#I got a back to back call from him a few days ago

[pitchsidestories]

the matchmaker II Steph Catley x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1742

summary: A tulip field, a runaway dog, and an unexpected meeting—when Calvin disappears for a moment, he comes back with more than muddy paws: he might’ve just found Steph her perfect match.

author's note: Hi everyone, we truly enjoyed writing this oneshot and hope it brings you just as much joy while reading it. 🌷🌷

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Spring had officially arrived. The clouds had made space for some sunshine and the air smelled sweetly of the first blooming flowers. It was the perfect day for a trip to the tulip fields, Beth had decided. So, she had rallied a few of her teammates, packed up their dogs, and set out.

Now they stood at the edge of the fields. Neat rows of tulips stretched out in front of them in every shade imaginable. Around them, the space was buzzing with life.

Across the tulip fields was a square with wooden picnic tables and lined with food stalls, from which a delicious smell wafted over to them. People were busy being flowers, taking photos and sipping drinks. It felt like spring.

Calvin and Myle watched the crowd with wagging tails.

“It will be just like the Netherlands.”, Beth told her Dutch girlfriend brightly as they arrived.

Vivianne raised an eyebrow, unimpressed: “I very much doubt that.”

“But they even have Dutch food.”, Lotte pointed out, gesturing towards a stall selling poffertjes. The smell of tiny pancakes and powdered sugar filling the air.

“Won’t be as good as at home.”, Vivianne replied.

Her girlfriend elbowed her gently: “Viv, stop pouting for once and enjoy it. Look how excited Myle and Calvin are to be here.”

Vivianne looked down. Both dogs were sniffing the ground with twitching noses.

Steph nodded, reaching down to pet Calvins head: “Yes, both of them love it here.”

She then turned to her teammates and nodded toward another stall: “Wait here, I’ll get us all coffee. That will definitely lift up Vivs mood. Lotte, can you hold Calv for a second?”

Grinning, the defender took the leash from Steph: “Sure, come here, Calv.”

“Thanks.”, Steph smiled at her teammate and handed Calvin over. She crouched down at Calvins level for a second: “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

While Steph got their caffeine fix, Vivianne looked across the tulip fields, arms crossed in front of her: “And they call this a tulip field?”

“Stop it and drink your coffee.”, Steph laughed as she returned, balancing a cardboard with to-go cups in her hands. She nudged one into Vivs hands. Just as she was about to pass one to Lotte, she realised that someone was missing.

“Uhm, Lotte? Where’s Calv?”

Panic flashed across Lottes face as she looked down at the now empty leash in her hand: “What? Oh my god, he was right here a second ago!”

“Don’t worry, he can’t be far. He’s probably where the food is.”, Beth said quickly, trying to keep the group calm.

Vivianne sighed, already scanning the crowd. “We’ll help you find him.”

With Calvins size, it wasn’t hard to spot him. He sat patiently in front of a woman in shorts, tail wagging as she scratched behind his ears like he had known her forever.

A relieved gasp escaped Steph’s lips the moment her eyes landed on her beloved dog—Calvin. He meant even more to her now than ever; he had been by her side when her previous relationship fell apart, helping her through the heartbreak.

“There he is!”, she exclaimed.

You looked up casually from the dog, only to meet the most enchanting brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“Oh, hi. Is this your dog?”

“Yes, that’s Calvin.”, the woman replied, her face lighting up with a smile that could outshine the spring sun. Wow, she’s gorgeous, you thought to yourself.

You turned your attention back to the dog you’d just met: “Hi, Calvin.”

For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, until you noticed three other women approaching and coming to a stop just behind her. Later, you'd come to know them as Beth, Lotte, and Vivianne.

“Oh, you’re Dutch too.”, the Manchester City player observed.

Her accent caught you off guard—it had a Scottish lilt to it, nothing like the Dutch tones you were used to. You gestured to the charming surroundings and explained: “Yes, I’m helping out some family here.”

“I told you this place felt authentically Dutch!”, the blonde chimed in, beaming up at the taller woman beside her, whose hand she held as if it belonged there. It didn’t take much to guess they were a couple.

To your surprise, Vivianne addressed you in Dutch: “Zorg je voor het eten of voor de bloemen?” (Are you taking care of the food or the flowers?)

“De bloemen.”, you replied with a soft smile. (The flowers.)

Beth nudged Steph gently, her blue eyes dancing with amusement: “Calvin seems to really like her.”

“Yes, he won’t leave her side. Calv, come on.”, Steph said, clearly entertained by her dog’s sudden loyalty.

With a cheeky grin, the blonde quipped: “Looks like Calvin wants her number before he goes.”

“Beth!”, Steph exclaimed, fingers running nervously through her hair.

You perked up, half-laughing, half-curious. “My phone number?”

With a cocky grin, Beth suggested: “He clearly wants to see you again. And so does his mum.”

“She does? Is that true?”, you asked, glancing hopefully at the dog’s owner.

Before she had the chance to overthink it, her lips were already moving, her voice tinged with a nervous edge—it had been a while since she’d done anything like this: “Uhm… yes. Yes, we do.”

“Wait.”, you said quickly, before stepping away for a moment. When you returned, you held out a small scrap of paper, your phone number neatly scribbled on it.

A shy smile played across your lips as you handed it to her: “Here you go.”

“Thank you.”, Steph murmured, instinctively pressing the note close to her chest.

“Don’t hesitate to call or text me, yeah? I just need to get back to work now.”, you responded with a gentle smile.

“Promise I will.”, she replied, eyes locked on yours as though she was trying to memorise the moment.

Her gaze lingered on you, following your every step until you disappeared into the colourful crowd, the blur of people and petals reminding her of the tulips scattered at her feet.

Lotte grinned, absolutely delighted by the interaction and petted Calvins head: “Didn’t know Calvin was such a matchmaker.”

“Looks like he has a lot of hidden talents.”, Beth agreed.

Steph smiled down at her dog: “Good boy.”

With a smirk, Beth nodded towards the piece of paper Steph was still holding: “Looks like you’ll have a date soon.”

“Yes. God, I’m so nervous. I haven’t been on a date in a while.”, Steph admitted, tension creeping into her posture.

“Just bring Calvin and you already have something to talk about.”, Lotte replied, only half-joking.

Just a few days and many text messages later, you were set to meet Steph at Hampstead Heath. Your heart pounded as you waited, a bouquet of flowers in your hands. You tried to calm yourself down by repeatedly reminding yourself that it was only a walk.

Suddenly, Calvin came running toward you, tail wagging furiously. He launched himself at you, trying to lick your face.

With a laugh, you bent down to greet him as Steph called him back.

“Hi, Steph. I saw these and had to think of you.”, you smiled when you finally greeted each other properly, holding out the bouquet.

Stephs eyes widened as she took the flowers: “Oh my god, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”, you smiled, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks.

She handed you a to-go cup and you made a mental note that you had essentially never seen her without a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I got us coffee. I wasn’t sure what you like but I thought I couldn’t go wrong with a flat white.”, she said.

You inhaled the aroma of the warm beverage: “Thank you. Flat whites are my favourite.”

“Oh, mine too.”

With Calvin growing impatient, he three of you began to follow a little path through the lush green grass.

“So, “, you said after walking a while in comfortable silence. “I know you like flat whites, your dog and flowers. What else is there to know?”, you asked after you walked a while in silence.

Steph pretended to think for a moment: “I’m a football player, I’m Australian if you haven’t noticed and I’ve never been on a date with someone my dog picked out.”

You chuckled, your gaze following Calvin as he trotted ahead: “To be fair, Calvin gave me most charming meet-cute I ever had too.”

“I’m sure he knew what he was doing.”, the Australian commented with certainty.

You smiled at him affectionately: “Absolutely.” For a moment, you paused before confessing: “I’m glad we met that way.”

“You are? This wasn’t too much, or anything?”, she asked, listening carefully. You quickly reassured her.: “No, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The two of you sat down on the bench. Calvin curled up peacefully beneath it. From there, you both had a wonderful view of the London skyline, framed by a beautiful blue sky. For a fleeting moment, a butterfly settled on the dog’s nose.

Curiously, Steph glanced your way.: “Oh, good. So, you help out with your parents’ flower fields? What else do you do?”

“I usually work as a florist in the city.”, you replied.

Turning her attention to the bouquet in her hands, the footballer murmured with genuine admiration: “Wow. Did you make this?”

“I did. I love being creative with it.”, you confirmed.

Just a few hours earlier, you’d carefully arranged the flowers, wondering what she might like. It had also helped calm your nerves before the date, giving you something to focus on, something to do with your hands.

A beautiful smile lit up the brunette’s face: “They’re really lovely.”

“Glad you liked them.”, you hummed, smiling back.

From there, the conversation flowed easily. The nervousness of the first few minutes melted away under the lovely sunshine. The walk was filled with laughter and little stories, and both of you knew—you wanted to see each other again.

Steph and you yearned for more time together before you even parted. And when you finally had to, you ended it with a kiss, just as the sky turned shades of purple and pink above you.

With a soft grin, the defender knelt beside Calvin and whispered into his ear: “Thank you, Calv. I really do like her.”

In return, he gave a quiet, knowing bark—as if he understood completely.

image sources: https://www.instagram.com/bethmead_/p/DIjkYXIsH6Q/?hl=com&img_index=2

[piastriprincess]

soak  my  scrapes  and  sleep  tight ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader  .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  established  relationship  ,  oscar  is  the  sweetest  boy  in  the  entire  world tw  blood  (pretty  minimal  but  wanted  to  warn  yall) word  count  1.9k author’s  note  requested  by  @princesspiastri007  aka  my  username  twin  !  i  loved , loved , loved  writing  this  request  .  also ... imagine  my  surprise  when  i  found  out  plasters  were  bandaids  .  i’m  sorry  i’m  a  stupid  american  !!  anyway  i was planning on making this a drabble but it  got  away  from  me  a  lil  because  there  is  something  sooooooo  boyfriend  coded  about  oscar  ,  i’m  obsessed  .  i  need  to  wife  him  up  .  i  hope  you  like  this  ,  as  always  please  come  tell  me  what  you  think  or  send  me  a  request  !  title  is  from  acolyte  by  slaughter  beach  ,  dog  .

23:  princess  plasters  and  iodine .

It’s Oscar’s week off before he has to fly to Miami, and you were planning on a relaxing few days. You’d circled the dates on your calendar weeks ago in thick red Sharpie: no races, no briefings, no media. Just the two of you, together. You’ve packed a bag for the whole weekend, so you don’t have to leave your boyfriend’s company for a single second. 

Your grand plan lasts approximately thirty-seven minutes. You’re just settling in at Oscar’s when your sister calls you in a panic: her job is sending her on a last-minute site visit, and could you please watch Lucy for the weekend? You say yes, of course — how could you not? You love your niece, a precocious, rambunctious little four-year-old, and you love being the cool aunt. You’re sad to lose your weekend with Oscar, but you’re sure he’ll understand. 

“Bad news.” You’re already half-apologizing, forehead scrunched as you hang up the phone and walk back into Oscar’s living room. He’s lying on the couch, engrossed in a Sally Rooney book he stole off your bookshelf a few months ago. “I have to postpone our weekend. My sister needs me to watch Lucy.” 

He dog-ears his page, setting the book carefully on the coffee table and looking up at you with that soft smile he reserves just for you. “Sounds fun. I’m excited to meet her,” he says nonchalantly, and your breath catches in your throat.

You’re not sure what you expected Oscar to say. Certainly not that he’d give up his first weekend off in a month to help you babysit a kid he’s never met. But if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s not the first time he’s stepped into the hurricane that is your life like it’s second nature — quiet, calm, already carrying half the weight without you even asking. He grounds you. It’s one of the things you like best about him. 

You perch carefully on the couch next to him, running your fingers through his hair. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Osc, she’s four. She’s a ball of energy, and this is supposed to be your weekend off. I don’t wanna ruin it,” you reply reluctantly.  He’s shaking his head before you even finish talking, looking up at you with those big brown eyes, gaze steady and sure. “Baby. What would ruin my weekend is not getting to spend it with you.” Something unfurls in your chest at that, soft and tender. He presses up on his elbows, already getting to his feet and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now come on. Get your bag, I’ll drive.”

—

An hour later, Oscar pulls into your sister’s driveway, slinging both of your weekend bags over his shoulder like they’re feather-light and taking your hand in his as you walk up to her front stoop. She must have seen you coming (to be fair, his cherry-red McLaren isn’t exactly subtle), because she’s already halfway out the door. You barely have time for her to give you a frantic thank you and tell Oscar it’s lovely to see him again. A quick kiss on the cheek and just like that, she’s disappearing into the Uber that’s been idling by the curb, the driver peeling away to the airport like he’s P1 on the starting grid. 

“Last chance to back out,” you say wryly to Oscar. 

He gives your hand a little squeeze, palm warm and comforting in yours, and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ease. “I’m staying right here.”

You open the door to a blur of light-up sneakers and Lucy throwing her arms around your legs in an enthusiastic hug. She looks the same as always: hair pulled into messy pigtails, tiara headband set just slightly askew, sparkly nail polish on her tiny fingers, and her ratty old unicorn blankie tucked under her arm. She’s beaming at you so hard her cheeks stretch, but the smile fades when she sees Oscar. 

“Who’s that?” she demands, hands on her hips. 

You smile at her, crouching so you’re on her level. “Lucy, this is Oscar. Can you say hi?”

She ignores you completely. “Are you her boyfriend?” she asks, wide, suspicious eyes trained directly on his face.

Oscar’s neck flushes, the way it always does when he’s nervous. He wants her to like him, you realize, and your heart does an unfamiliar little swoop in your chest. He clears his throat. “I am, Your Highness,” he replies, smiling softly at her. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Lucy purses her lips slightly, like she’s sizing him up. Oscar’s eyes flick to you worriedly, and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear he was holding his breath. Then she smiles at him. “You too. Do you want to have a tea party with me?”

“It would be my honor,” he nods seriously at her. She grabs his hand - his fingers, really, since his hand is too big for her to hold onto - and pulls him into the living room, leaving you behind with the bags in the entryway.

Thirty seconds of Oscar, and it’s like you don’t even exist to Lucy anymore. You’d be upset, if it wasn’t so understandable. After all, you fell in love with Oscar the moment you met him too. 

—

You swear it only takes you a minute to put your bags upstairs in the guest room, but when you get back you’re in for an absolute sight. Your boyfriend is sitting next to the Ikea stuffed bear you bought Lucy for her birthday last year, legs criss-crossed neatly beneath him. The silvery tiara he’s wearing glints under the overhead lights, his face peeking out from atop a fluffy pink-feather boa. He’s holding a plastic teacup in his hand delicately, listening to Lucy’s narration of her fairytale kingdom’s dynamics with the kind of focus you’ve seen him use for team briefings. Your chest feels tight suddenly as you watch him from the doorway, a strange, sweet ache blooming underneath your skin. 

“Hi, baby,” he smiles at you when he sees you, those honey-brown eyes crinkling at the edges. Oh, you’re a goner. You move towards him on instinct, dropping gracefully to your knees beside him. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you slot into his side like you were made to be there. You let yourself enjoy the quiet warmth of his body, solid and strong beside you as Lucy chatters away about stuffed animal etiquette in the late afternoon light. Suddenly, it’s like you can see it — the echo of future quiet afternoons, grocery lists on the fridge, a life built of small, perfect moments with him. You wonder, just for a moment, if he feels it too. 

“Wait!” Lucy brings you back to the present as she interrupts herself, her tiny brows knitting together. “You can’t come to the tea party without a tiara. Princesses have to have tiaras.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you reply, playing along, though your cheeks are still flushed. “How silly of me. I’ll go get one.” 

You’re about to stand when Oscar’s fingers curl around your wrist gently. “I got it,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles before all five feet, ten inches of him extend to full height. He moves just a little too fast, you try to stop him just a little too late, and when he stands up he smacks his head hard into the sloping ceiling. You wince at the dull crack, the way the tiara shatters into shiny plastic shards, one cutting a jagged gash into his pale skin. 

“Ow,” Oscar says mildly, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

Lucy gawks at him, openmouthed. “Oh no, Princess Oscar!”

—

“It’s really not that bad,” Oscar says, and you know he’s trying to reassure you, to soothe the way your pulse is stuttering erratically beneath your skin. As always, he’s the picture of calm, sitting patiently on the closed toilet lid while you rummage through the first aid kit your sister keeps under the bathroom sink. The wad of toilet paper you made him hold to the cut is starting to stain crimson-red. 

“You can’t even see it,” you reply, your fingers closing around the bottle of iodine as you emerge from the cabinet triumphantly. “It's awful. Zak’s going to fine me for scratching up his driver.”

“You’ve done worse before,” he smirks cheesily at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you swat at his arm playfully. His legs are too long for the small room; you have to crawl over them to get to a spot where you can clean him up. You place a hand on his thigh as you move, to stabilize yourself, and he goes pink up to his ears. Now there’s your Oscar, you think to yourself as you pour the iodine onto a cotton pad. 

“This might sting a bit,” you warn him. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he insists, right before hissing through his teeth when you dab at the cut. 

You stick your tongue out at him. “Be brave, Princess Oscar.” 

He laughs outright at that, and his eyelashes flutter against your wrist. A warm twist curls low in your stomach at the contact. “Right,” you say, pulling the box of bandages from behind your back. They’re princess-themed, of course. Fitting. “Aurora or Ariel?”

“Ariel,” he responds instantly, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “What?” he shrugs, smiling at you. “I know the princesses, I have sisters.”

You peel the wrapper open carefully and smooth the bandage across his cut, gentle and precise. He’s quiet for a moment, watching you, the way your fingers ghost over his skin, the way you care for him like it’s an instinct. 

“You know, if this is what the future looks like, I think I’d be really happy,” Oscar says absentmindedly, and your heart stutters in your chest.

His eyes widen at the same time yours do, and he presses his lips together like he didn’t quite mean to say it out loud. Like it was a thought he was holding close to his heart until he knew you’d be ready to hear it.

You stare at him, your lips parted. His cheeks are slightly pink from the confession, and you’re so close you can see the honey brown of his irises. It’d be so easy to kiss him right now, and you’re not in the habit of denying yourself simple pleasures. So you dip your mouth to his, fingers curling loosely at the nape of his neck.

He makes a soft, surprised noise against your lips, one hand rising instinctively to rest at your waist. The kiss is unhurried, familiar, but there’s something new about it. It feels like a promise, so meaningful that it makes your breath catch in your chest. It’s a moment before you both come up for air, but when you pull back he’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize everything about the moment. 

“Yeah,” you smile at him, easy and unhurried. “I could get used to this.”

[yuna542]

~Yours~

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, bullying, manipulative behaviour, Smut, under 18 DNI!, pet names, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Overstimulation, explicit smut, confessions, fluff, bdsm, mentions of alcohol, Minsung happening!, Han and Minho in a secret relationship

Word Count: 13K

Note: I really loved writing this. Let me know what you think

"What's wrong?" came Chan's soft voice, catching you off guard.

You blinked, still staring at your phone. You'd been glued to the screen longer than you'd realized.

"Nothing," you answered quickly. Too quickly. You forced a smile and grabbed your makeup kit, pretending to tidy up the mess of palettes and brushes on the vanity table.

Chan raised a brow, slipping his phone into his pocket. He leaned forward in his chair—never a good sign. That meant he didn't believe you. That meant you now had his full attention.

As the stylist and makeup artist for Stray Kids, you'd been spending nearly every day with them for the past few years. The team felt more like family lately, mostly thanks to Chan's warm and grounded energy that pulled everyone together even though it was the most stressful season.

"She's lying," Minho muttered as he walked past, already in his hoodie, bag over his shoulder. The concert had ended an hour ago, but you were still here, frozen in thought, barely making progress packing up. The messages on your phone had taken you somewhere else, somewhere you didn't want to return to.

Minho knew you better than anyone. You owed this job to him. You'd met backstage years ago, when he was still dancing for BTS and you were working as their part-time makeup artist. You always believed in him, and when Stray Kids became his reality, he returned the favor by getting you on the team.

You'd known the boys for a long time. Minho had kept you distant at first, worried one of them would flirt with his best friend. But on tour, things changed. You grew close. Bonds were built. Trust, laughter, late-night chats. And Chan... Chan had a way of making you forget how careful you were supposed to be.

"You're restless... something's bothering you," Chan said, eyes following the frantic way your fingers rearranged brushes that didn't need rearranging.

"In two hours we're flying back to Korea," you said flatly, dodging.

"Y/N," he said gently, but you cut him off with a dismissive wave. "It's nothing. Really."

But your phone lit up again—and this time, you weren't fast enough. Chan caught the name.

"Who's Madison?" he asked, voice casual—but not really.

Hyunjin came closer, overhearing as he set down his controller, apparently done playing with Felix for the night.

"She's... no one. Just a college friend."

The college you'd dropped out of to chase this dream.

Minho, now lounging across the sofa, immediately sat up, and his expression darkened.

"Madison? What does she want from you?"

You closed your eyes briefly and exhaled. You should've said nothing.

"She just wants to meet up. When we get back."

Chan tilted his head, studying you.

Minho stood now. "You're not actually going, right? After everything?"

The others looked between you, confused.

"Who is this Madison?" Seungmin asked.

