's wishes, done some good sleuthing/detective work, and saved fraser by putting himself in front of the explosion. and then he apologises

I feel like a lot of the time ray's thought about in terms of his abrasiveness with people generally, his shield against the world he's quick to assume the worst of people and doesn't let others in, but fraser neatly bypasses those walls. on purpose? by accident? bit of both? i think he does sincerely See more to ray in their first scene, the "like you, he is pretending to be someone he's not" line feels like it's talking about more than just ray having been undercover in the previous scene, and because he's fraser he never belittles or mocks or gets aggressive about ray's behaviours throughout their first meeting, which probably also draws him in on top of the need to Make Things Right

i think beneath some of the goofier stuff (which, honestly, i dont think theres thaaat much of, but id have to do a proper count and parallel how many times he's there as "comic relief" vs when fraser is, and also times where ray is shown to be extremely competent which is often -- maybe i'd wish for more dramatic episodes for him but that's more to do with how good marciano's acting is than a real disservice done to ray himself) and the more petulant/childish manifestations of insecurities (it's hard being friends with a Saint, as he puts it very fairly in my opinion, although i also think that line partially relates to some other stuff he'd said about Fraser Please Taking Better Care Of Himself throughout the whole season) there's this ray, and that core is quite obvious pretty much from the get-go

a ray who meets sincerity with sincerity and takes fraser in with honestly barely any prompting at all on fraser's part. a man who maybe was desperate for something/one to believe in, who isn't super macho about admitting fault, and then -- in the hospital scene -- a man who's so used to thinking of himself as a screw-up to the point that he'll apologise for getting blown up to save fraser

there's a lot ray gives fraser. for one thing, fraser would be dead multiple times over without him. but ray Needed him to appear in his life in order to get through the damn day. he saw some storybook larger-than-life weirdo and grabbed hold of him immediately and then realised that the rest of the world seemed to want to eat said weirdo alive and pretty much said over my dead body and he's done pretty well living up to that

did, though, very much appreciated fraser finally properly telling him in red white or blue how much he means to him and how valued he is, because ray doesn't always see it. (funnily enough, they had another bomb threatening to detonate at the time. almost a full circle)

two scenes in which ray says sorry, one in which he was right to do so and one in which he was wrong. there's more to it, but that's the... Thing im thinking about

[sillygoofyqueer]

I don’t know if you or any of your anons have said something like this before but what if Corvid King/Crow Deity thing Shen Yuan gets B-points whenever he’s prayed to, given offerings, etc?

First of all, it has been a W H I L E since I've seen a crowyuan ask in my inbox, you should have seen the WHIPLASH I got when reading this - I thought I'd gone back to Summer last year!!! And this isn't a bad thing, my brain immediately started ticking, thank you for sending this bad boy! I always love asks, especially ones like these. Now, *cracks knuckles then dies because I hate the sound* let's get back into my crowyuan mindset, ehhehehehehe!!! Honestly, this is such a good idea! Because it's like, Shen Yuan is getting these random offerings and prayers (and obviously he both accepts the offerings and helps out, he's going to be a good deity!!), and then he gets B-points for it?! I think this would almost throw him off, because the system's been pretty silent in the AU so far (from what I can remember), and then he's suddenly getting an influx in all these B-points, reminding him that he wasn't born in this world! You can have angst from that - y'know, imposter syndrome and all that - and/or you can also have Crowyuan going out of his way to gain more followers, for more B-points! This is great comedic potential because before he was just casually helping out whoever needed assistance while being a social devil who broke through literally all of the demons' different social rules because he didn't know them, and now he's actually going out of his way to help people? He's actively seeking out people to help out and gain as followers? That shit's hilarious. Imagine for a moment, that you're an NPC in a random village, a village that is kind of removed from the cultivation world as a whole, that has heard whispers of some sort of 'corvid deity' that helps out those in need. Now, you may believe it, you may think it's bullshit, but you know that it won't affect you because your village doesn't get involved with any of that!! You go about your normal day, right, helping out in the local village, and then out of nowhere, this demon with golden crow wings and golden eyes and feathers (or like feather scale type shit (think those feathered dragons as a reference of sorts)) dancing down his neck and cheeks and {insert other cool features here} is like "hi, friendly neighbourhood corvid deity, here! Y'all need any help around the village? Any beasts terrorising you, or curses befalling you, or....broken fences that need mending???" I think I'd devote myself right away, my bad for even doubting you Mr. Crow King sir!!!

