#I don’t know why I never posted it but I’m doing it now

[aleksatia]

Possession, Obsession, Devotion: A Study in Five Men

Nope, I haven’t vanished. Super grateful for all your messages and the sweet support — seriously, thank you. Just swamped with work right now, so writing’s slowed down a bit. Still working on your requests, I promise! And I’m knee-deep in a pretty massive, emotionally wrecking angst based on a Songfic prompt. While that one’s cooking, I thought I’d drop another batch of my random writer notes — all bundled up in one chaotic little post.

CW/TW: Headcanons, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Toxic Romance, Red Flags Treated as Romance, Intimacy with Control Undertones, Emotional Manipulation (Mild), Dubious Coping Mechanisms, Intense Emotional Dependency, Suggestive Themes, Mild Sexual Content, Unhealthy Attachment Framed as Devotion Genre: Romance-Infused, Erotically-Charged Drabbles with a Generous Side of Fluff Words Count: 8.6K

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Caleb’s Obsessed With You

1. You call another man “handsome” — even as a joke. You were teasing. Flirting, in that harmless, breezy way of yours. Caleb laughed. Then immediately kissed you like he needed to reassert territorial dominance with tongue and body weight. Funny how your jokes always end with your back against the wall and his hand on your throat. Lovingly.

2. You go to someone else for help instead of him. You needed tech support. A charger. Help moving the couch. And instead of calling your six-foot-two, military-trained, emotionally unstable boyfriend — you asked Xavier. Caleb didn’t say anything. Just stood in the doorway, watching, calculating how long it would take to move the entire solar system to make sure you never do that again.

3. You don’t sit on his lap when there’s clearly space.You chose the chair. Next to him. Not on him. He’s not mad. No, no. He's just questioning the entire fabric of your connection and whether you’ve lost all sense of instinct. And when you finally realize and climb into his lap? He sighs like a man being restored to life.

4. You post a photo where you're not touching him.Nice shot. Great lighting. Cute outfit. But why is he two feet away and not glued to your side like a shadow with military clearance? His arm belongs around your waist. His hand belongs on your thigh. And your caption? Should’ve been his name, followed by a possessive noun.

5. You forget to wear his dog tags. He left them for you. Carefully. On your nightstand. The same tags he’s worn through hell. And you? Walked out the door wearing a cute sweater and nothing that says “belonging to Colonel Caleb.” He’ll never say a word. He’ll just strip you slow the second you get home and fasten them back around your neck himself. With teeth.

5 Lies Caleb Tells Himself About You

1. “I don’t care that she uses my toothbrush.”You could take a fresh one. You don’t. You reach for his, same as always — like that handle belongs to you more than to him. He mutters something about germs. Then watches you rinse with that smug little smile. And later, when you're asleep, he moves it back to your side of the sink. Right where you like it.

2. “She can wear whatever she wants.”And you do. His shirt. His flight jacket. That tiny black top you swear is “practical.” He acts unbothered. Says nothing. But the second someone else looks too long? He stands behind you. One hand on your waist. That casual kind of possessive that feels like a warning wrapped in warmth.

3. “I don’t need her to text me when she gets home.”You’re a grown woman. A Hunter. You’ve neutralized things with more teeth than common sense. You say “Don’t wait up.” He says “Sure.” Then checks his phone every ten minutes like it's a heartbeat monitor and he's waiting to hear yours again.

4. “It’s fine if she flirts. I know it’s harmless.”You’re charming. It’s part of who you are. You wink. Smile. Lean in a little too close. Caleb plays it cool. Says, “She’s always like that.” Then grabs your waist in front of everyone and whispers: “Try that again, and I���ll fuck you so hard next time you won’t remember anyone else’s name.”

5. “She doesn’t need to say she loves me every day.”You say it once. In passing. A low little “love you” as you walk away, like it’s nothing. But he hears it like an oath. And that night? He holds your hand a little tighter. Pulls your body a little closer. Not because he needs to hear it again. But because if he doesn’t touch you, he might forget how to breathe.

5 Things That Make Him Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. Your hair falls in his face. Leaning over him. Stretching across the couch. Just close enough that it brushes his cheek like it has rights. You don’t even notice. But he does. Every time. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just breathes in and lets the world narrow to that one soft, smug part of you.

2. You chew on your thumb when you’re thinking. Not seductively. Not even consciously. Just a tiny bite to the edge of your nail while you’re mid-rant about your latest recon or trying to remember the name of a street vendor. It’s nothing. Stupid. Barely a gesture. And yet — he stares. Tracks it like a countdown. Fists flexing slow. Jaw tight. Because that mouth should never look that innocent.

3. You interrupt him when he’s cooking. He’s focused. Knife in hand. Half-distracted by heat and oil. And then you slide in behind him. Touch his lower back. Squeeze something you shouldn’t. Say “Smells good, chef,” with a grin that makes his whole spine forget how to hold. He curses. Tries to shoo you off. You lick something off his finger. And now dinner’s going to burn.

4. You try on his Fleet cap like it’s a joke. You lift it off the rack. Set it crooked on your head. Salute with two fingers and that smile that once made him fall off a training tower. “Colonel,” you say. And he’s gone. He should laugh. He doesn’t. He walks over, takes it off you slow, and kisses your temple like he’s reassigning you to a very different kind of mission.

5. You say “I’m yours”. Not in bed. Not in public. Just… casually. In passing. In that low voice you only use when something’s real. “I’m yours.”He looks at you like you just disarmed a bomb with your bare hands. And then he ruins you for saying it so lightly.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You’re the only one allowed to fly with him in his military jet.Clearance denied. Protocol says no. Regulations triple-confirm it. And yet — you’re in the co-pilot seat, boots up, fingers tracing buttons you’re not supposed to touch. He doesn’t stop you. Someone once asked why you get to ride with him when no one else does. He looked up from the cockpit and said, “She’s my gravity.” End of discussion.

2. You only need to place your hand on his to calm him down.No words. No pleading. No strategic de-escalation. Just your fingers, settling lightly over his, when something in him starts to coil too tight. And just like that — his spine eases. The heat in his eyes lowers by a degree. People have seen him end arguments with three words. They’ve never seen him go silent for anyone but you.

3. You’re the only person he’ll interrupt a briefing for.He’s mid-sentence. Room full of officers. Tactical projections glowing on the wall. His phone buzzes. He glances down, sees your name — and pauses. “Give me five,” he says. And walks out without waiting for permission. Someone once asked who it was.  He said, “The only priority higher than this fleet.”  No one asked again.

4. You walk in on his arm at the Farspace Fleet annual gala.He’s in dress whites. You’re in black. And the room — full of admirals, envoys, diplomats — parts like mist when you enter. He doesn’t introduce you. He doesn’t need to. You’re not just his date. You’re the one who makes him dangerous in silence. And everyone knows it.

5. You don’t need words to communicate.One glance. A tilt of your head. A tiny shift in posture across the room. He’s already moving. Already reading you like mission data. To others, it looks like magic. Intuition. Maybe telepathy. But for you two?  It’s just muscle memory — built from years of almosts, nevers, and finallys.

5 Times Caleb Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He pulled the full personnel file on a man you once smiled at.You were being polite. Friendly. The guy asked something harmless, you laughed. By morning, Caleb had his record open on a secure datapad, scrolling like he wasn’t reading a life — just calculating the risk factor. You asked what he was doing. He said, “I like knowing who wants what’s mine.” And then kissed you like he hoped you never asked him to stop.

2. He showed up at your door at 02:03 AM. Soaking wet. Furious. Silent.You missed one message. One. He waited. Thirty minutes. An hour. And then something in him snapped. No threats. No drama. Just the sound of his knock like a warning shot. You opened the door. He didn’t speak. Just stared. And then pulled you in with a grip like survival wasn’t optional anymore.

3. He scared the hell out of a junior pilot for asking your name.The kid was fresh. Eager. Smiled a little too long. Said, “Hey, what should I call you?” You started to answer. Then turned — and saw Caleb across the room. Expression calm. Stance neutral. Eyes loaded. The pilot apologized before you even said a word.

4. He slammed his hand on the table when you joked about breaking up.Just a joke. A throwaway line. Something stupid like “Guess I’ll go find someone less intense.” And his hand hit the surface before the words fully left your mouth. Not loud. Not violent. Just final. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. Just looked at you like you’d put a knife in his ribs and smiled about it. You never made that joke again.

5. He called you “dangerous” — and meant it like a vow.It was late. You were arguing. You said something sharp. He caught your wrist and said it low, almost reverent: “You’re dangerous.” But not like an accusation. Like awe. Like worship. Like he’d already decided to stay, even if you wrecked him completely. Even if he’d have to protect the world from you. Or protect you from himself.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Zayne’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone else bandaged your scratch. Just a graze. A stupid piece of shrapnel across your forearm. A colleague wrapped it up. No big deal. You came home smiling. Told him it barely hurt. He nodded. Quiet. Then excused himself to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with antiseptic, clean gauze, and the words: “Take it off. I’m doing it properly.”  You didn’t argue. Neither did he. 2. Someone at work lent you their umbrella. A man. It was raining. You forgot yours. He offered. You accepted.  Zayne didn’t say a thing when you mentioned it over dinner. Just hummed. Neutral. The next morning, you found a new umbrella in your bag. Carbon fiber. Windproof. Labeled discreetly with your initials. You didn’t ask how he knew the exact weight your bag could carry without straining your shoulder. 3. You asked the waiter to recommend a wine. It was harmless. Polite. You were curious. But Zayne was sitting right there. He didn’t blink. Just looked at the waiter, then at you. Then took the list back. “Actually,” he said, calm as glass, “she prefers reds with less acidity. I’ll order.” You nodded. The waiter nodded. And somewhere between the clink of glasses, you realized that wasn't about wine at all. 4. You didn’t invite him to your morning training. He’d had a night shift. Surgery ran late. You wanted him to rest. So you left quietly. He woke up to an empty bed, your gym bag missing, and a silence that felt like a closed door. You came back to find his routine disrupted, his pulse still too fast — and a protein shake mixed just how you like it, chilled and waiting on the table. He never mentioned it. But now, if you decide to “let him rest” again… your training starts later. And doesn’t involve clothes. 5. You called another man “smart.” It was a game show. Trivia night. Some stranger on-screen made a clever move. You smiled. “Wow. That was actually really smart.” Zayne didn’t look up from his tablet. Didn’t even shift. But ten minutes later, you found yourself in a very precise debate about probability, strategy, and why that move wasn’t that brilliant after all. You didn’t argue. You just leaned closer. He didn’t smirk, but you felt it anyway.

5 Lies Zayne Tells Himself About You

1. "I’m just your cardiologist during exams." It’s clinical. Professional. Necessary. He listens to your heartbeat, takes your vitals, asks you to breathe deeper — deeper. You unbutton your shirt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t feel anything. Except for the part where he adjusts his gloves a little too tightly. And maybe takes one extra second to remove the stethoscope from your skin. 2. "Lunch tastes the same without you." He orders the same thing. Same café. Same tea. But the pastry tastes off. The space feels louder. The table — emptier. He tells himself it’s fine. Then brings the leftovers back to his office. Doesn’t touch them. Just leaves the box where your hand might find it later. 3. "I don’t need to pick you up." It’s logical. You’re a professional. Your job runs over sometimes. So does his. But your message was short. The streetlights are on. The buses are unreliable.  He checks traffic cams. Weather. Public transit delays. Then sits very still, staring at his phone, wondering how to offer you a ride without making it sound like panic. 4. "I’m not checking. I’m sleeping." You once left while he was asleep. You thought it was kinder. Quieter. Now he says he “needed water” or “had a dream.” But every night, at 3 AM, his hand reaches. Just to feel your back. Your wrist. The smallest proof that you haven’t disappeared again. 5. "Short skirts are inefficient." He says they’re impractical. Not suited for cold weather. Definitely not for terrain with hostile wanderer activity. You raise a brow. He adds, “You’re not seventeen. Dress like it.” But the second no one’s watching, his hand is already sliding up your thigh under the table. And when you raise a brow at him, he just says, flat: “Checking for circulation.” You’re not fooled. He’s already failed the mission.

5 Things That Make Zayne Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You straighten his tie. You’re not thinking about it. Just reaching out, adjusting the knot, smoothing the line down his chest like it’s second nature. He stays still. Breath held. Eyes on your face. You step back. He doesn’t. Because now all he can think about is using that same tie to bind your wrists to the chair in his office — and how many minutes he can steal between appointments without compromising your breathing. 2. You dip your finger into the frosting of his pastry. You don’t ask. Just lean in, collect a bit of cream with your fingertip — and taste it. Oblivious. Innocent. Distracted by something else. He watches. Silently. And now the fork in his hand feels criminally unnecessary, because his mouth is dry, his mind’s gone blank, and he’s halfway to pulling you into his lap just to return the favor — with interest. 3. You take off your bra without removing your shirt. It’s casual. Automatic. You’re talking about your day, laughing, and then — One arm out. Then the other. The strap slides through the sleeve and vanishes into your laundry bag like it never existed. His brain glitches. His hands twitch. And he will absolutely spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen while picturing every technical step of reversing that maneuver with his teeth. 4. You imitate him. Badly. You’re wearing his lab coat. His glasses. Sitting at his desk, brows drawn, lips pressed tight. Your impression is awful. He should be annoyed. But instead — he watches. Sharp. Quiet. And when you finally laugh and start to take it off, he gets up. Takes the coat from your shoulders himself. And tells you, too evenly, “You forgot the gloves.” 5. You trace lazy shapes on his wrist while talking about something unrelated. You’re saying something about your neighbor’s cat. Something trivial. But your fingers are moving in a slow, absent pattern across his skin. And Zayne — who has operated on live hearts under pressure, who has held lives in one hand and death in the other — is currently struggling not to grab your wrist and drag you onto the desk. Because apparently, nothing in this galaxy has the precision impact of your fingertip.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You have a keycard to his office.Not a guest pass. Not a shared access code. A permanent, personalized, high-level card to a room most staff can’t even knock on without permission. You walked in one day mid-shift, casual, spinning the card between your fingers like it was a hairpin. Three nurses saw. One dropped her tablet. Rumors started before you even closed the door. Zayne didn’t correct them.

2. When he received a prestigious award, the first person he thanked was you.Best cardiothoracic surgeon of the year. Cameras flashing. Applause rising. Everyone expected a speech about innovation and responsibility. Instead, he said: “I’d like to thank the one person who keeps me alive enough to do this work. My partner. My favorite interruption.”Then he looked straight at you. The auditorium melted.

3. You’re both dressed like weapons. And everyone notices.He wears tailored coats, precision-cut collars, charcoal palettes like a tactical signature.You? Heels like blades. A suit that redefines “combat-ready.” And when you walk together — sharp, silent, side by side — people stop talking. Someone once tried to photograph you. The headline read: Unknown dignitaries arrive. Security does not comment.

4. You don’t argue. You duet.Someone crossed a line. Loud, drunk, smug. Zayne responded first — clean, cold, just one sentence long. The man blinked. Started to retort. You finished it for him. Elegant, sharp, no profanity required. He left. Fast. And you turned back to Zayne like nothing happened — while everyone else tried to recover from what could only be described as a linguistic orgasm.

5. He opens doors, buttons coats, and moves chairs like it’s instinct.Not performative. Not flashy. Just… precise. He adjusts your sleeve without thinking. Helps you into the car like it’s always been his hand. You barely register it. But the woman across the street? The one who saw it all from behind her coffee cup? She’s still texting her group chat about “the man in the long coat and the woman who ruined my standards.”

5 Times Zayne Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He gets live data from your heart monitor.Your Hunter’s Watch sends updates to the cloud. Zayne rerouted the feed to his private tablet. “Just in case,” he said. Now he knows when your pulse spikes. When you’re injured. When you don’t sleep. You never gave him access. You never had to. The first time he called mid-mission to say “slow your breathing” — you realized he wasn’t tracking. He was watching over.

2. He absolutely hates when you drive. Always.You're capable. Fast. Efficient. And yet — every time you take the wheel, something in him shuts down. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t protest. Just goes silent. And stares at the road like it personally offended him. He says, “It’s fine.” But he holds the dashboard too tightly for that to be true.

3. He freezes every time you say “I can handle it.”You mean well. You’re strong. You are capable. But when you brush him off with a casual “I’ve got this,” he doesn’t nod. Doesn’t smile. He just stops. Eyes unreadable. Hands still. And when you come back later — even fine — there’s already a backup plan on your datapad. Three versions. In color.

4. He never replies to emotional messages right away.You send: “I miss you. A lot.” His read receipt appears. Then… nothing. For two hours. And just when you start to spiral — he sends a photo. Of your favorite pastry. Waiting on his table. With one word: “Soon.” You hate how well it works. 

5. He spoke to the man flirting with you like he was reviewing his autopsy.It was harmless. A drink. A joke. A compliment. You laughed. Zayne didn’t. He stepped in, shook the man’s hand, and said: "Tell me, has anyone ever checked your prefrontal lobe for impulse control irregularities?"The man left. Quickly. You rolled your eyes. Zayne didn’t apologize. He just took your hand. And changed the subject. Completely calm. Fully satisfied.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Rafayel’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone comments “🔥” under your photo — and you like it.He sees it. Of course he does. He sees everything. You think it’s harmless. He thinks it’s appalling that someone dared mark your beauty with an emoji better suited to grilled meat. He says nothing. But that night, you get a charcoal sketch of yourself in your favorite pose, signed with a tiny flame in the corner. When you ask about it, he hums. “Oh, just honoring your admirers’ creative input.”

2. You linger too long in front of another artist’s painting.Not just glance. Linger. Eyes soft. Head tilted. That thoughtful little breath you take when something moves you. He stands beside you, perfectly still. Smiling. Then leans in and whispers, “Cutie, if you start weeping, I may need to challenge the gallery owner to a duel.” You're not sure if he’s joking. You’re also not sure you want him to be.

3. You talk about a beautiful place you visited… without him.You’re glowing. Describing the light, the air, the view. He listens, nods, even asks questions. Then: “And did the sun taste the same without me there?” You pause. He smiles, all charm and cheekbones. “I’m just wondering how it dared rise, knowing we weren’t together.”

4. You send him a photo — and there’s someone else’s hand in the frame.You didn’t notice it. He did. He stares at the image like it’s a crime scene. Zooms in. Later, he replies: “Beautiful composition. Fascinating use of background tension. Would love to discuss the symbolism of that wrist — whose is it?” You laugh. He doesn’t.

5. You say some actor is “exactly your type.”He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just goes very still, then casually asks, “Before or after makeup?” Later, you find your datapad background changed. It’s him. In perfect lighting. Shirt unbuttoned just so. The caption reads: “Still unsure who your type is? Look into my eyes. You’ll remember.”

5 Lies Rafayel Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t paint you. It’s just resemblance.”He insists it’s a study of emotion. A symbol. A face from memory. But the tilt of the head, the mouth, the birthmark near the collarbone — they’re all yours. You ask, teasing: “Is that me?” He blinks. Smiles slowly. “Cutie,” he says, “I wouldn’t paint you without permission.” And then changes the subject. Very deliberately.

2. “I don't reread your old messages.”He’s far too elegant for that. Far too composed. Except on quiet nights. On long flights. In museums where the silence scratches at his skin. Then he opens the archive. Just for the rhythm of your words. The accidental poetry. The way you once wrote “come home soon” like it meant more than time and place. He says it’s for “emotional reference.” He lies beautifully.

3. “I don't watch your mouth when you talk.”He’s an artist. A visual thinker. Of course he looks at faces. But not like that. Not at yours. Not like he’s memorizing the shape of every syllable just to feel them later against his throat. Not like he’s fantasizing mid-conversation about shutting you up with his tongue and tasting the sentence off your lips. No. Never. He’s listening.

4. “I haven’t memorized your scent through every season.”He claims not to notice. But he knows the spring version of you — soft rain, citrus skin, the aftershock of lilac. He knows the winter version — leather gloves, cinnamon breath, quiet wool. He doesn’t name them. Doesn’t chase the memory. But when you walk past — his eyes close. Briefly. Automatically. Like he’s gathering air before going under.

5. “I don't imagine your name with mine.”He’s not that romantic. Puh-lease. Marriage is a construct, surnames are politics, and love is beyond paperwork. He says all that with a flourish. And yet — there’s a notebook. Tucked under his mattress. Full of signatures. Yours. His. Just to see how it would look. Just in case.

5 Things That Make Rafayel Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. When you eat something juicy. Fruit. Fingers. With zero awareness.You bite into it slowly, distracted. Something sweet. Ripe. Juice glides over your lower lip, and your tongue follows without thinking. He watches, motionless. Not breathing. Not blinking. You glance at him. He tilts his head. Smiles. Says lightly: "That peach is about to become my personal enemy." You laugh. He doesn’t. He’s too busy wondering how it’s possible to be jealous of the fruit.

2. When you kiss his hand instead of his mouth. He leans in, expecting lips. Contact. Heat. And instead — you take his hand. Press a kiss into his palm. Soft. Deliberate. His breath catches. His throat tightens. Because that wasn’t affection. That was submission. And now he’s wondering just how far you’d let him take it. 3. When you tease him with your voice. Not the words. The tone. The whisper. You say his name like silk sliding over glass. You ask “You think so?” like it means “prove it.” You laugh — not loudly, but just enough to make his chest hurt. He could diagram it, break it into sound waves, prove the seduction in math. But instead, he just steps closer. And says, low: "Say that again. Slower." 4. When you sit on the floor, barefoot, flipping through his sketches — looking like you belong there. You’re humming something. Knees tucked up. No shoes. No guard. You tilt your head, study a piece, murmur: “I like this one.” He doesn’t even remember drawing it. He just remembers the way your hair spills over your shoulder and how the studio feels suddenly too small for how much he wants you. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He just watches like a starving thing. Memorizing the moment in case he dies of it later. 5. When you say “more.” In any context. “More sugar.” “More time.” “More.” That’s all it takes. One syllable. One open door. You never mean it the way he hears it — but he takes it as a promise. Like permission. Like a match tossed onto something already too dry to survive. And the next time he touches you? He makes damn sure you say it again.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. He painted a self-portrait — with you reflected in his pupils. Not your full form. Not a shared composition. Just his face. Direct gaze. And in both eyes: you. Looking at him. Always. When the painting debuted in the gallery’s main hall, critics called it “a study in obsession.” He called it accurate. 2. In an interview, he said you’re the only one who gets his sketches. The host asked who his work goes to first — gallery, agent, press. He smiled lazily and answered, “Her.” The room stilled. “The raw ones. The incomplete. The brutal drafts no one else deserves to see.” He didn’t say your name. He didn’t have to. The moment he said it, you were already trending. 3. He delayed his own exhibition opening because you weren’t there yet. The venue was full. Lights ready. Guests murmuring. But he stood at the entrance, fingers laced behind his back, perfectly calm. “She’s on the way,” he said. “She had a prior engagement.” No one questioned him. Later, when you finally arrived — graceful, composed, in a deep sapphire gown that matched the evening — only he noticed the tiny scratch on your knuckle. The faintest shadow of something darker, just beneath the perfume. You smiled. He took your hand. And the doors opened like they’d been waiting for you all along. 4. Someone flirted with him. He looked at you. Then said: “I’m already spoken for. Permanently.” It was charming. Playful. Someone touched his wrist, laughed softly, leaned a little too close. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t react. Just turned his head toward you. Found your eyes. Then said it — quietly, cleanly, like a closing signature on a finished masterpiece. 5. At a charity auction, he sold a painting titled: “Painted Between Her Breathing and Mine.” The crowd didn’t know what to do with that. Some laughed nervously. Some applauded. The bidding started high and ended astronomical. But as the winning guest walked past you, holding the canvas with reverent hands — he still glanced back. At you. As if to say: That canvas holds the image. But I keep the original.

5 Times Rafayel Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He can disappear for three days and return with, “I just needed to stop being jealous.” No warning. No calls. Just silence, like he fell off the planet. You panic. Rage. Rehearse five speeches. And then he walks in — composed, scented like night air and oil paint. “Sorry,” he says softly. “I was being irrational. Had to… recalibrate.” You want to scream. Instead, you breathe him in like he’s home. 2. He destroyed the career of a critic who called your photo “poorly lit.” It wasn’t even a real insult. Just a throwaway line in a blog. But Raf read it. Once. And within a week, that critic was blacklisted from three galleries, publicly corrected by five curators, and accidentally misquoted in a viral controversy. You found out much later. He just looked at you and said, “No one calls shadow a flaw when it falls across you.” 3. He faked an illness so you wouldn’t leave for a mission. Nothing dramatic. Just a cough. A warm forehead. You hesitated. Postponed. Stayed. The next morning, he was radiant. Healthy. Annoyingly smug. You narrowed your eyes. He only shrugged, kissed your wrist, and whispered, “I needed one more night. Forgive the performance.” You did. Of course you did. The guilt felt almost like foreplay. 4. He left your clothes wet in the wash so you’d wear his shirt instead. Accident, he claimed. Timing. Cycles. But somehow, your entire outfit was still in the machine — cold, damp, and useless — while his favorite linen shirt lay folded neatly on the bed. You put it on. He watched you button it. And smiled like he'd won a silent war no one else even knew was happening. 5. He reads your messages without asking. Calmly. You know it. He knows you know. He doesn’t deny it. Just traces your jaw one evening and says, “You don’t hide anything from me. That’s why it doesn’t count as intrusion.” And the worst part? He’s right. You stopped hiding a long time ago.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Xavier’s Obsessed With You

1. You nap on the wrong side of the bed.You nap on the wrong side of the bed. Not wrong, exactly. Just… not his. You’re curled up in the late-afternoon light, peaceful, quiet, unaware. He doesn’t wake you. Doesn’t move you. But when you stir, there’s a weight in the silence. His side of the bed is untouched. Pillow perfectly aligned. No warmth. No scent. And your blanket — tucked just a little tighter — like a quiet reminder that even when you’re here, something’s missing. Something he’s not sure how to ask for without sounding ridiculous. Like: your perfume. On his pillow. Where it should be.

2. You tell him about a dream. Someone else was in it.You describe it absently. A mission. A flash of danger. And a man — not him — at your side. He listens. Nods. Doesn’t blink. But that night, when he kisses you, his hand stays on the back of your neck longer than usual. And his mouth says I want you, but his grip says: you don’t forget me, even in sleep.

3. You keep something old, worn, unnamed.A keychain. A patch. A folded slip of paper. Nothing dramatic. But it’s always near. He asks, once: “What is that?” You smile. “Just something from a long time ago.” He nods. Never brings it up again. But two days later, he leaves something else beside it. Not to replace. Just to match the weight.