Before you could reply, Minho cut in—his voice sharp and unfiltered.

"She's a manipulative bitch who used to tear Y/N apart every chance she got. Her and her group of plastic princesses treated her like she was dirt."

You sighed, tugging your bag onto your shoulder. "It was years ago, and you only met her once."

"Once was enough," he growled. "The way she looked at you—like she was doing you a favor by breathing the same air."

And you knew he wasn't wrong.

Madison had been cruel. High-maintenance, charming to the outside world, and poison behind closed doors. She'd called you a friend while whispering about your insecurities, making you feel like you'd never be enough.

"I just want to see if maybe she's changed," you said quietly.

Minho shook his head, already defeated. He knew he couldn't stop you.

⸻

"You work for that band now, right? Stray Kids?" Madison asked. For the fourth time already.

You forced a laugh and nodded, sipping your drink. "Yeah. I'm their stylist and makeup artist."

The table of women—each more dressed-up and decked-out than the last—oohed in excitement. They were the same group from back in uni. Expensive shoes, heavy perfumes, and surgically precise smiles.

The night had started surprisingly fine. You'd hugged, exchanged the usual "You look amazing" lies, and made small talk. Madison had even said your outfit was "so effortlessly cool." But as soon as you mentioned the band's name, her mask began to slip.

"Wait, how did you get into a company like that?" Madison asked, tilting her head like a confused kitten. "That's a huge label. Don't they look for people with real credentials?"

There it was.

You took a long sip of your gin tonic. "One of the members. We've known each other for years. He recommended me."

"Ooooh, insider connections," one of the girls purred, nudging another. "So who is he? Hyunjin? Felix? I heard Felix is close with all the girls."

"No. Minho. Lee Know. We worked together before Stray Kids."

"Ahh. Makes sense. I mean, with a dropped-out degree and... let's say modest experience, it would've been super hard to make it otherwise." Madison smiled sweetly and placed her hand over yours, pretending concern.

"But that's okay! You've always been resourceful."

Your jaw clenched. You wanted to scream. Instead, you nodded. "We've always supported each other. That's how we made it."

Finally, she withdrew her hand—but the smug gleam in her eyes didn't fade.

"I think Changbin's the hottest," one girl blurted, breaking the tension with giggles. "He has that rough vibe."

"I'd go for Han," another chimed in. "Cute, funny, probably a freak."

"God," Madison laughed, sipping her drink. "What about you, Y/N? Eight hot men, and not one tried something? I would've had a boyfriend by week two."

You smiled tightly. "We're all friends."

"Really?" Madison asked, tilting her head. "All that time together, and not one kiss behind the scenes? Not even a late-night affair?"

You shook your head, heart sinking.

"I mean, come on," she laughed.

"If Bang Chan would just smile at me, I'd let him ruin my whole life. You don't think about that? Or do you already have a thing with him?"

The blood drained from your face.

"We're close," you said quietly. "That's it."

"Mhmm," Madison hummed, exchanging a look with her blonde friend. "Well, if you ever get tired of being his comfort person, just give me his number, yeah?"

You blinked at her.

"I mean, idols need someone exciting, right? Someone with class. And let's be honest—you're sweet, but..." She gave you a smile that made your stomach turn. "Sweet isn't always sexy."

You stared down at the table, vision blurring slightly.

"But hey, professional boundaries, right?" she added with a laugh. "That's why you work there and not someone like me."

The table shimmered under the soft lighting of the lounge, half-empty cocktails scattered like fading illusions of a good night. Madison's laugh, high and polished, cut through the murmur of the music like a blade wrapped in silk.

Madison smiled sweetly.

"So be for real. You're really with them now. Like, full-on part of their team?"

You nodded, careful. "Yeah. Styling, makeup, performance looks... I work with their creative director too."

"Wow." She sipped her drink. "I mean, I guess someone has to do that stuff. But I didn't know they'd go for someone so... low-profile. You always were kind of the quiet one, weren't you?"

You tried to laughs softly, brushing it off, but by now everything that was coming out of you, where silent huffs.

„I guess. I just like to stay behind the scenes."

"Oh, totally. It's your thing, right? Being invisible but helpful. Like in Highschool! You always carried my bag and didn't complain once!"

Everyone laughed at this little anecdote about you, which was obviously just to make you even more insignificant.

Another sip. Another smile. The others glance at each other and giggle, unsure if it was a compliment or a slap.

Your heart stings even more, but you hid it with a practiced smile.

Madison leaned in again with that annoying smile.

"And what's it like? Traveling with them? Living in that world—glitz, lights, screaming fans. Do they even see you? Or are you like... furniture?"

The table snickers. One girl fake-gasps, "Madison!" But it's playful. No one's really calling her out.

You're tone is cold by now.

"They treat me well. We're a team."

"Hmm." She stirred her drink with her straw. "That's cute. You're kind of like their emotional support stylist. A little older-sister energy. Or like a pet? No, wait... like a really loyal assistant. You're just always there, right?"

Your throat tightens. You sipped your drink just to have something to do.

Madison changed her tone, syrupy-sweet again

"Back to Chan! Tell us everything."

„Maddy you're obsessed!", one girl laughed.

You stiffened slightly.

"He's so dreamy on camera. Is he like that in person? Or is it all PR and lighting? I just can't believe he's not that hot in real life too.

You hesitated but couldn't resist to smile when you thought about him. His smell, the messy hair and his hugs, which were the best thing after a stressful week when he just wants to see your smile again.

"He's real. Grounded. Kind."

Suddenly she's mock-gasping:

"Awww. You're really blushing. That's adorable."

She leaned over to the others.

"She's totally in love with him. Like she used to be in college. Remember? Her little Badboy-phase? I guess some things never change."

The table bursts into laughter. Your chest burns.

Y/N:

„We're friends... He never... We're just good friends."

Madison tilted her head, pouting.

"I mean, you have to know he's out of your league, right? Like, if he never tried to hook up with you even though you're spending so much time, I mean—men are easy—I think you're just not his type" she waved a hand dismissively.

„He would be head over heels for you though, Mads", some other girl said, all of them giggled in unison.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You wanted to leave so bad.

She smirked.

"Maybe he keeps you around because it's comfortable. Like an old hoodie. Not sexy, but familiar."

Some of the girls held their hand before their mouths, there she added quickly, "Oh my God, that was rude—sorry!" with a laugh, clearly not sorry.

Another girl joined in:

"But for real, if he's single, you should just shoot your shot, Mads. You're totally his type."

Madison grinned.

"Right? I mean, I wouldn't say no to a little K-pop prince. Maybe I'll drop him a DM. Unless Y/N's marked her territory?"

She raised an eyebrow across the table at you like it's all fun, like this isn't a series of sharp little knives landing over and over.

You were barely holding it together by now. It was so much worse than you could imagine.

"He's not a prize to win."

"Aww. Spoken like someone who already lost."

That's it. It was enough.

Your chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood up, the noise drowned in the thrum of the music.

"I'll be right back.", was everything you could get out without exploding.

No one stopped you.

Not even Madison, who just said over the music:

"Don't cry in there, babe. You'll ruin your eyeliner. And that wing is the best thing you've got going tonight."

You didn't cry in the bathroom.

Not at first.

You stood there, gripping the edge of the sink, cold marble against trembling fingers. You stared at your reflection, at the winged liner Madison had just mocked. At the eyes that looked dull and distant now. Your dress clung to you, your skin too warm, too exposed. You didn't recognize yourself.

You weren't sure if it was the drinks, the music, or the words still echoing in your mind like poison.

"Sweet isn't sexy."

"She's not his type."

"You're like furniture."

You tried to shake them off. You tried to laugh them away like you used to in college. But they hit differently now. Now that you'd spent all this time working your ass off. Now that you'd finally built something real. Now that you—

Now that you were starting to fall in love with someone who probably never even looked at you that way.

Chan.

His name was a weight in your chest.

The warmth of his hoodie when he'd draped it over your shoulders during late-night rehearsals. The way he always remembered your coffee order. The softness in his eyes when he asked if you'd eaten. The jokes. The quiet comfort. His scent on your pillow when you accidentally fell asleep backstage and he'd stayed to keep you company.

And then... Madison's voice again:

"If he's never tried anything, you're just not his type."

Something cracked. Quietly. But completely.

You sank onto the closed toilet lid, pressing a hand over your mouth. Not to muffle sobs—yet. Just to stop breathing so loud. Like the room might hear you fall apart.

You weren't enough.

Not stylish enough. Not hot enough. Not exciting enough. You were just... there. Like an old hoodie.

Tears blurred your vision now, spilled before you could stop them. Your eyeliner was ruined. You let out a shaky breath—then another. And then—

⸻

Your makeup was holding on—barely. Your composure, not so much.

Your fingers hovered over your phone again.

It was the second time Chans name was on your screen. He called you right after he saw that you were online. Almost as he waited for exact that moment.

Maybe it would help.

Just... hear his voice. Talk to him and forget this stupid evening for a second. And if you wouldn't answer the phone he would just be worried.

"Y/N?" came Chan's voice, soft and warm like a lighthouse in a storm. "Hey. Just checking in. Is everything alright?"

You opened your mouth to say yes, but it caught in your throat.

"Y/N?"

"...Hi," you finally breathed. "Yeah. I'm... it's fine. Just loud in here."

"You okay?" He paused. "You don't sound fine."

You tried to clear your throat quietly, wiping under your eye with the back of your hand. "I just needed a breather."

There was a beat of silence.

"You're crying," he said, quiet but certain. "What happened?"

You shook your head, even though he couldn't see. "It's nothing. I'm just being stupid. I shouldn't have come here."

"Is it Madison?" His voice darkened immediately. "What did she say?"

You let out a broken laugh, trying to hold yourself together. "God, where do I start?"

"Start anywhere," he said, softer now. "I'm here."

You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, leaning back against the cold tile wall.

You stayed silent for a while. Trying to hold yourself back, make him believe everything was perfectly fine.

But the moment he said your name with so much concern, everything broke out of you.

"She said I'm invisible. That I'm just... there. Background noise. Not hot, not exciting. Not the kind of girl anyone would choose. All the things she told me back in Highschool all the time."

You swallowed hard. "She talked about you a lot She's really into you, Chan. Maybe you should make a move", your voice sounded mocking, strong, but Chan just huffed.

„I told her we're just friends but she just wouldn't stop..."

Silence.

You kept going, the dam breaking wide open.

"She made it sound like I'm pathetic. Like I'm your pet or something. Said you probably keep me around because I'm familiar. Comfortable. But not sexy. That I'm like some old hoodie—soft and safe but not wanted."

Chan still didn't speak. You could feel how tense the silence was, like the air had thickened.

"She laughed about how I used to follow her around, how I carried her bag in high school. She said I don't belong in the world I'm in now. That someone like me shouldn't be working with someone like you."

You wiped at your eyes again. "And the worst part is, I believed her. I actually... started to believe her again. That I'm not enough. She's right... We're just friends and I'm happy about that, but I'm definitely not in your league."

"Y/N," Chan finally said, his voice lower than you'd ever heard it.

You waited, throat tight. And immediately you regretted everything you said.

"You listen to me right now," he said, steady and calm—but there was fury underneath. "She doesn't know who the hell she's talking about. And I swear to god, if I hear one more word like that out of her mouth—"

"Chan..."

"No," he interrupted, his voice softening but still firm. "You're not invisible. You're the only one I see. Every day, you walk into a room and suddenly the air feels different. Calmer. Better. You're the reason I sleep at night when things get bad because I know you're there the next morning. Doing my Makeup, cheering me up no matter what. Your the reason the team holds together sometimes. You are everything she isn't, and that's why she hates you."

You bit your lip, your chest tightening.

"Please just forget what I said." you whispered. "Falling apart over a stupid night out... I shouldn't have said anything. You're probably busy."

"You don't have to be strong all the time," he said gently. "Not with me."

A pause. Then, lower:

"Where are you right now?"

"Club down by the water," you said quietly. "VIP section. Madison rented a booth."

There was a beat of silence.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm coming."

"No—Chan, you don't have to—"

"I'm already in the car. We're getting back at that bitch, together. You'll see. Just play along!"

And then the phone was dead.

You stared at the screen until it faded black and suddenly you woke up, when you understood that he would really come.

As fast as you could, you touched up your makeup, got your hair done and breathed in and out several times.

The bathroom door creaked open.

You stepped out, trying to collect yourself, as you walked back to the booth.

As soon as you arrived you almost stumbled over your words:

„There she is! What were you doing so long? We thought you ran off", Madison laughed and you didn't need to guess what they talked about when you were gone.

„No, I had a call... It could be that..."

But that's when all of the pair of eyes were averted and glued to the entry of the VIP-Section.

He was actually there, walking in without having to show his ID. The security knew exactly who he was, since the boys were here often.

Bang Chan. Jeans-Jacket thrown over a black Shirt, eyes burning with quiet fury—but softening instantly when he saw you.

He must have already drove off while you were talking on the phone. How could he be here so fast?

His hair was messy, falling into his forehead, his face outrageously handsome and you could feel how the air tensed. All the girls and especially Madison made sounds that almost sounded like chickens.

„Omg that's him", they squeaked.

Immediately you stood up, ran up to him.

You placed a hand on his chest to stop him before he could reach the table and whispered, "What are you doing?"

When you looked up at him, you had to hold your breath. He smiled, wrapped his arms around your waist, and his thumbs slowly began to circle over your hip bones.

"At least pretend you're happy to see me."

"No, that's not... Channie, I don't want them to know I cried in the bathroom like a little girl because they were mean to me. Please—this is just going to get really awkward for you."

He didn't waver, just looked at you calmly, then gently placed his hand against your cheek. He had never touched you like that before.

"You look incredible. That dress is seriously hot on you," he murmured, eyes trailing down your body.

Your cheeks flushed so deeply you thought you might actually faint. What was he doing?

"Come on. Let's have a good night," he said with a smirk and tugged you toward the table.

The whispers stopped instantly the moment you two arrived. Every single girl stared at him in stunned silence.

"Hey," Chan said casually. "I was nearby, called Y/N to see what she was up to, and thought I'd drop by on my way back. Hope that's alright?"

Madison was the first to recover, her voice a squeal. "Yes! Totally! Have a seat!"

She patted the empty spot right next to her, already inching aside, but Chan didn't even glance at it. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on you—and only you.

And then you realized... he was still holding your hand.

Without letting go, he led you around the booth and sat down to your left, deliberately placing you between him and Madison.

The tightness in Madison's jaw could've cut glass.

Back at the table, it was all fake smiles and weirdly timed laughs as Chan settled in beside you like he belonged there. Like he did this every Friday night. His arm slid behind your back, casually draping along the booth's edge, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. You were hyper-aware of every inch of him, of how close he was, of the warmth radiating off his body.

And the worst—or best—part? He wasn't even pretending. This wasn't some over-the-top performance. He was relaxed, charming, soft-spoken, and all of it was for you.

"Y/N told me you guys go way back," he said, voice smooth as honey, glancing around at the girls with a perfectly polite smile. "That's cool. Always nice to meet her friends."

"Totally," Madison said, her voice tight as she took another sip of her drink, eyes flicking between you and Chan like she couldn't decide whether to smile or scream.

"God, you're even hotter in real life," one of the girls whispered, not even trying to hide it. "I didn't think that was possible."

Chan chuckled politely. "Thanks. But I think Y/N's the one turning heads tonight."

That shut everyone up for a second.

Your heart skipped several beats. Madison looked like she'd swallowed her lip gloss.

He wasn't done.

"You should've seen her earlier," Chan went on, eyes drifting to you again. "I told her she looked good enough to shut down traffic. Guess I was right."

Someone choked on their drink. You didn't dare look at Madison. He was doing that full aware and he had fun with it.

Chan leaned in slightly toward you, voice lower now—just for you. "You okay?"

You nodded, still dazed, not trusting your voice yet.

"Good," he murmured. "Because I'm not letting you disappear on me again tonight."

You blinked at him, startled, but he was already smirking at his glass, swirling the amber liquid inside with effortless grace.

He lifted his glass, still watching you. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, drawing out the word like it belonged to you alone.

You nodded stiffly, pulse hammering in your ears.

"Good," he murmured.

Madison's smile faltered. She recovered with another sip of her drink. "So, Chan," she purred, "Y/N tells us you two are just friends?"

He finally turned toward her, but the look in his eyes wasn't curious—it was cold amusement.

"Yeah," he said with a slow, lazy grin. "That's what she says."

The girls around the table giggled, but there was an edge of uncertainty now. Madison tilted her head.

"Just friends," she repeated, trying to sound playful. "But you came all the way here for her?"

Chan didn't miss a beat. "She's worth showing up for."

You stared into your drink, and he reached over, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades, his touch intimate and familiar.

"I mean," Madison pushed, "that's sweet and all, but don't you usually go for—" She paused, her eyes flicking over you. "Someone a little more your speed?"

Chan raised a brow slowly. "Oh? And what speed do you think that is?"

"I don't know," she giggled, too high-pitched. "Someone a bit... flashier?"

He smiled—but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You know," he said, voice smooth like honey over ice, "Loud, shiny, easy to spot. That kind burns out fast."

He leaned closer to you, the side of his thigh brushing yours. "It's the steady glow that stays with you. That's the one that warms you up at night."

Madison opened her mouth to say something, but the waitress arrived before she could, holding a tray of shots.

Chan leaned back, giving you a wink. "Perfect timing."

The table whooped, tension shifting into distraction as glasses were passed around.

"Come on," Chan said, handing you one. "One night off. Let go a little."

You hesitated, but the way he looked at you, like this night was yours and his alone, made you forget everything else.

You took the shot.

Then another.

And another.

„So you're like friends with benefits? Or dating? Come on tell us!", another girl exclaimed and Madison almost killed her, by just looking at her.

Chan tilted his head. "What do you think?"

You tried not to combust on the spot.

„It's pretty much up to her now ..."

You weren't even sure how many drinks you'd had by now. The club was buzzing louder, your skin was tingling, and Chan had moved even closer, his thigh pressed firmly against yours now under the table. There were Shot after Shot, Cocktail after Cocktail. You didn't know how he was able to act that convincing. It couldn't be real, but why would he do all that? Just to get back at them? All that effort just for a small revenge he shouldn't even care about?

The conversations were flowing by now and everyone adored Chan not just for his looks in no time. But he played his part way too well.

He leaned in again, his cologne warm and clean and a little dangerous, and said quietly in your ear:

"You're either ignoring me... or trying really hard not to look like you want to kiss me."

You turned to face him, heart tripping.

"That obvious?" you murmured, lips barely an inch from his, starting to grin like an idiot. You were playing around, trying to get back at Madison, but it felt so real, that your heart was pounding like crazy. And you knew your heart would be shattered at the end of this evening.

Chan gave a slow, satisfied grin and leaned back just enough to look at you properly.

„Only to me."

Before you could reply, ask what this was about, Madison cut in again.

"So, Y/N," she chirped, swirling her drink. "Are you, like, seriously not sleeping with him?"

You blinked.

Chan tilted his head slightly, gaze sharpening like a blade, but his voice stayed calm.

"Madison," he said, smiling like a wolf. "Do you usually talk about other people's sex lives at the table?"

She flushed, laughing. "I mean, sorry, but come on. You're both just so... intense. Like, all the eye contact and brooding. It's kinda obvious something's happening."

Chan shrugged lazily. "Maybe we like keeping things to ourselves. You ever try that?"

"Ouch," someone muttered from the other side of the table. There was giggling. Madison had no chance against the sass of Chan. He was the Leader of 7 chaotic men, who where Teenagers when they started. He knew exactly how to put someone in their place.

You hid a smile in your drink.

But Madison wasn't done. She leaned toward Chan this time, lips pouting, voice syrupy sweet. "I mean, no offense, but it's just... unexpected. I thought you would go for girls who are, I don't know"

"Shallow?" Chan interrupted smoothly.

She blinked. "No. I was gonna say... bolder. More exciting."

He gave a half-smile, slow and dangerous.

"Trust me," he said without taking his eyes off you, "she's plenty bold. She just doesn't need to prove it by being loud all the time."

That shut her up. The entire table went quiet for a second.

You could feel your face heating, but Chan wasn't done. He turned toward you again, resting his arm along the back of the booth, fingers grazing your shoulder and down your arm.

"You know what I like?" he asked you, eyes still locked with yours.

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"When someone can walk into a room and own it, without even trying." He gave you that soft, lazy grin again. "That's hot."

You bit your lip, your pulse thudding in your ears.

Madison scoffed under her breath, but no one was paying attention to her anymore. Not when Chan was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

Then the shots arrived.

"Last round before we get wild," the waitress announced, sliding a tray onto the table.

"Let's make it a toast," Chan said, smoothly grabbing two and handing you one. He raised his glass and looked around the table.

"To good company," he said. "And knowing exactly who's worth your time."

You met his eyes as you both threw back the shot.

It burned, but it wasn't the alcohol making your heart race.

The energy at the table had shifted, less laughter, more heat. You were tucked comfortably into Chan's side now, your legs brushing under the table, the slow burn of tequila pooling warm in your chest. He hadn't taken his eyes off you for more than a few seconds at a time, and every brush of his fingertips against your thigh under the table felt like a secret promise.

