#I have had a crush on at least each of the tropes in the last one

[luckyxmisfortune]

heard of the new farmer?

◇ • ☆ • ◇

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekaid into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, a traitorous consort, and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

Series Masterlist

You’re about three hours deep in line, squashed between a woman wearing an unsettling amount of dragon-themed jewelry and some dude intensely vaping in front of you. The line inches forward at the pace of continental drift, and you’re in no mood to be here.

You're here out of pure, misguided loyalty to your best friend, who’s practically shaking with excitement at the idea of meeting their favourite author—the world-renowned queen of girlboss fantasy.

In a valiant effort to distract yourself from your eternal boredom, you pull up her previous novels on your phone. Maybe, if you understood her work better, you’d understand why people would willingly spend this many hours standing on asphalt.

After skimming through some of her top titles, you can barely believe these are real book plots: Slaying the Patriarchy with My Stilettos? Lipstick and Blood Magic? Each one more ridiculous than the last, filled with protagonists who blast their enemies with a "feminine fury" and, honestly, you're just not buying it.

Why did I agree to this? you think, suppressing the urge to gnaw on your own hand out of boredom.

Suddenly, you spot a stray bird above—a pigeon, wobbling through the sky like it's had one too many lattes. You barely register the bird's existence until it lets out an alarming squawk and, in a tragic twist of fate, plummets from the heavens right towards your head.

In a perfect shot, it bonks you directly in the face, knocking you backward with an impressively dramatic flair. You spiral down, your vision blurring as you fall in slow motion, gasping.

In the last seconds of your consciousness, as chaos erupts around you, one solemn thought echoes through your mind: I hate pigeons.

And with that, you drift off into oblivion, serenaded by the panicked cries of your best friend and the distant wail of someone’s Lipstick and Blood Magic audiobook playing on full blast nearby.

You wake up, blink, and immediately realize that your bed is both way too luxurious and way too large. Rich, velvet curtains drape around you, shimmering with gold embroidery.

A chandelier overhead sparkles with enough jewels to fund at least three public libraries. The air smells like a mixture of incense, rose petals, and maybe faint hints of… burning tyranny?

Oh, dear God. You’ve been isekai’d.

Straight into that novel you were doom-scrolling through to survive the crushing boredom of line-waiting.

Your mind reels back to the summary you’d read. The heroine, a weepy maid with all the emotional range of wet toast. The consort, a charming traitor with “dreamy eyes” who betrays his own Empress for said toast. And then, of course, the villainess.

That poor, genius Empress who actually had talent and ambition, who could annihilate anyone with a flick of her wrist and yet was somehow destined to lose it all because of a love triangle involving a glorified housekeeper.

And now—you are that Empress. The Villainess Extraordinaire, Scourge of Kingdoms, War-Waging Prodigy, Mary Sue on Steroids… and now you're stuck in this tragic play of bad romance tropes.

You shoot upright in bed, taking it all in. Lavish room. Silk sheets. Jewels littered around like confetti. And then you notice a presence by your bedside. You whip your head to see… her. The heroine.

She's standing there, looking down at you with the wide-eyed wonder of someone who hasn’t yet discovered a single personality trait. Her face is soft, angelic, and you already know that beneath those doe eyes lies… absolutely nothing.

She's here to dress you, a task that apparently requires thirty minutes of excessive hair-braiding, enough layers to construct a mattress, and endless, mind-numbing conversation about the consort.

Oh, right. The consort. Your dear, disloyal boy toy who’ll soon be scheming against you. He’s probably off somewhere sharpening his cheekbones in a mirror, wondering if he can pull off “soulful yet traitorous” in the same expression.

The heroine starts tugging on your hair, a bit too enthusiastically for your taste. "Your Majesty," she coos, “Your consort was asking for you yesterday. He misses your attention."

You mentally scream. I'm running an empire, Susan! Who cares about his feelings right now? You're barely awake, freshly isekai'd, and trying to mentally tally your enemies, not exactly in the mood for his fragile ego.

And, technically, aren’t you the one in need of support here? Not the consort, who apparently needs a throne, a palace, and a shoulder to cry on every two hours.

"Oh," you manage to reply, voice dripping with an irritation that you pray she interprets as imperial grace. "Tell him… I’m thinking about military reforms."

The heroine’s eyes flicker in confusion. "Military reforms?"

"Yes. Reforms. Vital to the stability of our empire." You wave a hand, and she clearly has no idea what you're talking about. This maid was not hired for her intellectual curiosity, that’s for sure.

Then comes the worst part: her doe eyes start misting over. Great. You forgot. Crying is, apparently, her most crucial skill set. She clutches a sleeve to her chest, looking at you as if you’ve announced the arrival of a natural disaster. "Your Majesty… but what about your consort?"

You take a deep breath. Focus. How did this woman end up so crucial to the plot? What was it about her that was supposed to outshine an entire empire? It’s as if she’s constructed entirely from damp tissues and vague romantic inclinations. And this is the girl who’s going to take you down?

But you’re already devising a plan. You’ll keep tabs on her. Outwardly, you’ll play the role of the intimidating yet graceful Empress, while inwardly making sure that neither she nor the consort gets a single chance to stab you in the back. And as for the consort himself…

Well, when he finally arrives for his “audience,” you’ll be sure to give him the warmest, most menacing smile in your arsenal. For now, you’ll have to endure the heroine’s dramatic sniffles and the hundred layers of fabric she’s convinced you need.

As she fiddles with a particularly elaborate golden sash, you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Tell me,” you say, feigning curiosity. “What would you do if the palace were to… burn down?”

Her face goes blank for a second. Then, she frowns and wrinkles her nose as if this question is somehow unsolvable. “Um… cry?”

Of course. Absolutely riveting. You sigh and try to look satisfied, which is hard when you’re mentally questioning how this woman has a heartbeat, let alone plot armor thick enough to take you down.

By the time she finishes with your dress, you've already come up with about sixteen ways to save the empire and seventy-two reasons why this love triangle is absolutely ridiculous.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re the picture of beauty and deadly grace, an unstoppable Empress who could wield the fate of kingdoms.

And they want to reduce you to a footnote in the saga of this girl’s whimpering romance?

Well, that’s not happening. You’ve read the novel; you know how this story ends. And now that you’re here, you’re rewriting that ridiculous fate.

You try to keep a dignified expression, but inside, you’re screaming.

The entire reason you’ve gathered the harem is to graciously cut them loose and rid yourself of the ongoing melodrama. Because if there are no consorts, there’s no backstabbing love triangle, no tearful betrayals, and no doomed political coups.