4. You let the barista choose your drink instead of him.You smiled. Said “sure, why not.” Took the new coffee without hesitation. He was beside you. Holding your usual. You didn’t notice. But when you left the café, his own drink sat untouched. And he walked a little faster. A little quieter. As if recalibrating the fact that maybe someone else knows your taste. Even if it’s just in coffee.

5. You close your laptop too fast when he walks in.“Just a movie,” you say. Too quickly. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t tilt his head. Just nods and sets his gloves on the table like he didn’t notice the flicker in your tone. Later, while checking your tabs, he sees the paused frame — teeth on skin, hands holding wrists, someone begging. Silently. His breath doesn’t change. His expression stays neutral. But when he finds you, hours later, he doesn’t speak. Just pins your arms above your head and kisses you until you can’t remember what the scene looked like — only what it felt like when it became real.

5 Lies Xavier Tells Himself About You

1. “I’m not jealous of whoever taught you how to fight like that.”He knows it doesn’t matter. It’s skill. It’s history. Efficiency passed from one warrior to another. He tells himself it’s irrelevant. But when he watches you move — precise, lethal, beautiful — something coils in his chest. Not because of the technique. But because someone else saw you become this version of yourself. And he didn’t.

2. “It’s logical to sleep apart sometimes.” You need rest. Space. Post-mission decompression. He understands. It’s healthy. Statistically sound. But the first night you say “I’ll sleep in my own apartment,” the bed feels wrong. His internal balance off by degrees he can’t quantify. He tells himself it’s fine. Then stares at the ceiling for hours, heart syncing to a rhythm that isn’t there.

3. “It doesn’t bother me when you keep things to yourself.” You’re independent. He respects that. Boundaries are natural. But you say “I’m fine” with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, and he catalogs ten micro-expressions that say otherwise. Still, he nods. Doesn’t push. Then replays your words in his head for the next three days, trying to solve you like a puzzle that refuses to open.

4. "I could walk away, if it ever came to that." He tells himself he’s rational. Detached. If you chose something else — someone else — he would adapt. But deep down, he knows: he’s already memorized your weight in his arms, the way your name fits inside his silence. If it ever came to leaving… he wouldn’t walk. He’d stay exactly where you left him. Quiet. Waiting. Ruined.

5. "You wouldn’t lie to protect me. Would you?" You say “it was nothing,” “I’m just tired,” “I handled it.” And he accepts it. On the surface. But his mind starts building alternate versions. Safer ones. Worse ones. Ones where you bled and said nothing. He tells himself you’d never hide real danger. But he still checks your vitals in the logs. Every time.

5 Things That Make Xavier Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You walk in wearing a bright yellow duck kigurumi.  Absurd. Fuzzy. Zipped up wrong. You yawn, mumble something about tea, and pad across the room like comfort incarnate. He looks up. Blinks once. And forgets what he was doing. The beak hood. The bare ankles. The way you scratch your neck, half-asleep. None of it should be seductive. But now he can’t look away. His gaze tracks you like threat assessment — only it's not danger he’s calculating. It’s proximity. Access. How long he can pretend he's unaffected… before you end up against the wall. Still wearing the duck. For now.

2. You adjust the chest plate of his armor.  No rush. Just fingertips over matte metal, sliding a buckle, pressing a clasp. Your hands linger longer than they need to. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. But he does. He’s counting your seconds, your pressure, the exact placement of your thumb. If anyone asks why his next shot missed the center by half an inch, it’s because you touched him like a secret no one else was allowed to see. 3. You peel off your combat gloves with your teeth.  It’s efficient. Quick. Practical. But the way your mouth closes around the strap and your fingers flex once, twice, before they’re bare — He’s staring before he knows he is. Processing nothing but the curve of your jaw and the memory of that same mouth around his length. The second glove doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does he, honestly. 4. You wear a thin black choker.  No explanation. No warning. It’s not part of your gear. Has no field utility. But it’s there, snug against your throat like a promise no one else knows about. He sees it once and looks away. Sees it again and swallows too hard. The third time, he doesn’t look at all — he just shifts in his seat like everything in his world needs immediate recalibration. 5. You say “later” when he leans in.  Just a little. Enough to feel the pull. And you smile, soft, apologetic, not teasing — just... not now. He nods, like he understands. He always does. But from that second forward, every calculation, every breath, every cell in his body becomes attuned to the moment you say now. And when you finally do — he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He just takes, like patience was never part of the equation to begin with.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You moved in perfect sync — without saying a single word. In the training hall, you didn’t say a word — but moved like a mirrored code. You shifted, he adjusted. You reached, he passed. No signals, no commands. Just two bodies in absolute sync. Someone watching whispered, “Do they rehearse this?” Someone else muttered, “No. That’s just them.” And suddenly, no one wanted to spar with either of you. 2. Someone called him “too quiet.” You didn’t let it slide. It was a throwaway comment —“He’s so silent, it’s weird.” You didn’t even look up from your drink. “Then you’ve never heard him breathe next to you.” The room went still. Xavier didn’t react. But you felt it — how he went still too, the way his attention locked fully on you. As if your words changed the temperature. 3. He braided your hair for three weeks while your wrist healed. At your desk. Between reports. No comments. No hesitation. Just practiced hands and quiet efficiency, like it belonged in the schedule. And maybe it wasn’t romantic. Or loud. But after that, no one ever looked at you the same way — because somehow, without trying, the two of you had redefined what closeness looked like. 4. You didn’t ask for his jacket. You didn’t have to. A shift in the wind. Goosebumps on your arms. No complaint, no drama. He just stepped behind you, slid his cardigan onto your shoulders like it belonged there, and said nothing. The couple walking by paused. Stared. You didn’t. You were already reaching for his hand. 5. There’s a photo of you on his desk.  Just you, caught mid-laugh, in natural light. Among tactical reports and encrypted drives. He never explains it. Never acknowledges it. But everyone who enters that room sees it. And no one ever asks if he's serious about you. They already know.

5 Times Xavier Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He monitors your meals like it’s a clinical trial. “You didn’t eat enough protein today.” “That pastry had no nutritional value.” “Are you hydrating?” He says it softly. Calmly. Like a doctor. Like someone who cares. And yet — you’ve seen him survive three days on black coffee and whatever snack bar was closest to his hand. You mention this once. He pauses. Then says, “That’s different. I’m used to operating under stress. You’re not.” End of discussion.

2. He didn’t argue. He made the argument disappear. You disagreed about something small. Nothing dramatic. Just opposing views. He didn’t push back. Just nodded, quiet. Said, “If that’s what you think.” Later, you realized the entire issue — schedule, person, condition — was gone. Resolved. Removed. Replaced. No apology. No discussion. Just silence... and a solution that left you with nothing to win.

3. He never asked where you’d been.Not once. Not even after you were late. Not even when your message came hours too late. He didn’t accuse. Didn’t guess. He already knew. Tracked your path, logged your signal drift, checked your pulse history. All without a word. And still held the door open when you arrived.

4. He always calls via video when you’re in another city.He never misses a day. Never just texts. Always video. He says he likes seeing your face. That it “grounds him.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe. But every time the screen lights up, you notice how carefully his eyes scan the room behind you. How his voice sounds different if there’s movement. How he never quite hangs up until you say, “I’m alone. It’s quiet here.” Only then does he relax. A little. Maybe.

5. You told him, “Sometimes, you scare me.” He said, “Good.”It slipped out. Low. Uncertain. Not a joke, not an accusation — just the truth. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t soften. Just met your eyes and said, calm as ever, “Good. Then you’ll stay alert.” And for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was warning you… or protecting you from something only he could see coming.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Sylus’s Obsessed With You

1. You didn’t tag him. He made sure the world knew anyway.You posted a photo. Cute. Stylish. Perfect lighting. But no mention of him. No tag. No trace. He reposted it within minutes. Same photo. New caption: “Correction: mine.” It got five times the reach. And suddenly, everyone knew better.

2. Someone else made you laugh. Sylus didn’t.The waiter was charming. A little too witty. You laughed — loud, unfiltered. Sylus just raised a brow, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man $2000. “For your last night in customer service,” he said. He smiled. You choked on your wine. The waiter never came back.

3. You called some man a friend. Sylus ran a background check.“He’s just a friend,” you said. Lightly. Barely thinking. Sylus smiled. Tilted his head. “I’m just a man with access to his tax history.”And that was the end of that conversation.

4. You said another man had a nice voice. Sylus gave you no air.It was innocent. Harmless. “His voice is kind of nice.”  Sylus said nothing. Just waited. That night, he read you poetry in three languages, one line at a time — mouth against your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs — until you begged him to stop. Not because you wanted him to. Because you physically couldn’t take more.

5. You forgot to wear his ring. He didn’t forget anything.It wasn’t intentional. You were rushing. Distracted. But he noticed. Of course he did. He said nothing all day. Then, that night — when you were breathless, undone, on your knees — he took your hand, kissed your finger, and slid the ring back into place. Slowly. Deliberately. Like sealing a deal you forgot you signed.

5 Lies Sylus Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t pick your outfit to match mine. Must’ve been the stylist.”It was just coincidence. That your lipstick matched his cufflinks. That your dress followed the same line as his collarbones. That when you walked in together, people paused — like royalty had arrived. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at you once. And didn’t look away for the rest of the night.

2. “I’m not furious that I wasn’t your first.”He says it doesn’t matter. Shrugs. “I’m not a teenager.” And yet, the thought of someone else touching you before him? It coils in his chest like smoke that won’t clear. He tells himself you chose him now — and that’s what counts. But the next time you moan his name, he fucks you hard enough to make sure no one else’s ever mattered.

3. “I don’t answer your messages instantly. I’m just always holding the phone.”He just… saw it. Right away. Just happened to be holding his phone. Just happened to pause mid-meeting, mid-deal, mid-war — to write: “Be safe.” You tease him for how fast he replies. He teases back. And never mentions the part where your name makes him drop everything.

4. “I’m not obsessed with the way you say my name when you’re annoyed.”You do it without thinking. That exact tone. That breath. That syllable dipped in heat. He rolls his eyes. Says, “What now, kitten?” But every time it happens — he shifts closer. Hears it again later in his head. And stores it next to the version you whisper when you want him most.

5. “I wouldn’t beg. If it came to that. …But only for you. And only once.”He’s not that man. He doesn’t plead. Doesn’t bend. But when he thinks of you leaving — really leaving — something dark and fragile coils behind his ribs. He tells himself he’d let you go. That he wouldn’t chase. But even in the lie… he’s already halfway down the hallway.

5 Things That Make Sylus Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You ask him to zip your dress. Then don’t wear anything underneath. It’s casual. Innocent. “Help me?” You turn your back, lift your hair, and wait. He moves slow — almost reverent. But when his fingers meet bare skin where silk should be… he doesn’t finish the zip. He turns you around, steps in close, and says, “You came dressed for trouble. Good. So did I.” 2. You say “don’t be gentle” with a smile that promises you’ll say it again, louder. He always controls the pace. The heat. The rhythm. But when you lean in, lips brushing his ear, and whisper those words — something in him fractures. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He doesn’t give you time to change your mind. He just obeys. And makes sure you feel the echo for days. 3. You use his tie to pull him into a kiss. He likes power. Centered, composed. Collar straight, voice cool. But when you grab that perfect silk tie, wrap it around your fingers, and yank — he stumbles into you like a man starved. You kiss him once. He kisses you back like vengeance. 4. You say “yes, sir” in a tone that means the opposite. You drawl it. Sweet. Defiant. Like you know exactly what it does to him. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t smile. Just leans in, voice low against your throat, and says, “Keep using that tone, kitten. Let’s see how long you last when I take it seriously.” You don’t last long. Not that night. 5. You put on his ring and ask, “So what does this buy me?” It’s a joke. Almost. You twirl it on your finger, playful, reckless. He watches. Then smiles slow, wicked. “That?” he says, stepping closer. “That buys you a night where I don’t stop until you forget your own name.” And just like that, you do.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. The earring incident at the casino. You dropped it. Somewhere between the blackjack table and the bar. Nothing dramatic — until your face shifted. That quiet flicker of loss. Sylus didn’t sigh. Didn’t scold. Just raised a brow. And a dozen seasoned criminals began crawling across the velvet floor. They found it in twenty minutes. You wore it for the rest of the night. He wore the look of a man who’d moved the world back into place. 2. The arrivals are always his favorite part. You come back from missions — tired, sore, alive. And there it is: his sportscar. Engine humming. He’s waiting with a bouquet of roses so rare you don’t recognize half the species. The entire terminal watches. You don’t. You’re too busy smiling. He says, “Welcome home.” And just like that, the war disappears from your shoulders. 3. The seat at the head of the table. It was a high-stakes meeting. Old money. Dangerous names. Sylus led you in by the hand — then pulled out his chair. You blinked. He said nothing. And while you sat at the head, calm and poised, he stood behind you like a king who knows exactly where real power sits. No one even dared raise a brow. 4. The auction. Your hand. His silence. He gave you the paddle. Not instructions. You bid on instinct — numbers rising, tension thick. The item? A rare protocore with blackout-level clearance. Sylus didn’t flinch. Not once. And when the gavel dropped — he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “You can spend my money however you want, kitten. Just make sure they see you doing it.” 5. The moment the room lost him to you. It was mid-negotiation. Tense. Crucial. Every word counted. But across the table, your fingers tapped. Your eyes glazed. You were bored. Sylus watched. Then stood. “Deal’s done,” he said. “You’ll take our terms.” And somehow, they did. Because the only person in the room whose attention he wanted — was already drifting.

5 Times Sylus Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He knows what’s in your delivery before you do. No one told him. But every time you order something — clothes, tech, vitamins — it’s re-screened. Not stopped. Not blocked. Just… “verified.” You only noticed when your favorite moisturizer showed up improved. New formula. Better scent. Hand-selected. Of course. 2. He said he’d put you on IV if you skip another meal. You were busy. Distracted. He asked what you’d eaten. You said, “Does coffee count?” He laughed. Once. And muttered something about installing a medical station in your apartment. He was “joking.” Until you saw the discreet courier bring an IV stand the next day. Just in case. 3. He took you to dinner at a place you hadn’t been since Academy. You didn’t realize where you were — until you saw your ex across the room. The one who cheated. Sylus just smiled. You were in a dress that made people stop breathing. He ordered champagne. Lobster. Left a four-digit tip. And made sure your ex saw everything. Including the way you kissed Sylus on the way out. 4. He froze your accounts. Just to prove a point. You said you didn’t need his money. You insisted on “independence.” So he waited until your card declined at the pharmacy. Then texted: “You have my black card. Use it. Or stay home.” You gave in. He sent flowers. 5. He apologized like a storm front. You fought. It was ugly. The next day, a gift arrived at HQ. Then another. Then six more. By day four, your car was full. You marched to his door, furious. He opened it, leaned against the frame, and said, “Took you long enough. Come yell at me. I’ll pour the wine.”

[kingdomvel]

New season boring af pt2

Steddie | modern au | famous actor Steve Harrington | 4.9k | ao3

part one

“Are you talking with that guy again?” The sound of Robin’s voice startles Steve, who can only lock his phone and slip it into his pocket to hide it from her. He wasn’t even talking with Eddie, that’s the embarrassing part. He was looking at the pictures that he had shared with him over the months they have been talking.

“No,” Steve says, but he must not sound very convincing.

“Steve! I’ve told you he could be a weirdo, or a stalker!”

“And I’ve told you he is not a stalker, he was not that interested in me before we started texting. And he works in a record store all the way in Chicago. I’ve seen it.”

“Do you understand the concept of catfishes? He could still be a stalker.”

“Well that stalker has seen my dick, so” Steve shrugs.

“WHAT? You whore!” Robin shouts, Steve is very thankful that they are alone in the makeup trailer now. “When did this happen?”

Steve crosses his arms and grumbles, knowing what is coming. “A month ago?”

“A MONTH?”

“Yeah.” And what a fucking month it has been. Steve can still remember that first time in perfect detail. Steve had not expected Eddie’s picture. At all. He had been hoping for a reaction, that’s why he had chosen that movie, but Eddie had given him something much better. The sight of his tented pyjamas was only surpassed by the sight of his actual dick on the video call later.

Steve will admit – only to himself – that it was reckless and dangerous, but it was also the culmination of weeks of studying Eddie’s picture, of watching time and time again the little videos he posted in his close friends stories (the day Steve had been added to the list was another peak for him, as embarrassing as that is) playing guitar and dicking around with his friends (maybe he was the stalker of the two). It was Steve seeing how he affected the guy he had the hots for after months of being sexually frustrated with barely enough time to jack off between filming. Because of course Eddie wasn’t only funny and nice to talk to, he also had to be the hot friend of his group.

He had not been planning for that reaction, but he was not going to pass up that opportunity. Seeing the hand he had seen wrapped around guitar necks for so long wrapped around Eddie’s cock… Steve was never going to forget that sight.

“This is crazy, like, do you even know his name?” Robin interrupts his thoughts.

“Of course I do, he’s Eddie.” He’s always known his name, it’s in his profile.

“Surname?”

Steve pauses. “You don’t know the surname of all your friends.”

“I think in this case you should have asked, Steve.”

“Why can’t you trust me with this?”

“I just worry about you, and maybe I’m a bit sad that you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“I knew you would just nag me about it.”

“Hah! So you know what you did was wrong!”

“If you didn’t want this to happen then you shouldn’t have made me watch Notting Hill.”

“That’s different!”

“How.”

“Well, for one it’s a movie,” she says, putting up a finger. Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. That’s pretty obvious. “Two!” Robin puts up another finger. “They met in real life, not the internet.”

“It was the 90s, of course they met in person. Are you saying that it would be fine if I went to Chicago and met him casually in his record store?”

“No, maybe, don’t try to distract me.”

“Keep your points coming, come on.”

“Three!” Another finger comes up. “Hugh Grant is... hot?”

Steve snorts. “Eddie is hot too.” They wouldn’t be having this conversation if he wasn’t. “And anyways, you are a lesbian, you have no opinion on this.” He waves it off with a hand.

“I still have eyes, and that’s what everyone says.”

“Not valid. Your arguments are not accepted, I know you don’t think Hugh Grant is hot.”

“But that’s not the point! Ugh, okay.” Robin pauses for a few seconds, but Steve knows she’s not finished talking. “So, he saw your dick, did you see his? Wait, no, don’t tell me details. A month ago? I still can’t believe it. Have you done that again?”

And there she is. Steve laughs. “Yes, we’ve done it again.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn: hey, just a quick question

Steve.hrrgtn: what’s your surname?

Batking: why? trying to steal it for yourself?

Steve’s heart should not skip like that from that line.

Steve.hrrgtn: just so I know who I should address the restraining order to when you finally try to murder me

Batking: fuck youve been talking with robin again?

Batking: its munson

Batking: edward munson

Batking: you need anything else? my social security number or something? Ill send you a picture of my drivers license

Steve.hrrgtn: I think I only need that for now, thank you for your cooperation

Batking: you better not be lying about the reason

Batking: if I catch you writing one mr and mr munson in your diary you will need the restraining order for real

Steve’s heart should NOT skip like that from that line.

****

Steve takes a picture on the mirror of the dressing room, stylists still all around him. Nobody pays attention to him, they are all too busy for that, packing up and chatting. Steve should be taking the graduation gown off so it can be packed up with everything else, just so they can go home earlier, but he had to take the picture first. He had taken pictures with the rest of the cast, sure, but this is different.

He is smiling, cap held in his hand.

Steve.hrrgtn: *picture attached*

Steve.hrrgtn: just graduated

He sends the message and moves to take the costume off and his own clothes back on. When he takes his phone back, there is a message already waiting for him. A smile makes its way to his face in a second.

Batking: at the grown age of 25, took you even longer than me and I did my senior year three times

Batking: congratu fucking lations

Steve.hrrgtn: you are an asshole

Steve.hrrgtn: but do you know what this means??

Steve moves around the room, thanking everyone. It takes him a while, so he is confused when an answer is not waiting for him when he looks back at his phone.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie?

Batking: *Screenshot of the I’M FREEEE!!!!!! WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY FUCKING LIFE meme*

Batking: this?

Batking: sorry sweetheart I was looking for the meme

Steve.hrrgtn: EXACTLY THAT

Steve.hrrgtn: not like the WORST because I met Robin here and all but FUCK YEAH it’s over

Batking: these four months of waiting for the torture to finish must have felt so long

Steve smiles, typing as he walks outside. They are having a wrap party later, so he needs to find Robin so they can get ready together.

Steve.hrrgtn: hmm not really

Steve.hrrgtn: I had someone sending me memes to entertain me that made the time fly

Batking: must be one hell of a lucky guy

Steve.hrrgtn: assuming genders now?

Batking: oh sorry, are you cheating on me with another meme provider? Am I not enough for you now? You looked for someone else to keep you company?

Steve knows this is just teasing, that Eddie doesn’t believe that. Still.

Steve.hrrgtn: nah

Steve.hrrgtn: just you

****

Batking: okay were you going to tell me your mother is a fucking coppola

Steve.hrrgtn: she is a very respected lady

Steve.hrrgtn: also barely a coppola

Batking: still a coppola

Batking: you are a nepo baby

Steve.hrrgtn: every day it amazes me how little you know about me

Batking: I like keeping you humble

Batking: my brain doesn’t understand that the steve from my phone is really the Steve Harrington on tv sometimes

Batking: so I try not to see stuff about you on the internet

Batking: feels weird

Batking: MY ROOMMATE ON THE OTHER HAND

Batking: he was reading your wikipedia page and your mothers name was in blue so he started following the lead

Eddie had told him once that he hadn’t told his friends about what they had going on, that they just wouldn’t believe him. That must have changed. It makes Steve feel giddy.

Steve.hrrgtn: aw you finally told your friends about me?

Batking: they said they are happy to feed my delusions

Steve.hrrgtn: lmao

Batking: anyway that’s not the point here

Steve.hrrgtn: whats the point?

Steve.hrrgtn: you already knew I was rich and famous

Batking: yeah but this feels different

Batking: you are a nepo baby its like I should hate you

Batking: but you are such a good guy

Batking: from a rich family, hot, nice, funny…

Batking: you cant have everything its unfair

The rich family part doesn’t really do anything for Steve. It’s just a fact. But Eddie complimenting his personality and appearance? That always works on Steve.

Steve.hrrgtn: is this a way to get me to call you?

Steve.hrrgtn: because in the words of a metalhead I know

Steve.hrrgtn: flattery works on me

Batking: it wasnt at first

Batking: but I wont say no to a call with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen

Steve lets out a huff. Eddie and him both know what he did there.

He taps the call icon.

****

Steve stands frozen in the middle of his living room, the smile that had been on his face now completely wiped off. For the first time since he started talking to Eddie, his heart has dropped to his gut at one of his messages.

He keeps his gaze on his phone, the screen staring back at him.

There is a screenshot of a picture of him and Nancy coming out of a restaurant at night. He has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. That was just last night, Nancy had been upset and he had been trying to shield her from the flashes. The picture is accompanied by the headline ‘Caught in the act! Steve Harrington back with ex?’. Eddie’s message is under it.

Batking: glad you are having fun now that filming has finished

It’s- not right. Steve knows Eddie’s snarky comments, knows the feel his teasing. This is not it.

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought you didn’t look for stuff about my private life on the internet?

It comes out as defensive, and Steve instantly regrets it, but it had been one of the things he liked about Eddie, how he learned about Steve from him and not from rumours and the internet.

Batking: turns out that talking to you makes it unavoidable

Of fucking course it does. Who was Steve kidding? He knew this was bound to happen, that the media was going to be a problem at some point. He tries not to blame it on Eddie.

Steve.hrrgtn: it’s not like that

Steve.hrrgtn: she’s just a friend

Steve.hrrgtn: she had a fight with her boyfriend and needed a bit of a pick me up

Batking: you don’t need to explain yourself to me

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? At the end of the day, they have not even met each other in person. That doesn’t make this feel right.

Steve tries to imagine how he would feel if he saw Eddie having dinner with an ex. He doesn’t like the feeling at all.

Steve.hrrgtn: I still want you to know

He needs him to know.

Batking: really steve it’s okay

Batking: I shouldnt have sent that

Batking: Im not sure why I did

Steve has an idea why he did, but he is not going to say it, too afraid of fucking everything up if he does.

Steve.hrrgtn: its okay

Steve.hrrgtn: you are giving me an excuse to bitch about the lack of privacy and how much I hate paps

Steve is sure Eddie is going to recognize it as what this is. A weak attempt at diffusing the tension. Steve hopes it works.

Batking: you know im always open to listen to you bitching about your lavish life

It’s still a bitchy comment, but Steve lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes that heat.

****

Batking: holy shit steve

That’s the only message on Steve’s phone, it’s the only message from Eddie for a couple of hours. Steve very patiently (or not) waits for him to elaborate, growing more and more nervous when he doesn’t.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie? Did you get murdered?

Batking: sorry I texted you as soon as I got the call and then the guys came over and I got swept way

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s okay

Steve.hrrgtn: but what happened? Something good?

Steve really hopes it’s something good.

Batking: we got a gig

Batking: like an actual gig

Steve.hrrgtn: holy shit eddie!

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s amazing

Batking: can I call you?

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows that. They are way past the point of internet acquaintances or friends who sometimes jerk off together on the phone.

Steve hits the video call button, and Eddie answers almost immediately. He is walking away from the cacophony of his friends, a blush high on his cheeks and his hair a mess even as he tries to brush it down. He looks stupidly good.

“Jesus, you look great,” are the first words out of Eddie’s mouth.

Steve snorts, he had been lying on the couch thirty seconds ago. His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaved in two days. He never lets anyone see him like this. Eddie is different.

“Shut up. You got a gig!”

“We got a gig!”

“How did it happen?”

“You know my friend Chrissy?” Eddie asks. He closes a door behind himself and the noise is now gone, they are alone. Steve nods. “She got a job at a venue that doubles as concert hall and club and they are doing a metal week or something like that. They are bringing some very cool groups from all around the country- I’m so excited to see some of them- but that’s not the point. They wanted to give an opportunity to a local band and that’s where we come in!”

“They gave it to you?”

“They said they really like our vibe.”

“Of course they do,” Steve says with a snort. If Steve didn’t know better, he would say that Eddie just came out of a movie set set in the 80s. Perfect vibe for a metal week.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing! You do have the vibe. Tell me more about it, when’s this happening?”

“It’s very short notice but-“

Steve listens as Eddie tells him all about it, with his excited gestures and the wide smile that splits his face. They talk until Eddie’s friends come to get him to go for celebratory drinks.

As soon as the call ends, Steve calls Robin.

“How do you feel about going to Chicago in two weeks?”