Madison, clearly not used to being ignored, was on her third attempt to interrupt the vibe.

She leaned in again with a sugar-sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "So, Chan... tell us, what's your type now?"

You didn't flinch. You didn't have to. Chan beat you to it.

"Madison," he said lazily, his voice thick with amusement, "you'd have to know my type to recognize it."

She bristled. "And I don't?"

He turned his head slightly toward her, but his hand stayed firmly on your thigh, thumb brushing slow, possessive circles, going up to the hem of your dress. They couldn't even see that, but he continued anyway. "If you did," he said, voice dipping lower, "you'd stop assuming it was you."

The table went dead silent for a beat again.

Someone choked on her drink again.

"Oof—damn," someone muttered.

Madison's eyes flicked to you, her smile now a tight line.

„But she is? She's not the usual kind of flashy girl, a idol would want to be with."

Chan just grinned, wide, cocky, like he was thriving on the tension. He leaned in close to you, but said it loud enough for the table to hear:

"That's the point."

You felt your pulse stutter as his fingers tightened slightly on your leg. His thumb now under the soft fabric of your minidress, making you almost press your thighs together.

"I don't do 'usual,'" he added, biting his lip softly while staring at yours dangerously.

"I do addictive."

His voice dropped, rough and intimate, just for you, even though the entire table was pretending not to listen. His thumb slipped a little higher under the fabric of your dress, dragging heat along your skin.

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck betraying you as he leaned in, slow, deliberate. His mouth hovered just beside your ear now, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

"And you, ..." His words came out low and sinful. "You're already ruining me since the day Minho brought you into the company."

Your breath hitched, involuntarily pressing your thighs closer together. His smirk deepened at the movement, eyes darkening like he owned the reaction. Was all this still acting? You couldn't believe this could be real. It was way too perfect to be real.

Meanwhile, Madison was sitting in stunned silence across the table, trying to pretend she wasn't watching every second. Chan didn't even spare her a glance now, his world narrowed to you.

You turned slightly to meet his eyes, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Chan..."

"Mmh," he hummed, brushing the tip of his nose along your cheek.

„Channie please... I'm... You...", but you couldn't form a whole sentence, when his hand was less than an inch from your core, still moving up, and you tried to calm yourself. The lace panties were definitely already ruined, even though he didn't do anything.

„If you say my name like that one more time I probably can't stop..."

Your cheeks flushed, but it wasn't from embarrassment. It was the way he said it, full of quiet, restrained chaos. Like he knew exactly what he could do to you, what he would do to you, and was enjoying every second of the buildup. But if this was over and he knew that you on your part weren't acting at all... You could never ever look him in the eyes again.

„You don't have to pretend anymore... I think it's enough", you whispered as soon as Madison chatted with another girl, glancing still at you two.

His eyes were immediately on yours again. You could see the effect the alcohol already had on him, but his eyes were clear, honest. But he didn't respond. There was confusion in his face.

"Fuck it," he muttered suddenly, pulling back with a smug grin as he stood up and reached for your hand. "We're getting out of here."

"Where are you going?" Madison snapped, eyes narrowing.

Chan didn't even look at her.

"Somewhere worth my time."

He pulled you with him, a protective hand low on your back, guiding you through the crowd. The alcohol was buzzing through your system, but it wasn't what made your head spin. It was him. His voice, his touch, the way he owned every room, every look, you.

"Wanna dance?" he asked softly while leading you to the dance floor.

You blinked. "Now?"

"Were at a Club right?," he said, already standing, holding his hand out to you. "Come on. Just a few songs."

You took it.

The music hit you the second you stepped onto the dance floor, warm bass, thudding beat, flickering lights. Chan didn't hesitate. He pulled you close, one hand resting low on your waist, the other brushing your hair back.

The music pulsed through your body, thick bass reverberating through the floor as the club lights painted flashes of red and blue across Chan's face. You were both tipsy, laughing harder than you should at something stupid he whispered into your ear, but the warmth of his hand on your lower back wasn't something you could blame on the drinks.

It was deliberate. Possessive. Hot.

You moved with him, teased each other until your hip rolled against his. You could hear him silently hissing, but his moves were fluent, experienced and very very distracting.

Even though no one was watching you anymore.

Chan leaned in close, his breath hot against your cheek as the beat shifted to something darker, slower. His voice rumbled against your skin, low and wrecked.

"I really couldn't believe you're that blind before tonight..."

You blinked up at him as he twirled you around, lips parted as your breath hitched, your body already melting into his. You stumbled against his chest confused.

"What?" you dared.

He didn't answer. Instead, his hand slid up your sides, until it was wrapped tight around your waist, drawing you flush against him. His hips moved with yours, slow and dirty, like the music was just for the two of you.

And then he said it.

"You think I was just acting earlier?"

His mouth brushed your ear now, every word setting fire to your skin.

"You think I flirted with you at that table just because I had to play along?" He tilted your chin up, making you look him dead in the eye. "Y/N, I've had a crush on you for months. And I thought it was obvious..."

Your breath caught.

His lips ghosted across your cheek, barely touching.

"But I just didn't dare to tell you, since you didn't do anything about it. I figured someone like you wouldn't even look at me twice."

"You're insane," you whispered. You couldn't even believe one word he was saying.

"And you're drunk," he smirked. "Which is the only reason I'm even telling you this now, because tomorrow, I'm gonna pretend I didn't after you finally rejected me."

Your hands were firmly closed around his neck, and you still waited to finally wake up from this unreal dream.

„I had no idea... I thought you're just friendly. I thought I'm not your type... You're lying right? You’re trying to tease me? That's not funny Chan!"

You could feel him chuckling deeply and for at least a few seconds, then he pulled you even closer, his hands brushing up your sides, his thumbs pressing into your skin right under your boobs. He pushed you backwards until you were a bit aside, only a few people were standing or sitting in the back area of the dance floor.

The music wasn't that loud here and Chan wanted to make sure you'd hear every word he would say. You were standing in a lightly lit corner, him still holding you tight. You felt his firm stomach pressed against your body and just looked at him stunned.

You were flushed from dancing and just the right amount of tipsy, when you turned to find Chan watching you not with his usual soft gaze, this time it was darker. Intense. Like he was done pretending.

His eyes closed for a second like he was at war with himself. Then he looked down at you, slow, dragging, and everything he'd ever hidden was suddenly there, plain as day.

"You really didn't know?" he asked, voice low, wrecked.

"That every time you hugged me, I had to fight not to touch you like I wanted to?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

"That when you wore that black dress to the company party a year ago, I had to sit with my hands in my lap the entire night?"

He let out a dry, soft laugh.

"I got hard just looking at you. Couldn't even get up without embarrassing myself."

You swallowed hard, heat coiling in your stomach.

„Chan..."

"I've wanted you for so long it's fucking embarrassing," he said, stepping in even closer, chest pressed against yours.

"I'd leave Aftershow-parties early because you were dancing with the backup dancers and I couldn't take it. I'd lie awake thinking about your body, your laugh, the way you look when you're mad at me."

Your hand pressed against his chest instinctively, either to steady yourself or make sure he wouldn't vanish.

"I used to jerk off in the shower after hugging you, every time after you did my makeup, standing so close in your small tops and shorts," he said, voice barely above a whisper now, eyes locked on your mouth.

He pushed you further back, until your back hit the wall and you were completely at his mercy.

"And then show up the next day at the concert pretending nothing happened."

You felt the breath leave your lungs in one slow exhale, your thighs clenching together as heat rushed down your spine.

"Fuck, Chan..."

"I wasn't acting tonight," he added, his fingers brushing the side of your ribs, up until his thumb brushed over your nipple.

"Not for a second. I wasn't trying to make anyone jealous. I just... finally let myself touch you the way I wanted."

Everything rushed back to you in flashes, his hands on your body while hugging you, the looks he gave you, when you talked about your dates with random guys, the low murmur in your ear, his fingers under your dress earlier at the table.

Every smirk. Every stare. Every time he'd pulled away like it was taking every ounce of willpower. His small comments you never took seriously when you wore your new outfits at work. His friendly teasing when he'd say things like "You're lucky I have self-control" when you showed up in a tight dress you wore only for him, or "You keep looking at me like that and I might forget we're just friends." You laughed it off, not realizing how close he was to meaning every word.

You thought he was just a flirt. Just smooth.

But he'd been losing his mind over you this whole time.

"You hid it so well," you whispered.

He smirked, stepping even closer.

„No, doll. You just weren't paying attention."

As his hands touched your boobs, desperately like he wanted this to happen for a long time, you leaned your head against the wall, looking up at him pleading.

„I can't believe it... It's just that I had a crush on you for years now. And you never gave me anything. It felt like you weren't even aware I'm right there!"

He sighed, looked at the ground for a moment, before his hand wandered to your cheek, caressing your jaw, until he touched your lips softly.

"All those times I pulled away? It wasn't because I didn't feel it. It was because I felt too much."

You swallowed, breath catching.

"I'd touch you, and my whole body would react. I couldn't hug you too long without having to hide how much I wanted you. When you dabbed my sweat away in the middle of shooting M/Vs or when you just sat next to me during movie nights at the dorm..."

His voice was deeper now, rough.

"You'd wear those damn skirts and look at me like I was your boss, talk to me like I was your best friend sometimes, and I'd have to act like I wasn't going crazy."

You blinked at him, overwhelmed by the honesty dripping from every word.

"I tried to be respectful. I tried to be good. But God, every time you laughed, or leaned against me, or whispered something in my ear... I wanted you, thought about bending you over the next surface and finally fucking you like you deserve it…“

He stepped so close you could feel the heat of his body. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, the other other one grabbed your hip again.

"I still want you. So much it fucking hurts."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep the walls up.

Your breath hitched.

"I know it's a lot," he added quickly. "I just couldn't watch her tear you down. Not when she doesn't even see you. Not when she has no idea what it means to be loved the way you should be."

Silence bloomed between you, loud and sacred.

„I have dreamed of this for so long... I thought it could never happen. I thought I was imagining things."

"That's my fault," he whispered, forehead resting against yours. "I thought I was protecting you. Protecting us. But I just ended up hurting both of us instead."

You closed your eyes, your heart thudding violently in your chest. Every part of you wanted to believe him. Every part of you wanted to just fall.

„If you don't believe me yet..."

His voice got clearer again, and when you opened your eyes again he shielded you completely from the world. He grabbed your hand and pushed it suddenly against the bulge in his pants. Your eyes widened as you felt how big it felt under your fingertips.

„That's what you're doing to me. This whole evening, all the time..."

He watched you closely, his breath against your lips as you felt his rock hard dick even through his pants.

"Let me make it up to you," he growled, his voice a low rasp against your lips.

„Let me show you what I've been holding back."

You breath stuttered and this time he didn't pull away. His lips crashed on yours but you were already pulling him down into you.

Your mouths crashed together like tension snapping. Desperate. Starved. His hands buried in your hair, yours gripping the collar of his shirt as your bodies pressed and ground against each other like you were trying to crawl inside his skin.

It was hot. Too hot.

You tore away first, gasping.

"I, I need air."

Chan didn't say anything, just grabbed your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and pulled you toward the exit.

You had to pass the booth where Madison sat, and of course, she clocked you immediately.

"Wait a second!" she called out, standing halfway. "Please, just sit with us for a little bit. I want to sort things out. Really."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden plea.

But before you could even think of answering, Chan stepped in front of you, solid, steady, like a wall. Protective in a way that made you want to rip his clothes off right now.

He looked at Madison the way someone looks at a child who doesn't know the damage they're doing. A little pity. A little disbelief. And zero tolerance.

"There's nothing to sort out, Madison," he said calmly, though there was a razor-sharp edge beneath his voice.

„She wasted enough time, trying to be the better person and giving you another chance..."

Her mouth opened like she wanted to argue, but the way Chan's arm slid around your waist and pulled you in close made her freeze. He wasn't subtle. He didn't want to be.

"I'll take her somewhere, were her talents, her hard work and her amazing personality is appreciated," he continued, his eyes never leaving hers.

Madison flushed, jaw tight.

But Chan didn't flinch. Didn't soften.

He leaned in closer to you, hand at the small of your back.

"Come on, baby. Let's go."

You let him lead you past her, heart pounding at the pet name, the heat of his body, the absolute certainty in the way he chose you without hesitation.

And as you walked away, you didn't even need to look back.

Because for the first time, you knew you were the one being fought for.

Outside, the night air hit your skin like a shock, but Chan's warmth was already wrapping around you again.

The night was sharp and cool, the wind biting at your flushed skin. You stumbled into the alleyway beside the club, laughing breathlessly. He steadied you with both hands on your hips.

"You okay?" he asked, a little too soft, a little too close again for you to keep your sanity.

You nodded.

"Tipsy. But fine."

He arched a brow. "Still think I was acting?"

He slipped out of his Jacket and put it over you shoulders, engaging you with his scent.

You shot him a half-lidded look, lips curling. "You're still flirting."

"That's not flirting." He grinned like the devil and stepped into you, pushing you gently back against the brick wall. His hand slid up under the jacket, fingers dragging up your bare thigh.

"This is me losing control."

You were drunk, yes. But you felt everything.

His mouth brushed your jaw, kissing down to your neck with infuriating slowness. You tilted your head back, sighing as his teeth grazed your skin.

"You're dangerous," you breathed.

"Yeah," he whispered. "But only for you."

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer. "What are we doing, Chan?"

He looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

"Getting a cab. And then..." His smirk returned, but it was darker this time, tinged with heat. "Taking you home."

You felt beautiful.

You felt wanted.

And you kissed him.

Right there, under the streetlights in a dark alley, in the middle of the night, while every inch of you screamed that this moment was real. You kissed him because you'd wanted to for so long. Because no one had ever looked at you the way he was now. Because you needed him to know that even if you didn't feel like enough tonight, you still wanted to be his.

And when you pulled back, he smiled like he already knew.

"Come on," he said. "My place. Now."

He couldn't wait a second longer. He couldn't think of anything else than ripping that damn dress off.

You just nodded.

And when he kissed you this time, finally, fully, like he'd been starving for it, it was everything but gentle.

You tiptoed barefoot behind Chan through the dim hallway, your heels in your hands, the quiet creak of the floorboards under your weight sounding way too loud in the silence of the late hour. You already visited the dorm of the boys but you were mostly at Minhos, Felix, I.N and Seungmins dorm for movie nights.

"Shhh," Chan whispered, shooting you a wicked little grin over his shoulder as he guided you through the apartment like a thief.

„They're all asleep. Hopefully."

Hyunjin, Changbin and Han would be definitely at home since they had some days off after the last concerts. It would be way too complicated to explain what was going on with you and Chan at the moment.

You passed the living room, and there, half-sprawled on the couch under a blanket, you spotted Han, clearly tangled up with someone.

You pressed your hand against your mouth while staring at them.

His hand was buried in someone's hair, soft moans slipping past his lips while there was a fierce makeout-session going on. Netflix already asked if they're still watching but that wasn't the case obviously. There were clothes laying everywhere around, hard breathing and kissing sounds echoed in the dark room.

You blinked, stunned and suddenly Chan grabbed your hand before you could look closer.

"Don't stare. Trust me, you don't wanna know," he muttered under his breath, lips quirking.

You didn't even get the chance to wonder who the hell Han was pressed up against before Chan yanked you forward and slipped the both of you into his bedroom. He shut the door with a soft click, locking it.

Silence. A soft, red glow from the LED-lights in Chans room. It smelled like cedar and clean linen and him.

Then a breath. Then him, suddenly everywhere.

He shoved you back against the door before you could take another step, his body pinning you with an urgency that set your skin on fire.

"You almost ruined me," he growled lowly, his hand wrapping around your throat just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken. "All those nights thinking about you, all those moments I had to bite my tongue instead of dragging you into a corner and making you mine."

His lips crashed onto yours, and this kiss wasn't sweet as before, it was messy, possessive, pure need. His other hand was already hiking your dress up, fingers bruising into your thigh as he lifted your leg around his waist.

"You know how hard it was?" he rasped against your lips. "You'd touch my face, my body while working on those stage-outfits and I'd have to hold back, pretend I didn't want to fuck you against the nearest wall. Pretend I wasn't hard the entire time."

"Chan—"

"No. Tonight, you listen and won't doubt a second how much you're wanted."

His eyes burned into yours, hand slipping into your hair and tugging your head back just enough for his lips to drag down your neck.

"I'm not holding back anymore."

He dragged you to the bed, pushed you down gently, but the glint in his eyes was anything but soft. The dark edge in his gaze made your pulse spike as he crawled over you, slow and controlled like a predator savoring his prey.

Chan grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, while the other traced down the side of your face, your throat, your chest, until you were writhing beneath him.

"I'm gonna wreck you, baby," he whispered against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. "So no one else ever gets to look at you and wonder what you taste like. What you sound like."

Your breath caught, your thighs pressed together, the heat between them unbearable now. His fingers slid between them without warning, two, confident and slow, teasing, curling just enough to make you gasp and arch.

"And you'll take it, won't you?" he growled, lips bruising against your neck as he moved faster, darker.

"You'll let me ruin you."

And god, you wanted to let him.

Your moan broke open in the dark, echoing in his room like a confession.

„You're that wet for me? And I didn't even know all evening."

He growled, pushing his fingers deep into you before he pushed them into his mouth, tasting you, looking at you from above. You couldn't move with your hands pinned against the mattress.

„You taste even better than I imagined, doll."

You looked him straight into the eyes, your breath going slowly.

„I have touched myself too, you know", you breathed, while he opened your legs with his knee. Watching how your dress slid up, exposing your ass, your soft thighs and the black lace panties which were soaked already.

„Tell me", he demanded, enjoying the desperate whimpering, as he pushed his knee right onto your core.

Then he let go of you, unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside. You straightened up, eyes wandering all over his abs. Which you adored every time he changed during concerts, when you brought him his clothes.

„When you were changing at concerts or running around half naked in the backstage, pretending you didn't notice the looks you got from all the female staff-members... Or the one time I told you about the terrible date I had..."

He raised his eyebrows.

„The stupid background dancer? I was so jealous back then..."

You nodded, kneeling next to Chan, touching his shoulders, letting your fingers slide over his chest, his abs, down to the hem of his pants.

„The date went terribly wrong because I moaned your name while making out..."

His eyes widened and he grabbed your hips, lifting you up on his lap like a toy.

„That's why he couldn't look me in the eye since...", he laughed, pushing the straps of your dress of your shoulders, kissing your chest while kneading your ass in his hands.

Your little pants were like rewards for him.

„I also touched myself at night, after movie-nights at the dorm. We all we're squeezed together on that small couch, you accidentally touched my tits, my thighs, my back while watching the movie... I was so horny that night."

Softly he brushed your hair out of your forehead.

„I had no idea... I would have let you sleep at my bed and took care of you. But didn't you sleep in Minhos bed that night?"

You cheeks immediately turned red, your ears glowing, while that damn knowing smile of Chan almost made you shy.

„I touched myself when he was asleep next to me... I'm still embarrassed."

But Chan grabbed your chin and pushed his middle against your core to prove his point.

„That's so fucking hot."

He watched your body, and his eyes were shimmering with arousal.

„Strip for me, babygirl and tell me everything I missed during all this time."

He leaned back, as soon as you climbed off his lap and it was crazy to finally tell him all your dirty secrets.

Sensual you started to slip out of your dress, while he watched every move, unbuttoning his pants.

„I'd would always watch you rehearse from the back of the studio or through a cracked door, pretending to be just passing by. But the way you moved, confident and raw, sweat dripping down your neck and your shirt clung to your body... You had no idea, did you? Every time I watched you dance, I could barely breathe."

Your voice was soft and he just shook his head, his eyes wandering all over you body, as you stripped your dress off.

"After concerts you'd sit so close to me, shirt soaked, still catching your breath... and I'd just nod along, pretending I wasn't dying to touch you."

Your lace underwear was hugging your body smoothly. Making him sigh: „so fucking sexy"

Under his breath, while you were taking your bra off, throwing it at the floor.

He reached out, wanted to touch your tits, but you just smiled, fought of his hands and let him struggle for a bit more.

He imagined them in his hands for so long, squeezing and touching them until you'd beg him to fuck you.

But you weren't done.

„You remember those 2 a.m. calls right after those first big events I worked at? Your voice were enough to drive me crazy."

Where his voice was low, gravelly, intimate. You'd talk about anything and everything.

And you'd lie on your bed, completely turned on, fantasizing about him saying those same things with his hands on you.

"You'd talk to me like I was special. Whisper things. And I'd be there... hand between my legs, biting your name into my pillow", you added and he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed your waist, ripped your panties off of you, and watched your body as you were standing between his legs.

„That time at the airport, you put your arm around me to guide me through the crowd, the chaos there. You always touched me like you owned me, and I hated how much I wanted it to be real", you breathed and whimpered suddenly as he spread your legs with his.

His hands grabbed your hips until your cunt hovered in front of his face.

„I told you I'll make all that up to you. I'll make you moan my name every day", he muttered and you sinked your nails into his neck, when he suddenly sucked on your glistening pussy, holding you up straight while licking through your folds, making your legs already shake. But when his tongue entered you, you couldn't stop whimpering like a kitten.

You could feel his smile against your core, his nose bumping against your clit while he was eating you out.