You can practically taste the freedom already—so you clear your throat and begin, putting on your most diplomatic voice:

"Esteemed consorts,” you say, hands clasped. “Thank you for your service and devotion. You are now free to leave and may claim land and titles if you wish to remain in the empire.”

You pause, waiting for cheers or at least some relieved sighs. Instead, dead silence. You glance around and spot the heroine sneaking glances at the traitor consort, eyes brimming with pure unadulterated… something.

She looks like she’s five seconds away from throwing herself across a fainting couch. The consort looks at her for a moment and then back at you, entirely unimpressed.

Maybe they’re just in shock, you think, trying to keep it together. Maybe they need a moment to process the incredible gift of freedom you’ve just given them.

But then, from the back of the room, someone clears their throat—Floyd Leech. He raises his hand, a gleeful glint in his eye that makes your stomach churn.

See, Floyd was not a character that should’ve belonged in this novel. The man was unhinged. Slightly terrifying, if you’re being honest. He treated warfare like a casual hobby and had a grin that said I could absolutely cause problems on purpose.

And the worst part? Floyd was actually one of the few who stuck around in the original plot. After the Empress dies on the battlefield, he takes her body back to his home country, out of sheer love.

He's also the only one who got to call the Empress Regnant herself "Shrimpy" and lived to tell the tale. You'd swoon over the romantic implications if you weren't that same Empress who had bigger problems right now.

You steel yourself. “Yes, Floyd?”

“Can I stay?” he says, looking entirely too happy. “These other guys are boring, but you’re kinda fun to watch.” He stares at you like you’re some sort of exotic animal in a zoo. “Besides,” he adds, throwing an arm over a very uncomfortable-looking consort, “who’s gonna protect you if I leave? These losers?”

God help you.

Before you can even answer, the traitor consort steps forward, expression so intense you can feel it from across the hall. He clears his throat dramatically. “My Empress,” he says, taking a deep, tragic breath. “My heart is bound to you, like—like the tides to the moon. Like—”

In the background, the heroine lets out an audible, swooning sigh. Oh, please, you think. You’ve seen better monologues in toothpaste commercials. The consort glances at the heroine, clearly confused, then goes back to gazing at you with what he probably thinks is soulful longing.

Meanwhile, Floyd is grinning at him, shark-like. “Nice speech, buddy,” he says, clapping the guy on the back hard enough that the consort nearly goes sprawling. “But I think she liked mine better.” He leans in to whisper, loudly, “Besides, I bet you don’t even know her favorite food.”

The consort’s face scrunches. “Do you?”

“Nope!” Floyd beams, looking at you as if expecting some kind of reward. “But I’m gonna figure it out.”

The consort looks like he wants to protest, but before he can, another one of the harem—Lord Something-or-Other—steps forward, visibly shaking with emotion. He kneels, clutching a hand to his heart as if he’s about to propose.

“My Empress,” he says, voice wobbling with way too much sincerity. “Without you, my life is a barren wasteland. I would rather endure the endless, scorching sands of—”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Floyd groans. “Do you guys hear yourselves?”

“Can you not mock me while I pour my heart out?” Lord Something-or-Other snaps back.

“Sure I can. I’m multi-talented,” Floyd replies with a grin that’s somehow both playful and threatening. He leans against the throne, looking completely at home while you fight the urge to dive out the nearest window.

Now everyone’s in a frenzy. Every last one of these men—your so-called “consorts”—are lining up to deliver heartfelt soliloquies, tragic metaphors, and similes so flowery they might as well be a bouquet. You can barely keep a straight face as the next one steps forward, proclaiming that he would “gladly suffer a thousand winters if only to see her smile.”

As if on cue, the heroine wipes a tear from her eye, sighing dreamily. The consort she’s apparently in love with looks at her again, this time with an expression somewhere between pity and terror. But she doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering to herself, “Oh, how romantic…”

And then Floyd leans down and whispers in your ear, voice gleeful. “Y’know, if you let ‘em keep going, they might just start fighting each other for you. Free entertainment. Whaddaya think?”

You feel a headache coming on. “Floyd, please, I’m begging you—”

“What?” he asks, grinning wider. “I thought this was fun. C’mon, Empress,” he drawls, giving the title an absurd little flourish. “Let me stay. I promise I won’t let any of these guys stage a rebellion.” He smirks at the traitor consort. “Unless you feel like rebelling, huh?”

The traitor consort scoffs, bristling. “Unlike some of us,” he says, glaring at Floyd, “my devotion is genuine.”

“And boring,” Floyd mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine, Floyd. You can stay,” you say, hoping that giving him what he wants will end this disaster. You’re immediately filled with regret as his grin widens.

“Awesome! And you know what? Since everyone’s so devoted, why don’t we all stay? Make it a real party.” Floyd tosses an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the death glares from half the room.

Now you’re stuck with fifteen poets, one unhinged eel, and a heroine who’s still making heart eyes at a man who clearly isn’t interested. And as you sit there, feeling your last shreds of sanity slip away, you think, This is going to be a very, very long reign.

You’re making your way through the moonlit palace corridors, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the… experience that spending the night with Floyd Leech is sure to be.

Mostly, you’ve chosen him because, unhinged or not, he’s at least the most loyal out of this whole ridiculous lineup. Plus, there’s a kind of chaotic charm about him, like a very large, very untrained puppy with fangs.

But before you can even make it to his side palace, you’re intercepted.

“My Empress…” It’s the traitor consort. You sigh as he blocks your path, looking like he’s about to burst into tears. He’s clutching his chest dramatically, as if he’s seconds from fainting, and his voice wobbles with pure tragedy.

“Do you not love me anymore?” he blubbers, eyes shining with tears. “Why do you never choose me? Have I done something wrong? Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve graced my chambers?” He’s practically sobbing at this point, clutching at your sleeves like some tragic hero in a soap opera.

You stand there, blinking. “Uh… dude. I… what? ”

He looks at you with the heartbreak of a thousand rom-coms. “I thought you cared about me. I thought I meant something to you…”

You’re trying to process what exactly is happening (and failing spectacularly) when you hear an all-too-familiar voice.

“Yoo-hoo~!” Floyd’s voice echoes down the hall as he appears at the other end, looking like he’s just won the lottery. He practically skips toward you, a grin stretched across his face, his shark-like teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Shrimpy!” he calls out cheerfully, giving you an exaggerated wave. But his cheerful demeanor drops like a rock the moment he sees the traitor consort clinging to you, tears streaming down his face.

Floyd’s grin turns into a much darker smirk, and his eyes narrow dangerously. He tilts his head, sizing up the blubbering man like he’s something he might enjoy crunching on for a midnight snack.