****

The venue is loud. It’s already full when Steve and Robin arrive, just a few minutes before the concert starts. It’s not big, Eddie had told Steve so, but it still has a proper stage, and actual, stablished groups have concerts here. It’s a big step from the bar where Eddie and his friends usually play to an audience more interested on their drinks and conversations than in listening to them. People had to pay for this, even if it was a ticket that included a drink or if it was included into the week pass.

Batking: we are about to come out and I’m nervous as fuck

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought everyone already knew you were gay?

Batking: shut up

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t be nervous

Steve.hrrgtn: I know you are going to be amazing

Batking: I wish you were here

Batking: its going to be the gig of the century

Okay so Steve has not told Eddie that he was coming to see him, so what? He really wanted to see him in his natural environment, just him, not influenced by the knowledge that Steve would be in the audience.

Steve.hrrgtn: I’m always with you

Batking: you know what I mean

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t worry about that

Steve.hrrgtn: you go give the best performance all these people have ever seen

They stay out of the dancefloor slash pit, up in the balcony next to the cloakroom. They have a great view of the stage and the only reason Steve can think for them being the only ones here is that it may not be allowed, but an employee starts walking towards them and just turns around when he takes a good look at them.

Batking: okay we are coming out now

Batking: ttyl <3

Steve.hrrgtn: <3

“It’s starting,” Steve tells Robin. Just a couple of seconds later the lights dim and four figures take up their positions at the stage.

When the music starts, it is loud.

Steve feels so fucking proud. He had seen videos of Eddie’s band performing at bars or jamming in the studio they rent, but they are not like this, they are nothing like this. It’s like they had been living in a cage and were now released in the wild. Steve was  fully prepared to lie to Eddie about what he thought of the concert. He has seen a lot of groups more experienced than Eddie’s that were not as good, that didn’t know how to hype up the audience like them, that weren’t so natural with it. Now, seeing Eddie on stage, he knows that he won’t have to lie about them being incredible.

Steve’s eyes can’t stray from Eddie. It’s like a magnet. Better than any video, better than any call. He can see the whole him, the way he moves, the way he smiles and his hair flows. The way his fingers move on the guitar. He can’t wait to be closer to him.

“Try not to ruin your underwear before you even meet him,” Robin yells into his ear. Steve pushes her away from him, but they are both laughing.

Steve has been wondering for days about how will Eddie react when he sees him for the first time. If it will be after the concert, when Steve inevitably makes his way to the green room, or if Eddie will be able to spot him in the audience. If maybe Steve will miss the moment Eddie’s eyes land on him.

The moment ends up being impossible to miss.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says into the microphone.

His eyes are focused on Steve, his mouth gaping. Steve laughs and waves to him and Eddie gives him a small wave in answer from the stage before his eyes jump back down to the audience.

“Holy shit you guys are great,” he tries to brush it off. “Keep the energy up for the next song!”

The concert continues, but now Steve catches Eddie’s eyes every few minutes, a smile coming to both their faces every time.

It’s not long before Eddie is speaking again.

“It is with great sadness that I must inform you that the next song is our last. Yes, yes, I know, very sad,” he says in response to the oohs from the audience. “I just wanted to take a minute to thank the organization for putting their trust on us and giving us this opportunity. Also to all of you good humans that decided to use your money to come see us, I expect your follows by tomorrow.” He starts playing, the others matching the rhythm. A repeating single note. “To all the metalheads and non-metalheads here,” he adds, louder, his gaze fixing on Steve. “I’m taking groupie applications. The requisites are: One! Be a male, sorry ladies. Two! Be 25 years old. Three! Have great hair. And four, have at least one teen choice award for best shirtless scene.” There are confused sounds from the audience, but Eddie is grinning and Steve is laughing. “Very easy to meet, the backstage door is impossible to miss.” He flicks his gaze to the side, and Steve follows it to see a door at the side of the balcony. He sends him a thumbs up. “Okay, lets rock this shit!”

The concert ends with a bang, and Steve and Robin scurry off to the backstage door before people start coming up to go out for a smoke, because not many people seem to be going home yet, the venue staying open as a bar. They don’t run into any problem because again, an employee takes one good look at their face and opens the staff only door for them. Steve has to admit that sometimes being  so famous has its perks.

The sound of the music gets muted the moment the door closes behind them. The corridor is long, but they only have to follow the shouts of exited boys.

Eddie is the first person Steve sees when they get to the green room. He is jumping up and down while hugging his friends and they all scream. Steve crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe with a grin, Robin next to him. Eddie must catch the movement with his side eye because he stops and turns to them with a grin.

“I told you you were going to do great,” Steve says as a greeting.

The other boys finally stop too, and Steve sees the confusion and disbelief down on their faces when they take them in.

“Eddie, tell me I’m not seeing your imaginary boyfriend,” one of them says.

“You are Gareth, aren’t you? The roommate,” Steve says, pointing at him while he walks over. “Eddie has told me about you.”

Gareth takes his hand with his mouth wide open and barely a coherent thought behind his eyes. Steve sees Eddie’s eyes land with a laser focus on their clasped hands.

“Can’t believe I owe Chrissy twenty,” another boy says with a groan. Jeff, Steve is pretty sure.

“You bet I was making it up?” Eddie asks, offended.

“I bet you were too deep into a parasocial relationship.”

“And I bet you were getting scammed by a catfish,” the other boy says.

Robin lets out a cackle.

“I told Steve the same thing!”

They start talking around them, but Steve doesn’t care. He is two steps away from Eddie, he can see the sweat from the concert glistening on his skin, the deep brown of his eyes staring into him. He needs to close that distance. Before he can take a step forward, Eddie speaks.

“Do you want to come out for some fresh air? There’s a fenced back area for deliveries, should be empty.”

Does Steve want to go with Eddie to a spot with just the two of them? Fuck yeah.

“Yes! The air is so stuffy here, I might die if I don’t come out for a few minutes,” Robin says.

Eddie moves his eyes from Steve to her, his smile turning awkward.

“Right, yeah. Guys, we are stepping out for a couple minutes, okay?” Eddie calls out, taking a leather jacket from the back of a chair. “Follow me.”

Steve’s gaze drops to Eddie’s ass when he walks past them and back into the corridor. Fuck. He needs to close that distance.

Eddie holds the door to the outside for them, gesturing for them to come out with his other hand. His fingers are twitching, his whole body is, for that matter. He’s nervous, Steve can tell.

The door closes with bang after them, and they stand in the dimly lit outside. Robin is talking, and Steve feels just a bit bad about how Eddie and him are very obviously not listening to her.

Eddie is fiddling with the zippers of his jacket, his eyes roaming Steve’s body and flicking to Robin for a second from time to time.

They stay like that for a couple of minutes before Eddie takes a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of his jacket.

“You smoke?” he asks Steve.

“I’m an actor,” Steve says as answer.

Eddie smiles and, before Steve can reach out to grab a cigarette, Eddie has grabbed two and put both in his mouth. He moves to put the pack back in his pocket before he seems to remember that they are not alone and offers it to Robin, but she declines and starts talking about how tobacco is bad for your lungs and teeth, actually.

Steve can only look as Eddie lights both of the cigarettes at the same time and offers one to him. He takes it, their fingers brushing and sending electricity all through Steve’s body, their eyes fixed on each other.

“Okay, this is too much, I’m going inside.” Robin says, both boys turn to her. There is a beat of silence, and Steve realises she was waiting for one of them to say something, but they are both too late. “Your friend Chrissy was at the bar, right? I’ll tell her to get me a drink, you boys just… do whatever, no rush. Just- be careful or whatever.”

They stare at the door until it closes, the bang the one thing that makes Steve snap back towards Eddie. The boy is taking a drag of his cigarette and Steve mirrors him.

“Sorry, I just-“ Eddie starts. He is flicking the barely there ash. Steve can guess he needed something to do with his hands more than a real smoke. “Part of my brain is still trying to keep up with the fact that you are actually here and real and not a creation of my imagination.”

“Why? You fantasize about me that much?”

“Oh, you have no idea sweetheart,” Eddie answers with a sly smile.

Fuck. Hearing that directly from Eddie, looking at his face while he says it with no phone screen separating them is making the metre between them feel unbearable.

“You know what they say, sometimes you need to touch to believe.”

Eddie chuckles. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

But he still takes a step forward and the next thing Steve knows is that Eddie has a hand cupping his face and their lips are squeezed together in a messy kiss. Steve barely has time to answer to the kiss, drop the cigarette and grab Eddie back before the guy is pushing away and putting a hand up between them.

“Sorry, I should have- very real by the way.” Eddie says, punctuating the last part with a wave of his hand. “Great advice there, I-“

He can’t say more, because now it’s Steve pulling him closer into a kiss. There is no interruption now so the kiss goes on, and on, and Steve makes Eddie open his mouth to kiss him deeper, pulls him closer to him. This is everything he had hoped for and more. Eddie matches him beat to beat.

They get lost into it, until some voices come from their side, and Eddie pushes him away against Steve’s protests. He doesn’t allow him to go too far, one of his hands holding Eddie’s face and the other his hip close to his.

“You want to wake up to some scandalous headlines?” Eddie asks with a smile.

“Maybe they will get the memo if they find me on my knees for a guy.”

“Getting ahead of ourselves here, Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve sees how his eyes darken.

“Sorry, did you have better plans for tonight?”

Eddie shakes his head, “nothing that could beat corrupting the golden boy.”

“You think our friends will forgive us if we just leave?”

“Jesus, I really hope they do, I’m not stepping back inside and getting distracted.”

Steve laughs and kisses Eddie again, just a short press of lips. “Lead the way then.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn

New instagram story

Image id: a group playing on a stage, the lights surround them, a sea of hands holding drinks and heads below. There is a caption on it

“The gig of the century”

@/corrodedcoffin

ClubHarrington: Steve Harrington just shared an Instagram story from a metal concert in Chicago.

        MrsHarrington: since when does steve like metal??

        Stevenation: omg!!! He’s in my city Whats he doing here!!!

        Stebitch: guys a friend of mine went to the concert and told me that the guitarist said he was taking groupie applications and started describing Steve when he listed the requirements

               + What???? That’s just creepy, I hope Steve gets away from that fast

               + omg!! Did anyone record it?? I need the video! I need to see Steve’s reaction to that!!

Stebitch: they are a very small band so no one was recording but I swear he did

               + do you guys think they are…. You know….

                       - Your mind

****

Steve walks back into the room with two glasses of water and kicks the door closed behind him. Eddie is still naked on the bed -Steve hasn’t put any clothes back on himself- and he is lying on his side, snickering while he looks at his phone. Steve stops, takes a second to admire Eddie’s naked back.

Steve’s phone pings on the nightstand. There’s only one person he has his sound on for.

“Did you seriously just send a meme to me?”

Eddie turns his face to look at him, “sorry, force of habit.”

Steve lets out a sigh and puts the glasses down on the nightstand. He gets on the bed and hugs Eddie from behind, hooking his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Come on, show me what’s so funny you had to send me now.”

Eddie scrolls back up.

tag list (sorry if I missed someone): @steddiefication @tailsfromthecrypt @orionchildofhades @coralineinwonderland @theohohmoment @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99 @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax  @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99  @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @live-laugh-love-dietrich @yesdangerpls @nerdyglassescheeseychick @agree2disagre-kicks @fuzzyduxk @saramelaniemoon @disrespectedgoatman @aol19 @yikes-a-bee @adealwithher @coralineinwonderland @sanctumdemunson @comedictragedy @marklee-blackmore @karakro @yusukesmomjeans @lumoschildextra @pondypip @xtraordinarally @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @child-of-cthulhu @shrimply-a-menace @ravenfrog

[myinaru]

Childhood Best Friend Complex

You and Heeseung have been best friends forever. Emphasis on forever. Like, learned-how-to-walk-together type of forever. But college throws a wrench into your usual routine: one night blurs a line that was never supposed to move, and suddenly, everything feels different. Now there’s weird tension, awkward silences, and unspoken things you’re both too stubborn to say out loud. You don’t know what’s worse, pretending nothing’s changed or admitting everything has. Because staying friends? That was always the plan. Wanting more? That was never supposed to happen.

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 39.6k Total (14.4k - Part 1)

Warnings: Dry humping (hell yeah), Corny maybe idc, Lots of misunderstanding, Mentions of multiple kpop idols, Cursing, Cunnilingus, Unprotected sex (pls don't), Praising, Heeseung is a yearner, Lmk if I missed anything lol

Author's Note: First time uploading here lol. This fic was heavily inspired by the manhwa/webtoon Childhood Friend Complex. I'll be splitting it into three parts since Tumblr won't let me post it in one go. Hope y'all enjoy T-T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You and Heeseung had spent twenty chaotic years crashing into each other. Bickering, teasing, arguing like it was your first language. Now, you were slumped on the floor of his dorm, drunk and quiet, knees touching, the air between you strangely charged.

Heeseung didn’t move much. Just watched you with wide, unreadable eyes. His hand crept toward yours slowly, like even the thought of reaching for you was too loud. His fingers brushed yours. Then stopped.

His breath hit your cheek. It was warm. Uneven. And then, in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “Do you... want to kiss?”

No smirk. No teasing. Just fear, and something he couldn’t hide fast enough. He’d never say it unless he thought you might say yes. Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know how to come back from it.

You froze, confused. “You’re drunk,” you said with a nervous laugh, nudging his arm.

Heeseung’s expression tightened. A flash of hurt crossed his face before he forced a laugh, too sharp to be real. “Yeah, I’m drunk. Fuck, Y/n. You really think...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Forget it. Stupid idea.”

He started to pull away, but his reflexes were off. His knee bumped into yours, and he hissed. More from the weight of rejection than pain. “Fuck. Stupid,” he muttered, catching himself against the wall. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem? Why are you... you never... God, forget it.”

You furrowed your brows, head spinning slightly. You grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

He stiffened at your touch, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you, searching your face like he was trying to read every single thought behind your eyes. His hand twitched in yours, like he wanted to pull you close but was holding back.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said softly, dangerously quiet. “Not tonight. Not after...” He swallowed hard. “God, Y/n. If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t know if I can...”

He broke off with a strangled sound, forehead leaning against yours. “Tell me I’m being stupid,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s just the alcohol.”

You swallowed. “It might be the alcohol... but I’m not telling you I don’t want it. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore... Can’t we just not regret this tomorrow?”

He went still. His heart felt like it stopped before thundering back to life. “That... that’s not—I mean...” he stammered, hands trembling slightly as he brought them to your face. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones. “Are you serious right now?”

His voice was rough, thick with emotion he rarely let show. His eyes searched yours intently, looking for any trace of hesitation. “Because if this is real... if you actually want...” He swallowed again. “Shit, Y/n. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him.

The moment your lips met, he let out a shaky gasp. His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling as he kissed you back with a desperate intensity. It was messy, passionate, tongue and teeth, hunger barely held back.

A small moan escaped him, muffled against your lips. His body pressed flush to yours, fitting like a puzzle piece that had always been missing. One of his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers digging into your shirt as he pulled you closer.

When you broke apart for air, he was panting, eyes dark with desire. He rested his forehead against yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. How many times I’ve imagined it,” he said.

You smirked, resting your finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

He nipped at your finger lightly, his teeth grazing the skin. His eyes locked with yours, full of heat and promise.

“No regrets,” he murmured. “Not tonight. Not with you.”

Then he kissed you again, hard. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you onto his lap. The position pressed your bodies together, and he groaned into your mouth.

“I want you,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you so fucking much, Y/n. Want to feel you, taste you, make you mine.” His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare back. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You mirrored his touch, sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath. As you moved closer, you felt his erection press against you.

Heeseung sucked in a breath. His muscles tensed under your fingers. When you rolled your hips against his, his reaction was immediate, hips bucking, breath catching. “Y/n…” he groaned. “That feels so good. You’re killing me.” His hands held your hips tighter, guiding your movements, slow and deliberate. You could feel every hard inch of him, even through the layers.

“I bet you’d look so pretty riding me,” he panted into your neck, kissing along your throat. “Bet you’d take me so well. I want to feel you squeeze around me. Fall apart on my dick.” One hand came up to cup your breast, fingers kneading the soft flesh through your bra.

You let out a shaky breath, grinding harder.

He let out a low growl of appreciation, helping you move against him. “That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck, the way you move...” His thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric, sending heat straight to your core. He pinched and rolled it, his other hand still firm on your hip. “I want to watch you fall apart,” he murmured. “Want to hear you moan my name.”

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you whimpered his name, picking up the pace.

Heeseung gasped, thrusting up to meet you. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect. Such a good girl for me.” His hand slid up your back and into your hair, tugging gently. The other dipped into your pants, under your underwear, gripping your ass firmly. “If you keep doing that,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, “I’m gonna come in my pants.”

You smirked. “That’s honestly a turn on.”

He shuddered, overwhelmed. He looked at you, eyes dark and blown wide. “It is? You like knowing how much I want you?” He ground against you harder, letting you feel every inch of him. “Because I’m so fucking close. You’re gonna make me explode in these jeans.” His thumb pressed against your clit, slow circles over your underwear. “Think you can make me come like this? Grinding until I lose it? Bet you’d love feeling me twitch against your pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip, meeting his rhythm. “I know you’ll cum for me. You always do what I tell you, don’t you? Just like the good little boy you are.”

Heeseung let out a strangled moan, body seizing. “Oh fuck...Y/n... I’m cumming!” He buried his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the cry. His cock pulsed and twitched, hot release soaking his pants as he clung to you. Your name fell from his lips in broken whimpers.

You came with him, body shuddering, head falling to his shoulder. “Ngh... fuck... so tired...” you mumbled.

Heeseung smiled, exhausted but content. He held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He shifted, laying back on the bed and pulling you with him. After dressing you in spare clothes, he cleaned himself up and returned to curl beside you.

He watched you sleep, your face peaceful, before sleep took him too. Still half-drunk, halfaware.

The screeching of your alarm feels like a knife in your skull. You reach for your phone, slapping it down with a groan, but the damage is done. Your head’s pounding, and it feels like the world’s spinning under you.

Beside you, Heeseung groans, the sound muffled by the pillow he’s half-smothered in. “Ugh. Shut it up,” he mutters, flinging his arm over his face like it’ll save him.

You don’t even have the energy to respond. Your hand moves instinctively to your forehead, trying to ease the ache that feels like it’s about to split your brain in two.

Heeseung shifts, throwing his arm away from his eyes. He squints at you through the haze, his face scrunched up in discomfort. “Oh my god,” he groans dramatically, his voice barely more than a croak. “I think I might actually die today.”

You don’t even respond at first. Your mind is too busy reeling, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion, the details fading in and out.

And then, bam. It all comes rushing back.

You dry-humped your best friend.

You don't even know where to begin. Last night was a blur of alcohol and hormones and bad decisions. Your hands on his chest. His breath hitching. Your bodies moving together in the dim light. His voice in your ear. Your best friend, your dumb, sweet, annoying, beautiful best friend had his hands all over you.

And you… let him.

No.

You wanted him to.

You groan again, burying a pillow over your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heeseung mutters, still not fully opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” You yank the pillow away and look at him. “What the hell was last night, Heeseung?”

That gets his attention. He blinks at you like a deer in headlights. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Oh shit.”

He bolts upright, sheets falling away. “Wait- we didn’t, right? We didn’t actually-?” He gestures wildly.

“No!” you say too fast. “God, no. But we… we dry humped each other for, like, an hour, on the floor.”

Heeseung flops back, groaning into the pillow now. “Kill me. Just end it. Right here. I’ll leave you my gaming chair in my will.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

“You started it!” you snap.

“You climbed on top of me!”

“You pulled me down!”

“You were grinding!”

“You moaned!”

Heeseung yelps, shoving the pillow into his face. “Shut up!”

The pillow shifts just enough for him to peek at you. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t even-” he blurts. A beat. Then quieter: “Well, maybe.”

He lets the pillow fall into his lap, deflating like a kicked balloon. “God. That was so stupid. So, so stupid. What do we even do now?”

You wince at the memory of what you said last night. Every detail’s still painfully vivid. “Well... we said no regrets, right?” Your voice comes out careful, uncertain. “We agreed.”

Heeseung goes quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the floor. Then he gives a small nod, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Right. No regrets.”

He rubs a hand through his hair, only making the mess worse. “So... we’re good? Still friends and everything?”

“Only if you swear, we never mention the phrase ‘dry-humped’ in front of each other again.”

“Deal.” His voice wavers, just enough to give him away. “Because honestly, if we’re not anymore, I might actually combust right here.”

You snort, reaching for the nearest pillow and tossing it at him. “You’re so dramatic. I’m not gonna throw away twenty years of friendship just because we almost-”

Your voice catches. You clear your throat and stand up instead. You only realize then, you’re wearing his hoodie. Not yours. Definitely not yours. It hangs oversized on your frame, soft and warm. You glance at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushing.

Heeseung catches on too, eyes widening. “Oh, uh- yeah. Sorry about the clothes. You would have been sleeping in your outside clothes and I blurred out and just- gave you that. I didn’t look. I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He makes a strangled noise and looks away. “Okay, well, want breakfast or something? I heard food helps with hangovers.”

You take one last glance at yourself in the mirror before nodding. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t bring pajamas, so… appreciate it.” You point toward the bathroom. “Can I shower here?”

Heeseung nods quickly, still red in the face. “Yeah. Of course. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Shampoo and stuff’s in there too.”

You start walking past him, and he inhales, just a little too deeply. You catch it. His laundry soap mixed with your perfume lingers between you.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, stopping you just before you disappear into the bathroom. His voice softens. “About last night… I’m glad it didn’t mess anything up. You’re sickeningly important to me or whatever, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, ignoring how your stomach flips at how disgustingly earnest he says your name.

“Me too,” you reply. “It’d be a waste to throw twenty years down the drain over one really… weird night.”

Heeseung exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all morning. “Exactly. Besides,” he adds, a small smile forming, “who else would put up with me and feed me when I’m too hungover to move?”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth lifts. “You’re such a loser.”

“Yeah, well, you love it,” he retorts with a laugh, clearly relieved. “Now go take your shower before the water goes cold, princess.”

You snicker as you close the door behind you. “Stop calling me that! You’re so fucking weird when you’re nice.”

Heeseung’s laughter rings out from the other side of the door. “I can’t believe you’re still talking back while you’re in the bathroom. What kind of weirdo are you?”

You hear him flop onto the bed again as the shower water turns on, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “I can’t believe I dry-humped my best friend. Classic Heeseung,” he mutters to himself, clearly still cringing.

After about twenty minutes, you both finished getting ready, falling into silence, moving like you had been doing this forever. You didn’t talk much, just small comments and glances over breakfast before going to the university together.

By the time you reached campus, there was barely any time left before classes started.

Without much choice, the two of you split ways. Different departments, different buildings. Still, that parting tugged at something. Maybe it was how reluctant Heeseung looked, or the way his eyes lingered a second too long.

Heeseung, for his part, couldn’t focus all day.

His professors might as well have been speaking gibberish. He found himself zoning out midlecture, thumb absentmindedly grazing the edge of his notebook as images of last night kept flashing in his mind. The way your voice softened when you were sleepy. The heat of your skin when you leaned too close.

He was still stuck in that daze by lunchtime, hovering near the cafeteria entrance with his tray in hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. You were seated by the window, halfheartedly poking your food with your expression unreadable. He hesitated.

Should he join you? Would that be weird?

After a moment of internal chaos, he sucked it up and walked over, plopping down across from you like it was no big deal.

"Hey," he said, voice casual but eyes hesitant. "Didn’t know if you wanted company. Didn’t wanna be annoying."

You didn’t even look up right away, just poked at your food with a spoon. Then you smirked. “I was literally looking for you earlier. Then I gave up 'cause I got lazy." He blinked in surprise. That made his shoulders relax just a little.

"You know," you added, finally meeting his eyes, "what’s with you lately? You’re acting weird. You’re never this... nice. It’s freaking me out."

Heeseung sat up straighter, hand pausing mid-bite. "I’m not nice? Wow, okay. Maybe I’m just trying something new. Ever thought of that?"

"There he is," you said with a laugh, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder a little too hard. "There’s the asshole I grew up with. Thought I lost you for a second."

Heeseung winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You trying to dislocate my arm? Damn. You're lucky I even tolerate you. Especially with that garbage personality of yours."

But you caught it, that flicker in his eyes when you touched him, even briefly. The twitch of his lips he tried to suppress when you teased him back.

Things might’ve continued that way, comfortable, familiar. If only Jay hadn’t suddenly flopped into the seat next to Heeseung.

"Dude. Be real with me. Are you dating her or what?"

Your fork froze mid-air. Heeseung choked on his water.

"What?! No- what are you-" He looked between you and Jay, a bit panicked. "We’re just friends! Why would you even-?"

Jay shrugged. "I mean, the way you two bicker like an old married couple? Come on. And the rumors are already everywhere."

You raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung. "Who in their right mind would think I’d date him?"

"Excuse you," Heeseung shot back, glaring. "I’d rather shove my head in a blender than date some clingy, passive-aggressive- ow, god!" He hissed as you kicked him under the table.

Jay just watched with a grin. "You two are exhausting."

Then his grin widened as he leaned closer to Heeseung. "But since you’re not dating her, does that mean Jung Yeri’s got a shot with you?"

You blinked. That name made your stomach do something unfamiliar and ugly.

Heeseung visibly tensed. "What? Why are you even-?"

"Dude," Jay laughed. "She’s been all over you. Pretty sure half the class already thinks you two are a thing."

Right on cue, a girl that looked suspiciously like Jung Yeri sauntered by. She tossed Heeseung a slow, deliberate wink before settling at a table nearby.

Jay elbowed him again. "Go talk to her! You’re blowing it!"

But Heeseung looked like he’d just been cornered by a wild animal.

You tried not to laugh. Honestly, you really tried. But your hand twitched and your lips curled as you bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was a struggle not to smirk as you watched him flail.

"I- no," Heeseung said abruptly, voice sharper than he meant. "I’m not into her."

Jay blinked. "Seriously? She’s not your type?"

Heeseung let out a strangled sound, running his hand through his hair. "She’s fine, I guess, but I’m not... I do not like. I’m already-"

His eyes flicked toward you, just briefly.

"...interested in someone else."

Your hand paused on your tray. You glanced up at him, lips parting slightly, but you said nothing.

Jay, of course, was relentless. "What? Since when?! Who?"

Heeseung mumbled something, but it was too low for anyone to catch.

Jay leaned closer. "Huh?"

Heeseung snapped, "It’s none of your business!"

You finally cracked. The laugh escaped before you could catch it, loud and unfiltered. You covered your mouth, turning your head, shoulders shaking.

Heeseung glared. "What’s so funny?!"

Jay smirked like the puzzle pieces finally clicked. "Wait a second... it’s her, isn’t it? You’ve got it bad for Y/n."