„Channie please please..."

You couldn't stop bubbling when he finally looked up at you.

„Say it! Come on babygirl."

He licked your juices off of his lips, his hands wrapped around your thighs.

„Fuck me, Chan. Please fuck me."

And that was it.

He grabbed your arms, pushed them on your back and forced you onto the mattress in seconds.

A startled gasp tearing from your throat while your face was pressed into his sheets.

"Did you think I brought you here to play nice?" he snarled into your ear, voice low, rough, a sound that made your knees weaken.

His body caged you in, one hand around your throat, just enough pressure to make you moan, while the other slid up your thigh, dragging your legs apart. Your ass in the air, so he could use you like he imagined it so many times.

You could hear how he got rid of his pants and underwear and then he grabbed your face, pulled you to his chest and you could already feel the size of his dick against your ass.

You barely managed a whisper his name before his mouth was on yours, not kissing, devouring. Tongue demanding entrance, teeth nipping hard at your bottom lip until you tasted blood and moaned against him.

"Been dreaming about ruining you," he muttered, hand sliding between your legs, forcing you on all fours. "Making you cry on my cock. You have no idea the fucking self-control I've had to keep."

His fingers slipped into you, slow at first, but deep, like he wanted to make you feel the weight of every second he'd waited. He growled when he felt how wet you got already with every move he made.

"Fuck. You're dripping for me."

You tried to reach for him, desperate, but he caught your wrists and pushed them on your back, pushing your chest against the mattress, hands trapped  painfully in one of his. The other hand stretched you even more when he added another finger.

You gasped as his palm landed hard on your ass, the sound echoing in the dark room, your body jerking forward against the headboard.

"Count," he growled. "If you lose track, I start over."

"One," you gasped.

Another slap, sharper.

"Two."

"Good girl. You look so fucking good like this," he hissed, voice dark with hunger. He watched the red mark on your soft skin he left. "All mine. I want to mark you up so bad they'll see it tomorrow. The members won't even need to ask."

He was harder than you'd ever seen anyone, panting against your neck as he grinded himself into your bare ass, not even inside you yet, and already cursing under his breath like he was going to lose it.

"You feel that?" he rasped, letting you grind back against his cock. "This is what you do to me. Every time you walked in wearing those little skirts, every time you hugged me and pressed that perfect body against me, I had to go jerk off in the fucking shower just to breathe before I could go on stage."

You whimpered, needy and wrecked and still untouched.

"Please," you whispered, voice shaking. "I want you."

"Oh, baby," he said, pulling his belt free from his pants a slow, lethal hiss of leather. "You're gonna feel how much I want you."

After just a blink of an eye he tied your hands up on your back.

„I want you to cry my name. So every time you'll call my name from now on, I'll think of you, tied up, with my cock pounding into your perfect little cunt."

And with that you felt his tip at your entrance. It was too big, you already knew that. When he pushed himself into you, starting to fuck you so good, you were already seeing stars, you couldn't stop moaning his name like a mantra.

Chan groaned deep in his chest, hips slamming forward as he buried himself fully. His hands gripped your hips hard, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he couldn't get deep enough, close enough. Like he was trying to carve himself into you.

"Fuck—" he growled, voice shaking. "You feel like heaven. You were made for me, weren't you?"

You could barely answer, your words melted into gasps and broken sounds as he set a relentless pace, every snap of his hips pushing you closer to that edge. You were completely exposed to him. Hands tied, body trembling, senses overloaded. But never once did you feel unsafe, because every brutal thrust was laced with something else. Something raw. Desperate.

Need.

"God, you have no idea what you've done to me," he rasped into your ear, body flush against your back now, chest slick with sweat. "Every time you smiled at me, every time you greeted me in the morning, I had to bite my fucking tongue just to not show you how bad I wanted you."

You whimpered, unable to form a response when he suddenly reached around, fingers finding your clit and circling it with ruthless precision.

"You think this is just about fucking?" he snarled. "No, baby. This is about all the time I waited. All the nights I hated myself for wanting you this much."

You clenched around him, and he hissed. His rhythm stuttered, just once, and then he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing, yanking your wrists free from the belt.

"Look at me."

Your eyes locked. His were wild, pupils blown, jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

"I'm not hiding anymore," he said roughly. "You want the truth? I was jealous every damn time another guy made you laugh. I was furious when you thought I wanted Madison. And I've been dreaming of you, of this, for so long it drove me insane."

He grabbed your thighs and drove back into you, deeper now, with his forehead against yours.

"You're mine now. Say it."

"I'm yours," you whispered, breathless, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it all felt, the pleasure, the emotion, the years of silence finally breaking.

„I can’t hear you babygirl.“

„I‘m yours!“, you moaned, eyes rolling back as he grabbed your neck again, while the sound of skin slapping got even louder.

"You're goddamn right," he growled. "And I'm not letting you go. Not after this. Not ever."

He kissed you then, rough at first, then slower, softer, full of all the things he'd never said. His hand laced into your hair, the other gripping your waist as he rocked into you, lips dragging down your neck. Fucking you even deeper into the mattress.

When you came undone under him, trembling, crying out his name with tears running down your cheeks, he was right behind you, moaning against your throat like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world.

And when it was over, and your limbs were tangled with his, your bodies a mess of sweat and bruises and silk sheets, he kissed your temple and whispered:

"You're not imagining this time. I'm here. I'm yours. And I'm not going anywhere."

The next morning, you stirred awake to the warmth of sunlight and a weight that hadn't left your side all night. With a quiet sigh, you turned your head, Chan's face was the first thing you saw. With a pleasant sigh you just noticed again how much you adored his face, puffy and bare. His curls were framing his head chaotically while his lips were plush and so kissable, slightly parted, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

He must have cleaned you up, since you fell asleep immediately after he hugged you tight and apologised for being that rough all over again.

But you never had better sex in your entire life. You watched the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, your body still wrapped tightly in his arms, like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go. When the first sunbeams enlightened the room, you couldn't resist, touching his cheek, his curls and his lips. He didn't look real at all and you couldn't believe the last night happened.

Before you could react, he grabbed your hand with closed eyes and kissed your knuckles.

„You're awake?", you asked smiling and he just groaned sleepy.

„Do you keep going if I say no?"

His morning voice was raspy and let you giggle softly.

He slowly opened his eyes, looked at you with a soft smile and pulled you into his tight embrace.

„How are you feeling?"

You cuddled against him under the sheets, pressing your cheek against his chest.

„Good."

„Just good? I feel like flying."

„Ask me again after I showered", you teased him, and he pinched you softly in the side, what made you squeak.

„But hurry okay? Ich won't let you get far away from me today."

As you stood up and searched for something to wear, he smiled so broadly that the sun didn't even had a chance to compete.

„Sure... Just close your eyes and I'll be back in a second", you answered and slipped into a Shirt from him.

„I hope so... I think I'll need another round to start the day. Your pussy is addicting.“

„You horny menace," you snorted with a teasing grin, throwing a pillow at his head.

Chan caught it effortlessly, eyes trailing down your legs as you made your way toward the door in nothing but the oversized shirt. His shirt. His gaze was dark again, hungry, but playful. "You walking around like that and calling me horny? That's not fair."

You smirked, hand already on the doorknob. "Then close your eyes, Mr. Bang. Or deal with the consequences."

"I will. Later," he murmured under his breath, voice low and thick. "And trust me, there will be consequences."

With heat blooming in your cheeks, and between your thighs, you slipped out of his room, the air in the hallway cooler against your skin.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen light left on overnight. Your skin still tingled from the feel of Chan's mouth, his hands, the way he'd claimed you like he'd been waiting for years

The apartment was quiet, only the faint sound of the city outside humming through the windows. You tiptoed down the hallway toward the bathroom when a door creaked open and,

"Shit," you gasped, nearly running into Minhos big and very naked chest.

He was shirtless, his hair a mess, lips slightly swollen, and his eyes wide when he saw you. For a second, neither of you spoke. Your gaze instinctively dropped to the deep scratch marks down his torso, leading all over his back and a very familiar Hoodie in his hands.

Han's hoodie.

Your mouth opened a little.

Minho froze like a deer in headlights, then raised a single brow.

He froze when he saw you. You froze when you saw him. The smell of sex was sticking to you both.

The puzzle pieces clicked, violently.

Minho gave you a long look, lips curving into something dangerously close to a smirk. "You're not really the sneaky type, you know."

Your cheeks flushed, but you lifted your chin. "You either, apparently."

His brows raised, caught. "Touché."

"Han?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

He shrugged a shoulder, smirk still lingering.

"Oh my God!" you blinked, mouth now fully parted. "You were the one on the couch with Han tonight..."

Minho tilted his head, a sly smirk forming on his lips. "I wasn't exactly hiding it, was I?"

Your cheeks flushed as you remembered what you'd seen the night before, Han tangled up in someone's arms. You hadn't realized it was Minho.

"I thought... I didn't know, you are..." you started, but he just waved a hand.

"Don't overthink it." he added with a smirk.

„Most people don't know... Just Changbin at the moment since he can’t knock on doors like a normal person being... I wanted to tell you, but seems like you had secrets yourself..."

Before you could respond, Han's voice came from inside the room. "Minhooo, honey, come back to bed, your abs look too good to be wasted standing out there."

You raised your brows. "Wow."

Minho shrugged and stared at the shirt you were wearing.

"Yeah."

There was a pause. He slipped Hans Hoodie over his head. For Jisung it was oversized but it fit Minho perfectly.

"I mean, you and Jisung? I knew you two were close, but..."

"Not really public knowledge," he said, now fully dressed but barefoot, raking a hand through his hair.

„But I guess you and Chan aren't exactly trying to stay hidden either."

You blinked. "You... know?"

Minho chuckled under his breath. "Sweetheart, you're wearing his shirt. Just his shirt in fact... Those marks on your wrists are very obvious as well. And I just walked out of Han's room when you sneaked out of his. We're kind of in the same boat."

Just now you realised the red marks on your wrists, which were probably caused by the belt, Chan used.

You crossed your arms.

"You're not worried? About... you know, Chan being your leader? I'm just your stylist."

Minho leaned against the doorframe, eyes glinting. "Should I be? You're not just our stylist. You're my best friend and Chan is family. It could be worse, right?"

You shrugged, uncertain.

He took a step closer.

"Look, whatever's going on with Chan... you're not just some random girl. Trust me, I've seen the way he looks at you."

Your heart fluttered.

"He's all bark usually. But you? You make him lose control. That says something."

You bit your lip, glancing away. "It's just... weird. All of it. I've had feelings for him for so long."

"And now he's the one tangled in you," Minho said softly, with a knowing glance. "About time he made a move. His lovesick blabbering wasn't bearable anymore."

Then, his smirk widened again. "Just... try not to be that noisy next time. We do share walls, you know. Or at least let us join…“

You gasped and slapped his arm, scandalized.

He only laughed and went back to Jisungs room without any further comment.

You slipped quietly back into Chan's room after your shower, the soft creak of the door alerting him. He was sitting up now, shirtless, hair messier than before, his bare chest catching a sliver of morning light.

He looked up instantly, eyes narrowing with gentle concern.

"You okay?"

You nodded, closing the door behind you. "Yeah... just ran into Minho in the hallway."

Chan's brow lifted. "Minho?"

You walked over, crawling back into the sheets, the warmth of his body pulling you back in. His hand instinctively settled on your waist like a magnet, grounding you.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Apparently, he spent the night with Han."

There was a pause. Then—

"...What?"

You looked up at him, lips curving. "I know. I thought I was being scandalous sneaking out of your room. Turns out there was a secret relationship in front of us all this time."

Chan blinked, then burst out laughing, chest shaking beneath your cheek. "Han and Minho? Seriously? They spent the night? Like fucking and stuff?"

"I literally walked in on Minho sneaking out with Han's hoodie. There were scratches all over his body..."

"Oh my god," he groaned, dragging a hand through his curls. "That little punk didn't tell me anything. Both of them... I thought Han was seeing a girl secretly."

Chan exhaled deeply, then gave a dry laugh. "That little shit. No wonder they've been acting weird the last few weeks."

You tilted your head. "You really didn't notice?"

"I thought they were just being... clingy. Han's always affectionate towards Minho, and Minho's Minho, he acts like he's annoyed but leans into it anyway."

You looked up at him, mischief playing at the edge of your mouth. "What if he says the same about us?"

Chan tilted his head, eyes darkening. "There's a difference. I want everyone to know."

Your heart stuttered.

He said it so casually, but the possessiveness in his tone sent heat through you.

"I told Minho," you said softly, watching his expression carefully, "That this wasn't just random. That it's... serious to me."

His gaze locked with yours, something deeper flickering behind the dark brown. "Did you?"

You nodded. "I said you weren't just some fling. Because you're not. And I've had feelings for you for way too long to pretend this is casual."

Chan reached for you then, dragging you fully into his lap, hands gripping your thighs. "Say that again."

"What part?"

"The part where I'm not just some fling."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his jaw. "You're not. You've never been."

His grip tightened. "I swear, I've been going insane wanting you. Knowing you were right there all this time, acting like you didn't see what you were doing to me."

You smiled against his skin. "You didn't make it easy either."

He pulled back, brushing his lips against yours without kissing you. "I didn't want you to feel like that... But now? Now I'll make damn sure no one else gets the chance."

His words were low, heated, edged with that same fire that had pulled you under last night.

You pressed your forehead to his. "You jealous of Minho and Han stealing the scandal spotlight?"

He growled softly. "Jealous that they got to touch each other last night... while you were in my bed screaming for me? Never.“

You shivered.

Chan's lips curled. "Now be a good girl and remind me what you were wearing when you ran into Minho..."

You laughed. "Your shirt."

"Damn right."

⸻

[inseobts]

Heartstrings pt.1

trafalgar law x reader

amid the chaos of punk hazard, you reunite with trafalgar law, stirring old memories, buried emotions, and a shared past haunted by corazon’s death. but there's no time to dwell—doflamingo’s name resurfaces, and this time, you refuse to let history repeat itself.

tags: punk hazard and dressrosa spoilers I guess, angst to fluff, childhood friends, slow burn

word count: 3.9k

masterlist || ko-fi

The battlefield of Punk Hazard is complete chaos. Flames roar, metal groans under the heat, and the sharp scent of burning chemicals stings your nose. In other words? It’s just a typical Tuesday with the Strawhats.

You arrive later on the fight. Heart pounding, mind racing. This island is already a disaster zone, and at the center of it all is the man you never thought you’d see again.

Trafalgar Law.

He’s standing a few yards away, dressed in that ridiculous yellow hoodie, his sword resting against his shoulder. His golden eyes widen the second they land on you, freezing in place.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The sounds of battle fade into the background, drowned out by the roaring in your ears.

He looks… older. Sharper. But still him.

You exhale sharply, not actually connecting your mouth to your brain, so all you could say is “Well, damn. You actually got taller.”

Law blinks “What the hell…?”

The shock in his voice makes something in your chest tighten, but you shove the feeling aside. There's no time for that.

Luffy, being Luffy, swings by on a random piece of debris, grinning like an idiot “Oi! Y/N, you know Tra-guy?!”

Law groans “Don’t call me that”

You snort. Still the same old grump.

Flashback – Many Years Ago “You hate nicknames, don’t you?” you muse, watching Law scowl as Corazon ruffles his hair. The little boy smacks Corazon’s hand away “They’re annoying.” You smirk “So if I call you Law-chan...” “Don’t.”

Back to the Present

Your smirk widens “Some things never change.”

Law crosses his arms, studying you carefully. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You’re with them?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

You shrug “Just happened to meet them on my way”

Law stares and before he can respond, Zoro rushes towards the group, resting a hand on his sword “We done with the staring contest? We got a fight to win.”

Law finally shakes his head, exhaling sharply “We’ll talk later.”

You grin “Looking forward to it... Captain.”

He groans. This is going to be a long day.

Law is still staring at you like you just came back from the dead. To be fair, you might as well have.

“Seriously...” he says, voice flat “You’re with them?”

You stretch your arms behind your head, nodding “Yup. You’re repeating yourself, Captain Law.”

His eye twitches.

Luffy, still hanging off a random metal pipe, grins like this is the funniest thing ever “Oi, Tra-guy! You should’ve seen your face when you saw Y/N! It was all like—” He scrunches up his face, trying (and failing) to mimic Law’s perpetual scowl.

Law glares at him, jaw tightening “We have more important things to deal with than my face.”

Flashback – Many Years Ago “You’re so grumpy” you tease, watching as little-kid Law glares at the deck of cards in his hands. The two of you are sitting outside a small, dimly lit inn, the sounds of the ocean lapping against the dock in the distance. Corazon snores quietly a few feet away, passed out in an awkward position against some barrels. Law, still scowling, slaps his cards down “This game is stupid.” You snicker “You’re just losing.” His scowl deepens. “You never know how to just relax...” you continue, leaning back against the crate “Do you even have any fun?” “I don’t have time for fun.” You roll your eyes, flicking one of his cards at him “You say that like you’re forty.” He grumbles under his breath, shuffling the cards again, because even if he pretends not to care, he actually just refuses to lose.

Back to the Present

Looking at Law now, arms crossed, brow furrowed, looking two seconds away from throwing someone off a cliff, you have to bite back a smirk.

He's always the same Law you knew years and years ago.

“So,” you continue, tilting your head “are we gonna talk about the fact that you look like you literally saw a ghost?”

Law exhales through his nose, looking at you with a very unimpressed look “I thought you were dead.”

You blink “…What?”

He gestures vaguely “After everything that happened, after Cora-san… you just disappeared. I didn't know where you went or what happened to you.”

Oh.

For the first time since you saw him again, your playful demeanor falters slightly. Your chest tightens, old memories stirring... memories of fire, blood, and loss.

“I didn’t disappear,” you say quietly “I just… didn’t know how to find you.”

The words hang between you, unspoken things left unsaid. Law stares at you for a long moment, and just for a second you think you see something soften in his expression.

And then BOOM.

A nearby explosion sends rubble flying, and Law immediately turns, jaw tightening. Back to business.

“We’ll talk later” he says firmly.

You smirk, shaking off the heaviness in your chest “Looking forward to it.”

As you both sprint back into battle.

The battlefield is pure chaos. You’re currently dodging a sword swipe from some grinning lunatic in a gas mask.

“Damn it!” You twist out of the way, rolling across the wreckage-covered ground.

The masked guy lets out a laugh, lunging at you again only for his head to suddenly detach from his body.

"What the—?" You blink, watching as the severed head tumbles to the ground. The body doesn't collapse, it stops like it's... confused. The head groans.

“Ugh… my body…”

You glance at the blue glow surrounding the air. Then, slowly, you turn.

Law is standing a few feet away, looking completely unbothered. His sword is still drawn, golden eyes sharp and calculating.

You let out a low whistle “Still dramatic as ever, huh?”

Law huffs, flicking his sword to the side “You were taking too long.”

Flashback – Years Ago “Any day now” Law mutters, arms crossed as he watches you struggle. You glare at him, sweating as you try to pick the lock on the cell “This is harder than it looks, okay?!” He sighs heavily, kneeling beside you “Move” Before you can protest, he effortlessly picks the lock in under ten seconds. The door swings open with a creak. You stare at him. He shrugs “You were taking too long.” You roll your eyes “Show-off.”

Back to the Present

You shake your head, smirking “You haven’t changed at all.”

Law ignores you, already moving forward like he hasn’t just casually decapitated a man “Come on. We don’t have time to waste.”

You jog after him, stepping over the still-whining head “You could at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

“I don’t have time for that, either.”

You scoff “No time for emotions, huh? That’s very on-brand for you, Captain.”

He rolls his eyes before walking off, and you follow him into battle.

Flames crackle from a collapsed wall, the ground is littered with rubble and unconscious enemies, and the air is thick with smoke and chaos. Luffy is somewhere still fighting Caesar Clown, while the rest of the crew is scattered across the battlefield.

And you?

You’re stuck with Trafalgar Law, currently running for your life down a crumbling hallway while a wave of toxic gas rushes after you.

“Do you ever think things through before jumping into danger?” Law shouts over the deafening roar of destruction behind you.

You flash him a grin “Nope! That’s what makes life fun!”

His eye twitches “You’re insufferable.”

“Aw, you missed me.”

“I absolutely did not—”

A sudden explosion cuts him off, sending debris crashing down from above. Your eyes widen.

“Shit—”

You shove Law forward, forcing both of you into a dive just as the ceiling collapses behind you, sealing off the corridor. A massive cloud of dust kicks up, making you cough as you push yourself up onto your elbows.

For a moment, silence.

“You’re insane.”

You glance up to see Law, still flat on his back, staring at you like you’re the most exhausting person in the world.

You smirk “Yeah, but you like that about me.”

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose “I don’t.”

“You always used to do this” Law mutters, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Do what?” you ask, doing the same.

“Throw yourself into danger like you have a death wish.”

You roll your eyes “I don’t have a death wish, I just...” You pause.

Law raises an eyebrow “Just what?”

You glance at him, hesitating for a split second before shrugging “I just don’t think twice when someone needs help... especially if it's for someone I care about.”

Law is silent for a moment, eyes scanning your face. Then, with an unreadable expression, he turns “Come on. We’re not done here.”

You grin, falling into step beside him “You’re such a softie, you know that?”