“Oi,” Floyd says, stepping closer, voice dropping into a lower, much more menacing tone. “What’re you doin’, crybaby? Gettin’ all snotty in front of my Shrimpy? That doesn’t seem real respectful, y’know?”

The traitor consort pales instantly, his tear-streaked face going from tragic to terrified in half a second flat. “I—I was just…” he stammers, trying to find an escape route.

“You were just what?” Floyd grins, but there’s absolutely nothing friendly about it now. “You got somethin’ you wanna say to her? ‘Cause I could help you say it better, y’know.” He cracks his knuckles for emphasis, and you swear the traitor consort’s soul nearly leaves his body.

And you? You’re exhausted. Normally, you’re pretty sure the original Empress would step in, say something appropriately royal and dignified to diffuse the situation. But at this point? You’re too tired to deal with either of them, and honestly, watching Floyd scare this guy senseless is a little too satisfying. So you just sigh and cross your arms, waiting it out.

“Look, I— I didn’t mean anything by it,” the traitor consort mutters, eyes darting between Floyd’s unsettling grin and your unimpressed stare. “I’ll… I’ll just go…”

And before you know it, he’s stumbling off, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to escape Floyd’s glare. You can still hear his sniffles echoing down the hall as he disappears.

Floyd watches him go, then turns back to you with an exaggerated pout. “He didn’t even say bye. Rude, huh?” Then, just as quickly, his mood switches back, and he gives you a toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy! Let’s go. You’re finally here!”

And without another word, he loops an arm around you, practically dragging you the rest of the way to his palace. By the time you arrive, you’re half-expecting him to start a monologue or make a big romantic speech, but instead, he plops down on the massive, plush couch, pulling you down next to him with surprising gentleness.

“There we go! See? Ain’t this way better than dealin’ with crybabies?” He laughs, leaning back and throwing an arm over your shoulders.

You give him a look. “Do you actually scare all of them off on purpose?”

Floyd grins, showing all his teeth. “Only the boring ones.” He taps his temple like he’s sharing some brilliant secret. “Can’t have anyone else thinkin’ they’re more special than me, right?”

Honestly, you’re too tired to argue. So you just lean back, letting Floyd prattle on about his grand plans for “getting rid of the competition.” At least, you think to yourself, you’ve successfully survived another day of being Empress.

The banquet table stretches out in front of you, each seat filled by one of your fifteen consorts, who are locked in an elaborate battle of “who’s the cutest?” You watch, sipping your wine like it’s medicinal, as they coo, flirt, and — at least in one unfortunate case — attempt a juggling act.

A consort on your left even starts singing a heartfelt ballad he very obviously wrote himself. You silently make a note to ask Heroine if it’s possible to declare some sort of moratorium on public serenades.

Just when you think the evening can’t get any more surreal, the doors burst open. Floyd strides in, late as usual, with all the grace and subtlety of a pirate commandeering the dinner table.

Without breaking stride, he makes a beeline for the coveted King Consort chair, ignoring the man who’s been trying to occupy it and who now looks as if he’s about to faint.

Floyd’s “gentle” suggestion to move aside comes in the form of a rather forceful nudge, and the poor consort goes skidding two seats down, clutching his untouched plate of tiny hors d’oeuvres.

Floyd plops into the seat, throws his legs up on the table, and proceeds to grab a handful of grapes like he’s claiming territory.

Instantly, fifteen men start having what can only be described as a collective meltdown. One consort gapes at Floyd, cheeks puffing like an indignant chipmunk; another begins audibly hyperventilating. Somewhere on the far end of the table, a man has already shed a single, dramatic tear.

Your maid Heroine sidles up to you, wide-eyed. She whispers loudly, as if she’s sharing a forbidden secret, “Your Majesty! You’ve broken their hearts!”

You stare at her, bewildered. “How? By letting Floyd sit down?”

Heroine nods, lip quivering. “They think you’ve… chosen! That’s the King Consort’s seat!”

“What? ” You glance at Floyd, who’s now lying back, casually chomping on a drumstick he must have acquired from who-knows-where. He doesn’t seem perturbed in the least.

“Yes!” Heroine sniffles, pulling out a lacy handkerchief. “It’s the sacred chair of royal favoritism!” She dabs at her eyes, gazing at you with something akin to heartbreak. “And here I thought you were a romantic.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” You rub your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

One of the consorts, evidently hearing this, begins to wail, “But why, Your Majesty? We loved you!” It’s clear he’s already going to be composing several tragic stanzas about this moment.

Then Floyd — who’s been watching this entire scene with the amused look of someone who’s just discovered he’s won the jackpot — clears his throat, aiming a rather shark-like grin at Heroine. “Hey, little miss servant girl,” he says, his voice sugary sweet with a terrifying edge. “Maybe stop making Shrimpy feel guilty, hmm? Unless you want to join ‘em in the Royal Seat Shuffle?”

Heroine squeaks, as if he’s just offered to turn her into a garden gnome, and stammers an apology, hands fluttering as she edges away.

In the silence that follows, you decide enough is enough. “Thank you all for coming,” you announce, giving your consorts a forced smile. “This has been… lovely. But we’re done for tonight.”

The consorts hesitate, as if they want to protest. But when Floyd gives them one of his very special grins — the kind that says he just might take a whole different seat next — they practically stampede out of the dining hall, leaving behind a trail of emotional debris: teardrops, wilted roses, and a half-eaten plate of pastries.

As the door closes, Floyd leans back with a smirk, throwing an arm casually over the back of his new favorite chair. “So, looks like Shrimpy’s all mine tonight.”

You chuckle, half-exasperated, half-relieved. “Well, seems you chased everyone else off.”

“Don’t be like that,” he purrs, clearly pleased. “You know, you’re different now. Last time, you’d have been practically begging those guys to come back.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I’m just too tired to care anymore.”

He leans in, gaze softening. “Nah. You’ve just gotten tougher. And it looks good on you. The new Shrimpy’s got a spine.”

You smile, almost despite yourself, as Floyd raises his glass, winking. “To the new Shrimpy: long may she rule.”

The annual Talent Showcase Extravaganza for the Empress’s Affections has begun, and your consorts are pouring every ounce of drama and flair they possess into their performances, each desperate to secure that exclusive week at the countryside villa with you.

Unfortunately, it seems that the traitor consort — Mr. ‘I-know-the-theme-because-Heroine-can’t-resist-my-cheekbones’ — is dominating the competition. He’s wowing the audience with a perfectly themed tapestry, and you can already hear the maid giggling over in his cheering section.

This calls for drastic action.

You glance over to where Floyd is occupying himself by tormenting a pair of unfortunate ministers with tales of his more “creative” fishing techniques. With a sigh, you snap your fingers. He looks over, feigning annoyance at being interrupted in what he surely sees as “Minister Horror Story Hour.”