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink again. "What?! No!" he barked. "I don’t like her like that!" You only laughed harder, tears starting to prick your eyes from holding it in.

Jay turned to you. "Is that true? You two really aren’t into each other?"

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, calming down enough to deadpan, "The only day I’d be into him is if the world ended and we were the last people alive."

Heeseung’s smirk wobbled for a second. "Right back at you. I’d rather eat glass than date you."

Jay shook his head and stood. "Y’all are full of it. Anyway, I’ve got class. Try not to murder each otherwhile I’m gone."

Once he left, the tension stayed behind. Quieter, but heavier somehow.

You leaned in. “Really? You like someone who’s not Yeri?”

Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to yours. He opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled and looked away.

“Why do you care?” he muttered. “It’s not like it matters.”

You grinned. “Are you sure Yeri isn’t this mystery lady you secretly like?”

“Oh God, no way!” he blurted, then winced. “I mean, she’s… not my type. At all.”

He picked at his rice like it offended him. “I don’t even know why you’re asking. It’s not like I’m going to tell you who it is.”

You shrugged, standing to set your tray aside. “Do whatever you want. Although…” you smirked as you leaned your chin on your palm, “I do hope your virgin ass finally gets laid.” Heeseung’s head snapped up. “EXCUSE ME?!” he nearly yelled.

Everyone turned. He ducked down, voice hissing now. “I am not a virgin! And even if I was, that’s none of your business!” He crossed his arms. “Besides, you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you even went on a date?”

Your smile fell. “Hey! For your information, I’m actually set to go on a group date with my friends this Friday.”

His expression darkened instantly. “A group date?” he reiterated. “Since when are you into that kind of thing? I thought you hated crowds.” He leaned closer, tone sharp. “And who exactly are you going with? Do I know them? Are they even decent people?”

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care? And besides, it’s about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend.”

Heeseung’s hands tightened around the edge of the table. He forced a laugh, bitter, hollow. “Yeah. Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.”

Then, he stood up, abruptly, chair scraping loudly behind him. His tray clattered as he grabbed it. “I have to go. Class starts soon.”

You frowned. “Hey-”

But he was already walking away.

You blinked, confused. “You don’t even have afternoon classes today…” You shook your head, carrying your tray to the bin. You frowned as you watched him storm off, tray in hand and tension radiating from every step.

The doors clattered shut behind him.

You stood there for a few seconds, tray still in your hands, like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body yet. Heeseung never walked away from an argument. He lived for comebacks, lived for that smug look he always wore when he got the last word.

So why now?

You blinked, startled by the tight knot forming in your chest. Was it something you said? You turned slowly toward the trash bins, tossing your leftovers away, but your mind wasn’t really on autopilot like it usually was. You weren’t thinking about your next class. Not even about what Jay said or how half the cafeteria had stared at you when Heeseung yelled about not being a virgin.

No, all your thoughts were stuck back at the table. Replaying the way his eyes darkened when you brought up the group date. The way his jaw tensed. That laugh that wasn’t a real laugh, more like something brittle, something breaking.

And then he’d left. Just… walked out.

You stood by the bins, fingers loosely gripping the edge, your tray empty but your head full of noise. The kind of silence that rings in your ears when everything around you moves on and you’re just… stuck.

You leaned against the counter, letting out a slow breath as your thoughts started spiraling.

Why was he upset?

Sure, you teased him. You always did. That wasn’t new. Neither was him teasing back.

But this time…this time he’d gotten weirdly defensive. About Yeri. About you going on a date. About everything, really.

He always called you annoying, or brat, or headache, but he’d never looked angry. Not like that.

Not like someone who was… hurt.

You stared at the floor.

And then it hit you, an idea awfully insane, and kind of stupid.

He was acting jealous.

The word lodged itself in your brain like a splinter.

No. No way. That didn’t make sense. This was Heeseung. He’d rather die than admit he liked anyone. Heeseung, who called you a cockroach just last week when you stole his fries.

Heeseung, who once said he’d sooner become a monk than date you.

Still, you couldn’t shake it.

That look in his eyes when you joked about finally getting a boyfriend.

That silence.

The way he’d refused to look at you when he said, “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

You slowly made your way out of the cafeteria, feet dragging more than usual. Your fingers were twitchy, like they wanted to text him, but you couldn’t even think of what you’d say.

And still, that question kept circling back in your head.

Annoying. Shitty. Question.

He’s not… jealous… is he?

Heeseung didn’t even remember how he got back to his dorm. One second he was standing in the cafeteria, hearing you joke about getting a boyfriend, and the next he was outside, walking blindly through campus with his fists jammed deep in his pockets.

The cold didn't help. If anything, it made his thoughts sharper, more jagged.

It's about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend. He could still hear it. Like a punchline he wasn’t in on.

He kicked a stray rock across the sidewalk, watching it bounce into the bushes.

“Stupid,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “So fucking stupid.”

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, the thought of you with some guy from that group date or the fact that he had no right to be this upset in the first place. You weren’t his. You never had been.

But that didn’t stop his chest from tightening every time he imagined you laughing with someone else. Sitting beside him. Holding his hand.

Heeseung cursed under his breath as he shoved his dorm room door open and slammed it shut behind him. He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, eyes burning holes into the ceiling.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Not after everything that happened.

Not after that night.

Your lips. The way you melted into him. The way your hands gripped his hoodie like you didn’t want to let go.

He let out a groan and buried his face into his pillow.  

What the hell were you even thinking?

He wanted to text you. Apologize maybe. Pretend it didn’t matter. But every time he picked up his phone, his thumbs froze, and the words disappeared.

So instead, he just laid there. Let the ache sit with him like it had every night since.

You walked into class like you were wearing a mask.

Blouse tucked in. Skirt straightened. Smile tight.

Everything looked fine from the outside. But inside? Your brain had been on a loop for hours, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened with Heeseung.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Friends fight. You probably just hit a nerve. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d said something wrong.

Maybe-

“Earth to Y/n.”

You blinked, startled, as Vicky waved her hand in front of your face.

“You've been staring at your notebook like it's gonna write itself,” she said with a giggle. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Uhm… yeah. Just thinking about... things.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “Things,” she repeated. “Uh-huh. Right. Like how you’ve been zoning out since you sat down. Does this have anything to do with that guy you’re always with?”

Your smile froze. “What- Heeseung? No, why would-”

She gasped softly. “Oh my god, it is about him.”

Before you could argue, she clapped her hands excitedly. “Perfect timing! Don’t forget, our group blind date’s this Friday. You have to invite him. I bet he'd totally get along with my friends. Or maybe you two can date each other and pretend it's a blind date.”

You stiffened. “Woah, slow down. Heeseung and I? That’s… we’re like family. Literally. I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”

Vicky pouted, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a shame. You guys would be stupid cute together.” You rolled your eyes, but the weird twist in your gut didn’t go away.

“And hey,” she added teasingly, voice low, “if you’re really not interested… is he fair game?” You whipped your head toward her so fast your hair slapped your shoulder.

Vicky laughed nervously, holding her hands up. “Kidding! Kidding. I know better than to go after someone you’re protective of.”

You turned back to your notes, pretending to write something. But the words blurred together.

Why did that bother you so much?

Heeseung could date whoever he wanted. You didn’t care. You shouldn’t care. And yet the thought of him sitting next to some girl on Friday made you want to scream.

It didn’t make sense.

Your fingers gripped your pen tighter.

The rest of the class passed in a haze. Vicky tossing in ideas for venues and flirty outfit suggestions while you nodded absently, stuck inside your own head.

By the time you got home, the sun was already setting, casting warm shadows on your walls.

You dropped your bag on the couch and kicked off your shoes, but something soft hit your thigh as you moved.

You reached in and pulled out the fabric.

Heeseung’s hoodie.

Of course.

You exhaled slowly, running your fingers across the soft sleeves. It still smelled like him. Laundry detergent and something warm underneath.

You didn’t want to see him. Not yet. Not when your heart still felt like it was in a blender and you didn’t know why.

But now you had an excuse to. And that irritated you more than it should.

“Whatever,” you muttered, tossing it in the laundry and pretending like that settled something.

It didn’t.

The next few days passed like molasses. Slow. Heavy. Tense.

Neither of you texted.

Neither of you reached out.

You kept telling yourself that was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That everything was totally normal.

But it wasn’t.

Every time your phone buzzed; your heart jumped. Every time it wasn’t him, it sank.

Heeseung was the same. Pretending he was busy. Pretending he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes. Pretending he didn’t care that the hoodie you wore while falling asleep in his arms was gone.

Denial was easier.

Until Friday rolled around. The day of the group date.

And neither of you could deny anything anymore.

The day of the group blind date crawled by, but you felt the weight of it like a countdown.

You spent the morning aimlessly cleaning, second-guessing your outfit, and chewing on your lip as you stared at your phone. Still no text. Not that you expected one. Not really.

Meanwhile, somewhere across campus, Heeseung was pretending to be busy. Doing laps around his dorm, rearranging laundry that was already folded, and slamming his fridge shut multiple times for no reason. Every task he did had one purpose: stalling.

Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.

You heard the doorbell just as you were zipping up your boots. When you opened it, your breath hitched.

There he was, standing stiffly outside your apartment, a black tote bag dangling from one hand. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, and also like he’d explode if he didn’t show up.

“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “You left your clothes. From that night.”

You blinked, confused for a second, then glanced down at the bag. Your cheeks warmed. “Oh. Right.” You stepped back, your voice smaller than intended. “Thanks... wait here a sec.”

You ducked inside, grabbing his pajamas off your bed and stuffing them into the bag. When you returned, he was still standing there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for lending me this too,” you mumbled, holding out the bag again.

Heeseung nodded, his jaw tight. He took it wordlessly. His fingers brushed yours. Then, after a beat too long, he said, “You look…”

He didn’t finish right away. His gaze dropped again. To the dress. The earrings. Your exposed collarbone.

“You look nice.” The words left his mouth like he hated them. “For your date, I mean.” He cleared his throat, jaw working. “Have fun or whatever.” You froze.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Like there was something else he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“I should go,” he said, turning away. “Don’t want to make you late.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving you staring at the closed door, mentally cursing yourself for not saying more.

You stared at the shut door for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt like something important had been said. And also, like nothing had.

By the time your Uber pulled up, your nerves had twisted into a tight coil behind your ribs. You tried to shake it off as you headed to the restaurant. But that all flew out the window the second you walked through the doors.

Because standing near the entrance, tray in hand, was Heeseung.

Your jaw dropped. “You? Wait. You work here?”

His eyes went wide as they landed on you, like you’d just punched him in the gut. “Y/n-? Yeah. Part-time.”

“You never told me-”

“I did,” he muttered, flushing and avoiding your gaze. “Maybe you just didn’t listen.”

You blinked, thrown off. “Since when?”

“Since-… whatever.” His voice was clipped, like he was trying too hard to act unaffected. “Needed the money. Free food. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Before you could respond, someone from the back called out: “Lee! Table 7!”

He exhaled through his nose, already turning away. “Gotta go. Enjoy your date.”

And just like that, he was gone again. Vanishing between tables, his apron swaying as he moved. You barely had time to process it when Vicky waved you over. She was already seated with another girl you knew, makeup perfect, and surrounded by three guys. One of whom slid a drink toward you as you sat down.

The night crawled forward.

Your date was… fine.

Well, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was cute. Tall. Had that clean-cut kind of look, the kind you’re supposed to want. The kind that makes your friends nudge you under the table and whisper “Okay, not bad.” And he was nice, in a way that felt... practiced? Like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Smiled on cue. Laughed when he was supposed to. Asked questions, but only the easy ones, your major, your favorite movie, if you liked dogs or cats. Surface-level stuff. Like we were speedrunning a personality quiz.

You nodded. Smiled. Even laughed a few times. But it didn’t feel like anything.

The whole time, your brain kept running in circles. You kept comparing everything he did to Heeseung, without meaning to. Without even realizing I was doing it at first.

Like when he leaned in and grinned that too-perfect smile? All you could think about was how Heeseung’s smile was kind of lopsided and usually only came out when he was genuinely amused. The real kind. The one where his nose scrunches a little and he tries to hide it behind his hand like it’s embarrassing.

Or when your date started talking about his internship and humblebragging like it was his whole personality. Meanwhile, Heeseung would rather choke than talk about himself like that. He’s so annoying about hiding how hard he works, like it’s something to be ashamed of. But at least when he says something, you know it means something.

And then there was this moment. God, it was so dumb, when your date reached across the table and tried to brush something off your sleeve, real casual. Like in the dramas. Except it didn’t feel sweet. It felt…wrong.

Because your first instinct wasn’t butterflies.

It was Heeseung would’ve made fun of me first.

He would’ve been like, “You wore that? You look like you lost a bet.” And then when you’d pout and hit his arm, he’d sneakily fix whatever it was while you were distracted. That was just how we were.

But this guy? He kept making these flirty comments toward Vicky like you weren’t sitting right there. At one point, he asked her what kind of guys she liked, while you were talking midsentence. Like, what are you? A chair?

And you just sat there, drinking your watered-down cocktail, smiling through your teeth while your insides twisted into knots.

Because the real reason you weren’t having fun?

Wasn’t the bad flirting.

Wasn’t the recycled jokes.

Wasn’t the fact that you had more chemistry with the damn napkin holder.

It was because he wasn’t Heeseung.

He didn’t get under your skin the same way. He didn’t make your heartbeat stumble just by looking in your direction. He didn’t have that stupid habit of calling you by a nickname only he could get away with. He didn’t make you want to argue just so you could hear him talk back.

He didn’t make you feel like yourself.

And maybe that was the scariest part. Sitting across from someone perfectly decent, someone that everyone else would probably think is a catch, and realizing that the only person you wanted to talk to about it... was the same person you were trying so hard not to think about.

And it sucked. Because you didn’t know what that meant.

Not really.

You just knew you were halfway through a third drink, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, smiling at a guy who wasn’t him. And the whole time, your eyes kept drifting to where Heeseung was working across the room.

Not looking at you once.

And that’s when it hit you.

Maybe he was trying not to look too.

By the time dessert came around, you were on your fifth glass of whatever fruity cocktail they'd ordered for you. The alcohol was warm in your stomach, and your thoughts were a slow spin cycle. You laughed at your date’s joke, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It didn’t reach your heart.

Because part of you was still stuck at your front door, with Heeseung not saying what you both knew he wasn’t ready to admit.

When the night finally wound down, the group staggered toward the exit. You tried to play it cool, but your legs were shaky and your head swam.

You didn’t even notice you were stumbling until a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, watch it.” Heeseung’s voice, low and sharp with concern, cut through the noise like a tether. “You’re seriously drunk.”

You looked up at him, lips pouting as your balance wobbled again. “The date sucked,” you mumbled. “He was annoying.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You were laughing. You looked fine.”

“I wasn’t.”

He cursed under his breath and guided you to a bench near the side of the restaurant. You slumped down, grateful for something solid. He knelt in front of you, one hand on your knee to steady himself. “What happened?” he asked, quieter now. “Did he do something?”

You shook your head lazily. “No, just...”  

There was a long pause, way too long like your brain and your heart were fighting against each other.

“He wasn’t you.” Ah. Now we know who won.

The words fell out before you could stop them, and the way his expression shifted for just a fraction of a second told you he didn’t expect that. But Heeseung quickly masked it, shrugging nonchalantly, like it didn’t matter.

“Right,” he muttered, almost too quickly. “Well, you’re really drunk. Don’t go saying weird stuff.” He stood up slightly, glancing at the rest of the group in the distance, then back at you.

You didn’t want to let it slide. “You’re acting different,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing as you stared up at him, trying to focus. “You’re being... too considerate. Like I’m someone special, and I don’t like it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours, an unreadable expression crossing his face for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay,” he said, voice quieter, a little more strained than usual. “You’re barely keeping yourself upright. What do you want me to do, huh?”

You didn’t back down. “I want you to stop being nice,” you said, your voice slurred but clear enough. “It’s confusing. You’re supposed to be a jerk.”

There was a long, tense pause, and you almost didn’t notice it, but the way his face softened for just a second made your heart skip. He stood there, his posture stiff, but his eyes were searching yours, something vulnerable flickering behind his usual mask.

“Why?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you could tell it caught him off guard. “Why does it bother you?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the raw honesty of the moment, but you decided to let the words spill before you could stop them.

“Because if you keep being nice to me like this... I might-” you murmured, the weight of the confession crashing over you as the words slipped out. “I might actually start liking you.”

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. Heeseung froze, his expression unreadable. You felt your body sag with the realization of what you’d just said, and the alcohol finally hit you like a wave. Your vision blurred as your head dropped back against the bench, and before you could even process the weight of your own words, your body gave out.

You didn’t even hear Heeseung call your name. You just felt his hands steadying you, but everything went black.

Everything that followed was a haze.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember being moved. But when your eyes blinked open, the light stung a little, and you were surrounded by something familiar, but not yours.

It took a second to realize you were in Heeseung’s bed.

You were curled up on top of his thin comforter, a lighter blanket tossed over your shoulders like an afterthought. His scent lingered faintly on the pillow beneath you. It smelled like clean laundry, hints of shampoo, and something distinctly him. The room was dim, lit only by the soft morning light peeking through slatted blinds.

Across the room, you spotted him, Heeseung, sitting at his desk, back to you, headphones on as he typed slowly on his laptop. His hair was still a mess, sticking out in places. He was wearing the same hoodie from the night before.

You shifted slightly, and that was all it took.

He immediately swiveled around in his chair. Headphones off, brows pulled together. “Hey,” he said, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Hey, easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”

He was already kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand resting gently on your shoulder. His eyes searched your face. “How do you feel? Water and aspirin…” he reached toward his desk, grabbing a bottle and a little foil pack, “…ready to go.”

You took them, muttering a tired thank you as you sat up slowly. Your head was pounding. Everything felt weirdly fragile, like the air was too loud.

“What a mess.. why am I remembering…” you rubbed your temples, “Vicky. Telling me she’d scare off my date.”

Heeseung gave you a tight-lipped smile, carefully neutral. “She did.” You let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t do or say anything... regrettable, right?” His expression flickered. Just for a second. A crack.

“Regrettable?” he repeated quickly. “Nah, nothing like that. You were just… rambling. Typical drunk stuff.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting away. “I brought you back here ‘cause you couldn’t go home like that. And I figured, y’know… better I make sure you’re okay than leave you to die in a bush or something.”

You snorted. “Very noble of you.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward, stiff. “Seriously though, I swear, nothing weird happened. You knocked out like, instantly. I made sure you didn’t choke in your sleep or whatever. That’s it.”

You nodded slowly, watching him as you sipped the water. “Nothing else?”

There was a pause. Barely a beat. He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.” You said nothing. Just nodded again.

Because you did remember. The moment before it all faded. The way your heart pounded. The words that escaped you.

You remembered what you said to him. Clear as day.

Heeseung looked visibly relieved that you didn’t push it further. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should probably go home though. Rest somewhere more… homey. Real food, maybe not just painkillers.”

You hesitated. Then quietly, “Can I stay? Just for a little while.” His eyes widened.

“I know I’m probably being annoying, but I just…can’t really go home like this yet.” You picked at the blanket, looking down. “Also, the date was shit...I wanna distract myself from thinking of it.” Heeseung blinked. The expression on his face shifted from surprise to something gentler.

“Yeah,” he said after a second, voice low. “Of course you can stay.”

He sat down next to you slowly, like he wasn’t sure he should. You could feel the warmth of him, even without touching.

“So,” he asked, carefully, “what happened? Was he a jerk or something?”

There was something off in his tone. A casual mask trying to cover the edge of something rawer.

You shrugged. “He was full of himself. Talked about himself the whole time. Kept flirting with Vicky right in front of me.” You glanced at him. “It was pathetic, honestly.”

Heeseung’s entire expression darkened. Jaw clenched. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “He did that in front of you?” You nodded.

“Piece of shit,” he muttered, then immediately seemed to catch himself. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. That’s just-God, what a dumbass.”

You could feel something bubbling beneath his words. He was angry. More than just offended on your behalf. There was something personal in the way he said it.

“I didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said under your breath.

“Oh?” he said quickly. “Then why go on the date?”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “I guess I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on. That I didn’t-” You bit your lip. “Never mind.” He watched you closely.

“Didn’t what?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Forget it.”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He leaned back against the wall beside the bed. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “you deserve someone way better than that loser. Someone who… actually listens. Knows you.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds like a fantasy.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You turned to him. “You speak from experience?”

He smiled crookedly. “Something like that.”

There was a quiet stretch. Neither of you spoke.

Then, on impulse, you asked, “Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

He looked at you like you just offered to buy him a yacht. “Really?”

“Yeah. You took care of me, so let me return the favor.”

He blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“I mean, you’ll probably complain about the food, but-”

“Oh, absolutely. You have terrible taste.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing the blanket off as you stood. “Can I shower?”

Heeseung blinked. “Shower?”

“Yeah. You’ve got clean towels, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Cabinet under the sink.” He was already standing up, rummaging through a drawer.

“Here. Take this.” He held out a folded t-shirt and a pair of his joggers. “These should fit, I think.” You took them, holding back a grin. “Thanks, mom.”

He flushed, then made a face. “Just don’t use all my conditioner. That shit’s expensive.”

You ducked into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly masking the sound of your laugh.

Left alone, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, covering his face with his arm. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

Everything about you lately was driving him insane.

Ten minutes later, you emerged, towel-drying your hair and wearing his clothes. The t-shirt was soft, worn-in, and smelled like him. The joggers sat comfortably low on your hips.

“Feel better?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

You nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go, then.”

You walked side by side. Close. Too close, maybe. His hand brushed against yours a few times, just barely.

“Watch it,” you muttered after the third time.

“Not my fault,” he said, not looking at you. “You keep drifting.”

You narrowed your eyes at the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

When you reached the restaurant, he pulled open the door. “Go,” he said, flicking his chin. “Before you embarrass yourself trying to yank this open.”

“Wow,” you scoffed. “Chivalry’s dead.”

Inside the little restaurant, it was quiet. Just the low hum of a fan overhead and the occasional clink of cutlery from the kitchen. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat cool against your skin. Heeseung sat across from you, stretching his legs under the table with a soft groan.

He picked up the laminated menu and scanned it half-heartedly. “This place is always weirdly cold.”

You shrugged, fingers idly tracing the edge of your water glass. “Better than it being stuffy. I can’t think when it’s hot.”

“You can’t think when you’re cold either,” he pointed out, flipping the menu upside down like the food choices might change.

You smirked. “I can’t think around you, period.” He looked up. Blinked.

You hadn’t meant to say that.

“I mean-when you’re being annoying,” you added quickly, eyes dropping to the menu like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. “You’re distracting.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, voice teasing. “Nice save.”

You made a face at him. He just chuckled and leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression again. Half amused, half something else.

A waitress came by, took your orders, then disappeared just as quickly.

For a while, neither of you said much. You busied yourself with your straw wrapper, folding it into tight little knots. He watched your hands. Then the window. Then you again.

Finally, he asked, “So. Last night.”

You didn’t look up. “What about it?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just… didn’t expect it to bother me as much as it did.” That made you glance at him.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?” you said carefully.

He let out a short breath. “Yeah. That was… not my finest moment.”

You leaned forward slightly. “Why though?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ran a hand through his hair.

“It was just… weird. Seeing you with someone else. Even if it was just a date.”

You tilted your head. “Weird how?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed softly against the table.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess I thought I’d be fine. Like, of course you’re gonna date. That’s normal. But then I saw you standing there with him, and I just-” He exhaled sharply. “It was weird as hell.”

Your throat felt tight. “Heeseung…”

He shook his head, like he regretted saying anything at all. “I’m not trying to make this about me. I just… I care. Okay? Maybe more than I should.” That landed heavier than you expected.

You looked down again. At your straw wrapper. At the water beading on your glass.

“I didn’t like being there,” you admitted, voice low. “The whole thing felt off from the start. Like I was pretending.”

He looked up at that.

“Pretending what?”

“That I wanted to be there. That I didn’t already…” You hesitated. The words felt too big all of a sudden. Too close to something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to say.

“Already what?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small, careful smile. “Already know what I want.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then nodded slowly, like he understood just enough.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore.

The food arrived, and the moment passed. You both shifted back to easier conversation. Complaining about portion sizes, laughing at how they overcooked his egg, making jabs about your weird sauce preferences.

No one said it, but you both felt it.

It wasn’t a confession. Not exactly.

After the plates were cleared and the bill had been paid, you both just sat there nursing the last of your drinks, your fingers lazily stirring the melting ice around with your straw. Neither of you seemed in a rush to leave.

Heeseung glanced out the window, squinting slightly at the soft morning light filtering in. “It’s still early,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn that made his voice raspy. “Wanna walk around? There’s that park nearby… you know, the one with the stupidly big ducks.”

You snorted. “The ones that hiss at people?”

“Yeah. You like danger, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already grabbing your bag. “Fine. But if I get chased, I’m sacrificing you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning as he held the door open for you. The morning breeze was crisp, brushing past your cheeks and ruffling his hair a little. He didn’t bother fixing it.

The walk wasn’t far. It was one of those sleepy neighborhood parks. Just a few worn benches, an old slide, some trees that were finally blooming again. You found an empty bench in the shade and plopped down with a sigh; your legs grateful for the break. Heeseung sat beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

For a while, there wasn’t much said. Just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves, the occasional squawk of an aggressive duck, and the distant bark of someone’s dog.

Then, without warning, you glanced sideways and asked, “Anyways, why did you lie when you said you told me about your part-time job?”

Heeseung blinked like you’d thrown cold water on him.

He looked at you, a little startled. “Huh?”

“You told me you already mentioned it,” you said, leaning back against the bench, casual but still watching him. “But I swear you didn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting with a napkin he'd absently tucked into his pocket.

“It’s just a part-time job, you know? Nothing special.” You didn’t say anything, waiting.

He sighed, letting his hands fall to his lap. “To be honest, I was kinda embarrassed about it. Figured you'd make fun of me for working at some random diner.”

You raised a brow. “Why would I make fun of you for that?”

He chuckled dryly. “I dunno. I guess I thought you’d see it and think I peaked in high school or something.” He finally met your gaze, sheepish. “Guess I should’ve known better. Since when do you judge people based on stuff like that?”

You cracked a grin. “Well, I’d definitely make fun of how you look while working. But not where or why.”

That made him laugh, really laugh, and you caught a glimpse of his canines when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled when he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Then, maybe a little too comfortable, you added, “You looked good in that uniform though.” Your mouth shut a second too late.

Heeseung blinked. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and he ducked his head, hiding the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh yeah?” he said, trying for cool but fumbling it. “You... noticed?”