He groans “Shut up, Y/N.”

The battle is finally over.

You stand on the charred ground, catching your breath as the cold sea breeze blows through the wreckage. Your body aches, your clothes are torn, and there’s a smudge of soot on your cheek.

Luffy, of course, is grinning like he didn’t just go toe-to-toe with some of the most dangerous people in the New World “That was fun!”

Law, standing a few feet away, looks like he wants to strangle him “You nearly got yourself killed, Luffy-ya.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t!”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks two seconds away from throwing himself into the ocean.

You laugh, patting his shoulder “Told you, you get used to them.”

He shoots you a deadpan look “No. I don’t.”

Law watches you carefully, as if he’s still trying to figure out how you ended up here, with Luffy of all people.

Before he can say anything, Robin speaks up “So, what’s next?”

Law exhales, finally turning back to the group “We set sail. Now that Caesar is captured, we move forward with the next phase of the plan.”

“And what plan is that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Law’s golden eyes flicker to you.

“Doflamingo.”

The name alone makes the air heavier. The casual atmosphere from before vanishes.

You freeze.

Doflamingo.

The name alone pulls you straight back to the past.

Your chest tightens. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

Law is still talking, explaining the next steps of his alliance with Luffy, but your mind is already made up.

All you feel is fear.

Because you’ve just heard the name that still haunts your nightmares after so many years.

You barely hear the rest of the conversation, his plan, the alliance with Luffy, the decision to go to Dressrosa and face him.

Your blood runs cold.

No. No, no, no—

“You can’t” you say, voice sharp.

Law stops mid-sentence. Everyone turns to look at you.

He raises an eyebrow “What?”

“You can’t go after him” you say again, louder this time.

Luffy tilts his head “Eh? Why not?”

“Because he’ll kill you!” your voice shakes, but you don’t care. You turn to Law, expecting him to understand “You should know better than anyone!”

Law’s expression darkens. The others exchange looks, but you don’t care about them right now.

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with” you continue, now glaring at all of them “Doflamingo isn’t just some pirate, he’s a monster. He’ll tear you apart without even breaking a sweat.”

Luffy shrugs “So? We’ll just beat him up.”

You snap.

“This isn’t some stupid adventure, Luffy! This isn’t about finding treasure or having fun! This is Doflamingo! He’s destroyed more lives than you can count! He—” Your voice catches, you now turn to Law with tears in your eyes “He killed Corazon.”

Silence.

No one says anything.

Law’s golden eyes are locked on you, unreadable. The weight of your words lingers in the cold air.

You swallow hard, chest tight “I can’t—I can’t lose anyone else by him”

Because you remember.

You remember holding Corazon’s hand as his blood soaked into the snow. You remember screaming for help that never came. You remember losing him, losing Law, losing everything.

And now, after all these years, after finally finding him again, Law is walking into the same fate.

You shake your head, fists clenched “I won’t let you do this.”

Law, for a moment, just stares. His face is carefully blank, but you know him too well.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“You think I don’t know what’s at stake?” His voice is low, controlled but there’s an edge to it, something raw “You think I don’t remember what he did?”

You open your mouth but he cuts you off.

“I’ve spent my entire life planning this” he continues, stepping closer. His golden eyes burn with something fierce, something painful “This isn’t just revenge. This is about ending him. For Corazon. For Dressrosa. For everyone he’s ever used and discarded. For you.”

Your breath catches.

Law holds your gaze, unwavering “I’m not asking you to like it. I’m not asking you to approve. But I am asking you...” His voice softens “Do you still trust me?”

Your chest tightens.

Because of course you do. You always have and you always will.

Law doesn’t break eye contact, waiting for your answer.

Finally, you exhale. You close your eyes, steadying yourself and then look back at him.

“…Fine” you say quietly “I’m coming with you.”

Law nods once, like he expected nothing less.

Luffy grins “You can stay on the ship if you want, y’know!”

You snort “Not a chance.”

Because if Law is going into hell again you’re going with him.

The ship is calm for now, headed to Dressrosa to face Doflamingo and you are going to make sure no one, not a single person you care about, gets lost along the way.

You sit at the edge of the ship, the wind pulling at your hair, while the others are belowdeck, preparing, resting, no one else is up here. Just you and the open ocean stretching out before you.

And him.

Law is leaning against the ship’s railing, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, eyes watching the horizon. His expression is unreadable, like always, but there’s a weight in the air between you.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say, as the distance between you two feels as heavy as the ocean.

Finally, Law speaks, his voice cutting through the silence “You really don’t have to come.”

You glance at him, but he doesn’t look at you.

“I’m not staying behind, Law” you reply. Your voice is steady, though inside, it feels like your heart is pounding against your ribs “I’m going with you. End of the story.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, softly, he asks “Why?”

Your breath catches. You think about it for a second.

“I—I’m not going to lose you too” you say quietly, eyes still locked on the horizon, not daring to look at him “I couldn’t handle it again. Not after…” Your voice breaks, and you quickly swallow the lump in your throat.

Law shifts slightly, as if he’s processing your words. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches you closely.

Finally, after a long pause, he speaks again “I can’t promise you nothing will happen.”

You finally look at him, searching his eyes “I know.”

For a second, there’s a flicker of something fragile and vulnerable across his face, but it disappears almost instantly. Law looks away, his gaze returning to the horizon.

“I don’t need you getting in the way” he says, his voice quieter now, but there’s a hint of something deeper underneath.

“Don’t worry,” you reply with a wry smile “I’m not going anywhere. But, seriously, I’m helping. And if you try to stop me, I’ll probably make things worse.”

He raises an eyebrow “You’re already making things worse.”

You laugh, that familiar, comfortable tension between you rising again “Good. I like to keep you on your toes”

Law sighs, exasperated but not really surprised “I’ll never understand you, Y/N.”

“I’m not asking you to” you smile, the warmth of the moment softening the edges of everything else.

The two of you stand there for a while longer, watching the ocean, the silent understanding between you both deepening.

“I...” you hesitate, wondering if now’s the right time, but you push through, because you can’t keep avoiding it forever “I’ve been looking for you...”

Law raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t speak, so you continue.

“You know, after everything happened, I...” you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself “I never stopped looking for you, Law. Ever.”

This time, he turns his head just slightly, eyes catching yours, though his expression is still hard to read “You’ve been looking for me?”

You nod “Yeah. Everywhere. When Corazon… When he died, I couldn't find you. For years I didn’t know what to do. Then, I started looking for you following the news, the reports on pirates, on the underworld. Anything that might give me a clue where you were.”

Law frowns, his eyes narrowing slightly. You can see the flicker of confusion, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

“But I actually had no idea where to start, there was no news about you” you continue “But after some time, I finally caught wind of you... Law, the Surgeon of Death, the pirate captain of the Heart Pirates” Your chest tightens as you recall those dark days “I saw reports of you here and there, and I followed the trail. And that’s how I ended up with the Strawhats... since you wanted to know how I ended up with them”

You watch his face closely, trying to gauge his reaction, but his eyes are still shadowed with something you can’t quite place.

You take a slow, shaky breath before continuing “After what happened to Corazon I was never sure you were still alive. I hoped. But after years of silence, I started to think the worst. That maybe you were… At least until I saw a grown up version of you on a bounty poster. For the first time ever, I was actually relieved and happy seeing your ugly face”

Finally, Law speaks, his voice low “You shouldn’t have followed me. It wasn’t safe.”

You stiffen at his words “I couldn’t just sit back while I had no idea where you were, what happened to you. I had to meet you.”

The tension between you both thickens, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

Finally, Law sighs, turning his back to the railing and facing you directly “I didn’t want you to get hurt, y/n. After everything that happened, I thought you were...” His voice cracks, and he cuts himself off, clearly uncomfortable.

You can’t help but soften a little, the edge of your anger fading as you see the vulnerability beneath his words.

“Dead?” you finish quietly, your eyes not leaving his.

Law looks away, his jaw tightening, like he’s trying to keep his emotions locked inside “I thought you were dead. After what happened with Corazon, and everything that came after… I thought you were gone too. And there were no news about you around, you don't have a bounty poster... I'm sorry.”

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But then, slowly, you step closer to him “It’s okay. I get it. You don’t need to apologize. Also, I have a bounty poster but they used my nickname instead of a real name, and I used to hide my face with a mask. At least before meeting Luffy a few months ago.”

The silence between you both feels less suffocating now, but there’s still something unspoken between you. A promise, maybe. An understanding.

Finally, you speak again, voice quieter this time “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. Not until this is over. Not until we’re done with Doflamingo.”

Law’s eyes are searching yours, like he’s looking for something. Then, after a moment, he nods, just the slightest inclination of his head “Good.”

You both stand there for a few more moments, neither of you needing to say anything else.

But in this moment, the weight of the past doesn’t feel so heavy. There’s a fragility between you both now, an unspoken promise that no matter what happens next, you’ll be facing it together.

“You’re still scared” he says.

You scoff “Of course I am. You should be too.”

Flashback The cold stone halls of the Donquixote estate stretch endlessly around you, silent except for the faint echo of distant voices. You’re small, a child, but you know better than to let your guard down. A shadow looms ahead. Him. Doflamingo stands at the end of the corridor, golden sunglasses catching the dim light. His presence is suffocating, his smile sharp like a knife. “You should be grateful” he says, his voice calm, almost amused “Not many get to live under my protection.” You say nothing. You never say anything when he talks like this. You remember Corazon’s warning: Don’t let him see your fear. But it’s hard, when every instinct in your body screams to run. Doflamingo takes a step closer “And yet, you look at me like you want to disappear.” Your fists clench at your sides. You don’t answer. His smile doesn’t falter. Then, suddenly Law bursts between you, arms outstretched like a shield. His breathing is heavy, but his glare is sharp. Doflamingo chuckles “How touching.” “Leave y/n alone” Law growls. Doflamingo tilts his head, amused “Or what?” Law doesn’t answer. He just stands his ground and for a long moment, there’s silence. Then, Doflamingo laughs while walking away “pathetic.” “…You didn’t have to do that” you murmur. He finally looks at you, his expression unreadable “Yes, I did.” You don’t argue. Because he’s right. Because back then, all you had was each other.

Back to the Present

You let out a humorless laugh “Funny, isn’t it? After all these years, we’re back where we started. Facing him. Again.”

Law’s voice is quiet, but firm “It’s different this time.”

You turn to him, searching his face “How?”

His eyes meet yours “Because this time, we’re strong enough to end it.”

Your breath catches.

Law keeps watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

And suddenly, it’s too much. The space between you feels unbearable.

You spent years looking for him, chasing rumors, hoping, praying, that you’d find him alive and when you finally did you froze.

Because part of you was afraid that if you touched him, he’d disappear. That he wasn’t real. That the universe would rip him away like it did before.

But now, standing here and knowing what’s ahead, you can’t hold it in anymore.

You step forward.

Law’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as you close the distance between you. Before he can say anything you throw your arms around him.

His body stiffens.

For a second, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe, and then slowly you feel him relax.

It’s subtle, but he doesn’t pull away. His arms remain at his sides, but he doesn’t stop you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the fabric of his coat. You whisper, voice trembling “For years, Law. I thought... I thought I lost you, too.”

Law doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.

Your fingers curl tighter into his jacket “I should have done this sooner,” you murmur “back on Punk Hazard. When I first saw you again.”

There’s a pause. Then, finally, he moves.

“…You’re an idiot.”

You laugh, though it’s watery and weak “Yeah,” you say, tightening your grip “I know.”

Law doesn’t push you away. For a moment he lets himself lean into you.

It’s not much. It’s barely anything. But after everything, after the years of loss, of loneliness, of silence...

It’s everything.

[milkkytxars]

(This is not going to be like my other posts but I think it's nice, bear with me for a bit)

Something I said got a bunch of likes on twt a few days ago, but I can't stop thinking about it so I wanted to expand on it a bit! (And I like rambling on about these things, nothing you can do on twt I assure you, this gets a bit lengthy)

Here's the interaction for reference:

OK SO! First things first: PV's awakened form, one way or another, IS a direct representation of the Fount of Knowledge. Or well, at the very least it's what we've been shown to be the most idealistic form of him.

We can't know for sure how the Fount of Knowledge actually was like or acted, because Shadow Milk will never get vulnerable enough on screen to let the audience know such things, but if the statue of him is anything to go by (and not a fabricated lie) then we have something to work with.

The Fount of Knowledge has a key opening in the middle of his chest, and coincidentally, he's also carrying his soul jam on his staff which has the form of a key. This could be interpreted as him having the answers that others' (cookies) can unlock.

However, if we pay closer attention to the pictures, we'll see that the Fount's key is a bit "weird"

As you can see, not only are there two teeths in the key, but there's also a large space from the end of the staff to the point where the first teeth appears.

If someone were to literally try to insert this key into Fount's keyhole to try and get it open, it would pierce through Fount! The key is simply too large, and it doesn't seem like complicated teeth would actually fit inside the hole either.

Now, let's see Pure Vanilla's staff!

As you can see, he only has one teeth right at the bottom of the key. This is how most functional keys look!

One interpretation could be that Fount never actually held the key towards true knowledge, which is a fault that made him fundamentally imperfect towards his greater purpose. Another reason why he fell into deceit in the first place.

Pure Vanilla, however, as holder of the light of truth, also holds a functional key as his staff. He carries that truth with him and plans to open up a path to himself and keep finding out new truths of the world.

His key isn't going to open all keyholes, just as the path he leads isn't going to let him find everything there is to know, but if he holds the truth close to his heart (therefore, the soul jam at his chest) he will continue to follow the light.

But let's circle back to Shadow Milk.

He is the beast of deceit, and he hides so much of himself that you could even call his whole current identity a lie, as if he was trying to be deceit incarnate just like he once was the representation of knowledge.

Let's remember now, that we can interpret the key hole on his chest when he was Fount as an opening to himself, and therefore, to knowledge.

Basically the truth of himself, if I'm making any sense with this.

When he turns into Shadow Milk though, where does he hold his soul jam of deceit? Right where the keyhole was! Essentially, he's obscuring the truth of the world and of himself with lies.

Now, what does Pure Vanilla say at the end of BY8?

He says that he is the one who can understand him best, that he's the only one who can understand Shadow Milk.

And while it's mentioned that it's because of their shared soul jam, this is not the only reason why.

Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are very important to each other, in whatever way you want to see it. They're essential to each other's story and development.

In the end, the reason why they can understand each other so well is because they're pretty similar. At least in the way they feel, or have felt, about the world.

There's a reason why Pure Vanilla turned into Truthless Recluse after all. Even if it was for a short amount of time, those were still his real feelings, and they mirrored Shadow Milk's own.

The fact that Awakened Pure Vanilla holds a key is to find his own truth, and this fact cannot be diminished. However, I think it would be a disservice to his character and their relationship if it's not also acknowledged that Pure Vanilla's truth fundamentally involves Shadow Milk's true self too.

Fount of Knowledge, as much as that's a discarded persona, it's also a part of Shadow Milk he cannot erase. And Pure Vanilla understands this the same way he understands that Truthless Recluse was a part of himself too.

Pure Vanilla's staff as a key, exists to unlock the hidden lock Shadow Milk has buried deep into his past. Because Shadow Milk's truth is also Pure Vanilla's truth.

That's why he embraces deceit, because Shadow Milk is deceit. And Pure Vanilla tries to make Shadow Milk embrace the truth too, that's why he asks him to be his friend.

Pure Vanilla is truth, so by asking Shadow Milk to be friends with him, he's asking him to embrace truth.

This entails Shadow Milk accepting his past, which Pure Vanilla has the key to unlock now with his awakening and the arduous journey he underwent in the spire to find himself. A key that has long been tossed away by Shadow Milk when he stopped being the Fount of knowledge.

Therefore, while Pure Vanilla's key can't crack open every lock in his way, it is designed by default for its priority to be opening Shadow Milk's heart/soul.

(One last thing would also be that Pure Vanilla's staff, from having a light, technically is also traversing through the darkness in Shadow Milk. I don't want to go into too much detail because this is better explained by this post, go check their stuff out on both of their accounts, it's really good!)

♪♪♪

Anyways, that's it, thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Maybe I'll post another analysis in the future if this is well received lol (I have this idea of PV's awakened form being Fount's but reverse if that makes sense???)

Bye now ❤

[burreauxsss]

now everybody knows

background: y/n goes to a frat party and defies every warning her friends give her about the newest LSU quarterback joe burrow.

(all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved.)

notes: welp.. long and awaited part 2, (i promise ill get to its over im sorry soon, i just have to start plotting) also i hate writing scenes of people confessing their feelings so take it or leave it.

word count: 497

warning: 18+ obviously, read part 1 to get it.

<- part 1 -> part 2

It had been 11 months when you both first hooked up.

Somehow, you'd both kept it on the low. Joe broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago and ever since then the routine was the same, after a game or practice, he'd want you. If he was away he'd let you know on the way back to campus.

But along time, you both realized the feelings were very mutual. You both started caring for eachother, and with you being a basketball player and him being a football player, it was extremely difficult to hide your relationship. No posts, locations had to be off when you were both around eachother. Easy, or so you thought.

After Joe's eligibility at LSU ran out, he moved back home. Long distance was never easy, going from someone who was down the street to someone across the country destroys a person, especially when you both never came clean to eachother about the thoughts you had about eachother.

So when March Madness started and LSU being a strong contender, he knew he had to watch you. He knew he had to support you and while he was expected to wear orange and black, you'd still be wearing purple and yellow (with a mix of gold) for a bit. The first rounds were easy, blowing out teams that barely made the cut by 50+ points.

And soon you were called a MVP, awarded titles for Player of the Year and even became a overall pick of the WNBA, but with all of that the quarterback still watched on the sidelines. When someone asked him in public about a girlfriend, he'd always shake if off, shut down the topic or just ignore it entirely.

But in the championship, and your birthday being the next day, one of your teammates decide to post a picture without blurring or cropping out Joe's face midday.

And as you texted the last message, Joe called. Knowing he fount out about the photo leak, you pick up the phone.

"Why the hell is there pictures of us on the internet. I thought we were on the low." Joe says, his voice sharp

"I thought too."

"Your teammate shouldve never posted that photo, I never got to admit my feelings for you or requested for us to be posted together." He replies

"We adknowledged this as a hookup onl-"

"Well you thought wrong y/n, I really love you. Im not trying to play you but just give me one chance. Ill be the last, i promise." His voice seems weak, the weak spot opening up to something youve never seen.

"I love you, I never lie but I believe I caught feelings before you did.." You say with a slight smile on your face.

The two of you both stayed on the phone for a bit before hanging up, knowing it all subsided and he gave you the reassurance of a comfortable soft launch, you decide to go for it.

totallynoty/n

❤️ 284,947 💬 19,133

Liked by: joeyb_9 journ3y lsuwbb itskarmyn adeline and others

totallynoty/n: nuff said 🤐

username_1: WHOOOO is in that first photo

username_2: joe i did not know your game was a+..

username_3: theyve been hooking up for the past year according to a insider, why are we surprised....

journ3y: Y/N!!

itskarmyn: abort mission..

joeyb_9: who is that in the first pic??? 👀 y/n: its this guy, hes super fine and he plays quarterback with a #9 in his username??

username_4: we lost a good one 💔

*load more comments*

[leriexoxo]

SKZ HEADCANONS

Bestfriend! Stray kids vs You in a heated staring match (OT8)

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AN: I did a poll a few days ago for new content and everyone chose head canons so here we are! I’ll be creating a separate master list for these but it will be attached to the main ML. Requests for Head canons are open!

Disclaimer: I will not take ABO requests! (Or any sorta weird stuff)

⸻

Bang Chan

• Laughs when it starts. All dimples and cocky smirks. But the second your eyes lock and you don’t flinch, his smile fades.

• His jaw tics. You see it—see the way his eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second, like instinct.

• “You sure you wanna keep looking at me like that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, low and teasing—but it sounds like a threat.

• Doesn’t look away. Not because of the game—because he can’t. He’s too busy thinking about how good you’d look underneath him, making that same intense eye contact while he wrecks you.

Lee Know

• He’s cocky from the jump. Tilts his head, folds his arms, leans in just enough to make it feel intimate.

• The tension builds so quietly. His eyes are sharp but soft around the edges. You feel stripped bare, like he’s undressing you with his gaze.

• When he sees your throat bob? He smirks.

• “Getting nervous?” he whispers, and it feels like he’s right next to your ear even though he hasn’t moved an inch.

• The moment your gaze flickers down—just once—he wins. And he knows it.

Changbin

• Gets flustered immediately. Tries to act tough, but you see the way his ears go pink.

• He starts with that goofy grin, but the longer it goes on, the more serious his expression gets. His brows draw together. His jaw sets.

• He licks his lips. That’s his downfall. That unconscious little habit that suddenly makes it feel too real.

• “Why’s it so hot in here?” he mumbles—and you both laugh, but neither of you look away.

Hyunjin

• Deadly. Absolutely lethal. He stares like it’s art. Like you’re art. His eyes are dreamy and half-lidded and burning.

• Leans forward just enough that you can smell his cologne, his breath, and you realize this game? Yeah. It’s not a game anymore.

• His tongue swipes across his lower lip so slowly and he watches your eyes drop to follow it.