“Shrimpy, what gives? This is the first fun I’ve had since I got here,” he says, hands on his hips.

You clear your throat. “Actually, Floyd, I need you to… win this competition.”

He raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “What, by doing some fancy painting or something? Boring. If you want something painted, Shrimpy, I’ll fish out an octopus to do it for me.”

You take a deep breath. “If you do this, I’ll grant you any wish you want. Plus… an extra reward.”

Floyd pauses, smirking as he steps closer, his voice dropping into an exaggerated whisper. “Any wish, huh? Dangerous promise, Shrimpy.”

You raise an eyebrow, undeterred. “You in or not?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he sighs. “Fine. But I’m not painting. I’ve got something much better planned. Just try not to faint in awe, yeah?”

When Floyd finally unveils his “masterpiece,” the room falls silent. Somehow, he’s cobbled together a mosaic made entirely out of shiny rocks he probably pilfered from the palace’s prize garden.

The piece is of you, looking bold and triumphant, wielding what can only be described as a “battle spoon” against some sea monster (you’re guessing it’s supposed to be a shark, but it might just be a rock that looked vaguely fish-like).

“Ta-da!” Floyd announces, throwing his arms out. “The Empress: Rock ‘n’ Roll Edition. I call it, ‘Shrimpy, Queen of the Waves.’”

Despite yourself, you’re mildly… no, very swoony. Somehow, it’s both absurd and… kind of amazing. Floyd’s grin is pure mischief as he winks at you. “Like it, Shrimpy? Don’t worry, I can make one for the garden too.”

But your moment is interrupted by a loud sniffle from across the room. The traitor consort, clearly irate at being outshone, is tearing up, looking at you with big, watery eyes as if you’re the villain in this scenario. Heroine looks one step away from bolting to his side, but he raises a hand, his voice trembling as he murmurs, “No, I only want the Empress to comfort me.”

You shoot a silent plea to the universe, practically chanting, “Please, mercy, mercy…”

Floyd, never one to ignore an opportunity, steps up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Sorry, bud. Shrimpy’s already spoken for tonight. You’ll have to get in line. Oh, and try not to tear up over her rock portrait, yeah? Not all of us can handle the majesty.”

The crowd erupts in applause, one point to you and Floyd — and you’re pretty sure Heroine’s sulking in the corner, still staring longingly at the sobbing traitor consort, but that’s a future problem. For now, you’ve got a mildly unhinged art piece to hang up and a certain mischievous consort to thank.

It’s another late night in the study when you notice the Heroine, your ever-loyal (if not a little clueless) maid, lingering by the doorway, watching you with an odd expression. At first, you chalk it up to her usual eccentricities. But as the minutes tick by, she doesn’t move, just stands there with a faraway look in her eyes. Finally, you set down your work and gesture for her to come in.

“Hey,” you say gently, “what’s on your mind?”

She hesitates, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s nothing, really…” Then, in a small voice, “It’s just… I never got to study like this.”

Your brow furrows, and as she opens up, the full picture starts to form. The Heroine, despite her noble blood, was barred by her father from studying—her dreams of an education crushed under his outdated beliefs.

She clung to the traitor consort, she confesses, because he seemed like an escape, even if a flimsy one. He was a nobleman with some level of authority, and for her, he felt like the only ticket to a different life.

Understanding sinks in. It’s not love she feels for him at all. It’s desperation, something almost like a distorted version of Stockholm syndrome.

She’s convinced herself he’s her only way out, though it’s clear as day that he doesn’t deserve her loyalty. The man’s barely got two brain cells, but he’s got freedom—and for her, he must have looked like her only way out.

The realization hits you hard, like finding out your favorite dessert is made with broccoli. No wonder she’s been swooning over that guy. She’s not “in love”—she’s just starved for any path out of her cage. Your heart softens, and you give her a gentle, if slightly exasperated, smile.

“Well, that won’t do,” you say firmly. “How about this? I’ll teach you myself. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll get you the education you deserve.”

Her face goes through a series of hilarious expressions, from shock to joy to the kind of wide-eyed, wobbly-lipped excitement normally reserved for puppies seeing their owner after a long day. And so, your lessons begin.

Over the next few weeks, you teach the Heroine to read, and she devours each lesson like a kid in a candy store. She’s throwing herself into her education with such energy, it’s like she’s forgotten the traitor consort entirely.

And you’re thrilled—partly for her growth and partly because it means your coup odds have just dropped by a solid 90%.

Soon, Heroine’s loyalty to you is ironclad, her former starry-eyed infatuation with the traitor consort completely extinguished. You’re so relieved you could dance, and, maybe more importantly, you realize that the kingdom’s other daughters deserve the same chance.

In a flash of imperial inspiration, you draft a new law requiring all daughters, noble or otherwise, to attend the academy. The state will foot the bill, so no one has an excuse to hold their daughters back.

Later that night, feeling unexpectedly sentimental, you return to your room to find Floyd sprawled on your bed, grinning like he’s just heard the world’s juiciest gossip.

“You look smug,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“Nah, just… pleased,” he drawls, giving you that signature mischievous smirk. And before you know it, he pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with unexpected warmth. “Look at my Shrimpy, changing the world one law at a time.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks despite yourself. “Oh, stop it,” you mutter, though you don’t pull away.

He chuckles, giving you an affectionate squeeze. “Nah. You’re doing great, Empress. I’m proud of you.”

You’re speechless. Floyd? Sentimental? But as he holds you, laughing at your stunned expression, you can’t help but feel a little…smitten.

You’re reviewing reports in the study, savoring the rare, blissful calm, when the double doors burst open like some villain from a badly written romance novel. There stands the traitor consort, dressed in what looks like…a suit made of loose, strategically placed peacock feathers, a sequined sash, and—oh, yes—face glitter.

He strikes a pose, does a dramatic hand flip, and announces, “Behold! My love for you is eternal, as boundless as the stars, and as bold as my outfit!”

You're thinking about ordering Floyd to chase him out with a chair, when you catch Heroine’s expression—somewhere between horror and volcanic rage.

With a fierce gleam in her eye, she steps in front of you, looking like she’s about to deliver an exorcism. “You…” she begins, her voice so cold even the peacock feathers on his shoulders look like they might molt in fear. “You miserable, egotistical, fashion-disaster-in-waiting!”

He’s stunned, blinking like a child caught sneaking candy. “W-what? Heroine, you used to help me with my plans!”