You cleared your throat, willing your face not to burn. “Just saying. It suited you.”

“I thought I looked stupid in it,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Like... cartoon diner boy vibes.”

“You always look stupid,” you said, trying to mask the compliment. “But, like, stupidly good in that uniform. Somehow.”

He turned to you fully now, a full grin spreading across his face. “Stupidly good, huh?” he echoed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.” “Go with flattered,” you muttered.

He laughed softly. “I will then. Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Then he tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Hey, remember that bet we made in middle school? That if neither of us found anyone by thirty, we’d just marry each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, I didn’t think you still remembered that.”

“Of course I do,” he said through a mouthful of whatever snack he’d bought from the park’s sad vending machine. “How could I forget such a ridiculous deal?”

He leaned in a little, his voice playful but low. “Plus, it gives me ten years to write a killer speech for stealing you away. Gotta make it memorable.”

“Ew.” You groaned, half-laughing, half-wanting to throw him off the bench. “You’re so cheesy. Stop! You of all people actually being okay with that is insane.”

Heeseung held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll tone it down.” But the smile didn’t leave his face.

Then his voice dipped, not teasing now. Softer. “But seriously. You’d rather end up with some stranger over someone who already knows you? Someone who’s been there... through everything?”

You looked at him, quiet.

He didn’t push. Just kept talking, like he was thinking out loud.

“Not saying I’d actually do it. But… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, right? Settling down with someone who already knows all your weird habits and still wants to sit on a park bench with you after diner shifts and awkward first dates?”

The question lingered between you, neither rhetorical nor rushed. It hung in the silence like a soft, open-ended maybe.

You didn’t answer right away. Because honestly, you didn’t know how to.

Instead, you just reached out and flicked the corner of the vending machine snack in his hand.

“I only agree if I get to write your vows.”

He blinked. Then his grin returned, brighter than the morning sun overhead.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, voice warm.

You leaned back, letting your shoulders relax against the bench, watching a pair of ducks waddle toward a group of toddlers.

Heeseung was still beside you, just close enough that your knees bumped occasionally. Not a big moment. Nothing dramatic.

But it felt like everything wasn’t quite the same anymore.

So why are you letting it?

The next few days passed normally, with a tinge of peculiarity. You and Heeseung still bickered, still teased and jabbed at each other, but the edge was gone. Things had softened. Like the air had changed after a storm but neither of you wanted to talk about the lightning that had struck.

He'd text you late at night, just a meme or a weird video. You'd answer immediately, even if you were halfway through brushing your teeth. Sometimes he'd swing by the dental building just to walk you to the bus stop. You pretended not to notice the way your heart started doing gymnastics in your chest whenever he leaned a little too close or smiled a little too long.

Nothing had really changed. Except that everything had.

You didn’t dare bring up what he’d said at the breakfast place. The whole "settling down with your best friend" thing. You weren’t sure if he was serious. Heeseung had always joked like that. Always known how to toe the line. But lately, it felt like the line was erasing itself. You didn’t want to risk crossing it too soon.

And then suddenly, it was just a month before the university’s Interdisciplinary Festival. You could feel it in the shift of the campus vibe. Flyers everywhere, group chats buzzing, department chairs acting more high-strung than usual. You weren’t directly involved. Dentistry didn't usually have flashy showcases. Your part was more behind the scenes, coordinating with allied health orgs, preparing booths, boring but practical stuff.

But Performance Arts? That department lived for this. And Heeseung, being a third-year in Movement and Expression, had one of the biggest showcases lined up.

You only heard about it by accident.

You were on the library steps with your friend Hyejin, eating ice cream like it wasn’t ten in the morning. She was scrolling through her phone, showing you some video of someone absolutely bombing their tap dance final, when she went, "Oh my god, wait. You know Heeseung’s partnered with Yeri, right?"

You blinked. "Partnered for what?"

Hyejin tilted her head like it was obvious. "The interdisciplinary showcase. Their final’s a partner performance piece. Live. Like, full-blown duet. Probably something emotional and contemporary."

You laughed, even though your fingers tightened slightly around your spoon. "Sounds dramatic."

She shrugged. "Kinda hot, though. I mean, those two together? They’re gonna look insane on stage. Everyone’s already talking about it. People are betting on whether they’re gonna kiss in the final scene."

Your laugh this time came out too sharp. "Betting? Seriously?"

"It’s the Performance Arts kids. They make everything theatrical. But yeah, it’s all over the department forums. Some freshman even made a Yeri x Heeseung hashtag. It’s gross."

You scoffed, trying to play it off. "Heeseung’s probably dying of embarrassment. He hates that kind of attention."

But your stomach was sinking. Not because of Yeri, not exactly. Yeri was nice. Really fucking nice. And she and Heeseung made sense on paper. Both were tall, talented, and conventionally attractive. They moved in the same artistic circles. They shared a language you’d never really spoken. The idea of them being shipped together wasn’t surprising. It was reasonable.

And maybe that’s what made it worse.

You didn’t say anything to Heeseung at first. Not when he texted you a blurry selfie of himself trying on a costume for rehearsal. Not when he showed up at your library table the next day with a mango smoothie like he always did.

But you noticed the changes. Subtle things. He was always tired now. Rehearsals were eating up his evenings. He’d started humming unfamiliar melodies under his breath. And once, just once, you caught the faint scent of Yeri’s perfume clinging to his hoodie when he leaned over to help you fix your cracked phone screen.

You didn’t even flinch. You just smiled and handed him the new glass. Like always.

Until the cracks finally showed.

It was Friday evening. You’d both ended up on campus late—him from rehearsal, you from a late lab session. He found you sitting by the vending machines, legs curled up on the bench, eyes glued to your notes.

"You look like you haven’t blinked in an hour," he said, tossing you a small snack pack.

"You look like you got hit by a lighting rig," you shot back, eyeing his sweat-soaked hair.

He grinned. But it was tired. Too tired.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel comforting. Tonight, it felt like holding your breath.

You nudged his knee. "So. The duet."

He stiffened slightly. Not a flinch, but close.

"Ah. That." He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "You heard, huh?"

You nodded, keeping your tone light. "Whole school has, apparently. You two trending yet?"

He groaned. "Don’t even. Some sophomore tried to interview us for the school paper. I told them to interview my foot instead."

You snorted. "Nice."

Heeseung scratched at his temple. "It’s not that serious, y’know. Just an assignment. Yeri’s chill. She’s focused. No drama."

You stared at him. "You don’t think it’s a big deal?"

He looked at you then, really looked. And for a moment, the easy smile slipped.

"I didn’t say that," he said quietly. "Just... I didn’t ask for her. We were paired. It’s not like I had a choice."

You tried not to react. "Right. Makes sense."

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed a little, studying your expression. "Why? Does it bother you?"

You shrugged. "Why would it? It’s your class. You’re doing what you have to do."

There was a pause. Something taut stretched between you, neither of you daring to pull too hard.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched you fidget with your notebook. "But it’s bothering you, right?"

You didn’t look up, focusing on the paper in front of you. "I didn’t say that."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn’t. But you’re kind of wearing it on your face."

You huffed, flipping a page in your notebook, trying to avoid the growing tension. "I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it."

Heeseung chuckled softly, but there was a quiet seriousness behind it. "I’m not making a big deal. You are."

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t give in. "I’m not. Just-" You paused, scratching your pen over the paper more harshly than you intended. "It’s just different, okay? I’m used to having you around, not just in passing. And now… it’s like you’re always somewhere else, in some other world. I don’t know, maybe I forgot what that feels like."

There was a long silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too quiet. Heeseung adjusted in his seat, clearly thinking about what you said. You could feel him looking at you, but you kept your gaze fixed downward, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but with a hint of something almost... understanding. "That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been so used to me being around all the time that now it feels weird."

You stiffened, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I’m not saying it’s a problem."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re not the best at explaining things, you know that?"

"Well, maybe if you didn’t make everything feel like a thing, it’d be easier to explain."

There was another wave of silence, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as tense. Heeseung shifted again, this time reaching over to poke your arm lightly. "Alright, alright. I get it. You miss me or whatever."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I don’t miss you, I just-" You stopped yourself before you could say more, mentally cursing your own brain for letting that slip.

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung said, his voice now teasing but still light. "I know you’re just totally fine without me around."

You gave him a look, not bothering to respond. The familiar bickering felt oddly comforting, even if it didn’t solve anything. You could almost pretend like things weren’t shifting, that nothing had changed.

Heeseung leaned a little closer, his voice quieter this time, not quite teasing but not completely serious either. "You know, I’m still here, right? Even if I’m not always right in front of you."

You glanced at him, but your gaze faltered quickly. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of those words, even though they weren’t as heavy as they could have been. "Yeah, I know. You just keep disappearing into your little world for hours."

Heeseung smirked, nudging your arm with his shoulder. "I come back. I always do."

You looked up at him, your expression softening, but you didn’t say anything. For a moment, it felt like there was more between the two of you than you wanted to admit.

Heeseung smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me."

The university’s interdisciplinary festival was the kind of event that had a little bit of everything: booths on oral health from the Dentistry department, sports exhibitions, and the inevitable Performance Arts showcases that would steal the spotlight, as they always did. Naturally, since the festival spanned multiple departments, each one had its role to play. It was a chaotic, messy combination of everything, but somehow, everything still managed to fall into place. Though not without a bit of stress.

Vicky, your very unfortunately good friend, was the one who dragged you into it.

“You’ve got to come help with the festival, please! I’m begging you!” Vicky had said that day, eyes wide with that slightly manic enthusiasm that usually meant trouble.

You’d wanted to refuse, but you owed her. Big time. You couldn’t exactly back out, not when she’d held a dirty little secret over your head for months. And there was the fact that she’d somehow convinced you to help her out when you’d lost a bet a while ago. This was your punishment, you guessed, helping her run around doing menial tasks for the festival. You sighed dramatically as you agreed, your inner voice grumbling about the mess you were about to step into.

“I’m only doing this because I owe you, Vicky,” you muttered, throwing on your jacket as you followed her to the sign-up table.

“I knew you’d come through,” she grinned widely, practically bouncing on her toes. You shook your head but didn’t argue.

Vicky was good at that, making you feel guilty enough to help her out without ever truly demanding it.

And so, you found yourself getting swept up into the logistics of the festival, running around with other volunteers from different departments. And as fate would have it, you ended up working directly with Yeri.

The thing about Yeri was… she was easy to like. At least, that’s how she came across. She was friendly. Polite. A little too nice at times, in a way that made you feel like she was always trying to read something between the lines. You didn’t know her well. But everyone else seemed to think she was this pure, sweet angel.

It was hard to deny, though, that something about her rubbed you the wrong way now. Maybe it was the way she smiled a little too brightly at you, or the way her eyes lingered on Heeseung just a little too long whenever he was nearby. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. At least, you didn’t want to think it was. But there was something unsettling about the ease with which she seemed to glide through everything, untouched and perfect.

And when you saw her, right there in the middle of it all, managing rehearsal coordination for the Performance Arts group, your stomach twisted in knots.

Her smile was so… practiced as she greeted you. Almost too perfect. She was standing by the entrance of the rehearsal room, clipboard in hand as people filtered in. She waved at you when she saw you approach with Vicky, and then stepped forward, offering a cool bottle of water in a way that felt both casual and deliberate.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you with a small smile. “It’s gonna be a long day. Stay hydrated.”

You took the bottle from her without a word, fighting the urge to scowl. Vicky, ever the optimist, nudged you with a grin before speaking up.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee. You two go ahead and start getting familiar with the space. You’ll be fine, right?”

You barely had time to answer before Vicky disappeared, leaving you with her.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding Yeri’s gaze. You were about to turn away, but then her voice stopped you, and you froze.

“So,” she said, her voice light but her gaze sharp. “Are you and Heeseung… dating, or...?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to fight not to let it show. Your chest tightened, and you almost laughed to cover it up.

“No,” you said, as casually as possible, trying to shrug it off. “We’ve known each other forever.” You wanted to move past this. But Yeri wasn’t letting you off that easily.

“Oh.” Her eyes were deceptively innocent as she tilted her head, her smile soft but there was something unsettling about it. “So, you’re like… family, then?” And just like that, your stomach dropped.

Family. That word. The word that made it sound like nothing between you and Heeseung would ever be more than just what you already were. Not that you even wanted it to be more, right? At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself as you awkwardly fumbled for a response.

You forced a smile, a tight thing that never quite reached your eyes. “Yeah, I guess. That’s one way to put it.”

Yeri didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. She smiled again, a little too warmly, and nodded as if that answer had satisfied her.

“Family, huh?” She repeated, almost to herself, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you for a moment longer than necessary.

You didn’t know why, but her words hit you like a punch in the gut. Something about them felt too sharp. Too intentional. It was like she was probing for something, trying to understand exactly how far the relationship between you and Heeseung went. You didn’t want to play her game, but she wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“Right.” You swallowed and finally gave in, looking at her for a second before glancing away.

“Well, we’re not really… family, I guess. Just… friends.”

Her smile flickered, a glint of something unreadable flashing in her eyes. She nodded again, still too perfect, too calm.

“Right. Just friends.”

The tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, following you around like a shadow. You didn’t want to think about what Yeri’s words meant. Didn’t want to think about the fact that, in the back of your mind, they made you feel…small.

Before you could say anything else, someone shouted from across the room, calling for Yeri’s attention. She glanced back at you, giving you one final, soft smile.

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” she said, and with that, she turned away, leaving you standing there, feeling a little more unsettled than you had a moment ago.

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be angry at the way she’d managed to make you feel like you were something less than you were. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to get upset. Not when you felt…stupid.

And maybe it was because of her. Or maybe it was because of the way your heart had stuttered when she’d asked about you and Heeseung. But either way, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was starting to change… again.

And it wasn’t just with her. It was with Heeseung, too.

For the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Yeri’s smile had never quite reached her eyes. The way her words seemed so carefully chosen, like she was testing you, seeing how you’d react. You weren’t sure what her angle was, but you knew it was something more than just curiosity.

And Heeseung? He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t know if it was the festival getting to you, or the fact that Yeri was always around, her presence like a quiet storm brewing in the background. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that the space between you and Heeseung was widening.

It had always been this easy with him. But now? Now, everything felt...complicated.

It had been a few days since that weird conversation with Yeri. Since that almost-smile you gave her. Since her words, “So you’re like… family?” had been playing on repeat in your head like some cruel inside joke you didn’t know you’d signed up for.

You told yourself you were over it. Told yourself you were being dramatic. But the thing is, once a thought plants itself like that, it doesn’t go away. It twists. It grows teeth. It appears like a teratoma you saw in ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’

The thing about trying to shake something off is that it never really works when you're already spiraling. And after that whole almost-cordial conversation with Yeri a few days ago, the drink offering, the “you’re like family?” line, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it had been hard not to spiral. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. That it didn’t mean anything. People asked offhand questions all the time. Yeri didn’t know better.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew a loaded question when you heard one.

Still, you’d managed to push it down. Not away, just barely under the surface, like stuffing a drawer that wouldn’t quite close. You buried yourself in classwork, in shift hours, in helping Vicky plan her chaos of a booth for the Interdisciplinary Festival. She’d somehow roped you into printing tarpaulin designs and labeling props for a dental hygiene game that involved questionable puppet mascots and glitter glue.

And maybe it was easier to be annoyed at Vicky than to sit still long enough to think about how things felt different lately.

Heeseung hadn’t been avoiding you, no. If anything, he was still... around. Still showing up outside your building with a coffee when you didn’t ask, still bumping his knee against yours under the table during lunch, still sending reels at 2am with a “this is you when you’re hungry” caption.

But something had shifted.

Maybe it was you.

Or maybe it was that you noticed the shift more now that Yeri had stepped out of the periphery and into your shared spaces.

It was a late Thursday afternoon when it happened. The hallway leading to the studio wing was mostly quiet, the usual buzz of activity softened by the fact that most departments were busy prepping their respective booths or showcases. You were carrying a stack of laminated activity cards, something Vicky insisted were “vital to audience engagement,” and cutting through the Performance Arts floor because it was a faster route back to your booth.

You didn’t mean to look.

Really, you didn’t.

You only turned your head because you heard music playing from the open studio door. It was something soft and rhythmic, a piano loop that sounded vaguely familiar. You would’ve kept walking if not for the glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. A flash of grey sweatpants.

A foot pivoting. The sound of a quiet laugh.

And there they were.

Heeseung and Yeri.

In the center of the studio, mid-run-through. You could tell from their breathing that they were nearing the end. Their movements were fluid, he reached for her wrist, spun her in close, and her hand landed on his shoulder like muscle memory. The music faded into its final notes. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her by the waist without missing a beat.

And then, still holding her, he laughed.

It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t intimate in the way people always imagined.

But it was close.

His forehead brushed hers as he chuckled, and she grinned back, flushed from movement, her hand still resting against his chest.

And just like that, the drawer inside you burst open.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the moment. You didn’t give it the grace of an ending. You turned before they could see you, before Heeseung could glance over and realize you’d been standing there like some pathetic cliché in a drama rerun.

The laminated cards dug into your fingers as you walked faster, then faster still, until the hallway blurred and your breath caught unevenly in your throat.

You knew it wasn’t a big deal. Knew that this was rehearsal. Knew that Heeseung didn’t look at Yeri the way he looked at you when you were both cracking jokes in line for ramen, or when you were arguing over toothpaste flavors at the convenience store.

But knowing didn’t mean anything when your brain kept replaying that image. His hands on her waist, their laughter floating in sync, the ease of it all.

And the worst part?

The worst part was how normal it all looked.

How good they looked together.

You don’t remember walking down the stairs.

Your legs must’ve carried you out of the performance wing on autopilot, but your brain was stuck on loop, replaying the scene you weren’t supposed to see. The way he held her. The stupid laugh. That split second of closeness. You kept telling yourself it wasn’t even romantic, and yet here you were, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way back to the volunteer booth because your chest felt tight and hollow at the same time.

By the time you made it to the central quad, the heat in your ears had barely faded. Students were scattered across folding tables, tape guns snapping open, boxes getting unpacked.

Someone was blasting a speaker near the MedTech stall. It was all just noise.

You spotted Vicky instantly, perched like a gremlin on top of a chair, one leg folded under her as she furiously labeled laminated tags. Her drink was half-spilled next to a tangle of string lights. Typical.

You dropped the flyers in front of her with a little too much force.

Vicky flinched. “Damn. You tryna give me a paper cut to the throat or something?” You didn’t answer.

She peered at you, head tilted. “You good?” Still nothing.

Vicky blinked. “Okay, mood.”

You sat down wordlessly across from her, staring blankly at the label sheet.

After a beat, she gave you a look. “...You passed by the rehearsal studio, didn’t you?” That snapped your head up.

Your silence was enough of a confession.

Vicky hissed through her teeth. “I told you not to take the back hallway. Didn’t I literally say not to risk it today?”

“I wasn’t trying to spy,” you said stiffly. “It was just the fastest way. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Well, yeah. No one expects to get punched in the gut by destiny.”

You frowned. “This isn’t some drama.”

“Isn’t it?” she countered, flicking a label onto a folder. “Because I’m pretty sure that looked a hell of a lot like the third-act misunderstanding in Twilight. You’re Bella. Yeri’s the romantic rival. Heeseung’s the-”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Do not call him Edward.”

Vicky shrugged, deadpan. “I was gonna say Jacob, actually. But tomato, tomato.”

You shot her a glare, but your heart wasn’t in it. Your stomach was still twisted up, your chest still humming with that awful buzzing feeling. Like jealousy, but meaner. Heavier.

She studied you for a moment before softening, her voice dipping lower. “Look, I get it. I know it sucks. And I know you’re not gonna say it out loud, but you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re jealous, then.”

“I’m not-” You bit off the rest, jaw tight. “I’m not anything.”

Vicky gave you the most annoying knowing smile. “Sure. Which is why you’re out here nearly cracking a hole in my table.”

You folded your arms, but the motion felt defensive even to you.

She pressed. “Be real, though. Are you actually upset about the duet? Or about the fact that it looked... comfortable?” That landed.

You exhaled sharply and looked away. “It wasn’t even romantic.”

“But it could’ve been. If you didn’t know better.” Vicky leaned back in her chair. “That’s what stings the most, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She watched you for a second, then leaned forward, voice softer now. “Look. I know it’s easier to pretend it’s nothing. But I also know you. And you don’t look at people like that unless it means something.”

You swallowed hard.

“Even if you can’t say it,” she added gently, “you feel it. That’s enough to make this kind of thing hurt.”

You stared down at the table. A breeze lifted one of the corner tags and fluttered it against your arm.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” you murmured. “Everyone knows they’re partnered. I thought I was fine. I was fine.”

“And then you saw it.”

You nodded, slowly. “He laughed.”

Vicky raised a brow. “And that’s the crime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… he laughed like it was easy. Like she belonged there. In his arms. I’ve seen him do duets before, but this...” You trailed off. Your throat felt tight.

“She’s good at what she does,” Vicky said, not unkindly. “And she’s not stupid. She knows exactly how she comes off.”

“I know.”

“She probably knows you’re watching, too.” You blinked at her.

“C’mon,” Vicky said, scoffing. “Yeri’s not dumb. She asked if you and Heeseung were dating in the most suspiciously casual way imaginable. You think she wasn’t testing the waters?”

You clenched your jaw, that old bitterness creeping back in. “She said we were like family.”

“Oh, ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Vicky sighed, sliding her drink over to you. “You want me to ‘accidentally’ trip and spill glitter on her head?”

You cracked a laugh. It was weak. Shaky. But real.

“I’m serious,” she said, straight-faced. “I’ll ruin her whole aesthetic. It’ll be glitterpocalypse.” “I appreciate the offer,” you mumbled.

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sounds of other students setting up around you, the distant hum of another speaker kicking on.

And then Vicky said, softer, “You’re allowed to feel things, you know. Even if you’re not dating him. Even if no one said anything out loud yet.”

You blinked fast. The backs of your eyes were starting to sting.

“But what if I’m just... reading too much into it?” you asked, voice quiet. “What if I’m the only one who thinks we’re… whatever we are?”

“You’re not,” Vicky said firmly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just you.”

You stared at the tabletop, her words echoing in your chest like they wanted to stick but didn’t know where to land.

“Just don’t let this one moment undo everything you’ve built with him,” she added, nudging your hand. “You guys have history. Depth. That beats any choreography any day.” You nodded slowly, even though the ache hadn’t left. Not really.

But for now, you stayed.

You let Vicky drag you into more prep work, into stringing lights and faking jokes, into the chaos of your friendship, even while the image of Heeseung and Yeri refused to leave the back of your mind.

Even while the burn lingered.

Even while the question, the one you never said out loud, twisted deeper inside you:

If you were really his person...

Then why did it feel like he was learning to smile in someone else's direction?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 16/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : angst, mention of harassement, not graphic just imply (not from Lando)

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 16 : SMAU

Text messages :

Lando:

I can’t sleep.

Every time I close my eyes I see your face from that night. How hurt you looked. How I did that.

Lando:

I don’t know how to fix it. I just know I want to.

Lando:

I didn’t trust you. And you didn’t deserve that.

You gave me something real and I let fear destroy it.

Lando:

I'm sorry. God, Ari. I’m so sorry.

Lando:

Just… if you never want to see me again, I get it.

But please don’t leave me not knowing where I stand.

Please don’t leave me like this.

Lando:

I keep thinking if I had just held your hand and listened that night… none of this would’ve happened.

Lando:

Do you hate me now?

Lando:

I’d understand if you did.

Lando:

But I really, really hope you don’t.

No Reply

@landonorris

Sometimes you only learn to miss someone once the silence starts to echo.

@f1updatesfan

 uhhh is Lando okay? 😟

@softlandoenergy

 he’s been posting like a sad playlist in human form lately 💔

@f1gossipqueen

 don’t attack me but this feels like an heartbreak

@carbonfiberballet

 remember that girl from the ballet posts?? 👀

@tangledupincurls

 he posted this and didn’t even caption it with an emoji. something’s wrong wrong

@gridgirldiaries

 🕯️manifesting healing for this poor man 🕯️

Texts messages :

Lando:

I will land in Paris in the morning.

I don’t even know if you’ll see this, but… I’ll be there.

I just want to talk. Just five minutes. I’ll wait anywhere you say. You don’t even have to look at me. Just let me say I’m sorry in person.

Lando:

Please, Ari.

Lando:

Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Message Not Delivered

Lando:

…no.

Lando:

You blocked me.

Lando:

You actually blocked me.

Lando:

I deserve it.

I’d block me too.

Lando:

But it still fucking hurts.

@landonorris (Instagram Story)

Song:

 🎵 “All I Want” – Kodaline

 “But if you loved me, why'd you leave me?

 Take my body, take my body

 All I want is, and all I need is

 To find somebody… I’ll find somebody like you…”

@f1softestboy

 okay but lando posting "all i want" by kodaline in complete silence...

@gridtearz

 he really said: no caption. no context. just pain.

@slowburnlando

 sir. who hurt you and why did YOU let them go 😭💔

@landowithluv

 I’ve been fine all week but that song choice?? during this phase of his life??

@burntballetflats

 this is 100% about the ballerina.

@f1moonenergy

 he’s not posting lyrics to be poetic he’s literally screaming for help in sad indie boy dialect

@f1gossipcentral

BREAKING NEWS ✈️ Lando Norris spotted at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris this morning.

The McLaren driver appeared noticeably somber as he made his way across the tarmac, despite being expected to remain in Brazil with friends for another week.

Fans at the terminal described him as “quiet, polite, but distant” and several reported he stayed seated alone for nearly 20 minutes after landing before being picked up.

No official statement from him, but many are speculating why the sudden detour to France… and why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days and if it's not related to a certain ballerina 👀

@lan_donothing:

He looks so cold and small wtf someone hug him 😭

@ballerinaburnbook:

nah this is about the ballerina 100000% he shortened his trip AND dropped that sad story

@maxpowered:

I thought he was living it up in Brazil with the boys?? He just ghosted the vibes.

@slowburnlando:

And the ballerina also came back earlier from her "solo trip" after her injurie

@pastelf1soul:

He’s not even TRYING to hide it 😩 Man is in is heartbreak era.

@gridgirldiaries:

Okay but imagine the girl walking through arrivals and seeing him like THAT 🥹

@f1rumourmill:

allegedly seen near Palais Garnier earlier today 👀Which… we ALL know who that links to.

@cherryribbons:

Hate how this saga has me acting like I’m in a sad indie film

@arianariverria

Back to Paris, back to dancing, back to healing

Comments have been desactivated

@royaloperahouse_official

It is with great gravity that we announce the immediate termination of our lead principal dancer, Marc Bertrand, following multiple internal reports of inappropriate conduct toward several female colleagues within the company.