[kayaani]

LOVE IS MORE THAN THAT (ft. Kazuha)

cw: sfw/fluff, possibly OOC, insecurities, Fem! reader, modern settings, flat chested reader.

wc: 3.2k words

۶ৎ Your room wasn't quiet today, it never was. The room of your favourite band could be heard in every corner of your little — but the cheapest you could afford —apartment.

You have always liked music, and for real, who doesn't? Music can bring you such strong emotions and express your feelings in the most poetic and metaphoric way, the rhythm could make you cry, dance, ease your mind...

You weren't even hearing the song that played from your CD player. It was a little habit of yours that you started the past month, putting music to drown the bad thoughts that invaded your mind, seeking for your tears. This time it didn't help, as you were looking at your own reflection in your bedroom's mirror, staring at the top you bought last week without thinking twice.

Why didn't you try it in the fitting room? You were so stupid, and it didn't matter how many times you re adjusted the fabric of the cloth, it would still look the same. Oh, yeah, because you were with your boyfriend that time, reassuring you that it would fit you perfectly and beautifully. But looking at it now, you regret believing in him so easily.

You took it off, you couldn't stand the feeling it brought to your chest looking how unfitting it looked on you, thinking you were not the kind of person that should buy it.

You returned to the comfort of your baggier clothes, the ones that used to divert attention from your torso. "It's better this way" you muttered to yourself, but couldn't shake completely the self-doubt you felt.

You could still hear the voices of your classmates in middle school. Some guys making jokes, other girls talking about "you're so lucky, I wish I could have a flatter chest" and others just being your own voices of your head comparing.

The bell rang, it was him, you looked one last time at the mirror to check how your hair looked, and then hurried to the door, opening it to reveal your sweet lover, Kazuha.

He took in your appearance and smiled at you with his calm and peaceful demeanor.

It didn't take long for him to, when you guys were watching something on the comfiness of your living room, bring up the subject of the top.

"I noticed I haven't seen you yet with the t-shirt. It wasn't to your liking, perhaps?" He asked you, sipping on his hot coffee you prepared together. Your hands instinctively tightened its grip on the mug. You didn't want to talk about it, not now, now any time soon. It was something terrifying, not your clothes, but what was under there.

"It's nothing like that, really" you were quick to reassure, smiling, or rather forcing your smile to him.

Of course he wouldn't fall into your trap, he was smart, too smart sometimes. A concerned frown formed on his gaze, his eyes were quick to look for any signs of discomfort, of sadness, something. You seemed tense, and that wasn't something that happened around him, when he was so caring and loving towards you.

"Is something bothering you? It's okay, you can tell me. You know I want nothing but the best for you"

That made your stomach flip. You knew him, you knew how genuine his words and actions were, the fact that he loved you and would never think of you as disgusting... But your insecure thoughts were faster than those reassuring ones. It was inevitable that one day he would see or notice the flatness of your chest, but how would he react? Would he be disappointed? Would his steady, soft gaze falter? If only you were born with more.

Kazuha brought you out of your trance with a single word, your name being called. You were quick to glance his way, he was a bit closer and he cautiously and gently put a hand on your shoulder to let you know it was okay and he was there for you. "I can see something is wrong tonight, please, don't be afraid of showing yourself"

"It doesn't matter, really" you tried to change the subject to something else

"It does if it upsets you" he said back

Sometimes it was irritating how caring he could be, how his words were laced with pure concern. You looked into his eyes, the shade of red looking back into your own. You hesitated, but finally expressed yourself.

"I'm afraid you'll feel disgusted or turn your back on me" she faintly explained.

Kazuha looked at you, the weight of your words in the air, but he didn't change his expression to one of pity, if anything, it just softened and looked at you in understanding. "How come? Why would I even think like that towards you?"

You sighed, it was time, wasn't it? And his words, his gaze, it just made it easier. You took off your hoodie, underneath was your top with that neckline that haunted you.