“Yeah, well, that was before I got a brain cell,” she snaps. “I actually know my worth now, and it’s definitely not tied to whatever fever-dream cape situation you’ve got going on.” She points to his glittering sash. “What, did you rob an arts-and-crafts store on the way here? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

He stammers, visibly shrinking, feathers quivering with fear. “Y-you were always there for me…”

“That was when I was too naive to realize you were the human equivalent of a trash fire!” She’s in full swing now, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, spitting out insults that would make the court jester blush. “Please, the Empress has standards, and you’re down there with questionable cabbage soup.”

He reels back, totally caught off-guard. By this point, you’re honestly not sure if you should applaud or slowly back away.

With a smirk, you lean forward and say, “Well, since you’re dressed for the occasion, why don’t you strut that ridiculous ensemble back to your own country?”

He opens his mouth, gapes like a fish, and finally closes it, completely defeated. Without another word, he shuffles out, feathers dragging behind him in a sad little pile.

The second he’s out of earshot, you sigh, look up, and thank the universe for finally sparing you from that headache. The Heroine just dusts her hands off, grinning like she’s just won the greatest battle of her life, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how terrifyingly competent she’s become.

Floyd has been hounding you about his reward for days now, showing up at all hours with the persistence of a cat at dinner time. You’re mid-sentence in a policy meeting, mid-sip at dinner, even mid-bath when you hear him shout from outside the door, “Hey, Shrimpy! Remember my prize? Don’t forget now!”

Finally, in a moment of resignation, you sigh and wave him in. “Fine, Floyd. What do you actually want?”

He grins, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that should probably have you worried. “Make me king consort.”

You open your mouth, ready to laugh and then say something like, “No chance,” but then…you pause. Because—why not? He’s loyal, he’s your particular brand of chaos, and honestly, the idea of using it as an excuse to disband the harem is almost too good.

You’d get to tell everyone you’d found the “love of your life” and keep your mornings free of peacock-feathered declarations of eternal devotion.

“Alright, Floyd,” you say, shrugging as if you just agreed to a dinner plan and not a royal title. “You’re king consort.”

For a solid five seconds, he’s frozen, blinking like he’s not sure if you just announced the best prank of the century or an actual royal decision.

Then, with a roar of laughter, he picks you up, actually tossing you in the air like a sack of grain. “SHRIMPY, I’M KING CONSORT! WOOOO!”

Ministers nearby practically leap out of their chairs in terror, and one drops his teacup with a spectacular crash.

“Oh, and by the way,” he says, setting you down but keeping a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t think I forgot—I still get that week alone with you in the countryside. Just you, me, and the great outdoors.”

You’d expected to feel dread, but instead…you’re kind of excited? Because it turns out, when there’s no glittered consort in sight, Floyd’s brand of mayhem might just be exactly what you needed.

You’re slumped on the throne, staring into the void as a minister drones on about the scandalous rise in scarf-wearing among the commoners.

The man is red-faced and foaming at the mouth as if he’s narrating the downfall of civilization itself instead of just… knitted accessories. With each drawn-out sentence, your urge to grab his own scarf and dramatically tie it around his face grows stronger.

“And, Your Majesty, don’t you agree that such… frivolousness undermines the dignity of the empire?” he sputters.

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, one mental toe dangling into the sweet abyss of existential crisis. How did your life get to this point? Did the previous Empress really deal with scarf politics? You contemplate just passing the crown to the nearest potted plant. Surely it couldn’t do worse.

Then, like a savior bathed in sunlight, Floyd appears. He slinks in casually, eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of glee and malice. He takes one look at Wedgeworth’s scarf-induced fervor and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I see the scarf issue is really eating away at the Empire,” Floyd deadpans, clearly unamused at the absurdity.

The minister stammers, blinking like he’s never been interrupted in his life. “Well, actually, I was explaining to Her Majesty—”

Floyd raises a hand. “I’ll take it from here, Lord Scarfington. Very urgent royal matters, wouldn’t want to keep the Empress from them, now would we, hmm?”

The ministers exchange horrified looks, but when Floyd locks eyes with them, his expression darkens into a gaze that could probably scare the teeth off a shark. Ministers shuffle out, muttering about “the sanctity of scarves” and how they “never liked those shellfish folk anyway.”

When you’re finally alone, you look at Floyd, and he gives you a grin. “Come on, Shrimpy, I’ve got a surprise.”

He leads you through a series of narrow, winding hallways you didn’t even know existed until you arrive at a small, hidden courtyard surrounded by high walls and shaded by some flowering trees.

In the middle of it is a picnic spread that looks… questionable. There’s food you don’t recognize: odd, glistening items that could pass as snacks in a very brave galaxy.

“I brought some delicacies from the Coral Sea,” Floyd announces, looking way too proud. “I even cooked some of this myself.”

You smile, hoping he means the less suspicious dishes, but as you take a bite of one of the “unique” items, you immediately realize your error. It’s a taste explosion, and not in a good way; you’re fairly certain you just ate something alive. Floyd’s already laughing, watching you try to hold back a gag.

“Oh, that’s rich, look at your face!” He claps his hands, doubled over with laughter.

But then you try the food he actually cooked, and it’s… it’s really good. Your eyes widen. “Floyd, you didn’t tell me you could cook!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Guess you just have that effect on me, Shrimpy.”

As you eat, you feel the weight of scarf debates and mundane ministerial crises slip away. Floyd’s teasing you about your reaction to the Coral Sea snacks, you’re pretending to smack him, and somewhere between the laughter and the food, you realize you’re completely relaxed. You’re even… happy.

Then he casually picks up a pillow, eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, Shrimpy,” he says slowly, “bet I can take you down.”

“Bring it, fish-boy,” you fire back, grabbing a pillow.

A feather flies. Then another. In no time, the two of you are engaged in a full-on pillow war, feathers floating through the air in chaotic puffs. You swing a pillow with all your might, narrowly missing Floyd, who dodges and counters with a playful shove, sending you sprawling onto the blanket, laughing so hard you’re almost crying.

In the flurry of feathers and laughter, you realize just how much you care about him. And as if reading your mind, Floyd suddenly stops, pinning you down, his face hovering just inches above yours. His usual playful grin fades into something softer, more serious, and you find yourself staring up at him, completely captivated.

You kiss him, right there, surrounded by scattered feathers and half-eaten snacks. “I think I’m in love with you, Floyd,” you whisper.

He grins, looking almost smug. “Knew you’d come around eventually, Shrimpy. You’re a smart one.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and pull him into another kiss, feeling lighter than you have in ages. Whatever royal nonsense tomorrow brings, you know you’ve got him—and for now, that’s more than enough.

Vacation plans with Floyd start out so simple in theory, but the minute he said, “Countryside? Nah, Shrimpy, we’re going under the sea,” you just nodded because, hey, you did promise a reward. Plus, how bad could it be?