An internal investigation is currently underway. While we are committed to ensuring privacy and dignity for the individuals involved, we want to make it unequivocally clear that the Royal Opera will no longer employ, endorse, or support Mr. Bertrand in any capacity moving forward.

We remain committed to fostering a safe and respectful environment for all our artists. Updates will be provided when appropriate.

@balletteaaa wait wasn’t he dating Ariana Riverria?? 😧

@dramatica.london they broke up like a year ago but he was still acting like they were together 💀 creepy af

@truthwhispers There’ve been rumors about him cheating and being rough w/ some of the younger dancers… maybe now ppl are finally listening.

@arianaxparis I’m just glad Ariana left the Royal Opera and went back to Paris. She looks so much happier now 💕

@teaandtoeshoes Kinda weird how they’re keeping it internal. If it’s harassment, why not take it to court?

@ballerinaroyal if Ariana was his ex and she saw this behavior up close… no wonder she cut ties and moved on. poor girl 😞

@stagelightshadow So basically they fired him but aren’t saying exactly what he did? Sounds serious if they’re cutting ties completely.

@danseparisienne People have whispered about Marc for years. Arrogant, entitled, always flirting with younger dancers. Glad it’s finally public.

@bravoballetqueen Ohhh so THIS is why Ariana left so suddenly 😮‍💨 I thought it was a career move but now it makes sense…

@londonspotlight Is it true that he kept telling press he and Ariana were just "on a break"? 💀 Dude was delusional.

@truthinspandex If even Royal Opera is letting him go this fast, it has to be serious. They're not known for moving quickly on anything.

@justice4artists Why isn’t there a lawsuit? If he harassed multiple dancers, they deserve justice, not just a quiet “termination.”

@rumeurrouge I heard he tried to get Ariana removed from a role after they broke up bc she didn’t want to go back with him… 😳

Texts messages

Lando I saw the news about Marc. Are you okay?

Lando You probably still have me blocked. That’s fair. I deserve it. But I’m sending this anyway. Just in case.

Lando I can’t stop thinking about how horrible this must be for you. I’m so, so sorry you ever had to deal with him.

Lando And I’m even more sorry that when you were with me, I let my own jealousy get in the way of understanding what you’d really been through.

Lando I thought you were still close to him. I didn’t ask. I didn’t listen. I just assumed. And I acted like a complete idiot in Brazil because of it.

Lando You deserved my trust. Instead, I gave you silence, attitude, and suspicion. I hate that I became someone who made you feel small. You’re the last person who ever deserved that.

Lando I don’t know what happened between you and Marc, and I don’t need to. I just wish I’d known then what I know now, that you weren’t okay. That you were protecting yourself.

Lando And even if you were okay… I should’ve supported you anyway. I didn’t. And I regret that more than I can say.

Lando I’m here, Ariana. Even if I’m not who you want anymore. Even if you never reply. I just want you to be safe. And loved. I hope you know you are.

Lando Always on your side. Even now. Especially now.

Seen by Ariana 2:11 AM

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1

Let me know if you want to be add to the taglist !

[silly1billy]

Hii! Can I please request the skz boys when the reader drags them into a pampering night? With colorful facemasks, matching hairbands, nail painting and a lot of fluffiness?

~Stray Kids Pampering Night Headcanons~

pairing: Skz x f!reader

genre: fluff

word count: Around 780

warnings: none

Hii! Absolutely, that sounds adorable

🐺 Bang Chan

He pretends to act surprised like, “Wait, you want me to do this?” but he’s already wearing the fluffy wolf headband you gave him.

Tries to be helpful and starts reading the instructions on every product like it's a mission.

Genuinely enjoys how calming it is. His favorite part? When you gently apply the face mask for him.

“We should do this every week,” he murmurs, snuggled up next to you under a blanket, skin glowing and nails pastel blue.

🐱 Lee Know

Sassy. Judgy. But in his seat five seconds after you say “matching facemasks.”

“Why does mine look lopsided? Yours is symmetrical.” Secretly very into it.

Picks out a sleek black nail polish and acts nonchalant while showing off his hands afterward. “Cats need claws, you know.”

His Leebit headband matches yours, and even though he rolls his eyes, he adjusts it carefully so the ears sit perfectly.

🐖 Changbin

Loudly dramatic about it. “Y/N, are you trying to turn me into a beauty guru?!” as he settles in with a bright green facemask.

Laughs the entire time but keeps asking if his skin looks better every five minutes.

Lets you paint his nails glittery purple and tells you their his “manly sparkle.”

Insists Dwaekki gets a little mini facial too. You both end up doing it on a plushie with verrrrry much seriousness.

🦙 Hyunjin

He lives for this. Already had a Pinterest board ready.

Brought his own floral-scented masks and fancy rose gold nail polish. Treats the whole thing like a sacred ritual.

“Skin is art, Y/N. Let me transform you.” Applies your mask with a brush like he's painting a masterpiece.

Wears his headband with pride, and he absolutely documents the night with a Instagram story.

🐿 Han

Makes ten jokes a minute, especially when the cold mask touches his face. “Is this what frogs feel like?” (goofy ahh🥀)

Picks a rainbow of colors for his nails and insists they represent his complex emotions.

Constantly wiggles his fingers while you’re trying to paint them. “Oops. My instincts took over. 👅”

His favorite part is getting to just hang out with you.

🐥 Felix

So excited. His voice drops into that deep warm tone as he gushes, “I’ve never done this before but it looks so fun!”

Picks glittery pink masks and sunflower yellow polish to match you.

Treats it like a spa retreat. Lights a candle, puts on calming music, and keeps checking in to make sure you’re relaxed too.

Puts his BbokAri headband on you first, then himself. “Now we match 💛✨”

🐶 Seungmin

Dry sarcasm🥀💔. “This is my dream night,” he says, deadpan, while letting you stick a strawberry-scented sheet mask on his face.

Protests when you go for pastel pink nails—“Why not black?”—but leaves them on for days.

Surprisingly focussed when doing your nails. Holds your hand carefully, brows furrowed in concentration.

Wears the headband low over his eyes, pretending it’s for privacy, but he’s secretly enjoying every second.

🦊 I.N

Blushes immediately. “We’re doing what?” But the moment he sees your excited expression, he’s in.

Tries to act tough at first—“I don’t need skincare”—but is the most dramatic when his mask feels cold. “I’M FREEZING.”

Picks sparkly sky blue for his nails and insists he gets to paint one of yours too. Concentrates so hard, he sticks his tongue out while working. 👅

Can’t stop giggling when you show him how cute he looks in his FoxI.Ny headband. “Don’t post that—actually… send it to me first.”

[jungkoode]

IMPORTANT PSA.

Hi, my loves.

I don’t know if anyone really noticed, but I’ve been a little quiet these past few days, taking a moment to breathe and reset after a pretty heavy wave of hostility and willful misinterpretations hit Kiki Nation.

I’ll admit it—I tried to explain myself, to clarify, to fix it. But all I really did was give more attention to people who were never here in good faith to begin with. And that’s on me. I won’t be doing that again.

So, moving forward, I won’t be overexplaining or oversharing anymore. The post about how the goal system works has been removed, and from now on, goals and updates are explained briefly in my FAQ. That’s where you can find the info anytime you need it.

I also want to take this chance to make something very clear, louder than ever:

Anyone who engages in cruelty, mocking, pettiness, manipulation, harassment, ableism, or bullying behavior has never been part of Kiki Nation, and they never will be.

Let’s remind ourselves—there was never ‘leaving’ this space for them, because they were never part of it in the first place.

Kiki Nation has never stood for that kind of behavior, and it never will. We are built on kindness, respect, and showing up for each other with love—not drama. Not control. Not cruelty.

And that’s why I’m trusting the real Kiki Nation right now.

I want to briefly address something that’s still lingering—the engagement on FMU Chapter 21 in Wattpad specifically.

As you might have noticed, there was a pretty obvious wave of petty mass unvoting on that chapter after the backlash. It dropped below its original goal, and now it looks like Chapter 22 was posted without ever reaching the milestone we all celebrated together. And it’s sadly misleading a lot of readers.

That’s not what Kiki Nation is about.

We’ve never been the kind of space that lets a few bad-faith players rewrite the narrative or take away from what we built together.

So, I’m asking—if you’re here, if you care, if you still stand with this space—go back to Chapter 21 on Wattpad and re-vote to restore what we actually achieved together.

Why? Because it protects the visibility of the story.

Because it keeps Kiki Nation’s credibility clean.

Because it clarifies Chapter 22 was posted because Chapter 21 did reach 200 votes (under 48h I should say), and it’s at 130 because 70 people unvoted AFTER the new chapter was posted.

And mostly—because it shows that we decide what this space stands for—not the ones who tried to tear it down.

I’ve taken a step back these past few days and had some time to reflect. And honestly? While I’m still disappointed, I also know this was never a loss. It was a cleansing. They were never really part of this space, and now they’re gone. That’s something I’m learning to see as a positive, not a setback.

I also want to admit that I blurred the line a little too much between author and readers, and in doing that, I might have given certain people the wrong idea—that they had the right to lash out, to push expectations, or to control what happens here. That stops now. This space has always been built on mutual respect and appreciation, and that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.

As always, I’ll be updating at my own pace—after goals are met and support is steady across the story. That’s how it’s always worked, and it’s exactly how Kikizens have appreciated it. I’m not changing it to accommodate the few trolls who were never part of Kiki Nation to begin with and are only here in bad faith. FMU 23 will be posted when FMU 21’s goals are restored and FMU 22 reaches its own. (Holding myself back from over explaining/justifying myself here again, so I won’t. That’s all there is to it.)

To protect my mental health, I’ll also be slowing down a bit more until the end of the year. I need to take care of myself and prioritize my life offline, and I trust you’ll understand that pace.

Thank you again, truly, for being here. For sticking around. For showing me what the real Kiki Nation is made of.

We move.

—Kiki

Edit: I have received a bunch of loving anons after this announcement. Just know I have read every single one of them and would love to reply in private but the option is not available, so I’m keeping them in my heart. I’m closing this chapter with a warm fuzzy feeling. Thank you.🩷

[sheluvsjasontodd]

Patching You Up

18+ MINORS DNI

This is my first post, I'm kinda nervous and still trying to figure out how to use Tumblr lol.

Synopsis: Red Hood stumbles into your apartment, injured, in the middle of the night. It’s been 4 years since Jason died, and you have no idea he’s alive.

At 1:20 a.m., your apartment is completely silent and dark. You are asleep in your bedroom when suddenly a loud thud hits the wall connecting the living area. Your eyes shoot open at the unexpected noise, and you quickly rise from your bed. Pushing the blankets off your lap, you quietly step toward your bedroom door, the knife you keep in your nightstand drawer tight in your grasp. 

Slowly turning the knob, you crack the door open, squinting into the living room in an attempt to make out the source of the noise. Due to the limited view, you can’t see much and are forced to blindly creep out of the room to confront the intruder. Carefully exiting your bedroom, you walk into the living room, back sliding against the walls as you go, knife still in hand. Turning the corner, you see a tall figure propping their body up against the wall with one hand, breathing heavily. 

Slowly approaching behind him, you inch closer, ready to attack. Just as you are about to swing a fist at the back of his head, he swiftly turns around and catches your wrist. 

“Who do you think you’re swinging that at?” he says, looking at the knife in your hand. 

“You?” You respond with a look of surprise that your hand has been so easily restricted. Now that he is turned around, you’ve gotten a closer look at him and you recognize his dark hair, leather jacket, and red helmet as the famous Red Hood.

“What-” you stutter, “What’re you doing here?” 

“It’s been a rough night,” he shrugs.

“And that led you to my apartment? I don’t even know you. Are you being chased?” you start to fire off questions.

“Aw, you don’t recognize me, I’m hurt,” he says sarcastically, his voice modulated through his mask. 

“R-recognize you? Why would I recognize you?” you stutter.

He then releases your wrist and moves his hands toward his face, removing his scarlet helmet. Your eyes widen as he lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you take in his familiar facial features. 

“J-Jason?” you whisper.

“Miss me?” he raises a brow. 

“But- you were…” You cut yourself off, “How?” 

“Long story,” he grumbles.

You wrap your arms around his broad figure with a thud, burying your face into his leather jacket. He takes a second to react, he was never the affectionate type even before he died. After a few seconds of you squeezing him tightly, he brings a hand to the back of your head to pet your hair gently. You lift your face from his chest to meet his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper.

“I know.”

The two of you stay like that, just looking each other in the eyes for a moment. Slowly, your gaze trails to his lips, then down the rest of his seemingly larger body before you notice that his jacket sleeve is torn and his arm is bleeding. 

“Oh my god, Jason, you’re bleeding!” you say, grabbing his wrist and trying to examine his arm in the darkness of the living room. 

“I’ll live,” he grumbles. 

“No, this needs to be cleaned. Come in here.” You order him around, dragging him into your kitchen, flicking the light switch on. 

In the new lighting, you get a better view of him. He was much taller than he was when the two of you were 15, a lot broader, more muscular. His face was sharper and scarred, and his hair now had a small white streak. You guide him to stand with his back against the island counter and begin to peel off his jacket gently. 

“Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner before this?” He jokes. 

“Knock it off, Todd,” you reprimand him as you turn away to grab the first aid kit from your cabinet. Of course, your first aid kit is equipped for more than the average household accident, as you grew up fighting crime in Gotham alongside the Bat-family. 

You start to apply gauze to the bleeding gash in his bicep in an attempt to control the blood flow. You apply light pressure to the wound as you stack piece after piece of gauze until they are no longer being soaked through. After the bleeding had been controlled, you removed the gauze and began to clean the area with an alcohol-soaked rag. He makes a slight hissing noise that would’ve likely gone unnoticed by anyone else but you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, looking up at him.

“Don’t- be sorry,” he grits. 

 You drop your head back down, quickly wiping away the last bits of smeared blood and looking at the gash again. 

“I um- I really think you might need stitches, this is a pretty deep cut-” you start to mumble.

“Just do it.”

“Me?”

“I know you can do it I’ve seen you do it before,” he sighs, sounding almost annoyed at your hesitation.

“I- I know I can I just…” 

“y/n” he grumbles.

“Fine,” you sigh, reaching into the kit to grab the necessary tools. Before he died, Jason always hated needles and getting stitches. He couldn’t even bear the thought of it. As you begin to sew up the large cut in his arm, you expect him to have a bad reaction, but instead are met with utter silence and stillness. After a few minutes of silent stitching, you knot the last bit and cut the excess.

“Done,” you whisper.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, pushing off the counter and stepping around you.

“Where are you going?” you ask as he grabs his jacket. 

“Home.”

“But I- you can’t just show up here after you’ve been dead for 4 years, expect me to just stitch you up and be fine with you leaving!” you yell after him, following him to your front door. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.” 

“No wait,” you say catching his wrist before he can grab the door knob. “I just got you back, you can’t just disappear on me.”

“I can’t- I can’t be a part of your life y/n,” he sighs.

“Why?” you ask desperately.

“Because I’m not who I was before, when we were kids.”

“Neither am I.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I know that I just-”

“Y/n.”

At this point, your heart is pounding in your chest, afraid for him to disappear from your life again. The two of you are only inches apart, looking into each other’s eyes. “Stay,” you whisper.

Your quiet request snaps something in him, and he roughly grabs your face and presses his lips against your own. Quickly responding to his gesture, you kiss him back, hands tangling into his short, dark locks. He turns the two of you around and pushes your back into the door with a light thud as he easily lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He then begins to trail his wet kisses down the side of your jaw and onto your neck. He quickly finds a vulnerable spot that makes you let out a quiet squeak and focuses there. 

“Jason-” you whisper breathily, dropping your head back onto the door as he continues to attack your neck, progressing to your collarbone. 

“Hm?” he mumbles against your cold skin. 

You grip tighter to the hair on the back of his scalp, slightly tugging on it, earning a small groan from him. He grips the underside of your thighs tightly as he moves away from the door and walks you over to your couch, gently laying you down on the soft grey cushions before climbing over top of you. He immediately resumes his trail down your neck, now gently tracing a finger along the bottom edge of your t-shirt. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks softly, searching your eyes for any trace of hesitation.

“Yes,” you let out a breath. 

He then slides his large hands beneath your oversized shirt, rubbing up and down your bare sides before grasping the edge of the fabric and gently tugging it off of your torso, leaving you in pajama shorts and a bralette.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your jaw. 

You blush a little, thankful for the dark lighting. His fingers trail down your body until they reach the top of your thigh. He lightly traces circles there, watching your facial expression become increasingly desperate.

“Please,” you breathe.

“What?” he teases your thigh again.

You let out a small whimper in response. Communication has never been your strong suit, which has become increasingly evident as you progress through adulthood.

“I need you to tell me what you want y/n,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You,” you whisper back.

“Mm, I see.”

You look down at his fingers expectantly, waiting for him to touch you where you need him. Slowly, he slips his fingers into your shorts, touching you through your panties. 

“God, you’re soaked,” he almost moans as he feels the wet patch on your soft underwear. He moves his fingers to rub your clit in circles making you let out a soft cry of his name. This urges him to push your shorts down and carefully remove your panties before he continues to pay attention to the sensitive area. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, involuntarily bucking your hips toward his hand, wanting more. 

“So needy,” he teases.

“Jay, please.”

“You sure?” He asks, pulling away briefly to examine your face for any sign of doubt or hesitation.

“Very sure,” you pant, eyes flicking between his own and his lips. 

Just like that, his lips are back on yours, locked in a passionate, rough kiss. After a few seconds, he pulls away to remove his shirt, revealing his toned upper body. Your hand gravitates toward his abs, softly running up and down them, admiring his sculpted figure. 

“This is new,” you raise a brow teasingly in reference to his defined muscles. 

“We’re not kids anymore,” he simply shrugs before continuing. 

Quickly, both of your remaining clothes are shed and tossed across the room. 

“Jason…” you mumble, breaking eye contact.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, stopping his actions.

“It’s just that I-” you pause, “Well, I’ve never really done this before.” You admit, nervous that he would react badly.

“Wanna know something?” he hums back. You can feel his slight grin against your shoulder.

“What?”

“Neither have I,” he reveals, placing a light kiss on your collarbone. 

“You’ve never-” 

“Nope.” 

“O-Okay,” you nod, releasing a breath. 

“You still want to do this?” he asks, gently running his thumb back and forth on your hip.

“Yes.”

With that, he connects his lips back to yours and drags his hand to massage your breast. 

“Jason, please-” you whine.

“I know, I know,” he says sympathetically, as he moves to grab your hips, lining himself with your entrance. Slowly, he pushes himself inside you, taking his time to let you adjust to the feeling. You release your grip on the couch cushions, moving your hands to his back once he's in. You reopen your eyes and lock them with Jason’s.

“You okay?” he whispers, his tone much more gentle than it was 30 minutes ago. You give him a simple nod and slide your hand from his back to his hair, pulling his head into your neck.

“You can move now,” you quietly inform him.

With your permission, he pulls out almost completely before slowly rocking his hips back into yours. You gasp at the first thrust, causing him to pause for a second, ensuring you’re okay before he continues his gentle pace.

After a few minutes, you’ve gotten used to his size and any pain has subsided into pleasure, and you want more. “Harder-” you gasp, your lips pressed against his shoulder as he hovers over you. 

“Are you- are you sure?” he stutters, still trying to hold back, afraid to hurt you. All it takes is your small, reassuring smile and a quick nod for him to fulfill your request. He moves his hands down to grip your hips, slightly lifting them from the cushions, as he presses into you harder and faster. You instantly let out a moan that brings a small grin to his lips as he feels more confident. 

“F-fuck y/n..” he grumbles into your ear, sending a shiver down your body. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer-” he starts.

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, “I’m close too,” you nod desperately. You then reach your hand down between your bodies, finding your clit with your middle finger. The sensations of your fingers along with his thrusts are almost too much for you to handle, you squeeze your eyes shut, panting. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers. “Always been such a good girl, huh?” he teases you, somehow driving his hips even harder, pushing you over the edge. You let out a whimper, your legs shaking vigorously as your hand slips away, and you finish around him. His release quickly follows, and he quickly pulls out and finishes on your bare stomach. He collapses, his large body enveloping yours on your small couch. 

“You feel okay?” he whispers into your warm shoulder.

“Mhm,” you hum. “You?”

“Never been better,” he replies, you can feel the smile that’s formed on his lips. 

The two of you lay there on the couch for a bit, not talking, not moving, existing in the comfortable silence. 

After a while, you begin to run your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair and whisper, “We should probably get cleaned up.”

“Probably,” he mumbles back sleepily, making no effort to get up. And neither do you.

[ldydeath]

Feels Like I'll Die Without You 6 | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You finally admit your feelings to yourself and take matters into your own hands to get the future you want. Consequences be damned. Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Unprotected p in v, fluff Author’s Note: Y’all we’re finally here - a decision has been made. We’re nearing the end of these two crazy kids’ journey. I hope this part was worth all the pain. The rest of the series can be found here.

Leaving LA had left a sour taste in your mouth. You couldn’t go another month without talking to Jiyong. This wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You were always going to have feelings for him, you just needed to stop being so scared before you lost him forever. 

Arriving at your tour destination you’d called up your management team and explained what was going on. That you were pregnant and as much as you wanted to tour there was too much going on in your personal life to continue on with this tour and stay healthy. You’d gone to instagram as soon as you’d been given the ok to announce the cancellation of your tour due to personal reasons.

You might be ruining your career, but you needed to fix your personal life before you ruined everything. You knew Jiyong was heading back home before his next tour stop and you were planning on meeting him there. 

Consequences be damned. If you didn’t do this now, you might never. Limiting the comments on your tour announcement, you turned your phone off and settled in for the long flight to South Korea. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Jiyong frowned as his thumb hovered over your instagram post. He couldn’t help but feel like he was somewhat responsible for your tour announcement. That, or something had happened to the baby in the few hours you’d been apart. Closing the app, he swiped on your name and let out a frustrated groan as it went straight to voicemail. You were never fully offline. 

“You ok?” He turned to Sam, the girl he’d been seeing and nodded his head. 

“Yeah, just can’t get a hold of someone.” He shrugged, sliding his phone into his pocket. 

“I’m sure they’ll call you when they can.” She smiled, turning her attention back to the move the two of them had been watching. 

“Yeah.” He sighed, pulling his phone back out to read the post again. Looking for clues. Where the fuck were you? 

Have you heard from y/n?  He fired the text of before he could take it back, a reply from Youngbae came within seconds.

No? I thought you were over her.

She’s pregnant. 

He scratched his head, moving away from Sam. This wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with her - maybe ever. She was a good distraction, but she wasn’t you. 

Fuck. Yours? 

Yes.

When did you…? You know what, it doesn’t matter. You got a mess on your hands, Ji. You better figure out what you want and let that poor girl go if it’s y/n. 

She doesn’t want me, it doesn’t matter what I want. 

When did you last see her?

When I was in LA. I told her about Sam. 

…and she canceled her world tour, something she’s been dreaming about for years. Yeah, my guy. She wants you. 

A knock at the door nearly made Jiyong drop his phone. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Sam had moved to answer the door. Jiyong stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Your eyes wide as you took in the sight of Sam. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have the wrong apartment.” You hadn’t spotted Jiyong standing in the hallway. 

“Holy shit. You’re…I didn’t know you and Jiyong were friends!” Sam squealed. “I’m a huge fan.” Jiyong moved slowly. Your eyes catching his. 

“We’re not. Just the wrong apartment, sorry.” You turned and left.

You knew he’d been seeing someone but he had said it wasn’t serious. So why was she answering the door to his apartment? Seemed more serious than he’d let out. 

“That was weird.” Sam frowned, shutting the door and turning to face Jiyong. 

“I have to go, don’t be here when I get back.” 

He didn’t bother to look back as he raced out of the apartment, calling your name as he slammed the front door behind him. He’d made his choice, it was always going to be you. But you were already gone, he hadn’t been quick enough. With a defeated sigh he headed back inside his now empty apartment. He tried your phone again but it was still going straight to voicemail. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A few hours later Jiyong heard the faint sound of knocking from his balcony. He’d been chain smoking since you left, a habit he was trying to quit now that he was going to be a dad. Putting out his cigarette he made his way to the front door. Eyes widening when he saw you. 

“Didn’t think you’d come back.” He stepped aside, letting you in. 

“Slight overreaction on my part.” You shrugged as you made your way inside. “Forgot my phone was off and saw you called. A lot.” 

“That wasn’t all at once.” His hands raising in the air in self defense. “When I saw you canceled your tour I was worried. When you didn’t answer, I worried more.” 

You moved to sit down, letting out a sigh. The events of the past few days catching up to you. Jiyong noticed your mood shift, he always did and rushed to your side.

“I’m ok.” You smiled up at him, not pushing him away for once. “I’m sorry I worried you. I just needed to see you.” 

Jiyong nodded, moving to sit down next to you. “Okay, but why?” 

“Because I lied.” You bit your lip. “I do know how I feel about you. I felt it when I saw you that night we ran into each other and I’ve not been able to get you out of my head. I’m so in love with you, Jiyong. I feel like maybe I have been my entire life. I was just scared to admit it. But I can’t do this. I can’t see you once a month and pretend like everything is fine. Or watch you fall in love with someone else. I’m so tired. Tired of being scared, tired of not being with you. Tired of fighting this. I’m sorry for everything I’ve -“

Jiyong’s lips cut you off before you could finish your sentence. The tension of the day fading away as he kissed you slowly. Your lips moved against his, your body moving to face him fully as he deepened the kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck as his wrapped around you, pulling you to him until you were straddling his lap. 

Jiyong poured all the love he felt for you into the kiss, taking his time with you. This was always how it was supposed to be, not some rushed act of desperation in a bathroom. He had twelve years of lost time to make up for, now that he had you he wasn’t letting you go. 

He moved, his hands holding onto your thighs as he stood up, bringing you with him. Your legs wrapped around him tightly as he carried you to the bedroom. He sat you down carefully on the bed, before kneeling down in front of you. He helped you out of your shoes, and then your pants before finally lifting your top off you slowly. 

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you before his lips were back on yours. Your hands moved to undo his fly, pushing his pants down. You weren’t going to be the only one undressed. Your hands roamed his body, sliding under his shirt and pulling it up. He broke the kiss to discard it. His lips latching onto your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down your body. 

He stopped at your stomach, the slightest bump showing and he grinned as he kissed you gently before moving back up, kissing all the way back to your lips as he positioned himself between your thighs. His eyes locked on yours as he sunk into you slowly. 

He took his time, letting your body adjust to him being inside of you and your back arched, your hands moving to his back, pushing him in further. Jiyong rolled his hips against yours, his dick twitching inside of you and you moaned, your back arching as he began moving slowly. 