He didn't seem to understand, it was like you were showing him something only you could see. Little did you know, it was true. That your insecurity, your fear of the rejection, your hatred towards the size of your chest, was something only you could see, only you could ever feel bad about.

"I feel like a little girl" you murmured to yourself, then looked into his eyes in search of a reaction. You could only find pure love and admiration. "Aren't you... Disappointed? I know most men like girls with more than this..." You started to talk, but were cut off by him, your name in his lips.

"Is that what you were so worried about?" He asked you, his voice soft. "Why would you think that way? How could I feel disappointed when I love every single thing about you?" He continued, his hand lowered, looking for her hands to hold.

"Please, believe me when I say I don't care about that at all. I love you. I adore every aspect of you and something like this could never change my mind about it." He talked again, pouring his heart in his words and the genuine affection he felt.

Author note: this was a request I received 6 days ago (I know , I just didn't see it omg I feel so bad). I hope this is for your liking and this was what you expected. I really didn't know how to start and if her thoughts and worries were well-written as I don't suffer from that insecurity.

To whoever is reading this and relates or has similar insecurities as the main character (reader) of this one shot, I hope everything's going well, because believe it or not, it doesn't matter. Those are things we only see. Everyone has their own insecurities and are more fixated on them than yours to even look for them. People won't see you just for your appearance, true people will see beyond that, and it won't matter to them whether you have skinny legs, fatter legs, flat chest, big chest, nose hooked or nose straight, etc. Those things don't matter, those things make you you, you.

Also, I'm truly sorry if this feels rushed, OOC or not what you expected, I'm a bit busy with things but wanted to write something, and the request made me happy. Btw, if you guys have any requests feel free to tell me.

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

broski, you keep saying mike is unable to say i love you to his gf, but at the end he finally said it (9 times) so whats your point literally?

you are holding onto old crap, and beating a dead horse. He said he loves her multiple times, boys are generally hesitant in expressing their emotions (patriarchy asks them to be tough ,not open up and everything), but he overcame that by the end of the season

do you think mileven is gonna break up after how explicitly he told el he loves her???? el also loves mike very much, its just a fight she's upset about, but people can FORGIVE and move on from past misunderstandings you know? el is veryymuch in love with mike since season 1, she can forgive mike for his one mistake (he basically rectified it too at the end of the day)

y'all keep saying mike gets upset when will doesn't talk to him but at the end of season 4 mike is upset that el is not talking to him much because she's grieving

ahhhh this is so exciting!!! i feel like ive made it or smth!

sorry for my late response i was in my physics class 😔

now, we dont KNOW for SURE what mike truly feels. you dont know. i dont know. no one will ever know until s5 comes out. however i have my speculations and so do you. and thats okay!! we dont have to agree :3 your allowed to believe whatever you want in regards to mike and els relationship. it doesnt affect me at all.

however, sense you app care about what i have to say so much i will yapp somemore about what i think. you dont have to agree with me. in fact ik you wont. and thats okay, clearly you are insecure enough about your own opinion that you feel the need to go to the other side and argue with someone in their anons. bc if your opinions were solid and unshakable youd have your url showing. but i get it i really do :)

anywayssss. charecters can lie.

just like people can lie.

i was in a romantic relationship with someone for about a year. and throughout that time, i told them i loved them multiple times. did i? no. did i want to? yes. i wanted to be in love with them. they were very very important to me and when they asked me out, i thought to myself 'well i do really like this person. why not?'

i was not in love with this person. i did not have romantic feelings for them. but i convinced myself i did. in the end, one day we were sitting next to each other and it just hit me. i didnt want to be here anymore. i had met someone else and was developing a crush on them at the time. so i broke up with them.

all this to say, mike can lie. hes not a high fantasy elf. something i feel is a big disconnect between bylers and milevens is that milevens tend to read most things at face value. just bc you say you love someone doesnt mean you do.

as for the patriarchy comment, mikes story line has never had to do with being tough, or not being man enough. he repeatedly says that he doesnt want to be popular, he doesnt care about fitting in. ofc this can still be a factor but i doubt its a huge point of his character arc. if it was they would have made a point of adressing him struggling with it before this.

on your point about moving on from fights, your so right about that. i dont in the slightest think that elmike are going to be on BAD terms in endgame but i dont think they'll be on romantic terms. even if byler isnt canon, and mike is straight. i still believe that.