Bad, it turns out, is relative. Upon arrival, Jade, Floyd’s brother, gives you a grin that says welcome, poor soul. “So, my brother’s finally gone and gotten himself an Empress. How unexpected,” he says with a glint in his eye that suggests he’s got a bet running on how long you’ll last.

But you’ve barely survived Jade’s interrogation when Azul, Coral Sea’s resident business octopus, swims up with an entire briefcase of contracts and a grin that spells danger.

“Welcome, Your Majesty! I thought we might discuss a mutually beneficial agreement,” he says smoothly, his tone so charming you almost miss that the contract slides in a 50-year lease on your kingdom’s fishing industry.

“So that’s how it is here,” you think, snapping back to business mode. You haggle until both sides are happy, but the second you reach across to shake Azul’s hand, Floyd swoops in, sighing dramatically. He grabs your hand, practically prying it out of Azul’s. “Alright, Shrimpy, enough time with the fish dealer. You’re mine this week.”

Before you can blink, he’s thrown you over his shoulder like you’re a stray potato sack, striding away from an open-mouthed Azul and an utterly delighted Jade who looks like he's a minute away from bursting out popcorn.

By the time he hauls you to your guest room and plops you on the bed, his usual grin has given way to an expression you’ve only seen on annoyed cats. He’s holding your hand in a grip that could rival steel, not letting go even as he sulks like a kid who just lost his favorite toy.

“Floyd,” you say slowly, “is something wrong?”

He looks away, puffing out his cheeks, refusing to answer. It's downright adorable in an overgrown, slightly unhinged eel sort of way. You squint at him, reaching over to grab his face, smushing his cheeks together until he finally makes eye contact. “Hey, I can’t read your mind, Floyd. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He mutters something too low to hear, and you lean closer, arching a brow. “What was that?”

“You’re my Shrimpy,” he grumbles louder, still not meeting your eyes. “And the handshake with that fish scammer went on too long.”

It takes every ounce of self-control not to burst into laughter. “So that’s it, huh?” A laugh slips out despite your efforts, and his pout deepens, though his grip on your hand stays as firm as ever. “You silly eel,” you chuckle, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “As if anyone could match me like you do?”

That does it. His expression softens, the pout melting into that slightly unhinged, overly excited Floyd smile you know too well. “See, Shrimpy, that’s why you’re the only one for me!” he practically shouts before pulling you into a spin that has you clinging to him for dear life.

He kisses you again, and you’re so breathless you half-expect a storm outside to rise to match.

But it doesn’t matter—he’s too busy swearing up and down that he’s not letting anyone else get a “single fin” on you. And somehow, as you laugh together, it feels like you really are on a vacation you never knew you needed.

The ceremony for crowning Floyd as your King Consort goes all-out, much to your delight—and, judging by the expressions around the room, their absolute horror. The whole throne room is so packed with flowers and banners it might as well be a festival.

You’ve made sure that this is a spectacle the diplomats and ministers will never forget. After all, the more smitten you look with Floyd, the less they’ll try to “reason” you out of it. And if they have any opinions about your choice, well, they can keep it to themselves—or they can talk to Floyd.

As you lean in to place the crown on Floyd’s head, he’s giving you a smirk so bright you swear it’s practically a stage light. The second the crown touches his head, he dips you into a kiss that is equal parts “fairytale ending” and “scandalized gasp from the old guard.” The ministers are barely holding in a collective gasp. Someone clutches their chest like they might need medical attention.

Over on the sidelines, you can see Jade and Azul clapping way too enthusiastically for the room’s mood. Meanwhile, everyone else looks like they’re watching you deface a holy artifact. You pull back with a satisfied smile, fully aware of the whispers swirling through the room.

Now, to seal this newfound reign in your own… unique way.

You turn to the front rows where your now-ex-harem stands, looking various shades of awkward and confused. These “prizes” will be going back to their respective nations, and it’s about time. “Ambassadors,” you announce, your tone absolutely oozing sincerity, “I believe you’ll be taking back your… prizes. Enjoy.”

The diplomats exchange looks, clearly unsure if they should feel insulted or relieved. You give them a regal wave and watch as they shuffle out with the ex-consorts in tow, one of whom lets out a dramatic sigh loud enough to reach the rafters.

Just as the room finally starts calming down, you glance over at the row of your ministers—many of whom look like they’d rather have run off with the consorts.

These are the ancient relics of nepotism who have only ever accomplished growing their own egos and possibly a few money-siphoning schemes. You decide now’s the time to deal with them, too.

Smiling so politely it almost looks sweet, you say, “Ministers, thank you for your service. But I’m sure you’ll understand when I say…” You pause, voice dropping to an icy sweetness, “You’re dismissed. Please kindly fuck right off.”

Several of the men freeze, as if unsure they heard you correctly. One or two start spluttering, “But—Your Majesty—this is—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Floyd cuts in, grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re free to go! You wouldn’t want to disappoint the Empress, would ya?”

It takes a second, but the room clears of protesting ministers soon enough. Then you turn to the waiting group of young scholars, women who fought their way up to the top on pure merit, many of them owing their presence here to your recently passed education reforms. “Welcome,” you say with a genuine smile. "Your interviews will be conducted tomorrow"

Their reactions are priceless. Several tear up on the spot, whispering thank-yous so heartfelt you nearly tear up yourself. One of them murmurs, “This is a dream come true. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

You feel a swell of pride. This is what you’ve wanted to see—a competent court, fresh talent, and the chance to make a real difference. Just as you’re soaking in the satisfaction of this triumph, Floyd leans over, clearly up to something.

“You’re done now, yeah?” he asks with a conspiratorial grin.

“Uh, yes?” You've barely said the words, only for him to suddenly scoop you up and throw you over his shoulder, entirely ignoring the royal dignity of it all. The young scholars stare, completely unsure of whether to salute or run.

“Floyd!” you half-laugh, half-scold. “You could at least let me walk out on my own!”

“Nah,” he says, casually strolling down the hall with you like you’re a sack of potatoes. “You’re mine now, Shrimpy. And besides, it’s tradition for the King Consort to carry his Empress, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” you mutter, but you wave cheerfully at everyone as you’re carried off.

As he strides out of the throne room, ignoring the horrified gasps and protests behind you both, Floyd grins. “Any more old men to fire? ‘Cause I’m having a great time.”

You shake your head, smiling. After all, you’re the Empress—who’s going to stop you now?

Your empire has transformed. The old guard, once weighed down by nothing but scarves and scandals, has finally given way to a bright-eyed group of scholars and ministers, most of whom—much to the old ministers' horror—are brilliant young women now leading the realm.