• “You blinked,” he says, voice like velvet. And then smirks. “Or maybe you just got distracted.”

Han

• Tries to make jokes to break the tension. “What do I win if I beat you?” “Can I use my puppy eyes as a weapon?”

• But the silence creeps in. Your gaze stays steady. And he changes.

• He starts squirming in place, biting his lip, suddenly too aware of how close you’re sitting, how pretty your eyes are.

• “This doesn’t feel friendly anymore,” he blurts. Then goes beet red. “Not in a bad way—! I mean, not that I don’t—fuck.”

Felix

• So sweet at first. Giggling, winking at you, doing little fake attempts to distract you.

• But when you don’t react, when you just stare? His expression shifts. His voice drops. His freckles seem to glow under the heat of it.

• “You’re really not gonna look away, huh?” he says softly. And then—whispers it again. Closer.

• Your faces are inches apart and the air is thick. And when neither of you move, he just smiles. “Kinda like this…”

Seungmin

• Immediately calls it childish. “This is stupid.” Says he’s not playing. Then plays anyway.

• You match his stare, eyebrow raised. And for once, he breaks. His face twists—caught between annoyed and aroused.

• “Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles. But he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans closer.

• Suddenly it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your skin buzz. You swallow. He watches your throat.

• “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he says under his breath.

Jeongin

• Tries to win by pure stubbornness. “I’ve got this. I’m unbeatable.”

• But his eyes soften the longer he looks at you. His breathing changes. His lips part just a little.

• He gets so self-conscious, but doesn’t back down. You see him glance at your mouth and immediately regret it.

• “I swear if you move any closer I’m gonna—” he mutters, then cuts himself off.

• Neither of you knows how to stop it now.

[foreverromanticising]

renegade | ln4

(8) a phone call from zak reminds lando of his reality that he had been trying so hard to run from

lando norris x fem!reader | 1.9k words | a still perfect summer with lando norris

(a little bit of a shorter chapter however very heavy in content that took me a little longer to write - pls enjoy and send me all ur thoughts! alsoooooo after this we have two chapters left, ten in total, before i move onto the next lando pic so pls!! stick around for that)

(also!! reminder this fic is based off of renegade by big red machine and taylor… lmk if u can see the cracks and similarities)

masterlist<3

Resentfully so, Lando peeled his body away from yours, a mix of bare skin and white sheets, and began getting ready for the day. Memories of the night before returned to him in the form of a pink flush dusting over his cheeks every time he caught a glimpse of your naked skin, almost taunting him from the way you laid across the bed. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bed again, to get under your skin and drag his lips across every inch of your body. 

But a phone call from Zak that morning, high-pitched and blaring as it his phone rang from his bedside table. He found himself thanking his lucky stars that you merely stirred in your sleep and cuddled closer towards his pillow once he slipped out of the bed beside you. Though, he had to fight a smirk from forcing its way onto his face once he picked up the phone over the thought of why you were so tired from the night before. The ache in his legs was reminder enough as he tried to keep some sort of composure as he spoke to Zak.

It was a minor phone call, a meaningless chat if anything, but it left Lando reeling. A quick discussion about some upgrades to the car for after the summer break, some reminders about training, and another gentle - though, usual - reminder from Zak that he wanted Lando to stay in check; keeping being responsible. It was the same speech from Zak after every sort of break that Lando would be away from racing - begging him to stay in line, a reminder he was doing well, and to keep PR in mind at all times.

Truly, the phone call wasn’t the worst Lando had ever had from his boss - Kingsday only a few months ago left a sour taste in his mouth when he recalled the messages he woke up to after his so called ‘PR disaster,’. But, Lando hadn’t been expecting it. He had had the morning planned out in his head as he wanted a slow and sultry wake up call with you in his arms. Instead, he woke with a panic and his heart racing far too quick for his liking.

It started his whole day off wrong, he didn’t want to think about anything to do with racing when the was in Greece. He wanted to be with you, with his friends, under the Grecian sun and pretend he wasn’t a Formula One driver. So far, he had been successful in doing so - albeit, he faced a blip after seeing Charles and Carlos - but he was happy.

You helped him bathe in this fantasy of his. You had no idea he was Lando Norris, Mclaren Formula One racer, you knew him as Lando - or Lan as he preferred. You knew Lando as the boy who refused suncream and had the tastebuds of a child, the boy who drove maybe a bit too fast for the backroads, and who picked you out the shiniest of shells from the sea because they reminded him of you - ‘the prettiest shells for his pretty girl’. You didn’t expect anything of him, you weren’t questioning his every move after a race, and you couldn’t have cared less about his championship standings. 

Partly because you still didn’t know that side of Lando existed, and he had every intention of keeping it that way in order to maintain his peace. 

Lando kept Zak on the phone whilst he got ready for the day, absentmindedly agreeing to everything he said whilst his mind drifted off to how you two would spend the rest of the day. He was becoming acutely aware of how your time together was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do about it to hold on. The days were running thin and the clock in his mind ticked even louder with everything Zak was saying to him; he needed you to drown out that sound, to make everything quiet again for him.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long before you made your way into the bathroom behind him. The mirrors in the bathroom had fogged up with steam so you wasted no time in dragging your hand over them, catching Lando’s eyeliner through the reflection. You stayed quiet whilst he said his goodbyes, busying yourself with brushing your teeth and pretending you weren’t listening to Lando’s phone call - because you absolutely weren’t and you had no idea what the man on the phone meant by ‘the rest of the season is ours,’ so you pretended to be more interested with the contents of your makeup bag. 

“Morning, baby.” Lando took a step closer towards you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pushing some stray hairs behind your ears so he could take a proper look at you - stood in nothing but his shirt from the night before, and he could’ve sworn you were trying to get a reaction out of him but he knew when you smiled sweetly back up at him, he knew you were none the wiser.

“You’re up early, hm?” It was entirely unusual that Lando was awake before you as you spent most mornings trying to coax him out of bed despite his many protests, so to say you were shocked was quite an understatement.

“Yeah, work phone calls take priority apparently.” He still wasn’t too happy with Zak phoning him when he knew that he was in Greece, trying to create a distance between himself and racing for at least a few weeks. But now you were stood beside him, taking his mind off of that, so he couldn’t complain all too much.

“Even on holiday?” You tutted and rolled your eyes, understanding Lando’s annoyance because you couldn’t imagine how you would feel if your boss had called to chat about work when you had time off. “There should be a boundary set there, honestly.”

“I know but everything’s just so important to him, it can’t wait another few days ‘till I’m back,” Lando sighed and ran his hands over his face, trying his hardest not to let anything Zak had said to him seep into his mind but he was beginning to struggle in his fight against his own mind. “I get it, I do, him being stressed and whatever, but, fuck I mean, I’m fucking stressed, y’know, and I don’t think he’s getting it.” His breathing picked up more than what Lando would’ve been comfortable with, it caught in his throat and crawled through him, threatening him as tears that pricked at his eyes.

You wanted to interject, to try and soothe him however you could, but you let him keep speaking -  let him speak his mind. You figured it would be better for him to truly let his feelings out into the open before you tried to ease his anxieties. 

“I just, I don’t think I can take the pressure sometimes, it feels like everyone’s expecting me to be something I’m not,” He could hardly get his words out in between his shallow breathing, he tried biting his lip to keep his composure but it was useless - his sobs fought their way to be seen, to be heard, and he couldn’t pretend that keeping his emotions at bay was any use. No matter what he done, or how he felt, his emotions would fight their way through him as they bubbled to the surface. “I dont- I can’t- I dunno. God, sorry.”

“No, Lan, no, it’s okay.” You quickly shook your head and moved closer to him, your hands cupping his face to try and pull him back towards you instead of letting him spiral into the mess of his own mind.

“You don’t- I just, I don’t want you seeing me like this.” He tried to pull away, to hide from your worried eyes, but you kept him in your hold. Your fingers dragged across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen from his eyes as you could feel Lando’s breathing beginning to slow down. 

“You’ve got nothing to hide, not from me.” You could understand why Lando wouldn’t want you to see him in a state like this, but you didn’t want him to feel like he had to hide from you - you wanted to be there for you.

“Sorry, it’s stupid to get worked up like this, especially about work,” He took one final deep breath and clasped his hands over yours as they still rested over his cheeks, tangling your fingers together. “I just get in my head sometimes, get worried about shit I’ve got no control over - I just wasn’t expecting to have to deal with it over here.”

“It’s okay to get worked up, it’s not stupid- you’re not stupid,” Though your words weren’t the most colourful, they were heartfelt and exactly what Lando needed to hear. “You don’t have to be anything, you just have to be you.”

“I don’t think I’m meant for this sometimes,” Lando leant back against the bathroom countertop, unable to stop the words from spilling out - though, he should’ve thought harder about what he was saying to you, knowing it was more than what he had ever planned for but he couldn’t help it in a brief moment of weakness. “I want to live like you, I think, sometimes. Just travel and meet people and live freely, just do whatever I want. I hate that people have an idea of me in their head and I can’t live up to it.”

“The best you can give people is yourself, there’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not.” You moved to stand in between his legs, Lando’s hands then finding solace on your waist as he tried to keep himself grounded.

“You see me, though. And I like that,” Lando dipped his head closer to yours, his lips hovered over yours but he didn’t dare to press a kiss there, not yet. “I don’t have to pretend to be anything, I get to just be me.”

“That’s all I ask for, Lan.” You closed the gap between you and Lando, your hand resting on his chest as you felt him relax any tensions within him under the pressure of your touch.

“So, that farmer’s market is still there today- you up for it?” He pinched your waist, seemingly in a far better mood than he was all of ten minutes ago. “There’s local honey, homemade jewellery, organic produce. We could take a drive, do some shopping, y’know embrace being a tourist for the last while.”

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded your head and embraced the smile on your face as it hid the minor uneasy feeling that was building in your chest over the thought of how little time you had left with Lando without so much as a plan for what would happen when all of this had to come to an end. So instead, you focused on Lando in front of you and the thought of the farmer’s market with him.

[solspina]

Don't You Trust Me?

sanguinius ⋆˙⟡

a non-revised version of the first fanfic i ever wrote for the 40k community here :)

an incredibly long and exhausting journey, a fleeting moment gone way too soon, and words that shall never be spoken

word count: 1.7k

warnings: basophobia, angst, gn! reader

A tired pair of weary eyes peered down onto the great tribal “cities” of Baal Secundus. They watched warmly, patiently, lovingly, as fire lights and lanterns exhaled their essence into the deepening scarlet sky like flickering stars. Most baselines would never be able to claim that they had been up into the highest of Baal’s desert mountain scapes, never before ventured into the towering unknown, never sat upon their peaks with no concern for their survival. The crowns of even Baal's most treacherous slopes were untouchable and sacred. Many of the nomadic peoples would have never dreamed of such leisure, conquering such unattainable highlands, unlike the young mortal who rested upon them now. 

The climb was difficult beyond most any human measure, an ordeal beyond reckoning, a test of endurance beyond most limits the young human thought possible, and more grueling than even the troublesome tasks of the most battle-worn of baalfora natives. Blistering-hot crimson sunlight beat mercilessly down on their back through the holes in the rags they wore, its rays determined to blister bare skin, and yet their childhood friend followed swiftly behind. He alone had come more than prepared to protect them from any serious faltering, if the need arose, If their anthropic fragility got the best of them for even a moment.

The two of them had ascended from noon into night, and though their companion had a clear unnatural advantage in both height, strength, and a glorious blanket of pure white wings upon his back, he did not for a moment leave their side, choosing instead to climb alongside them.  He had many times allowed them to mount his back in moments the climb proved ceaseless for their small human body, and had ignored any tugging or pulling from their tiny hands upon his silken feathers, even despite the discomfort they knew it must have caused him. 

As all nights have happened since the beginning of time, the sky turned itself down into the deepest of vermillion reds and the silhouette of baal prime conquered the sky. They had finally made it to this particular mountain’s peak. The air had grown incredibly cold as the day surrendered, and the wind cut at exposed skin wherever their rags and his feathers allowed space to do so. Not much skin was left open for the breeze to devour after only a few seconds of pathetic shivering as their body became warm - blanketed by a blend of arms and pure white feathers. Mutants had been exterminated from the surface of baal long ago, all the fault of the blond, amber- eyed angel who created an exception of himself, the last remaining mutant who sat with his chin rested delicately upon their shoulder. Their back was held firm against a divinely sculpted chest, legs sat intertwined, the entirety of their form engulfed in pinions and arms that had clung on just as eagerly for warmth as their much more frailsome human body had. For a moment, even upon baal’s hellscape, the world seemed a perfect place.

Several minutes seemed to pass by as the pair sat in silent stillness, savoring one another’s existence after defeating the trials of a path never before travelled. The heavens seemed to shift under the weight of both baal prime and the planet it called home. 

Amidst all of the sky’s perfection, the glory of the space where the heaven met the earth, the human felt a small and sharp pain in their jugular, an immediate fight or fight response forced a gasp from their lips as they whipped their head around face the angel that sat behind them. An accusing expression made it’s way across their face, while a fanged yet sweet smile made its way across his perfect features in response.

“Sanguinius,” they murmured, a small laugh seeping its way into their voice the moment they recognized the lack of both a puncture wound and any immediate danger. As he removed his head from their shoulder with an almost flawless grace, he unfurled his wings in an unhurried yet purposeful stretch, and allowed his perfect musculature to come undone from the pressure upon it. The primarch dug his hands into the soft and contoured flesh of his back, releasing the tension in them with a gentle sigh. The cold had hit the baseline all at once, and an involuntary shiver made its way up their spine. his instant notice was unmistakable in the way he snickered in response to their trembling in the cold and the small flicker of mischief in his eye, one that was almost enough to restore the warmth they had lost in the absence of his wings.

“I know you would stay up here forever if you could,” he spoke, his voice carrying the slightest hint of hesitation. “but I'm certain your family is worried for you.” He turned his head so that he could meet their eyes once again, and allowed only one of his wings to drape itself gently over their shoulders. The look in their eyes was sad, mournful almost, they knew he was right.

“My legs are still too tired.” they frowned, voice low with exhaustion as they attempted to stand and yet struggled to remain upright. Every muscle in their appendages trembled, their legs felt like they could collapse under them, there was no way they’d make it back down the mountain without passing out or worse, succumbing to fatigue was inevitable.

 Sanguinius, however, stood up with ease, carrying away every ounce of heat he had so generously given you with him.

“You don’t have to walk...” He said softly, a tender smile warming his features as he began to pace toward the edge of the cliff, turning his back to the horizon once his feet were barely clinging onto solid ground. His wings were slightly unfurled now, just enough to catch wind if he were to fall.

In that moment, with near-holy blond hair whipping in the wind, he extended his hand to them.

“Absolutely not.” they retorted, a fragment of fear in their eyes. Falling was obviously a horribly reasonable fear, and yet in that instant the fear seemed more trivial than the dread of being without him, being left behind, of losing him. They walked closer.

“Don’t you trust me?” He asked, his smile was soft and just barely present upon his perfect face. Near unnoticeable, his wings were slowly stretching out further and further. They inched closer, just barely enough to touch his hand. Close enough for their gaze to meet him with firm clarity as they searched for any sort of malicious intent in his eyes.

“Sanguinius… I-“ 

The words barely escaped their lips before he grabbed their arm and yanked them forward into his chest again. Arms found their waist, and his lips crashed into theirs the moment they had gotten close enough. He pulled away just enough for them to register the warmth of his smile and the look of something in his eyes that made their heart race and their breath hitch. He allowed only a few seconds before he took advantage of their shocked state and went back in for another, his lips meeting theirs with such passion that left no room for mistrust. 

This time, though, the ground underneath them disappeared without a moment's notice as he allowed his feet to fall out from under him, sending both of them plummeting thousands of feet through baal’s open skies, still attached to each other, his grip tightening ever so slightly in a silent i've got you as the world grew larger underneath them. In their fear, they clung to him infinitely harder. Not for one second did they depart from his lips, desperate to ground them to the only thing that felt real, allowing themself to melt into the body of the angel. 

Once satisfied with their displayed level of trust in him, he allowed his wings to reach their full length, surging upward with the baseline held tightly in his grasp.

He flew them back into the civilization as quickly and quietly as he possibly could, careful to not wake their family as he set them down on their bed, lest they find their beloved child having their head caressed as they're tucked in by a being near all baalites revered as a god.

At what point of the trip home they had fallen asleep in his arms, he did not know. Exhausted from a mixture of the journey up the mountain and the terror of flight, he assumed. It was incredibly rare that the primarch got to spend time with his best friend.

It was… the last time the primarch would get to spend time with his best friend.

More quickly, more gently, more carefully, he kissed them. 

They slept beyond peacefully, breaths quiet and shallow. He allowed himself one last moment, alone by their side. As he sat on the edge of their bed, his eyes now downturned and glassy after a long day of having been joyful and kind. 

An image they would always remember him by, he hoped.  

The weight of duty pressed upon him more heavily than anything had for several weeks, and yet when the time came for him to leave, he continued to hesitate. His breathing became slow and measured as if he were trying to etch this moment into memory - how peaceful they looked, and how distant he already felt. His time was always borrowed, he knew, and that call had finally come, he could feel it. 

Loyalty was to be demanded by his father, for a future greater than himself, far from them, he feared an oath to return could be a lie. Perhaps years would pass, or perhaps fate would make this parting permanent. His mind would tell him even before it happened, but for now he refused to entertain the thought. Somehow he would make it back, some way.

One final glance would never be enough to make a promise to himself, and yet something in him wished more than anything to believe that in another life, he would have never had to say goodbye.

Solspina's Scribellum✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

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[cobaltperun]

Love Song Requiem - No Roads Left

Mabel x Female Reader

Story summary: Damn near everything in your life was purely business. So was this. Just go in, get the job done with the girl that's been building a reputation of her own, and that was supposed to be the end of it. And it was the end of something, you just didn't think it would be the end of a whole damn drug empire!

Chapter summary: "If I could do this all over again, I'd still make the same decisions," because they led you to her. You never truly believed in love, or that it could change you, but it did, she did. Lives neither of you chose connected, and the chain of events that would follow could not be stopped.

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k

-When did I lose my sense of purpose? Can I regain what's lost inside?-

You sat at the table, looking at the landline phone in front of you. Seriously? What was this? Last century. You sighed, figuring you should have gotten used to it by now as you dialed a familiar number. Every week, at the same time, the same number, the only number you still had the right to call and expect a friendly voice on the other side of the line.

Mabel picked up immediately, just like she always did these past eight weeks. “Y/N!” she exclaimed your name, and it almost hurt to hear. It sounded so much different than it did a few months ago, the excitement and flirty tone were replaced by longing and relief, but it was worth it.

It had to be worth it.

"Hey,” you smiled, forcing the negative thoughts out of your mind for a moment, hoping that Mabel would take this all a bit easier if you didn’t show how this was affecting you. “Is everything okay there?" you hoped you'd be able to notice if she was hiding anything from you.

And Mabel was doing the same thing, focusing on the positives. "Mhm," there it was, that casual got-everything-under-control response that made you relax. "Me and Charlie are just fine. He's a bit cautious and jumpy, but he'll get used to the new apartment," an unreasonable rage filled you.

"Charlie? Mabel, you know I love you, but quit trying to rename Charcoal," you whisper-shouted at her, ignoring the warning looks people around you gave you. It was worth it, especially since Mabel laughed, actually it was more of a semi-evil cackle.

"By the time you come back he'll only respond to Charlie!" she promised.

And despite the awful future she promised, you still smiled, wishing that future would come soon. At least your cat, Charcoal, would be happy with Mabel and not left to fend for himself. That cat wouldn’t last a day on the streets.

“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Mabel suddenly asked, the light-hearted tone was gone, and though you could hear Charcoal hopping onto the table and purring as Mabel pet him it did little to ease your pain.

“Yeah, it all ends tomorrow,” your smile was just sad as you sank back into the chair as much as the phone cable allowed. You couldn’t even have that without tugging at the technology from a past era.

Mabel paused, but you knew what she would say before she even began speaking. “I should come,” she kept insisting, even if you argued against it.

“It’s not safe. Besides, you know what I want you to do,” you reminded her of the promise she vowed to break, even if you made her say the words. In her own words it wouldn’t be the first lie she had to utter.

“And you know I won’t do it,” she reminded you, but then she sighed and you could hear her burying her face in her hands, and you could picture her sitting at her new table, in a new, still unfamiliar apartment, away from everything happening here, her hair tied and messy, and her lower lip trembling slightly due to the emotions she tried to bottle up. “Did this have to happen?” she asked, and even though it was a rhetorical question you still answered.

“If I could do this all over again, I'd still make the same decisions,” those decisions led you to Mabel, led you to turning your life around, and to her finally finding a way out of the life she had before. You’d pay the price for her second chance, and maybe eventually you’d get your own second chance as well.