as for his mistake being rectified. girl what u yappin ab. no it wasnt. if it was why was el not talking to mike in the van on the way back to hawkins

mike says in the last episode that they werent really talking. a little bit but not much. you could say that el was greiving max. but el DIDNT KNOW max was in a coma. when they get back to hawkins, dustin has a line where he explicitly says

"oh you guys dont know" in refrence to max.

is el traumatized? definitely!!! but she doesnt know max is in a coma. and even if she did, why wouldnt el seek comfort in her bf if they had fixed everything???

as for your last point, yeah mike is upset about el not talking to him. duh. however lets compare.

when mike is mad at will for not paying attention to him at rink o mania he actively brings it up. he actively pursues will and expresses his frustration over will being dismissive. he is visably upset. on the other hand, in the last ep of s4, mike doesnt even bring up el until will does. he seems mildly annoyed and confused about the situation and makes no moves to pursue her or seek out resolution. he makes no moves to comfort her about max ever. he doesnt walk with her, he doesnt hug her. nothing. the only affection between then is when EL puts her head on mikes sholder. mike makes no moves to comfort her more but he doesnt push her away. this is also right after mike activly began walking sideways to be able to stand next to will when there was an open space for him to stand right next to el im front of him. odd.

also you do realize that someone can be upset at the prospect of two people that are important to them being upset at them

its not will or el

its never been will or el

this has always been about mike and how he handles conflict and shit.

anywayssss my hands r going to freeze off bc its like 19 F outside and i wrote this walking across campus

hope this helps 💙💛

[sreiumboost]

I think people are forgetting how amazing the first two hello neighbor games are

Hello neighbor one (although it had MANY glitches and bugs) was still a VERY good game for me. I loved the anticipation of it, from the alphas to the actual game. Reliving Nicky's trauma, from when he was a kid, to finally defeating it as an adult. Not too mention, those haunting cutscenes to do with Theodore! Usually lots of HN content shows Theodore as some psychopathic kidnapper/murderer, but in hello neighbor one, he's shown through who he really is. A truly broken, emotionally drained man who tries everything to keep his secrets hidden.

Hello neighbor hide and seek did such an amazing job at showing us the back story of the petersons. Diane's death literally caused Theodore to become depressed, and this led to Aaron being too harsh with Mya, causing him to accidentally kill her. It shows us that not only did Theodore suffer, everyone else around him did. It led Theodore to having no choice but to lock away his own son. It wasn't a punishment, it was for protection. He DIDN'T want too loose his son as well, and I don't think Aaron wanted to loose his dad either.

Nicky was naive, he thought he was uncovering the secrets, he thought he was the hero. But he wasn't. He just dragged himself involved into this tragic mess, caused by Theodore himself. Theodore was desperate to fix everything, he lost Diane, he lost Mya, he locked Aaron away, and now, he has to make sure Nicky won't go off and tell anyone about Aaron. Theodore didn't lock Nicky away to harm him, he locked him away because he couldn't take another risk.

And then Nicky escapes after a couple of weeks, and this (obviously) gives Nicky his trauma. And then, when Nicky is 32, he moves back to Raven Brooks and he FIGHTS the demons that has been haunting him for so long. He finally understands what had happened to the Petersons family. And more importantly, he had understood the reason why Theodore had done what he had done to Nicky.

Not only was the story well crafted, but the scenery and visuals to do with hello neighbor was unique in its own way. Hello neighbor hide and seek made this extremely clear, which is why I won't dive too much into it.

Also, to do with the glitches, most people think it "ruins" the game, but for me, it actually makes it better lol. I love messing around with the AI and the bugs, there's endless things you could do in these games, really. 7 whole years has done a crazy turn on me, AND I STILL KEEP FINDING NEW GLITCHES IN THE GAMES EVERY TIME I PLAY IT. It's not a perfect game, no game in existence is perfect. But hello neighbor and hello neighbor hide and seek are unique in its own way and it's outstanding for me

I personally love these two games the most, out of the whole entire... What? 13...14 games? I still definitely love the book series as well, and maybe a bit of secret neighbor. But hello neighbor and hello neighbor hide and seek are my favorite, and nothing can change that