Among them is your ex-maid, the heroine herself, newly appointed as Minister of Diplomatic Affairs and already so intimidatingly competent that foreign diplomats quake just a bit when she enters the room.

And the grandest twist of all: you declare that your successor will not be by blood but by merit. The heir to the throne will be the sharpest, most capable mind in the empire, regardless of their birth.

You’re already giddy as you imagine the ambitious parents prepping their offspring for the grueling tests you’re planning—challenges you’ll design alongside your newly assembled council.

After hours of being regal and respectable, you finally get back to your chambers, ready for a night of blissfully ignoring politics. Floyd, your beloved eel, is already sprawled on the couch like he’s conquered half the known world, arms open and ready to receive you. You practically collapse into his embrace, sighing as you burrow against him.

“So, Shrimpy,” he drawls, smirking. “Fix the whole empire yet?”

“Almost,” you laugh. “At least I’ve retired the Scarf Parliament. That’s enough for today.”

You snuggle closer, closing your eyes, and for a second, you think back to the ridiculous, drama-filled story that threw you into this life. Maybe the original author had a point, or maybe she just really liked throwing you curveballs.

Either way, cuddled up with the love of your life while your empire flourishes, you can’t help but think, yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing.

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[girasollake]

Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.

She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date

Thank youuu!

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧

(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x

told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it

i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.

‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’

‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’

¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.

‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.

‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’

‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.

SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’

You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.

‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.

‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.

You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.

‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.

‘Of course.’ You smiled.

‘I have a question.’

‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘

‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’

‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’

‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.

Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.

‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.

‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.

‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’

‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.

‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.

‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’

‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.

His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.

He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’

You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.

‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’

‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.

‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’

The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.

He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.

He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.

‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.

‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.

‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’

‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.

‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.

You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’

‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.

Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.

He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.

‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.

His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.

‘I lied.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’

‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’

‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’

‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’

‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’

‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

@ girasollake 2024

[gilverrwrites]

Something cute and smutty with either Tim Drake or Roy ?

AND: What about a one bed trope for Tim pls??

Dream a little dream of me

Tim Drake/Reader, ≈1.8K AN: I don't know if theres such a phrases as 'porn first, questions later' but thats what this is lmao. I'm glad theres an audience for Tim, cause as much as I love the other Robins (wink wink Dick), as a bisexual 90s kid, Tim really is my Robin, ya know? CWs: Somnophilia (but not really), dry humping, intercrural sex/thigh job, hand job, Petnames: Baby, sweetheart Tropes: One bed, friends to lovers, porn with feelings. GN!Reader

Sleeping beside you is neither new nor unusual for Tim. You’d been close friends for years, he’d crashed in your bed after many a patrol, you’d had film or study nights at the manor which always ended with you hogging his bed sheets, and in more recent years you’d huddled together on the cramped mattress he called a bed in the lower deck of his boat on multiple occasions. It had always been so natural and innocent, so why was this hotel bed any different? Well, because his budding, inappropriate crush on you had grown in the time since you’d last shared a comforter; Tim had been having not-so-innocent dreams about you.

Dreams where he got to touch, tease, and taste every inch of your exposed skin until you’re a babbling, pleading mess. Dreams where he silenced your breathy cries and begs by telling you to “be good baby”, spreading your legs, and running the tip of his cock along your entrance. Where you look at him with those big, dreamy eyes of yours right up until it’s too much, until he’s bottomed out inside of you and you can’t help but throw your head back, calling out his name as you dig your nails into his back.

“That feels... so… good.” The sound of your voice calls out to him, but your dream self is in no position to be speaking so coherently.

Wait, dream?

His mind is fuzzy as he wakes, still heavy with sleep, part of his brain tries desperately to clutch onto the fleeting imagery in his head until he realises two very important things;  

1. Your body is pressed against his. You’re turned away from him, but he can still feel your warmth, the pressure of your back to his chest, your ass to his… crotch. 2. His ‘crotch’ is rock hard.

Despite all instinct telling him to immediately pull away, he waits. Concerned his sudden movement might cause you to stir, he slows himself. Forcing his body to hold back so he can remove himself in increments. Just a little bit, and then a bit more, and more? He swears he’s doing it, swears he’s at least half a foot away from where he’d been upon waking, but you’re still pushing against him, still rolling your hips.

“Tim~”

It’s at this moment Tim has a third, pivotal realisation.

3. You’re grinding on him.

The sound of Tim’s low voice whispering your name against the shell of your ear slowly coaxs you awake. Every warm breath against your skin sends a rush of heat to your already aching sex. You’d been having such a peaceful, steamy dream in which your best friend, and secret crush; Tim had been tenderly rocking his cock into you from behind. As you take in the hotel room and the hotness of Tim’s body spooning into you, you can’t tell if you’re awake or still dreaming.

“Can you feel that?” His hushed voice pierces the quietness of the room and you’re not sure what he’s talking about until he surges forward, further pressing the hardness of his clothes cock into the curve of your ass.

“Yes.” You murmur, only intending to answer his question but your sleeply lust-ridden psyche keeps talking. “Don’t stop, I like it.”

“Yeah?” He’s so grateful you’re not looking at him in that moment, otherwise, you’d see the undeniable redness currently rushing to his cheeks. Even in the dark of the night, he’s sure it’s glowing through. “I think we’ve been humping each other in our sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” The fear of his rejection is immediately thrown out when you feel his lips on your pulse point, but you have to ask anyway. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, god no.” He trails soft kisses along the side of your neck, each one growing sloppier until he finds and fixates on your jaw for far too short a time. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasised about this. About you. I want you so bad.”

“I want you too, Tim.” A million and one thoughts run through his head in that moment. How much time had the two of you wasted skirting around the subject? What does this mean for your future and your friendship? The only thing he doesn’t think of as he absent-mindedly ruts against you is the one you ask. “Do you have any protection?”

“I have my Red Robin suit in my case.” It’s a dumb joke he can’t help but make, you laugh anyway and he thinks he might love you for it.

“No, but that’s okay. We can make this work.” You hear the snap of your waistband hitting your hip before you feel it. Tim had playfully pulled it taught before letting go to pull down his boxers. Getting the point, you take his cue, shimmying out of your own underwear just in time for Tim to reattach himself to your back and press his open mouth to your shoulder. “Spread your legs baby.”

As you do, Tim slides his cock between them. You wish you’d turned the light on so you could get a better look, but no force on earth could pry you away from him now. Understanding his plan, you don’t wait to be told to close your legs again, engulfing his length with the soft skin of your inner thighs and slowly beginning to rock your hips.