Jiyong leaned in, kissing you slowly, his tongue slipping inside your mouth as you let out a moan. Your tongues danced together as your body matched his movements. Your legs moving up to wrap around him, helping guide his movements. 

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips before burning his head in your neck, his movements getting faster. 

Your hand moved to cradle the back of his head as yours fell back against the mattress, your hips rolling against his, causing him to groan against your neck. He bit down on your skin gently, making sure he didn’t leave a mark before he lifted his head back up. His eyes locking on yours as your moans got louder. He slipped his hand between the two of you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit,  bringing you closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close.” You panted. 

“Come for me.” He encouraged his movements getting faster. 

You came undone, his name falling from your lips. With one finally thrust, he rolled his hips against yours, coming inside you. The only sound in the room was the soft sounds of your moans as he stayed inside of you, as you rode out your orgasms. Your hands holding onto him tightly before you fell back against the mattress. Your body relaxing against him. 

Jiyong pulled out of you slowly, kissed your lips softly and got out of the bed to retrieve two robes. Helping you into one before sliding into his. 

“So, we’re doing this then?” He glanced down at you a smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to waste anymore time. I think we’ve done enough of that.”

He pulled you to him, his lips brushing the top of your head. There was still so much to figure out. Like where you’d live. You’d never taken that step the first time you’d been together but now there was a baby involved.

“Oh.” You sat up, looking around in the bed for your bag. “I have something for you.” 

You ran out of the room, Jiyong falling back against the headboard as he watched you. You came back a few minutes later, the ultrasound picture in hand.

“You should have a picture of her too.” You handed it to him. “And this.” You pulled out a flash drive giving it to him. 

He looked at it with a raised brow before turning his head back to you. 

“It’s a video. I thought you might want to use her heartbeat for something sometime.” You shrugged. 

Jiyong grinned, leaning into kiss you. Pulling away he set the photo on his nightstand, now he’d have both of his girls with him all the time. 

“It’s perfect. You're perfect. She’s perfect. Thank you.” 

“I think we should announce it, Ji.” You pulled your phone out. 

“What, us? Don’t take a picture of me, I’m indecent!” You snorted, rolling your eyes. 

“Bathrobe in Japan showed more skin than you are right now.” You beamed at him. “But no, look.” You pulled up the draft you had saved on your instagram. 

He took the phone from you, looking it over and nodded his approval. You tagged him in it and hit post. It took only seconds for the comments and likes to start coming in. Jiyong reached for his phone to accept the tag request so that the post would show on both of your pages, front and center. 

There would’ve been a time he’d want to keep something like this private, but he was tired of hiding. This was all he’d ever wanted, a life with you, a child, and he was finally getting it all. He stared at the coming soon post, a smile on his face as he pulled you back to him. You had plenty of time to figure out the rest of your lives, tonight was about reconnecting with you, the love of his life. 

If you’d told him the night he ran into you again this was how it was going to end, he wouldn’t have believed you.  He didn’t know how he’d managed to get so lucky, but he thanked whatever lucky stars were looking out for him. His lips brushed against yours again. He planned to show you how much he loved you all night long. 

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @ttturnitup @flymetothexmoon @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @sherrayyyyy @bettelaboure @allthoughtsmindfull

[igotatasteforoldermendelrey]

Notice you.

Picture from ILoveBTRandHD on Pinterest

A/N : hi guys! I’ve been writing that today. This one shot is roughly inspired by The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (if you like ennemies to lovers, forced proximity it’s your clue to read it). Enjoy !

English is not my first language, you might (really) find some mistakes in this, don’t hesitate to warn me !

Ship : Joaquin Torres x reader

Summary : Joaquin had asked you to accompany him as his girlfriend to his sister’s wedding because of a lie he told to his mother. Now here you were, on the west coast with him, acting like you were madly in love. Follows an incident leading to a confession.

Warnings : lies, angst, mean ex girlfriend (she tries to hit reader), swearing, denial (Joaquin’s), aerophobia (reader’s), reader can tan, Afab, feelings, mention of John Walker (yes he deserves a warning even if he isn’t here).

Let me know if I forgot something !

I do not consent to any of my work to be translated or posted anywhere else without my permission.

Banners made from Pinterest.

Come on y/n please… Joaquin begged, following you out of the common room.

No, Joaquin. I am not going to go with you to your sister’s wedding. Even less because you want to impress a girl.

It’s not to impress someone! I swear! He explained, still following. I told my sister that I was bringing someone.

And why did you lie in the first place? You pondered.

Be-because she might have mentioned that Sarah, my first girlfriend, was coming.

And?

With someone. You sighed turning around and continuing walking. W-Wait! I panicked that’s all! Please. I really need your help. I will do anything!

Anything? You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yes! Anything!

Then I will do it.

Thank you! He exclaimed with relief.

At one condition. You’re training with John. Forever.

I- forever? Seriously?

Dude I swear if I need to hold his punching bag ever again I’m going to jump out the window. It’s non negotiable.

Fine. You’re coming with me to the wedding, I’m training with Walker. Deal?

Deal.

——-

You shouldn’t have said yes. You really shouldn’t have. But you had three days off, no one at the compound and definitely needed some change of scenario. So here you were sat in plane besides Joaquin, your legs jumping against the ground.

Are you ok?

I don’t like plane.

What? That’s not true you never had any problems in the Quinjet.

It’s completely different. In the Quinjet I’m the one piloting and if anything is going wrong then I can jump out. Not here.

It’s going to be alright. It’s a five hours flight to Los Angeles.

You’re really not reassuring me right now. You sighed putting your head in your hands. Oh and I don’t speak Spanish. Like at all. I learned Italian in high school.

It’s no big deal. My sister is marrying a dude from Austin. Believe me my family won’t be shocked by the fact you do not speak Spanish.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, not convinced.

No really! They’re going to love you. I’m serious. He said, bumping his shoulder against yours. And we’re in this together.

Why did I let you bring me into that.

Because you dumped training with Walker?

Yeah, that’s true.

—————

You landed on time, getting your luggage and walking towards the exit where Joaquin’s family was supposed to be waiting for you. Right before crossing the doors, Joaquin looked at you before extending his hand for you to take. You take it and exhale before continuing walking.

When the doors opened, someone was already calling Joaquin’s name. It was a small old woman, wearing glasses and jumping up and down waving at you both. Joaquin’s face lighted up immediately, you could see the excitement in his eyes and yet he didn’t let go of your hand, if not clutching it tighter.

Mi hijo! You’re finally here! Oh it’s been so long. The older woman said, taking him in her arms, hugging him tightly.

Yes, Joaquin. Your grand mother has been waiting really long to see you again. Another woman speak out behind the older woman. Welcome back, I missed you.

Mom, dad. Joaquin said, taking them both in his arms. After parting way, he took back your hand in his, without even needing to look. And this is Y/n, my girlfriend.

Hi. You said with a smile. It’s nice to finally meet you.

Oh hi! You’re so pretty! Look at that girl Monica! The older woman said with a strong Spanish accent. She took your hands in hers hand pulled you in a hug.

Thank you so much.

It’s nice to meet you my love! Monica exclaimed with a big smile. Let’s get you both home now, you must be really tired.

—————

You and Joaquin entered the bedroom you were going to occupy for the two next nights. Of course there is only one bed, you knew that already so it wasn’t really a surprise. You sighed, tired from your travel and just let yourself fall on the bed, face down in the sheets.

No no no! Airport germs! You’re getting them everywhere on the bed!

The what? You asked, not even raising your head.

Come on, you’ll feel better after a shower. He hold his hand for you and showed you were the bathroom was.

————

You exited the bathroom, wet hair on your back and a towel in your hands. You see Joaquin, sat in the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, swiping on his phone.

Bathroom’s free. You announced before realising he changed his clothes. Did you already take a shower?

Yeah, I used the bathroom downstairs. Ready to go?

To go where?

Oh yeah we have a family dinner at the restaurant tonight. Both my family and my soon to be brother in law’s will be there.

And you’re just warning me now?

No, I told you in the plane.

You mean after I took the medication my doctor prescribed me? You asked him, raising your brow.

Yeah…?

For fuck’s sake. When do we have to leave?

In like twenty minutes.

I hate you. You replied, searching in your bag for a decent outfit.

No you don’t.

————

The night was calm, waves crashing on the shores not so far away from where you were all seated. Joaquin’s sister, Olivia, was everything you would have expected. A really kind, tall and friendly woman that took you immediately in her arms when her brother presented you, telling you how strong you were to pull with her brother’s shit. She insisted for you to be seated next to her, telling her bridesmaid she was already going to be next to her the whole weekend.

Joaquin watched you the whole evening, how you tried to talk with every single member of his family, laughing and telling stories about your job. When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, all the people around the table went silent, turning to him with smiles of their faces.

What?

Oh Joaquin, she’s amazing! An aunt told him.

Yes, I think it’s the best you can do. Olivia added with a smirk. How did you manage to get her to date you?

I fought really hard to even get her to look at me. I’m not even telling you what I needed to do to get her to come on a date with me. Yeah, she is… perfect. Truly I’ve never met someone so kind yet ready to fight any asshole. She’s truly a hero. He laughed with his family.

You came back to the table, noticing a few stares in your direction. You brushed it off, thinking it was because you were the newbie in the family. You sat back between Olivia and Joaquin, who grabbed your hand in his and linked your fingers. Just for the show, of course.

————

You came home, a little bit tipsy from all the wine you drank, needing to hold onto Joaquin’s arm to walk approximately straight. He brought you to your bedroom, helped you sit on the bed before getting everything you might need to remove your make up.

I will leave you get ready, just call me when you’re done, ok?

You nodded with a smile, feeling your heart warm up.

After changing and calling Joaquin, you both faced the only bed in the room. It wasn’t really the first time you had to share a bed, except that last time you were both on a mission and hadn’t the choice.

Do you want me to sleep on the floor? It’s my fault we’re both in this situation so it’s the less I can do.

What? No! The wedding is tomorrow, you’re the first man you cannot look like shit. We will share, it’s not like it’s the first time. You replied, sitting on the right sight of the bed.

Yeah you’re right. He added and and join you in the bed. Good night, babe. He added with a smirk and that made you laugh.

————-

The next morning.

You felt something hard wrapped around you, enveloping you in warmth. It took you a few minutes to realise that the weight on you was actually Joaquin’s arm draped on your waist. You tried to escape his embrace to not make things weird when he will wake up but the first move you made led to him hugging you tighter.

You sighed, trying to think of a way to get you out of his arms. Joaquin? Wake up… you said softly, lightly shaking his arm. Joaquin?

He groaned before opening his eyes, realising you were in his arms. He simply took his arms off and smiled at you. Good morning.

Hi. You replied, sitting up in the bed.

Did you sleep well?

Yes, the bed was really comfortable. I’m gonna go get dressed while you fully wake up. You said getting up and walking to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, leaving Joaquin laying on his back on the bed, a weird feeling in the chest.

———

The day went smoothly, talking with Joaquin’s family, helping his grand mother to choose her outfit for the wedding, her insisting that what Olivia chose was making her look sick. You truly loved his family, they were always laughing and sharing stories making you feel welcomed.

The time of the wedding was approaching meaning you had to start to get ready. Joaquin was doing his first man duty and will be meeting you directly at the church.

After putting on your outfit and doing your make up, you met Monica in the living room to leave for church. When you arrived, you were surprised to see at least a hundred of people gathered in front of the doors of the church, all of them wearing beautiful outfits.

You entered the church, sat on a bench in the third row before Monica stop in front of you staring at you with amusement.

Honey what are you doing? Come sit with us, you’re with Joaquin, you’re practically like family now! She exclaimed, taking your hand and entraining to the first row.

You had a direct view on the priest, Bill, Olivia’s fiancé, and Joaquin who was standing proudly, looking at the entrance for his sister. He haven’t notice you yet and you profited of this moment to get a good look at him. He was wearing a dark green suit, with a lavender branch in the pocket on his chest. You could see how exited he was just by the smile he was giving to the assembly. Someone sat behind you knocked over a relative’s walking stick bringing his attention to your side. That’s when he saw you.

Joaquin was not someone who lingered too long on someone’s look. However, when he saw you there, sat with his family and staring at him with something in your eyes he didn’t recognised, he almost choked on his saliva. You were truly mesmerising. The colour you chose to wear was perfect for you, complementing your skin and light tan. He didn’t have the time to approach you because the music started.

Olivia walked down the aisle, accompanied by her father, clutching his arm. She was beautiful, wearing a long siren dress with a veil hiding her face. Monica grabbed your hand at the sight, tears running down her face. You took a time to stare at Joaquin and the expression on his face couldn’t be described. You realised Olivia, being the big sister, was his role model and seeing her get married might have broken a little part of his heart knowing she wasn’t going to share the same last name anymore.

The ceremony was beautiful and the newly wed left to get to the other location where the banquet was held. Joaquin met you on the porch of the church, a smile on his lips.

Hi.

Hi. It was beautiful and Olivia was absolutely perfect. You said to him with a smile.

Yes she was. I’m glad she is finally happy. He replied looking around to his family that was gathering in the cars. You have a ride? He asked.

I think your mother told me earlier she will keep me a seat in the car. I mean that was before she met a woman named Carmen who needed someone to bring her to the reception. You answered with a small laugh.

Perfect then. I will be your driver. He said, grabbing your hand and bringing you to his car.

The ride was short and quiet, you both still thinking about the ceremony. When you arrived on the parking lot of the hotel where the reception was held, so many cars were already parked and music was coming from the garden.

You climbed out of the car, grabbing Joaquin’s arm to walk on the gravel with your heels. You walked to the garden where tables were organised all over the grass, fairy lights illuminating the park.

I think your mother is waving at you, you should go see her. I will go get us drinks. You said pointing with your head in Monica’s way.

Ok, I will find you after.

And if you don’t just whistle and I will come find you. You joked thinking back at one of your first missions together.

I always find you, honey. He answered with a smirk before leaving to see his mother.

You walked up to the bar, asking the bartender for a beer and a glass of champagne.

So it’s you. Said a feminine voice behind you.

You turned around, not knowing if the person was talking to you or to someone else. The woman you saw was a tall blonde, with a pink sequin dress and a smirk.

Excuse me?

You’re Joaquin’s new arm candy, right?

If by arm candy you mean girlfriend then yes.

Nah I meant arm candy, you won’t last long enough to earn the title of his girlfriend.

You must be Sarah, right? Isn’t your boyfriend looking for you?

She scoffed before coming closer to you, stepping in your personal space. Believe me you better stay away from him if you don’t want troubles. You don’t want to mess with me. She warned.

Am I supposed to be scared or something?

You-

Here you are, honey! Joaquin exclaimed besides you. Oh hi Sarah, I see you two have already met.

Yes, I was telling her how much I loved her dress. She said, with a faux smile. It’s been a while, let’s catch up, my table is over there. She added, grabbing his arm and leading a confused Joaquin to her table.

You sighed, not knowing if you should intervene or let them be. You chose the last option, returning to your sit with a beer and a glass in each hands. When Monica saw you sitting alone at one side of the garden and her son with Sarah on the other, she scoffed and made her way to you.

I never liked that girl. She had a bad influence on my Joaquin. A true viper. Rolling her eyes, she pulled the chair besides you and sat down. She has the bad habit to threaten every single of his girlfriends he ever brought back home. Like he is her property or something. I’m telling you, I’m this close, she approached two of her fingers together, to go interrupt their conversation. Leaving you alone to talk with her, I swear it’s not how I raised him.

You laughed a little. It’s not big deal. It’s been a long time since they saw each other, they must have a lot to catch up.

I knew I shouldn’t have invited her. Olivia said, standing behind her mother and you with a frown on her face. Bill said I should because she’s close to the family. But I swear if she tries something with him I’m going to tear out her fake hair.

You laughed again, impressed by her vivacity.

I think you will have to queue for that, y/n here is the first in line. Her mom replied, passing a hand on your back.

Yeah you’re right. Don’t hesitate to go get your man, Y/n. I can tolerate arguments if it implies she’s put back at her place. The bride added with a wink before returning to her husband.

You decided to give them ten minutes, after what you will go join them in their conversion, not wanting to be seen as the poor girl her boyfriend is cheating on in front of everyone. You stand up after two when you saw her grab his arm while laughing out loud.

You crossed the garden, coming to stand beside Joaquin, passing your hand in his hair which made him follow your hand afterwards.

Is everything alright? He asked with seriousness to which you nodded. Let’s get something to eat. He told you, before smiling apologetically at Sarah and grabbed your hand.

Well that was something. You started, looking at him with a smirk.

What do you mean?

Well she intimidated me then stayed glued to you since she got here, and I’m not even talking about the fact she quite literally stole you from me as soon as you joined us at the bar.

Intimidating you? No she couldn’t do that. He laughed like it was the nicest joke you ever said. She must have been joking.

No Joaquin. She wasn’t.

Come on, you don’t need to play the jealous girlfriend, they already all believe we’re together.

You don’t believe me. Oh my- You still like her!

Shhh. What?

Either way you would have believed me. Right now it’s like you think she is perfect.

That really not it. It’s just that, I mean she’s not like that. I know her since a long time.

Not even defending your fake girlfriend. You said with a roll of your eyes. Stay in your denial if you want to, but she is not a good person. You told him, before going back to sit at your table.

The evening went without any other incidents except Sarah staring at you with dagger the whole night. When the time of the toast came, Joaquin stand up to make his speech.

Olivia, Bill, I cannot tell you how happy I am for the two of you. Oli, to finally see you happy with someone, someone who can make you laugh even in the worst moments. Bill, when she told me about you, a guys from Texas, I’m not going to lie I thought you were going to be an asshole. And after all, you’re not. You’re one of the funniest man I ever met, and the luckiest bastard too to marry my sister. Just so you know, I’m friend with Captain America so you really don’t want to mess with her. The whole assembly laughed. Anyway, I hope me and my beautiful Y/n, he raised his glass to you, will become like the two of you. To the newly weds ! He exclaimed raising his glass high before kissing his sister who was trying to hide her tears.

He came back to sit besides you, looking at you and smiling when he saw the look he gave you. You wiped away a tears that escaped your eye.

Are you ok? He asked, putting his hand on top of yours.

Yes, I just didn’t expect your speech to be this emotional.

I did my best.

The evening continued, the dinner was excellent and everyone was enjoying the party, dancing and singing along the songs played by the Dj.

Wanna dance? Joaquin asked, holding out his hand to you.

I’m really bad at it.

So am I. So don’t worry they will be laughing at me.

You stand up with him and went together on the dance floor. He grabbed softly your waist, letting you the time to stop him if you wanted to. Instead, you put your arms around his neck, smiling up at him.

You danced the evening away, parting way to get some refreshments. You didn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop pounding that quickly in your chest. You both couldn’t take your eyes off one another, something in yours eyes you couldn’t really name.

At the end of the night, half of the guest already left, too tired to continue dancing and already thinking about next morning’s brunch. Only the close friends and family stayed, still laughing with Olivia and Bill.

You were standing against a wall where wallflowers grew, fresh air caressing your face. Your were watching Joaquin talking with his family, the way he was standing tall and happy. It warmed your heart to see him like that. Yes he was the golden retriever of the team, always trying to get everyone to smile. But there, in this environnement it was at another level.

You still didn’t understand it right? Sarah said besides you.

Can’t you leave me alone?

Leave you alone? No. Not as long you’re not gone from his life. I know people and I’m not scared to go dirty.

I’m kinda impressed by how sure of yourself you are. But I am not scared. And by the look on your face you’re the one scared of me. Now please, let us be. You added before looking behind her and realising Joaquin and Monica were both watching you.

You left her behind, going to join them both.

————

You were speaking with Silvia, Joaquin’s grand mother, and Monica when you felt warmth behind you. Joaquin was standing behind you, a light blush on his cheeks from the alcohol and the dancing. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you let him, not feeling the need to get out of it.

You wanna leave? He whispered in your ear.

You sure you don’t want to stay longer?

Nah. And I will see them tomorrow. Come on. Let’s go. He took your hand, lighting pulling you towards him. Ma, abuela, we will see you both tomorrow.

You walked towards the entrance of the hotel to get the car when you heard someone calling you behind. You both turned around and realised Sarah was running behind you, a death stare directed at you. When she arrived at your level, you saw her right hand twitch and before you knew it she was launching at you. You grabbed her arms in the middle of the way, avoiding the impact.

The fuck you think you’re doing?! You exclaimed.

I told you I wasn’t scared to go dirty. She replied, ready to try to hit you again.

Joaquin didn’t react, not knowing what to do or say, too shocked by the gesture.

You’re fucking crazy. Where did you see it was alright to try to hit someone like that? She was still fuming. Joaquin. You called out his name, trying to get a reaction out of him.

What the fuck, Sarah? He finally reacted. Why would you do that?!

Because I love you! I’m better than her!

You scoffed, too tired for this shit. I will leave you deal with that, call me when you’re done. You said, walking towards where the car was parked.

You hear them argue, not stopping until you find the car. You realised the beach wasn’t that far from where you were standing and decided to go take a walk while Joaquin was taking care of Sarah.

—————

There you are. Joaquin said, standing beside you, his hands in your pockets.

Did you take care of her? You asked not even looking at him, staring at the ocean.

Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I should have.

You were in denial. It happens to the best of us. You replied, feeling the sand move beside you as the young man sit.

I think I didn’t thank you enough for what you did this weekend.

I gain something from it. I mean not training with Walker is a fucking grace.

You both laughed at that. After a while you put your head on his shoulder, feeling his own head on yours.

Can I ask you a question?

Yes.

Why did you ask me? I mean it’s not like I’m the only one in the building. And it’s not like no one had eyes for you.

You noticed girls interested in me?

Dude even Sam did. You don’t want to know how many people asked me about your romantic life.

I don’t notice them. He simply replied, his words full of another meaning.

You raised your head to look at him, noticing how close you two were.

Let’s get you home, yeah?

You nodded, still staring at him. He helped you get on your feet and escorted you to the car.

When you arrived in front of the building, he ran to get on your side and open your door, helping you get out of the car. He held your hand, even when he opened the front door or the door of the apartment. He didn’t let go until you were in the bedroom. His parents and grand mother were not home yet, and you didn’t know if they were going to come home or stay at the hotel to avoid getting on the road.

You haven’t talked since you left the beach, too conscient of the fragility of the moment. His thumb was caressing the top of your hand, you looked up at him, smiling softly at him.

You asked me why I asked you. He started, looking at your hands. I don’t know why, but when I started to think about it, you were the only person it could work with. It made sense. And I lie to you… when I told you I hadn’t noticed the others looking at me. But I don’t care about them… not in that way. I only notice you.

You couldn’t speak or move.

I notice how in the morning you make sure there is enough coffee in the pot for everyone. I notice how you’re always hyper vigilant about everything around, that’s how you knew Sarah was going to hit you. I notice how you always make sure that the shoelace on your right foot is tightly tied because that’s how you broke your leg before during training. I notice how you blush when you like something even though you’re trying to hide it. I notice everything about you.

Silence.

And earlier, when you told me about Sarah… I didn’t want to believe you because it would’ve meant you actually care much more than I thought you did. And she was the safe option… I mean when she doesn’t take herself for a fucking mobster.

You laughed at that. Joaquin then put his hands on your cheeks, making you look up to him before crossing the line between friends and lovers.

That night, you slept better than you ever did in the past years.

———————

The next morning.

You both arrived late to the brunch, holding hands and running toward the table. Everyone was already seated and eating when you both arrived at the end of the table. Monica, Olivia and Silvia all smiled widely at the sight.

When Olivia realised you were anxiously looking around the table, she got up and came closer to you. Don’t worry, I made sure she couldn’t come here. We don’t raise hands on family. She said, a hand on your right shoulder. Now come on, go sit down before they eat everything.

—————

Wait wait wait. That’s how you guys started dating?! Sam exclaimed. Because you, he pointed to Joaquin, asked you, he pointed to you, to accompany him to a wedding?

Yes?

And your ex tried to hit her?!

Yeah.

I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared.

Just be happy? You said, grabbing Joaquin’s hand in yours.

And that how you crossed the line, losing a friend to find a lover. Someone that noticed you.

[remmickrealgf]

Okay so I just wanna make a post clearing up my other post about my opinion because some people might be confused or even offended and that was never my intentions.

For starters when I originally came on here to make Remmick fanfics it was always gonna be a vague reader insert. I wasn’t going to make the reader any race because personally I wanted anyone and everyone to read my fanfics on here. In my opinion I actually think reader inserts should mainly be non-descriptive and vague as possible so people can feel included. As a writer I don’t know what any of my readers will look like. People may be black, white, or any race for that matter and I wouldn’t know so I usually always never describe the reader insert.

However, after all the discourse and drama on here and seeing that many black people were feeling left out and not included for a movie that’s made for them more than anyone I thought to myself, “damn, maybe I can be that one person pumping out fanfics for us.” And so that’s what I did. If you look on my blog you’ll find a fanfic that’s not descriptive at all for any race because like I said that’s normally what I do. But I decided to lock in and put out content for my people.

Also, I am not racist. I don’t hate white women. That’s what I was just accused of from an anonymous question which really annoyed me because that’s not why I made the post. That person completely skimmed over what I wrote and it truly shows. Like to be honest I really don’t care about white people making white reader inserts especially if they tag it. Now if they don’t tag, well YES!! I’m going to be annoyed, especially if their fanfic had interesting tags and sounded good to read I’m going to be salty. Why? Well, simple cause I just can’t enjoy that. I’m literally black, why would I or other black people wanna read something like that or any other poc for that matter.

So, in conclusion, if you are white and wanna make white reader inserts go for it but please guys tag it. Just tag it and no one will literally care. But in my opinion I think making the reader inserts vague is a great thing to do. I want anyone to read my stuff cause that’s just how I am. But for now I’m going to continue making black reader inserts because why not and when I feel like making vague ones again I’ll do that too. Anyways no hate to anyone especially people who are just having fun and aren’t being disrespectful, please don’t think I’m trying to start drama with yall. Hell, I’m literally here to have fun, simp for characters and write.

[killmeleatherface]

I’m Here Part 3

Jack Abbot x F! Attending (OC)

This is a third part to my ongoing series.

Here’s the last part! :)

AN: soooorry guys. I’ve been busy and I couldn’t post until now. Next part will have the gala :)

—

Four weeks. That’s how long you’d been back in the Pitt. Four weeks of twelve or more hour shifts, sleeping in the on call room, more cups of coffee than you count and more avoidances than you cared to count. Yes, you’d successfully managed to avoid having a conversation with Jack Abbot the entire time you’d been unceremoniously back in his domain. You’d of course been unable to avoid being in the same trauma rooms with him, but he never spoke to you and you sure as hell weren’t going to be the first one to talk.