~X~ Eight months ago ~X~

Whoever decided that morning was the right time to start a day needs to be held responsible. And whoever decided that your cat needs to be fed at six in the morning also needs to be held responsible. “Come on Charcoal, I fed you last night, let me sleep a little longer,” you pleaded, seriously considering just never getting up again. An ashtray hitting the floor made you groan, which only prompted the black menace that snuck into your life to knock something else off the table. Judging by the heavy thud it was probably your notebook. “I’ll buy a table with raised edges, just to spite you,” you muttered under your breath and sat up like you were pulling the weight of the whole continent up with you.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to wake up as your body ached. Charcoal jumped from the table onto your lap and sat there, just looking at you with his sharp, alert eyes. “You’re too awake buddy,” you scratched his head with a tired smile, once again promising you would never sleep on the couch again. You were just too tired to reach your bedroom last night.

Stupid deals.

Stupid crimes you couldn’t pull out of anymore.

Charcoal purred and you figured, what the hell, he was comfortable on your lap, so surely, he wasn’t that hungry. You fell back on the couch and closed your eyes, hoping to go back to sleep, only for the damn black cat to hop from your lap onto your chest and tap you right on the chin.

You opened your eyes and looked at the ceiling. “Fuck,” you accepted your fate, picking the cat up and dragging yourself off the couch so you could go and feed the ungrateful, impatient, adorable, lovely cat that happened to be the boss of your life. “I’ll sue you, you know. Don’t know which court can find you guilty when you’re that cute, but I’ll find one,” you leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched as your one-year-old cat devoured his food.

Little glutton.

“Get up or go to sleep?” you wondered, glancing at the drawer where you kept your laptop, safely tucked away from your cat, because nothing in your apartment was safe from Charcoal unless it was under lock and key. Glasses? Plates? Anything breakable? Locked! Decorations? Almost nonexistent, aside from plastic ones that either didn’t break easily, or were easily replaceable. Other decorations? They were proven to be unable to resist Charcoal’s need to push them off whatever they were placed on, thus they had no place in your home. The number of TVs you had to either fix or replace because he’d scratched the screen was so high you no longer had the will to count.

You may be rich, but new TVs were not something you wanted to keep spending money on.

The thought of all those TVs drained you of what little energy you had this early in the morning and you headed toward your bedroom, with Charcoal, now fed, running after you. Work could wait, you needed sleep, and as you slipped under the covers with your cat choosing to spread on the bottom of the bed you figured that was the smartest decision you made in a while.

The heavy feeling that always came with big jobs made it difficult to sleep well, but Charcoal near you helped with that.

You still felt like you were missing something.

~X~

Around noon you walked into a almost empty bar near the edge of the city. Away from prying eyes, with just enough privacy to be acceptable for your job, but casual enough to pass it off as regular meeting between two law-abiding citizens. You came in early, about fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting time. It was a habit you picked up along the way, wanting to be more careful of your surrounding and notice any potential problems before they could even happen.

Yet twenty-five minutes later you were annoyed and getting impatient. The woman you were supposed to meet with was nowhere to be found, hell, the only person that was on their own was a beautiful girl sitting in the corner. Despite her beauty you dismissed the girl, not really willing to get involved with anyone right now. Your life was a bit too messy for your liking, too tangled up in all the crime going on in the city to risk pulling an innocent woman into all of this. You noticed her right away, she couldn’t blend in even if she tried, she just stood out too much, drawing attention with her beauty and demeanor.

You glanced toward the girl again, noticing she was annoyed, frustrated even. As if she was waiting for someone.

‘No fucking way,’ you thought, nearly spilling your drink when the thought that she could be the person you were supposed to meet crossed your mind. She was too young! Well, that was rich coming from you, but your circumstances were different!

You approached her, a bit too hastily to your liking and she looked at you, cautious right from the start. And your heart sank, that cautiousness probably meant you were right. This was Mabel. But her eyes, there was just something in her eyes, serious, intense, dark eyes drawing you in, threatening to drown you in a sea of black. “Mabel?” you asked and those dark eyes widened slightly before she regained her composure.

“Y/N?” she was just as surprised as you were, definitely not expecting this. The two of you, close to same age, maybe even the same age. In this situation.

You nodded and then tilted your head toward the chair across from her. “May I?”

Mabel raised an eyebrow, as if she didn’t expect the question. She probably didn’t. She was here to meet with you, it was business; asking if you may sit was actually quite stupid, it was a given that you may sit, that this meeting would happen. Yet you asked, maybe out of some obligation, maybe subconsciously giving her a way out. “Not a question I expected from the daughter of one of the bosses,” she pointed out and you shrugged, silently waiting for her to allow you to sit down.

When she remained silent you smirked slightly. “I’m a vampire, you need to tell me I can sit before I can do it,” you joked and she snorted at that.

“Not how it works,” but she waved dismissively at the chair. “But sure, go ahead,” you couldn’t tell if she was amused or not, but you sat down.

“I come from a long line of vampires, I make my own rules,” you joked, making her roll her eyes.

“You come from a long line of criminals,” she huffed, suspicious, not trusting you one bit, which was fair, if you were being honest. You heard of a new girl, efficient, quick, bringing in money, even if she was still a small-time drug dealer mostly working with Weeks. You also heard she was dragged into this either by or because of her family, which would explain her disdain toward you. Born into privilege, choosing to continue the family tradition because it brought you money. You couldn’t blame her for thinking that.

“We suck people dry. Whether it’s blood or money we’re sucking hardly matters,” yet you kept joking. Though people do tend to believe there’s some truth in each joke.

Mabel raised her glass of wine, probably cheap, considering where the two of you were. “To vampires then,” you accepted, raising your own glass, filled with the first non-alcoholic drink you saw on the menu, happened to be some juice that you were yet to try.

“To vampires,” you agreed, not knowing this meeting would change the course of your life. You took a sip of the juice and immediately winced at how sweet it was. “I’m sorry it took me a bit to approach you,” you ignored the sweetness and regret over not getting literally anything else. “I didn’t think you were, well, you,” you admitted. “How old are you again?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

She gave you a flat look, as if she was already tired of your bullshit. “Twenty-two,” she still answered, so she was the same age as you. “I didn’t figure out I was supposed to meet with you either, you look like you went for a run, not to talk about deals,” she pointed out, even if she herself was dressed rather casually.

You grinned a bit as you looked down at your choice of clothing, you really did look like you went for a run and stopped by to grab a drink on your way back home. “Better to look like I’m going for a run, than to catch someone’s attention and be on a run instead,” you pointed out, finally making Mabel crack a tiny smile.

“True,” she agreed, her smile spreading even as she tried to suppress it. Guarded and not willing to show even a hint of weakness or vulnerability in any way. Your parents would be proud if you had this kind of composure instead of making everything a joke. Well, jokes had their own advantages. Most of the time you seemed like you were so in control you could afford to mess around.

Yet her smile made your heart beat faster and you realized just how dangerous she could be if you didn’t play this right. “So, is everything going according to plan?” you asked, getting serious mostly out of some barely developed sense of self-preservation. Mabel nodded, confident, sure of herself, and you could physically feel the power balance shifting as she gained control.

She drank wine with smooth elegance, practiced ease, and with the glass still covering her lips she made her offer, all the while looking right into your eyes. “I can get it to you a week in advance if you pay extra.”

“I can pay you double if you deliver it tonight,” you countered, matching her gaze.

Mabel whistled. “Deal,” she agreed.

“Liar,” but you weren’t that naïve, or green, you’ve been dragged to these meeting for years before your parents made them your problem to deal with.

Mabel leaned back a bit, shrugging. “Worth a shot,” she figured and yeah, you supposed it was.

“Was it really? Staining our relationship with a lie right from the start is a bold move, Mabel,” yet she didn’t flinch.

“Expecting honor among thieves, Y/N?” she challenged you, not backing down for a single moment, and damn did you like that.

“I’m no ordinary thief,” you leaned forward. “I’m the thief in charge, and I don’t like being lied to,” her confidence wavered for a split second, before it returned with a smirk as she leaned in, almost too close, so close you could feel her breath tickling your skin and she stood up to close the distance further, putting her lips right next to your ear.

“True. You’re not in charge of me, though,” she whispered, and you felt a shiver run down your spine, but then she pulled away, taking a few steps away from the table. “We’ll fulfill our end of the deal, make sure you and your thieves pay on time.”

You heard her, but what really caught your attention was your drink that was now in her hand as she drank it, winked at you and left you with her wine and the bill.

“The fuck just happened,” you blinked a few times and then noticed the bill. “How the fuck do these guys have this wine?!” you exclaimed and could hear Mabel cackling in your head. How did you even figure she would cackle? Not that it mattered, what was this overpriced bullshit?! Did she order the most expensive wine the place had? “Damn, she’s good,” you leaned back against the chair, chuckling slightly to yourself, she got you good.

~X~

You entered your apartment, feeling tricked but somehow satisfied. Mabel’s actions were stuck in your head like an annoying song you couldn’t get rid of no matter how much you tried. “She really got me good,” you muttered to yourself as Charcoal hopped into your arms. “Hey there buddy! Did you make a mess while I was gone?” you asked, scratching the cat’s chin as he meowed and purred in your arms, and sure enough, there was quite a number of things knocked over. Pretty much anything that wasn’t locked up was on the floor. It wasn’t that many things, you learnt your lesson a long time ago, but it was still annoyingly endearing to see.

Some small plastic figures, a couple of notebooks, university guide you picked up a few years back, before your life’s path was decided for you. How did Charcoal even get it? Why wasn’t it stuck in the back of some drawer, never to be seen again until you had to clean it? Maybe Mark left it in your line of sight when he conducted a search of your apartment the last time? That was probably it.

Good old Mark, always trying to get you to turn your life around. “A life worth living,” he would often tell you while he and his partner questioned you at the station, trying to get you to crack under the pressure and the good cop bad cop dynamic because they had nothing definitive to prove your involvement.

“You’re awful, you know that?” you scolded the unbothered cat and figured you could clean the mess up tomorrow morning, after good night’s sleep. Perhaps morning would make your thoughts more coherent.

A/N: And here's a story I meant to write like a year ago. Taglist? Anyone?

[jewish-vents]

I got so tired of one of Intro to Public Speaking professor constantly implying I'm a colonizer that I did my final speech on my family's genealogy. We are documented in the area that is now Israel/Palestine going back to at least 1702, likely further. How can you "colonize" the only place you've ever lived? How can you "colonize" your own house? I watched my professor's teeth grind and his jaw set as he grew more and more annoyed with me. Other than my mom, who is from Serbia, the only other outside ancestor I have who moved to the area instead of being from it was 1894, and she was from Lebanon.

I used to love this professor. I helped campaign and get signatures so he could start an African American Studies minor at this university. I backed him up when students were racist to him and the Dean of Students needed witnesses to confirm it. I filed a complaint myself when my French professor called him a term I won't repeat here. I have never missed a day of class. I take copious notes. When he would assign essays on films we watched in Intro To Africana Studies, I wouldn't half-ass it, I would easily clear double the word count he asked for, every time. When he mentioned wanting to go camping in an area, I explained to him that there's a Neo Nazi compound in the woods near there and they killed a black Forest Service worker a few years ago, because as someone from out of state, he had no idea what danger he was walking into. I wanted him to be safe and happy and live a good life. He helped me learn so much in such a short span of time and he always had book recommendations and more ideas to share that he hadn't gotten to in class.

I don't recognize the him I see now, gritting his teeth, angry because after a semester of him saying Jewish people aren't indigenous to Israel, I laid out the facts in front of him. A lot of being Jewish is grieving the loss of people to antisemitism. We lose our friends. We lose family. And we lose the person someone was before they let hate into their hearts, the educator who seemed almost like an older brother, the kindhearted person who wanted to fight inequality.

And then we just have to deal with it. Just accept that we've lost someone, again, and again, and again, on repeat, endlessly, and try not to let it impact us because if we do, the goyim assure us it's not that serious. Which is interesting, because when things actually aren't serious? No one needs to tell me. It always feels like a suspicious specific denial, every time.

Losing people because your family's history goes against propaganda's rewriting of history is a surreal experience. But sometimes losses are necessary. I'm not going to lie about our lives to make one man feel comfortable, even if he used to be a friend.

.

[pankowcrumbs]

Over the Radio X Lando Norris

18+

Plot: You are Lando's new race engineer and the flirting is everything even though it's forbidden.

MasterList

F1 Masterlist

The headset felt heavier than usual.

It wasn’t the weight, obviously. It was the pressure. I’d just been promoted me, Y/N, twenty-five, notoriously chatty and chronically single to the role of Lando Norris’s race engineer. A job I’d secretly daydreamed about since joining McLaren as a junior engineer three years ago. Not just because I loved strategy or thrived in high-stakes environments.

But because Lando made work… dangerous in the best way.

We’d always had this flirty, electric thing between us laced through teasing in the paddock, lingering glances after debriefs, and him playfully tapping his pen against my shoulder when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. But I’d never let it go further. Too complicated. Too public. Too… risky.

And now?

Now I had a mic strapped to my head and a driver... that driver relying on my voice to guide him through every sector.

“Alright,” came his voice through the comms during FP1, low and casual, “I’m just going to say it I like hearing you in my ears.”

I rolled my eyes, cheeks already heating. “You’re supposed to like hearing me, Norris. I’m your engineer now.”

“I liked hearing you before you got the promotion.”

“Focus.”

He chuckled, the sound crackling slightly over the radio. “Can’t help it when you sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“Bossy.”

Jesus Christ.

I muted myself for a second just to let out a laugh. He was testing me already, barely ten minutes into the first session. I should’ve expected nothing less.

Back on comms, I cleared my throat. “Alright, let’s try the medium tyre run, please. Box now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I swear he said it just to get a rise out of me.

By qualifying, he was in full performance mode razor-sharp on track, but his mouth still didn’t switch off completely.

“Tyres feel great,” he said mid-run. “Or maybe it’s your voice lulling me into a false sense of security.”

“Glad I can soothe your inner chaos.”

“Oh, you do. Might ask you to record bedtime stories next.”

“Eyes on the apex, Norris.”

“Yes, boss.”

I caught one of the mechanics chuckling nearby.

It didn’t help that we were the same age. Didn’t help that he looked at me like I wasn’t just a voice in his ear, but something he wanted and maybe always had.

Didn’t help that part of me… wanted it back.

Race day.

This was it.

Lando was starting P4, and I was trying not to throw up from nerves. We stood by the car before the formation lap, the crew swarming around us in a flurry of final checks and tyre warmers and last-second whispers.

He walked over to me, helmet in hand, curls slightly damp under his cap.

“You good?” he asked.

I nodded. “You?”

He grinned. “You’re in my ear today. I’ll be great.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not allowed to flirt with me mid-race. We’ve got a championship to chase.”

“No promises,” he said, leaning in just enough for no one else to hear. “You make strategy sound sexy.”

He winked and walked off before I could swat him with my clipboard.

God help me.

“Radio check.”

“Loud and clear.”

The lights blinked off and the race began.

For the first few laps, everything was clinical. Tyre temps. Fuel delta. Turn eight oversteer.

But by lap twenty, he was settled and cocky again.

“Okay, love, talk to me.”

“Your pace is solid. Holding strong at P3.”

“Love that. Love you, too, but we’ll unpack that later.”

I flushed despite myself. “Lando”

“You sound flustered.”

“You sound overconfident.”

“I’ve got the world’s prettiest engineer in my ear. Hard not to be.”

I bit back a smile. “Focus on Leclerc. You’re gaining three-tenths in Sector 2.”

“Yes, boss. I like when you take charge.”

He was impossible.

And brilliant.

And absolutely relentless.

By lap 37, he was chasing P2, and we were in the thick of strategy calls. I tried to keep my voice even, professional, despite the sweat on my palms.

“Box this lap, confirm?”

“Confirmed.”

He flew into the pit lane. Tyres off, tyres on, and gone again textbook.

Back on track, I checked data. He was flying. We were flying.

Then came his voice, smug and smooth.

“You’re amazing at this.”

“Just doing my job.”

“I meant being sexy and strategic at the same time, but sure.”

I laughed couldn’t help it. He was unreal.

“And you’re dangerously close to being muted.”

“You’d miss me.”

“I really wouldn’t.”

“Liar.”

I was. A little.

Maybe more than a little.

By the final ten laps, he was in P2, battling for the lead. My heart was pounding as hard as his engine.

“Push now, Lando. You’ve got the grip. He’s vulnerable.”

“Copy. For you, I’ll push.”

“You’d better. Don’t make me come down there.”

“Oh, please do. You threatening me in person? Hot.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself whiplash.

He overtook on Lap 59. Clean. Bold. Beautiful.

P1.

“YES!” I yelled, forgetting to mute. “You’ve done it!”

He was laughing in my ear. “Sounded like you just...”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying...”

“Drive the bloody car, Norris!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He won.

He bloody won.

I barely remembered the cooldown lap, too overwhelmed with numbers, data, and his smug little voice in my ear.

“You were perfect,” he said, a bit breathless. “I don’t just mean the car.”

I didn’t reply.

I couldn’t. Not when my heart was beating that loud.

In parc fermé, I waited on the pit wall, still breathless as the crew jumped and cheered around me. He leapt out of the car, helmet off, curls damp with sweat, eyes scanning until he found me.

And then he ran.

Straight to me.

Lando didn’t hesitate just wrapped his arms around my waist, lifted me clean off the ground, and spun me like we were in some bloody film. I was laughing, flushed, and fully aware the world was watching.

“Lando!” I hissed, “Cameras!”

“Don’t care.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

He looked at me all mischief and heat and said, “You realise this means I get to flirt every race now, right?”

I grinned despite myself.

“Only if you keep winning.”

“Deal.”

He pressed his forehead to mine.

“Guess we’re going to be unstoppable, then.”

It didn’t take long for the world to catch on.

The radio clips the ones where Lando called me love, where he shamelessly flirted mid-race, where I threatened to mute him while trying not to laugh went viral before we even packed up the garage.

The fans were obsessed.

I saw the edits first little videos stitched together on TikTok, set to romantic pop songs, captioned things like “find someone who talks to you the way Lando talks to Y/N” or “she’s his soft spot, I’m in tears”. There were screenshots of me on the pit wall, flushed and grinning like an idiot, side by side with photos of him beaming in the car.

#LandYN was trending by morning.

I nearly dropped my phone when I saw it.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, scrolling through endless fan theories. They’re secretly dating. They’re in love. She’s his lucky charm.

One clip had already reached a million views it was a montage of our comms from the race, ending with Lando yelling “You were perfect!” over the radio.

My cheeks ached from smiling.

Still, I knew better than to get too carried away. It was fun, sure, but it was dangerous too. Teams didn’t love distractions. And even if part of me burned for him always had, if I was honest I wasn’t going to risk my career over a few flirty radio messages.

Or so I told myself.

That afternoon, we were ushered into the press tent for post-race interviews.

Lando was his usual charming, grinning self, hair still messy from the helmet, race suit tied around his waist, white McLaren tee clinging to him in all the right places.

I tried not to stare.

Tried harder not to think about how he’d lifted me off the ground in front of half the paddock hours earlier.

The reporters, of course, pounced almost immediately.

“So, Lando,” one of them called, “incredible win today. Do you think the new race engineer had anything to do with your performance?”

He smirked and flicked a glance at me where I was standing just off-camera.

“I mean…” He shrugged dramatically. “Have you heard her voice?”

The whole room laughed.

I buried my face in my clipboard.

“She keeps me calm,” he went on, grinning like the devil. “Keeps me focused. Also keeps me on my toes. Sometimes I listen just to hear her yell at me.”

Another ripple of laughter.

I shot him a glare over the top of my clipboard. He winked.

Another reporter jumped in, voice eager. “There’s a lot of talk online about how much chemistry you two have. Any truth to that?”

My stomach dropped.

This was it. This was the moment where he’d laugh it off, make a joke, move on.

But Lando paused.

His smile softened.

“I mean, it’s not fake,” he said simply. “We’re close. We trust each other a lot. Makes a difference when you’ve got someone you… y’know. Care about.”

I felt the heat climb up my neck, all the way to my ears.

The reporters caught it instantly, shouting follow-up questions, but Lando just grinned and gave a playful two-finger salute before ducking out of the interview area.

I didn’t breathe until he was gone.

Later, tucked away in the back of the motorhome, I cornered him.

“Are you insane?” I hissed, grabbing his wrist before he could escape. “Did you hear yourself?”

He looked at me, all wide eyes and fake innocence. “What?”

“‘Someone you care about’? Lando, they’re going to eat that up! The fans are already....!”

He cut me off by tugging me closer, voice low and teasing. “Why are you so panicked, love?”

“Because...” I sputtered. “Because it’s my job, and people are already making bloody fan fiction about us!”

His hand slid lazily down my arm, fingers brushing the inside of my wrist. It was maddening how casual he was, like my heart wasn’t currently trying to punch a hole through my ribs.

“Let them,” he murmured. “I’m not scared.”

“You should be. It’s a media circus out there.”

He leaned in, so close I could smell the lingering leather and soap on his skin.

“Y/N,” he said, smiling faintly, “I meant it.”

I blinked up at him. “Meant what?”

“That I care about you.” His hand tightened slightly around my wrist, grounding me. “I don’t care who knows.”

My stomach flipped so hard I nearly stumbled.

“Lando…”

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, fingers grazing my cheek. “You think I’ve been flirting with you all this time just for fun?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“No one else gets under my skin like you do,” he said, laughing under his breath. “No one else makes me want to win more, just to hear you call me perfect again.”

I didn’t mean to. Honestly, I didn’t.