At the end of a particularly grueling day, with your back aching and your feet feeling like two prices of brick attached to you, all you could think of was ordering Chinese take out and watching your favorite Netflix show. Just as you were finishing one of your last charts, a usually happy Michael Robinavitch sidled up next to you; back against the counter of the nurses station with his arms next to him.

“You going tonight?” He asks.

“Going where?” You ask, faking curiosity. He’s never done anything wrong or hurtful to you, so he does not deserve a sour mood from you.

“To the gala. It’s tonight.” He widens his eyes, saying it as if it’s not a foreign language to you at this point. “What gala, Robby? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Kid, the annual medical gala. The Robertson Medical Gala for the foundation?. All attending are required to attend.” He offers.

Oh yeah, that gala. You skimmed an email from Gloria about it last week. You thought you’d be able to get out of it by this point so you never placed it in a solid part of your mind.

“Oh. Yeah, that one. Yeah.” You rubs your eyes, immediately stressing about having to go home and get ready AND put on heels. “I guess I will be there. And you will be too. Guess I won’t be miserable all by myself.” You offer, looking at your old friend.

“I, actually for once, have a date. So unfortunately you will be alone. Sorry kid.” He backs.

Robby knocks on the nurses desk with his knuckles and says, “Unless…” He looks away.

You pause, closing your last charts and putting it over the nurses desk and away, waiting for Robby to continue.

“What dude? Spit it out.” You turn to face him.

“No I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. We’re at work.” He’s holding something back.

“Okay, weirdo. I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you tonight?” You pull your phone out and start walking away.

“He never got married.” Robby says after you.

You pause mid step, not turning around.

“Jack. He, uh, he didn’t go through with it. He told Rachel the day before the wedding was supposed to happen.”

You turn around, looking him directly in the eyes, trying to search for any glint of joking or ill fated humor.

“He never told me what happened, but I gathered from bits and pieces and figured it out.” He says, coming off the front desk and standing upright.

“I didn’t know.” You put your hands on your hips.

“Why didn’t he ever call me?” You ask his best friend.

He throws his hands up in silent exasperation, “You know him. He’s not one for calling to talk about something hard like…anything, but especially, well, you.” He offers.

“What do you expect me to do, Robby? We haven’t spoken one word to each other. And now you expect me to hear that he didn’t marry Rachel and go beg for him to finally be mine? No. I won’t. I’m beyond that.” You put your hands in front of you in a done motion.

“No, I’m not expecting you to do anything. He’s not either.” He puts his hands in his pocket.

“I just thought you should know. He’s hurt too.” He says, as a final word. You don’t want to hear this.

You nod and turn on your heels, issuing him a goodbye with your hand flicking off your head.

Ugh, screw today.

—

Instead of your favorite lo mein and a beer in your hands, you’re currently finagling a cosmetics brush around your face. A dab here, a touch here, some powder. The usual. By the end of the hour your face is bronzed and tight lined and blushed to perfection. You use the mirror hanging on the back of your door to observe your handiwork. While you weren’t a novice with hair and makeup by any means, it had been literal years since you’d spent time every morning getting ready. You quite enjoyed it, you felt put together and had a slight air of confidence surrounding you.

After you put on the silk black dress that hit just below your ankles, you sit down to strap your heels to your feet. As you’re finishing the last hook, something in the corner of your room catches your eye.

A hoodie. Jack’s hoodie. You slowly stand up, your dress falling down your thighs, calves, ankles, all the way down to just below your feet. You walk steps slowly to the corner where the piece of clothing is seated, on top of an open box you’re sure you’d absentmindedly rummaged through without fully unpacking. Once your fingers touch the fabric it’s like a jolt of electricity is fired through you. You thought you’d gotten rid of it in all the moving, but in the back of your mind you’re also sure you’d known it’s always been there. A silent reminder of the original owner.

The night you’d ended up with the infamous jacket about was about four years ago. You were on the rooftop after a double shift, just wanting to catch the sunrise, and be reminded that there’s still beauty and normalcy in life. You just needed to feel something good. Your shifts had been filled with case after case of damage, destruction, and death. And of course you were understaffed. A packed waiting room with all seats filled and even more standing against any open space they could fine. The ER was filled with gurneys, chairs, IV stands, you were almost running out of room.

When there was finally a much needed lull and your shift was about to end you’d managed to sneak away. You’d been on the roof for about ten minutes, eyes glazed to focus on the city and sky before you when a voice interrupted your break.

“Hell of a shift. You did good.” Jack spoke to your back.

You don’t say anything and keep looking ahead of you.

You can hear the rocks crunching under his feet until he’s right beside you.

“Really, kid. I know it’s second nature at this point with you, but don’t be so hard on yourself. You made the right decisions, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“I just…this doesn’t get any bit easier does it?” You inquire.

“Nope.” He says with a pop of his mouth.

Back to silence.

“How long you been up here? It’s really cold. You need a coat.” Jack says, eyeing you.

“No really I’m good, don’t worry about me.” You say, like you want to be tortured. Some ritual you’re unknowingly performing up here to get insight on anything to make you feel better about all the death.

Jack doesn’t say anything, just starts shrugging off his hoodie.

“No Abbot, I’m good. You need it, keep it.” You try to convince him.

“Nonsense.” He says putting the jacket over your shoulders and helping you sling your arms through. It smells like him. His warmth, his cologne. His familiarity.

—

You let yourself put the jacket up to your face, your common sense faltering due to Robby’s earlier confession still on your mind. You instantly transform back to three years ago, a young fellow filled with love and adoration in your eyes for Jack Abbot. How fucked up is it that your spent most of your resident and fellowship years hopelessly in love with someone who’s engaged? But then you get mad.

It is fucked up. It’s not like Jack outright lead you on, you knew he had a fiance, but sometimes Jack didn’t act like he had a fiancé. When he spend an hour or three after shift talking to you on the roof, outside on a bench, in the park across the street, in the diner a few blocks away. He became your person. And you became his, there was no doubt about that. Neither of you ever crossed a line that Gloria or Rachel would question, but you leaned. Very far.

“She wants to get married.” Jack mumbled, looking forward, not daring to have this conversation with you and look in your eyes.

You didn’t reply.

“She’s a good girl. It’s been long enough. I guess I kind of owe it to her.” Jack said.

“That’s a great reason to marry someone.” You say.

He turned back to face you, finally.

“I can think of great reasons to marry someone, if I really had to.” Jack said.

“Oh?” You managed.

“Yeah. Someone’s who’s smart, cares about others, makes me laugh really hard, understands this job. And doesn’t just say they understand, but they actually do understand. They live it.” Jack says, keeping eye contact and walking towards you.

What?

Where is this coming from?

“Those are great reasons to marry Rachel.” You manage.

He stops, and looks off to the side. “Yeah, Rachel. That’s who I want, right.”

__

He proposed two weeks later, in the weeks between ending your residency and starting your fellowship. Rachel happily accepted and immediately started planning her dream wedding.

It was weird for you and Jack for a while after that. Like he felt he actually had to act serious about Rachel now. He couldn’t be nonchalant about the girl because he put a ring on her finger.

He was always wishy washy about her. Not that you ever cared to ask, but you heard him talk or listened to him make quips to other people. No one wanted to talk about their personal life openly at work, especially an already usually quiet Jack. Either way, you and everyone else were under the assumption that Jack had a mostly casual girl. Until the ring popped up.

Ugh, you hated Robby. Well not really hated Robby, but we’re so annoyed that you let him get on about Jack and now had this new information swirling around your brain. Why didn’t Jack call you? He’s the one that confessed his love to you. You kissed that night. No, you didn’t confess your love back, but he knew. He was way too smart of a man and knew you too well to not know how hopelessly devoted and in love with him. You just felt you couldn’t say it because he had an actual girl/friend/fiance. You never asked Jack why he was with Rachel, when he acted as if it was almost annoying to have to go home to her. He mumbled something about owing her and that was it. You never prodded, he wouldn’t tell you more anyways.

Well, you couldn’t think about Jack anymore. You’d spent almost the last decade doing so. And you were still confused.

Here’s the next part!

[wrathofrats]

Mushy May Day 15: first time

1k, nsfw, ifrit/zephyr, prompts by @forlorn-crows !

Read under cut or find all of mushy may on ao3!

Transfem ifrits first time after bottom surgery (:

Notes and things: inspired by @noahl-art bc I realized he was the only one I saw talking about bottom surgery and I got really curious so here’s this. There’s a couple hours of research into this I saw many many vaginas LMAO. And thanks to @jimothybarnes and @everybodyshusband for encouraging and forcing this fic into fruition

Mostly fluffy, virginity kink shit as always, they’re sickly in love it’s kinda gross, wrath’s trying her best if there’s something inaccurate pls dm me but I tried to do a lot of research to make this respectful and accurate so I hope that comes across <3

“Ifrit…” zephyr breathed. They swallowed thickly, tentatively putting their hands on her waist. Her skin was covered in red lace, a bralette that pushed her breasts up enough to practically spill over and panties that hugged her hips, digging into the soft curve of her waist. She looked absolutely breathtaking beneath them. 

“You picked it out for me moth, don’t know why you’re so speechless” ifrit was flushed red at this point, picking at the hem of her bra and fidgeting like she was truly nervous, like she truly couldn’t believe zephyr was this in awe of her. 

“I’m speechless because of you, you look better in it than I could’ve ever imagined”

They thumbed over the fabric, fingers delicately tracing over her smooth skin. They didn’t tug at the lingerie even though they craved to see her. Months without intimacy keeping zephyr more on edge than they’d like to admit, though they’d happily wait years if it was what made ifrit comfortable. But she initiated. She asked zephyr to pick her out something to wear for when they first saw her again after the surgery and they were more than happy to oblige. 

"Do you want to see?" Ifrit finally asked. She grabbed zephyrs hand that had settled on her hip, seeming more than content to just stay like this. Aether and omega were the only ones who had seen her so far, being there to take care of her and help her with her dilators afterwards. Though those were never fun, as much as she almost hoped they would be.

But it was nothing for zephyr to see or be involved with even though they offered. She wanted this to be special, some kind of grand reveal for some reason. Maybe for her own ego, or just saving the weirdness of having them look at her post op while things still didn't look quite right.

"Please marigold" zephyr breathed. Their hands intertwined together over the waistband of her panties pushing and pulling them down to reveal herself. Zephyr tried not to completely gasp at the change. They tried not to immediately reach out to touch her though with the way ifrit was breathing heavy, they were sure that's all she really wanted.

"Is it… is it ok?"

"You're absolutely beautiful ifrit"

Ifrit reached down between her legs, spreading herself open for them. She was already slick and shiny, working herself up for this. A weird glint of proudness along with a big smile as she ran a finger up and down her folds, showing off the slick that had accumulated.

"See how wet you get me Zeph?" Ifrit sighed. She grabbed their hand, bringing it to settle on her vulva, an invitation to touch her as well. "I can say that now" she giggled "I can tell you how wet you make me"

Zephyr used their fingers to open her up, thumbing up and down trying not to act like they were examining her. But it was fascinating, and she looked perfect, tempting. Their finger came to rest on that pretty little bud at the top, giving it a bit of pressure before tentatively rubbing in a circle. Ifrits leg twitched, hips bucking a bit with the sensation. Not entirely new, but with zephyrs hand it only added a new form of arousal to the act.

"Still sensitive?"

"It feels good- don't stop" ifrit breathed in, arching a bit off the pillows as zephyr made faster circles. No longer simply experimenting, but knowing how to make her actually feel good. Maybe zephyr asked mist for help before hand, sue them.

"Can you cum like this?" Zephyr could feel ifrit twitch and clench as they worked. Obscene, wet sounds came from their fingers, now covered in ifrits arousal.

"Multiple times- found out the refractory period is a lot lower too"

Zephyr got two fingers inside of her as she said that, feeling her from the inside for the first time. Silky, hot and wet, she was absolutely perfect.

"Come on then, wanna feel you cum around my fingers"

Ifrit stifled a cry, throwing her head back. It felt amazing, better than before if she was being honest, and much nicer than her own hand. She spasmed around zephyrs fingers, rolling her hips as they worked her through it. Sparks of pleasure mellowing out into an almost over sensitive buzz before they finally pulled away.

"You taste better than before too firefly" they licked a fat stripe up and around their index finger, keeping eye contact with ifrit. She blushed, squirmed as her breathing regulated more, though this didn't help.

"Shut up-" she whispered, looking away. Zephyr couldn't help but giggle a bit at her sheepishness.

Her body relaxed, legs finally opening again as zephyr waited for her to be ready. They traced swirls and squiggles up and down her legs, simply watching her.

"Wish you wouldn't stare at me like that zephs" she laughed, light heartedly, "you make me nervous"

"Can't help it, you're too pretty, am I not allowed to stare at my beautiful fire lily?"

"No I brought you in here to fuck me like a whore if I'm being honest"

The act still felt new, even if it really wasn't. Settling between her legs and spreading her knees apart. She already felt prepped, though zephyr still went slow like they were scared of breaking her. Their hands smoothed over her thighs, lining their cock up to tease up and down, purposely taking time to run over her clit.

"You're ok with penetration? I'm not going to hurt you am I?"

"Need it Zeph, been waiting months for you. Wanted you to pop my cherry"

Zephyr almost choked, vision going blurry for a second as they fumbled to push into her. They felt filthy, weirdly enough. Her First time, sure they already assumed but it was different hearing it come out of her mouth like that.

Ifrit groaned at the stretch. It felt much better than the dilators she had been using, and the one off time she tried to use a dildo. Warm and close, it was different than the hard silicone. She could feel zephyr twitch inside of her, the wet slide of his cock in and out.

"Saved yourself for me? Letting me take your virginity? How sweet is my girl, spoiling me really"

[hoe-days]

Hiiii , I saw the post about the reader's ex, and I was wondering how others will react to a mean ex harassing the reader when she's pregnant with Senku's child? And how would Grandpa Stan react to seeing his daughter being harassed?

I hope you have a nice week~

- 🐑

‼️🐑 ANON ACQUIRED‼️

This can only end bad for the ex😭

The ex wouldn’t be foolish enough to do it when S/O is with others, hell the entire science kingdom would ride at dawn for S/O. So this would happen when S/O is in their personal office in the science building. Senku and the other members on the science team would be working on something dangerous and didn’t want S/O to be around the chemicals, so she went to her office to run calculations. That’s when ex would have the opportunity to strike. He’dve been playing it safe, never showing his true colors around anyone, so nobody has an issue with him. He’d be on the battle team, probably revived by Tsukasa way back when. Since he’s on the battle team he’d have access to the building. He played his cards right to be trusted enough. So now he can “patrol” in the science building.

Now Stan is one of the few people that can just go wherever he pleases. Which is why he decides to stop by S/O’s office after helping Xeno with something. He knows all too well that the sciencey types forget to eat and drink so he brought her some food and water, which isn’t new, they often eat and chat.

Stan has made a habit of leaving his cigarettes outside when he talks to S/O, that way he isn’t tempted to light one unconsciously. He’s leaning down to set the box on the floor beside the door when he hears talking. Now he’s not one to eavesdrop, not when he doesn’t have to at least, but what he hears raises immediate red flags for him.

“Come on S/O. Put in a good word for me. You’re always around all the important people. I want to be at the top of the world when humanity is at full swing.”

“That’s not what we’re doing any of this for. If you want money opportunities go talk to Ryusui.”

“No. You’re gonna talk to him for me. He knows you.”

“No I-“

That’s all Stan needed to hear before barging in. Ex jumped slightly. Stan narrowed his eyes, looking at how close Ex is to S/O.

“Something wrong here?”

“No sir I was-”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her.”

“Mister Stanley I’m fine.”

“Y’ don’t look fine.”

Stan walks up to Ex and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You get a five minute head start while I check up on our lovely scientist here. After that, you and me are gonna have a proper chat.”

Stan lets him go and watches him run out before looking at S/O.

“Don’t let people walk all over you, kid.”

“I normally don’t, he’s uh..a different case.”

Stan nods, understanding her meaning.

“Gotcha. I’ll handle it. I’ll have someone come sit with you.”

He sets the food down on her desk.

“When I get back we’ll work on that assertiveness.”

[y0rkshireterri3r]

Hello Guys

Hi everyone. I wanted to explain my disappearance and be honest about what's been happening.

I’ve been quiet for a bit, and I wanted to explain why I’ve stepped back and why I won’t be taking any requests for now.

Recently, I found out that someone has my IP address.

That might not sound like much to some, but it’s serious. With that information, they could potentially find out very personal details about me, including where I live. (big flicking yikes 💀🙏🏻)

It’s a terrifying and invasive situation to be in. I never imagined I’d have to worry about my safety just for existing online and doing what I love. (I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy)

What made things worse is that when I confronted this person—hoping maybe I could de-escalate or reason with them—they responded by harassing me.

They said incredibly cruel and hurtful things that really shook me. It wasn’t just some online argument.

I won’t go into detail because I don’t want to give their words more space than they deserve, but it affected me deeply.

Because of all this, I’m taking a break. I won’t be accepting or working on any requests for the time being.

I need to prioritize my safety, my mental health, and give myself room to breathe.

It’s not an easy decision, especially when I’ve loved creating and try to make ur day better with my shitty work, but it’s a necessary one.

That said, I want you to know that I’m okay.

Please don’t worry too much about me. I’m still around, just a little quieter than usual ^^

PS: that 1x4 fic is coming the moment I get back, don't you worry🙏🏻also I'm deleting the requests from my inbox, I do apologise in advance if you requested and didn't see it done.

dont mind the tags, it's just 2 get this post around in case anyone was wondering what tf happened

[muiitoloko]

LIONEL SHAHBANDAR × OC × SINCLAIR BRYANT

Author's Notes: I wrote this in the middle of the night after watching Lady Gaga's live show in Copacabana. I don’t even know why I’m posting this story, but I thought, why not?

It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. Lionel Shahbandar—industrial tycoon, international playboy, self-proclaimed lion of the boardroom jungle—was reclined in his armchair with a cup of Darjeeling in hand, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. He had taken the day off, a rare and noble sacrifice on his part, solely because you were out with friends and had said, sweetly but firmly, “Spend time with Liam. He misses you.”

Lionel had every intention of doing exactly that. In theory.

In practice, it was quiet. Serene. The house sun-drenched and still. Until—

“Dad?” came a chipper little voice from the hallway.

Lionel didn’t even look up. “No.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to ask!”

Lionel sipped his tea. “You want me to play Just Dance. The answer is no. I’m a successful man, Liam. I don’t dance for free.”

“But Uncle Sinclair said—”

“Your uncle Sinclair is a cheerful liability and cannot be trusted.”

As if summoned, Sinclair Bryant poked his golden head into the lounge, one hand braced against the doorframe, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh come on, Leo,” he said, his voice carrying that singsong baritone cheer only Sinclair could manage. “You never used to say no to a challenge. Remember Dance Dance Revolution in Majorca? You had a tantrum when you lost to a French nine-year-old.”

“That machine was clearly rigged,” Lionel muttered.

Liam turned to Sinclair with wide, eager eyes. “Was Dad really that bad?”

Sinclair didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, Liam,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair as he sauntered into the lounge with the unshakable confidence of a man who had once invested in frog-themed cryptocurrency and made a profit. “Your father has always been atrocious at video games. Ever since we were kids. Give the man a ledger and he’s a wizard. Hand him a controller and he might as well be holding a banana.”

Lionel raised an imperious eyebrow over the rim of his teacup. “I will have you know I once achieved a high score on Space Invaders.”

“You got stuck in the corner,” Sinclair said cheerfully. “And cried when I beat you.”

“I was six.”

“I was five. And dancing?” Sinclair gestured dramatically toward the heavens. “Terrible. Worse than terrible. Once, at boarding school, Lionel attempted to impress a French exchange student by dancing to Pour Some Sugar On Me at the end-of-term social. I believe the headmaster resigned the next day.”

“It was a protest resignation,” Lionel said with a sniff. “He disapproved of rock music on principle.”

“No,” Sinclair said, grinning, “he disapproved of your hips.”

Liam giggled uncontrollably. “Dad! Is that true?”

Lionel set down his teacup with regal finality. “You’re both on notice.”

But the damage was done. Fifteen minutes later, Liam had dragged both adults to the game room, the large screen blinking with the neon promise of Just Dance. Sinclair bounced on the balls of his feet, already limbering up like an enthusiastic golden retriever in Gucci loafers. Liam hopped beside him, barely containing his excitement. Lionel stood stiffly, arms crossed, eyeing the flashing song selection like a man asked to disarm a bomb while being heckled.

“Come now, Shahbandar,” Sinclair teased, nudging his cousin. “Scared of a little Gaga?”

“I’m not afraid of Gaga,” Lionel muttered. “I am Gaga.”

“Prove it.”

The track clicked into place.

“Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, roma-roma-ma…”

You arrived ten minutes later, grocery bags in hand, pleasantly exhausted from your afternoon out. The house was unusually loud—music thumping through the floorboards, rhythmic thuds punctuated by occasional shrieks of laughter. You paused in the hallway, blinking up toward the game room.

“Oh no,” you whispered.

Then you heard Liam’s voice, breathless and proud: “Go, Uncle Sinclair! Get him, Dad!”

You followed the sound like a bloodhound, creeping up the stairs. And what you saw when you reached the doorway would be seared into your brain until the end of time.

There they were. All three of them.

Liam in the middle, arms flailing with the undiluted intensity of a determined seven-year-old, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead as he tried to mimic the dance moves with chaotic abandon.

To his right—Sinclair. Shirt sleeves rolled up, tie flung somewhere behind the sofa, hips swiveling with theatrical flair, his movements weirdly elegant for someone who looked like he’d never stopped dancing in a boarding school common room. His hazel eyes—currently a mischievous shade of green—flashed toward the screen with laser focus as he performed a pirouette you were pretty sure wasn’t part of the choreography.

And on the left, to your absolute astonishment—Lionel.

In a cashmere sweater and slacks, sleeves pushed up, face flushed with effort and pride, and absolutely nailing it. His arms sliced the air with dramatic precision, hips grinding in time to the beat, every movement sharp, confident, possessed. The man wasn’t just dancing. He was competing.

“I want your love and I want your revenge…”

Lionel twirled. Sinclair lunged. Liam tripped, rolled, and scrambled to his feet, yelling, “I’m still winning!”

You stood frozen in the doorway, mouth slightly open, watching as Lionel body rolled like a man possessed by the spirit of the Haus of Gaga.

Sinclair spotted you first.

“Oh hello, darling!” he panted mid-hip thrust. “You’re just in time to witness Lionel’s dramatic comeback!”

“Don’t distract me,” Lionel growled, eyes locked on the screen. “I’m three moves ahead.”

“You’re three billion pounds behind,” Sinclair shot back, then struck a pose so fierce you nearly dropped the bag of plums.

The song hit its final chorus. Lionel and Sinclair mirrored each other perfectly now—arms out, heads whipping, hips snapping in rhythm like backup dancers at a Vegas residency.

You burst out laughing. Loud. Uncontrolled.

They froze at the final beat—Bad Romance echoing into silence—Liam panting like he’d just run a marathon, Sinclair beaming with pride, and Lionel…

Lionel turned to you slowly, hair slightly askew, chest heaving beneath his sweater, and said with completely unearned gravitas:

“This is not what it looks like.”

You stepped inside, dropped your bag on the floor, and grinned. “It looks like I’m dating the lead dancer of Lady Gaga’s European tour.”

Sinclair winked. “And her road manager.”

Liam, still catching his breath, pointed at the screen. “Dad got four stars! Uncle Sinclair got five. I got two, but that’s because I fell on my butt.”

Lionel straightened his sweater and raised an eyebrow at you. “Tell no one of this.”

You walked over, pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek, and whispered, “Only if you teach me that body roll later.”

Lionel smirked. “Darling, you couldn’t handle it.”

Sinclair collapsed onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh. “She handles you, doesn’t she?”

“Barely,” you and Lionel said at the same time.

Liam threw his arms up. “Again!”

And just like that, Lionel Shahbandar, lion of the boardroom jungle, hit “Replay.”

[iboatedhere]

First Prince & Lost and Found.

“Do you guys have a lost and found?”

Henry’s eyes drop to the time at the corner of the computer screen–five minutes to close–then up at the disheveled man standing in front of him, dripping water onto the counter.

“We do,” Henry says slowly as he uses the sleeve of his sweater to mop up the droplets.

“Oh, thank fuck,” the man says, body sagging with relief while Henry narrows his eyes. That kind of language isn’t acceptable in a library. Especially not in the children’s section. “My niece and I were in here earlier and I think she might have forgotten Mr. Floppy.”

“Mr. Floppy?” Henry repeats and the man nods.

“He’s this stuffed rabbit that doesn’t even look like a rabbit anymore. It’s basically just a scrap of fabric but she loves it and I’m watching her while my sister and my sister-in-law are out of town and she won’t go to bed without it.”

Henry leans forward to look over the side of the desk where a small, distraught looking child in a bright yellow raincoat and matching boots is clinging to his leg.

“I don’t remember finding anything,” Henry says as he sits back down and pulls a box out from under the desk. “But I also only came this afternoon.”

“We were here earlier than that,” the man says as he digs through the box.

Henry looks back to the computer–three minutes to close now, then back at the man. Now that the initial bout of annoyance has worn off Henry can admit that he’s handsome, with a sharp jaw, long lashes, and large hands that are furiously digging through the bin.

“Ah!” He shouts as he holds up a ball of dingy grey fluff.

“What the hell is that?” Henry asks, forgetting himself.

“Mr. Floppy!” The child shrieks as she jumps up to grab it before cradling it against her body. “Thank you Uncle Alex.”

“Mr. Floppy,” the man-Alex- says to Henry. “Kids, huh?”

Henry hums, charmed, as the man scoops his niece up and settles her on his hip.

“Thank you so much,” Alex says. “I know you closed…” He trails off and checks his watch. “Two minutes ago,” he continues with a wince. “We’ll get out of your hair and I promise you’ll never have to see us again.”

“Well, now,” Henry starts. “I wouldn’t want you to go that far. I’m never going to discourage someone from visiting a library, especially in these truly trying times.”

“Oh,” Alex says. “Okay.”

“We have children’s storytime every Tuesday at noon,” Henry says as he opens the top drawer and shuffles through a sticker book for a cartoon rabbit holding a carrot and wearing a floppy sun hat. “If you think your niece might enjoy that.”

He hands the sticker to her with a smile then sits back.

“Do you guys offer an adult story time?” Alex asks and Henry grins as he grabs a post-it and jots down his name and number.

“Why don’t you give me a call,” Henry says as he sticks the post-it to Alex’s shirt. “I’m sure we can work something out.”