But I surged up onto my toes and kissed him.

It was clumsy at first too fast, too desperate but then his hands were cupping my jaw, anchoring me, and he kissed me back like he’d been waiting for it forever.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and dizzy, he rested his forehead against mine.

“‘Bout bloody time,” he whispered.

I laughed, shaky and giddy.

“I’m still going to yell at you over the radio,” I warned.

He grinned. “Good. Gets me going.”

I smacked his chest, and he caught my hand, threading our fingers together like he had no intention of letting go.

The motorhome door rattled somewhere behind us. Someone calling for him, for debriefs or photos or something equally less important than this.

He didn’t move.

Neither did I.

“C’mon, love,” he said softly. “Let’s give them something real to ship.”

We didn’t even make it a full twenty-four hours before the team called us in.

It was Zak who asked for the meeting polite but firm and as soon as I walked into the glass-walled conference room and saw Lando slouched in a chair with that sheepish, boyish grin, I knew we were in trouble.

My stomach twisted.

Zak didn’t exactly tell us off he’s too clever for that but the message was clear.

"You two have great chemistry," he said, steepling his fingers under his chin, "and it's good for morale. Good for the fans too. We're not here to kill the vibe."

Lando nodded along, looking for all the world like a naughty schoolboy.

"But," Zak continued, voice harder now, "there's a line. Banter’s fine. Flirting, fine. It stays on the radio. That’s it. No relationships. No... fraternising. You know how it looks otherwise conflicts of interest. Favouritism."

I felt my heart sink to the soles of my shoes.

"If anything beyond the job happens," Zak said, tone grave, "I'm sorry, Y/N, but you'd have to go. We can't have that. It's non-negotiable."

The words hung between us like a guillotine.

I swallowed, forcing myself to nod. "Understood."

"Understood," Lando echoed, though his voice was quieter.

Zak smiled, all business again. "Good. We trust you. Carry on."

The meeting ended without further fuss, but I felt hollow as I followed Lando out into the corridor, the fluorescent lights buzzing above us like a wasp.

I was two steps from escaping when he grabbed my hand and dragged me, fast and urgent, into his driver's room.

The door shut with a soft thud.

"Lando" I started, but he spun to face me, blue eyes bright and burning.

"We just have to be careful," he said quickly, crowding into my space, voice low. "That's all. We can work this out."

I stared at him like he'd gone mad. "Are you insane?" My voice cracked. "I can't risk my job. I love this job, Lando."

"I know," he said, hands finding my hips like magnets, grounding me. "I know, love, I swear. I’d never let anything happen to you."

I shook my head, heart hammering. "One wrong move, and they’ll sack me. I’m not risking my career for..."

"For us?" he finished, smile tilted, heartbreakingly soft. "Not even a little?"

I glared at him, but it had no heat. God, he was dangerous when he wanted something. Sweet talker. Charming bastard.

He took my silence as an opportunity, nosing gently along my temple, voice a whisper against my hair.

"Secret meetings," he murmured. "After long race days. Hotel rooms. Locked doors."

I shivered.

"No one has to know," he coaxed. "We'll be smart. We'll be so bloody careful, they'll never suspect a thing."

I bit my lip, torn between every instinct screaming be sensible and the way his hands curved around me like I was already his.

"You’re asking a lot," I whispered.

"I’m asking for a chance," he said simply. "For us."

He pressed his forehead to mine, and for a long second, we just breathed each other in. Him and me and the impossible thing growing wild between us.

I was so tired of fighting it.

Of pretending.

One night. One chance. Maybe that was all it would be maybe it would end in heartbreak but right then, with his thumb stroking slow circles into my hip, I didn’t care.

"Fine," I breathed, caving, heart racing. "But careful, Norris. I mean it."

His grin was a flash of sunshine.

"Careful's my middle name," he teased, then leaned in and kissed me, slow and sweet and reverent, like we had all the time in the world.

God help me, I was already addicted.

Another race day. Another chance to push the boundary without crossing it.

I was clipped into my headset, the familiar weight of it comforting as I stood on the pit wall, heart thundering in rhythm with the engines.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio.

"You miss me yet?" he teased during formation lap, the lightness in his voice making me smile against the back of my hand.

"Focus, Norris," I said, keeping my tone prim, but the smile was audible, and we both knew it.

"Hard to focus when you sound that pretty," he quipped back, low enough that only I would catch the meaning behind the words.

I heard the collective swoon of the fans in my mind. They’d catch the exchange they always did snipping, editing, posting. #LandoYN was trending every bloody week.

The race itself was chaos late rain, tight corners, pit strategy coming down to seconds but God, he drove like a man possessed.

Each time I gave him a call, he responded instantly, trusting me, trusting us.

On the final lap, I told him, "Bring her home, Lando."

His laughter was breathless over the comms. "Anything for you, love."

And when he crossed the line first, victorious, the roar from the team around me was deafening.

I barely remembered throwing my arms up, screaming with the others, heart exploding with pride until I caught sight of him in parc fermé, helmet off, curls wild, grinning like the sun itself.

He found my eyes across the chaos and winked a quick, cocky, secret little thing that made my stomach swoop.

The media circus after was worse than ever.

"So, Lando," one of the interviewers said slyly, mic shoved in his face. "Your radio with your race engineer... getting pretty famous. Fans are shipping it, mate."

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks pink.

"Yeah, well..." His eyes flicked to me, lingering a second too long. "Some people just... bring out the best in you, don’t they?"

The crowd erupted.

My whole face burned.

Bloody hell, Lando.

Zak would have kittens.

But secretly, deep down, it thrilled me how he didn’t hide it. How he let it show.

Later that night, long after the champagne showers and the debriefs, after the media had cleared out and the garage was dark and still, I found myself outside his hotel room door, heart hammering.

I hesitated for a full thirty seconds before knocking.

It swung open almost immediately.

He stood there, hair still damp from a shower, barefoot, wearing nothing but grey joggers slung indecently low on his hips.

"Hi," he said, voice rough from the day, from the screaming, from the adrenaline.

"Hi," I whispered.

Before I could lose my nerve, he reached out, grabbed my hand, and tugged me inside.

The door shut with a soft click behind me, cutting us off from the world.

We barely made it two steps before he had me pressed up against the wall, mouth on mine.

There was nothing polite about it.

It was hungry.

Months of tension, stolen glances, secret touches it all snapped free like an elastic band stretched too far.

His hands skimmed up my thighs, grabbing beneath the hem of my dress, squeezing like he couldn’t get enough.

I gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it greedily, pressing closer until I could feel the hard line of him against my belly.

"God, I’ve wanted this," he groaned, lips trailing along my jaw, my throat. "Wanted you."

His hands were everywhere sliding under my dress, dragging the zipper down with one quick, impatient tug.

I wriggled out of it, letting it puddle at my feet, standing there in nothing but a scrap of lace and my heels, breathing hard.

Lando stepped back, eyes dark, devouring the sight of me.

"Fucking beautiful," he muttered, voice wrecked.

He dipped down, kissing my shoulder, my collarbone, trailing lower.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, gasping when he mouthed at the tops of my breasts, teasing with slow, maddening patience.

When he dropped to his knees, I thought I might collapse.

"Lando" I choked out, but he only grinned up at me, wicked.

"Let me take care of you, love," he murmured.

And then his mouth was on me hot, clever, relentless.

He hooked my leg over his shoulder, hands gripping my hips like a lifeline, holding me steady as he licked into me with devastating skill.

I buried my fingers in his curls, tugging helplessly as pleasure coiled tight and hot in my belly.

It didn’t take long I was wound too tight, too desperate and when I came, it was with a cry muffled against the back of my hand, thighs trembling around his head.

He kissed his way back up my body, nipping and soothing, whispering praises against my skin.

When he finally lifted me arms strong, careful and carried me to the bed, I didn’t resist.

I didn’t even think.

I just held onto him, heart racing, trusting him to catch me.

And he did.

All night long.

[sagereeid]

scars that never healed. - s.r. - chapter 3

a/n - hi guys i had an awful day today but hopefully yall enjoy. please comment your thoughts. love yall

warnings - none really. bitter!spencer, angst, lily and derek friendship, maybe some cussing. let me know if i missed something.

Once Hotch dismissed the team, they all staggered out of the roundtable room. Spencer ensured he was the last one out, not in his usual spot next to Lilith.

Truth is, yeah, he has been avoiding her. He’s doing it for a good reason. Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

He came to this realization when he was at Lilth’s house yesterday. Every time Spencer got close, everything got ruined. It blew up in his face. His mother won’t take the pills that will help her get better. Meave got killed right in front of him. And if one thing is for damn sure, he cannot lose the one person that has been getting him though all of this.

Spencer cannot lose Lilith. He cannot even think about it. So, he thought the best idea was to push her away. Maybe if they’re far enough away from each other, neither of them will be around for the explosion.

He made a beeline for his desk and grabbed his go bag, which he kept under his desk. He could hear Lily behind him.

“Spence?” She spoke in that soft voice she always uses while around Spencer. A small part of him was enraged that she was talking to him because he would only have to work harder to shut her out.

“Yes?” He asked, shoving a few extra things in his duffle bag.

“Are you okay?” She questioned. Spencer could tell that she‘s concerned, but it is fueling the fire inside him even more.

“I’m fine,” He said, not turning around.

“Spence... " she responded, her tone softer than ever. Lily reaches out and places a warm, familiar hand on his shoulder.

He freezes. He doesn’t let many people touch him, even in passing. Lilith was different, that was until now.

Spencer shrugs off her touch and spins around so fast that he feels like he will fall into his desk chair.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t touch me.” He looked into her eyes, which were rigid, cold, and unmoving. Lilith stared at him with confusion, hurtfulness, and a tad bit of fear.

They stood there momentarily, staring at each other; the tension eating them alive. Eventually, Spencer pushes past her without another word and hits her with his shoulder.

Lilith stood there temporarily, her eyes not moving from where Spencer had stood only moments ago. She felt a sob well up in her throat, and she tried her best to swallow it down. She tried to ignore the few tears that slipped out, but she grabbed her things and left the scene.

She walked to the plane silently and tried not to even look at Spencer, sitting in the spot they usually sat in together. She walked past him without saying anything, swallowing the lump in her throat yet again, and sat in a random corner far away from everyone.

This wasn’t uncommon on the jet; if you sit by yourself and look like you don’t want to be talked to, you usually will get left alone. Typically, people just read books or slept, but Lily’s throat felt tight right now. She thinks if she opens her mouth, she’ll erupt into tears.

She took yet another steadying breath. Why is this affecting you so much? This is so stupid. So what? Spencer gets mad at you once, and you’re going to cry? She chants in her head.

Lily sighed and looked out of the window, ignoring the pair of eyes she felt on the back of her neck, which she knew most definitely belonged to Spencer.

It takes all her power not to turn around. The sadness has quickly faded, only to be replaced by anger and annoyance. What is his problem?

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting all her thoughts fade away, and she finally drifts off to sleep.

A few hours later, the jet landed in Minneapolis. Spencer stood up and grabbed the bag for the overhead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilith fast asleep in her seat. He wanted to walk over to her, tuck the hair on her face behind her ear, wake her up gently, and give her a warm smile. He ended up standing there and staring at her until his gaze was broken by Derek standing in front of her.

“Chicka, wake up.” He chuckled while gently shaking her shoulder.

“Hm?” Lilith asked as she fluttered her eyes open.

“We landed.” He said, giving her that signature charming smile. She smiled back with her warm and inviting one. Yet a fake one. One that hid the pain inside of her.

“Oh.” She sits up some more and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

“You okay there, hot stuff?” He chuckled, and his touch lingered on her shoulder.

“Yeah, sweetie. Just didn’t sleep too well last night.” She joked back.

Spencer stopped. He was trying and failing to listen in on subtly. He felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs. Sweetie? He thought to himself. It felt unnatural coming from her mouth, especially while talking to Derek.

He felt his blood boil for a reason he didn’t know himself. Jealousy. Lilith watched as he stormed off the plane and looked back to Derek in confusion.

They both look back at each other, and Derek is the first one to speak.

“What is up with him?” He asked. Lily sighed.

“I have no idea.”

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Could I perhaps suggest a tiny little itty bitty blurb between Wyatt, Wiley, and reader pretty please? *I bat my eyelashes politely* Your writing is amazing btw!!!

This one actually tore my heart out. I love Haymitch so so much, but WILEY AND WYATT OH BE STILL MY HEART. Also I love writing a little blurb like this so if anyone wants to see more plz feel free to ask!!

I watched from the kitchen as Wiley played with the tiny wooden truck I’d gotten from the Hob. Ma was sleeping in the back bedroom, she’d been taking sleeping syrup more and more and spent most of the day passed out in bed. In one of her more coherent moments she’d scolded me for still letting him play with toys, going on about how 6 years old should be helping out around the house more. I’d rolled my eyes and ignored her. 

Moments like these kept me frozen, mind moving in directions I’d rather not wander towards. Wiley had begged me to turn on the record player, picking out something soft to surround us while I made dinner. The faint voice of the singer, the sounds of Wiley giggling as he pushed the car around his feet, and the crackling of the stove fought to drown out my thoughts. 

The noise never did. 

Sometimes I could see the life I had hoped for, grieved over, so easily. 

Wyatt squatted down next to Wiley, one hand on his knee while the other pointed to the car. 

“I bet I can get some paint from the Hob. What color do ‘ya want it to be, Wiles?” He asked, a grin on his face as his look-a-like flashed him a matching smile, with a few teeth missing, of course. 

“Can we do green, daddy?” My baby begged, wide eyes watching carefully as Wyatt pretended to ponder it. I shook my head, about to go back to chopping up some carrots for our stew. 

“What do you think of green, darlin’?” he called to me, eyes sparkling with adoration. I couldn’t help a giggle and a grin, setting my hands on my hip and leaning against the table. 

“I think green is a wonderful color, but if you asked me, I think a nice earthy brown would be better.” I knew Wyatt would have an easier time finding brown than green. Better not to get Wiley’s hopes up. 

Wiley pouted, getting the same look Wyatt just had moments ago, pondering if that really would look better than green. 

“Mama, why would we make my car the color of dirt?” He asked innocently, his big eyes peering into mine full of suspicion. Wyatt let out a gruff laugh under his breath, his hand moving to ruffle Wiley’s hair. 

“We’ll have to think about it more after dinner. Mama’s stew smells pretty good, doesn’t it?” I gave Wyatt a thankful look, finally turning around and adding the carrots. 

I felt large hands come up behind me, pulling me towards a firm chest. Wyatt spread kisses to my neck, smiling shyly into me. No matter how old he got, he was still the shy, awkward boy he’d been in his youth. 

“Smell good darlin’. Always takin’ such good care of us.” I fought back a blush at his words, rapidly losing as red took over my cheeks. 

“Your dad offered to take Wiley this Saturday” I muttered, feeling his shit eating grin get wider at my implication. His grip tightened around my hips, spinning me around abruptly and cupping my face in his hands. 

I let out a breathless laugh at his antics, any protests about dinner falling flat at the way he looked at me. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” He breathed. I furrowed my brows. 

“For what? Making dinner?” He shook his head, chuckling at my question before becoming serious again. 

“For all of this. I didn’t think I’d have this, thought I’d spend the rest of my life with everyone looking down on me, working for my dad. You gave me something else, a whole new life with our boy. The odds of this happening for me were slim, trust me, I know,  and somehow you just came in and wiped the board clean. I never thought I’d love anything as much as I love you and our baby.” He said, voice raw and so honest it made me want to cry. I brought his hand up to my lips, leaving kisses on his palm as he closed his eyes. 

“Eww.”  Wiley’s voice cut through, sticking out his tongue at his father and I. Wyatt opened his eyes, looking into mine before we erupted into laughs. I peeked over his shoulder, my little boy standing with his hands on his hips, face scrunched up in disgust. 

“Aw, get on over here baby.” I said, a smile playing on my face as I made a grabby hand at him. He shook his head, looking away from us as he crossed his arms. 

Wyatt broke from me, taking two steps over before Wiley knew what was happening, swinging our boy over his shoulder as Wiley protested. I swept behind Wyatt, taking Wiley’s face in my hands and spreading quick kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. 

His little protests and frown turned into a fit of giggles, feet kicking, “mama it tickles!” he yelped. 

“Did you mean to say, mama more kisses?” Wyatt asked innocently, turning his head and blowing a raspberry into Wiley’s side, causing laughs to turn hysterical in our sweet little boy. 

I let him breathe for a minute, Wyatt using the chance to pull me into his side as he still held Wiley like a sack of potatoes. He placed a loving kiss on both of our temples, breathing in the moment. 

“What are the odds we can catch fireflies when it gets dark, daddy?” Wiley asked. He loved to ask “what are the odds” before every question, Jethro explaining once what Wyatt used to do, oddsmaking now becoming our boys new obsession. 

Wyatt grinned, looking to me for approval. I rolled my eyes and nodded, never being able to say no to my boys. 

“I’d say pretty good. Even better if you eat all your dinner.” He poked him, causing even more giggles. 

I smiled at my boys, identical in almost every way, utter and completely mine to love and spoil. Both looked at me, matching grins as I poured soup into each of their bowls and motioned for them to sit at the table. 

“What do we say, Wiles?” Wyatt nudged him, Wiley thinking for a minute. 

“Thank you mama!” He exclaimed. Wyatt just nodded and raised an eyebrow. 

“And?” I rolled my eyes at him, picking up my spoon.

“I love you, mama.” My heart melted in my chest at my sweet little boy. Before I got the chance to respond, Wiley asked his father the same question. 

“Daddy, you gotta say it too!” 

Wyatt took a breath, whispering something that sounded like ‘course I do before looking me in the eyes again. 

“Thank you darlin’. I love you.” 

I gave both my boys a big smile, leaning closer to them. 

“Love you both. More than anything.” 

[hannahsturniolo]

ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ғᴀɴ

Warnings: physical fighting, stalker (not sure about anything else?)

Summary: you go to the same coffee shop every Friday morning with the triplets, you made the mistake a few weeks ago of posting an Instagram story of you in the coffee shop, and some guy who was obsessed with you, found out you go there every Friday.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You woke up next to Matt so excited because today is Friday, which means going to your favourite coffee shop with the boys. You made it a tradition.

You got ready, put on one of Matt’s oversized hoodies, black leggings, and your white converse. You put on a little bit of mascara and threw your hair into a bun.

You always post about what you’re doing on social media because you are an influencer. So once you got there, you took a picture of the coffee you ordered which had “Greenhouse coffee shop” written on the side of it, and posted it to your story.

About an hour went past of laughing and talking about life and we went to go exit the coffee shop. Nick and Chris were walking infront of you and Matt walking out hand in hand. You were walking just outside of the coffee shop passing by the windows.

You heard a man say out loud “that’s Y/N.”

You froze. Usually it’s young girls, or some of Matt’s fans that stop you on the street. You’ve never had a man call out to you.

You turn around, and so do the triplets.

“Hi” you said shyly.

“I’m a big fan of yours, and I’d really like a picture.”

You were still thrown off that it was a man, but you weren’t going to be rude, so you said sure. You stood beside him, and Matt stood close by keeping an eye out.

You felt the man go to reach down to your ass.

Matt noticed right away, walked over and put his arm out infront of you, protecting you. Nudging you back just a little bit.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Matt asked the man with a rude tone.

You were now standing behind Matt. Nick and Chris walking up to you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Chris asked.

“Yeah I’m okay, he just tried to grab at my ass.” You said very upset.

“What the fuck.” Chris replied.

The man backed up a little bit, “I’m sorry man, I’m just in love with her.”

“With my girl?? You don’t even know her, you’re a stranger to her!” Matt yelled back.

Chris grabbed your shoulder to pull you further from Matt and the man.

The man still continued. He shoved Matt out of the way trying to come back onto you.

Matt shoved him back.

“You better go now before I get involved” Chris said angry.

“Chris bring her to the car, and lock the doors. I’ll deal with him.” Matt told Chris.

Chris brought you to the car, and Nick stayed with Matt to make sure nothing bad was happening.

“Can you just leave my girl alone? She doesn’t want you” Matt yelled at the guy.

The guy got up in Matt’s face, so Matt punched him.

The guy fell to the ground, got up and started to walk away yelling “one day she’ll be mine!”.

“Just let him walk away. Let’s not start a scene” Nick told Matt. Matt and Nick walked back to the car.

Matt seen you crying in the passenger seat. Matt’s heart dropped.

Matt opened the drivers seat door and sat down, while Nick and Chris were in the back.

Matt turned to you, “I’m sorry baby you had to see that. I was just trying to protect you, no one should grab you like that.”

Matt grabbed your hand.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked you.

“I just can’t believe that happened. What if I was by myself?” You cried into your hands.

“Baby if something like that ever happens and none of us are around, you find the nearest person to help you.” Matt said.

Matt reached over to the passenger seat and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“As long as you’re with any of us Y/N, you’re safe. We’d never let anything happen to you.” Nick says reaching to the front seat putting his hand on your shoulder.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Idk how I feel about this lol. I wrote this in like 20 minutes. Just a thought that popped in my head.

[vibbybee]

you guys don’t now how embarrassing it was trying to explain to my non-enstarrie friend that yes, tomoya mashiro did call me, no I’m not crazy, I have his number