Tim reached over your body, grazing his deft fingers around your waist and across your stomach. A whine escapes your lips as he dips lower to rub along the length of your arousal, his cock twitches between your legs. Knowing it's so close makes you feel empty, makes you ache to feel him deep inside you, makes the tension in your core coil even more.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dripping.” He can hear the wonderment in his own voice as he glides his thumb around you. In response you clench your thighs even harder around his cock, making him groan into your neck.

It isn’t long before your grinding hard and fast around his dick, gripping his arm as you get lost in the moment. The combined sensations feels so good, and you can’t get enough.

Neither can Tim. He could never have dreamed that the reality would feel so good. He’s in awe of the way your body moves, of the pornographic noises you’re making for him. He can barely focus. He wants to hold on longer, wants to bask in your warmth and scent for as long as possible but your merciless rhythm and the feel of your thighs around his throbbing cock has him chasing his climax way too soon.

“Are you close?” He sputters. You answer with a string of incomprehensible whimpers and a weak nod. He isn’t even in you, and you’re already drunk on your best friend. You’d be ashamed if you had the capacity to care in that moment. “Come with me?”

It’s a question, not a command. This is a partnership, he wants you to feel connected, not controlled and that has your toes curling.

Simultaneously your thrusting becomes strained, and more erratic as his pumping grows faster, and sloppier, both of you getting lost in your highs but still determined to ride out the other, filling the room with deep, ragged breaths until you’re shuddering in his arms, savouring every last remnants of pleasure. The way his strong hands cup your body has you feeling safe in your post-orgasm euphoria.

It isn’t until you feel the moisture of your combined cum seeping into the fabric below you that you remember there’s a world outside of you and him. You sit up simultaneously, Tim reaches for the bedside lamp and is stunned by the sight of your sweat-sheened skin and heavy eyes when he turns back. Completely unaware that you’re thinking the same thing about his flushed cheeks and fluffy bedhead.

You gesture to the puddle you’re currently half-sat in and joke; “The hotel cleaners are going to hate us.”

Before you can exit the bed, Tim is on his feet and rushing to the ensuite. He returns a moment later with a roll of tissues and a damp cloth. You’ve rolled over, face down on his side of the bed in an attempt not to spread the fluids even more and he gets to work wiping the cum from your leg in slow, circular motions. It shouldn’t take this long, you both know it, he’s just enjoying the moment.

“That was really…” You’d wanted to fill the silence, but now you’re not sure how to finish, you don’t want to scare him away with your excitement, but you want him to know how good he made you feel. “Really wow.”

“Really wow.” He repeats with a teasing snicker, dodging when you reach out to playfully smack his shoulder. “What? What? It was wow.”

He’s teasing. With a 147 IQ, he knows a better word than wow, but he’s choosing to repeat yours, tone and all. It’s not like he hasn’t messed with you before, and you’ve always been able to dish it back, but now feels different. Now is different.

“So, I take it we’re not just friends anymore?” You ask as he climbs over you to work on the wet patch. Eventually, he finds a position kneeling at the bottom of the bed, and you roll over once more, now seated and positioned to watch him.

“Um, no.” He coughs, not to clear his throat but to prolong his time to think of an answer. Your gaze is making him nervous. He doesn’t know what you want him to say, doesn’t want to come on too strong and ruin your friendship, but he also doesn’t want to seem too lax, to make you think he’s just using you or that he’s not interested in something more than friendship. “Friends definitely don’t do that.”

“So, what are we?” You push, not missing the way his adams-apple bobs as he swallows back his nerves.

“I don’t know.” His chest immediately grows tight at the hurt look that spreads across your face. Fuck it, now or never. “But whatever we are, I’m yours.”

Your expression doesn’t immediately change, and he worries he’s misread your reaction. Assumed that you want him the way he wants you.

“If you want me that is.” He continues, trying to save face.

“Of course, I want you, Tim.” He hadn’t realised how tense the conversation was making him until he heard those magic words. In seconds you’re face to face with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to offer your body as comfort. You’ve always been able to read and react to him so well, like you were programmed for him. “You can be mine, if I can be yours.”

Then he feels your lips pucker against his hairline, and despite having climaxed between your legs only minutes earlier, he’s suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been. Gently, you drag your lips down his face, leaving kisses along his brow line, his cheekbones, and his jowls until you're inches from his own lips.

Your eyes dart back and forth between his own eyes and his mouth, he licks his lips in preparation for yours and then you’re on him, lips locked, tangled in each other’s arms.

There’s a drying stain waiting to be cleaned, and a long day ahead of you both tomorrow, but right now none of that matters.

[nichoswag]

Hey Rei! I've been thinking for a while if I should send a prompt request or not, but here we go. 😂 (Hope you'll like it lol)

So my idea is #15 "Please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there." with a fake dating trope. And the idol who first came to my mind was Heeseung, I feel like he would match this well! You're free to decide the atmosphere of the story, I, personally was just feeling funny haha. I hope you'll have fun with this request! <33

flirt . lee heeseung

prompt: "please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there."

pairing: fake bf!heeseung x gn reader

warnings: fake dating au, lots of flirting, kissing, teasing, like one light innuendo

song rec: into it - chase atlantic (warning: song is extremely sexual)

a/n: hii marine! admittedly i did push this to the top of my list because i feel a bit more inclined to complete reqs from my moots ♡ sorry it took so long, but i did have a lot of fun with this request!! i hope you enjoy :))

if someone were to ask you how you got in this situation, you honesly couldn't say you have a clue.

walking into your childhood friend's parents' house hand-in-hand with him, you're still questioning how you got here.

well, to put it simply, you and heeseung grew up together. you even went to college together, and now you're back home together. but, you're now actually together.

at least, that's what you've told both of your parents, after constant nagging and pleading from both ends for you both to date someone. so, your solution was to pretend you're both dating each other.

now, you're shaking due to the nerve of the roles you're both about to play.

heeseung squeezes your shaking hand that's placed in his, sending you a reassuring smile. "hey, it's fine. we're only doing this to get them off our backs."

your heart flutters at his smile and the kind action.

mrs lee opens the door for the both of you. "____! it's so nice to see you," she exclaims, pulling you into a hug.

"moooom," heeseung whines. "what about me?"

she chuckles. "oh, hush. i haven't seen ____ in years."

as she welcomes the two of you into her house, you realize how natural this feels after all. besides, you and mrs lee have always been close, as your moms are best friends, so she's like a second mom to you anyway.

heeseung leads you through the wide hall into the large dining room. sending you a wink, he pulls back your chair for you. you send him a weird look as you sit down, but he ignores it and pushes your chair in, taking a seat next to you.

diagonal from where you and heeseung sit, your fathers are arguing about who's lawnmower does the better job. you chuckle at their pettiness as your mother chastises your dad for picking a fight over such a stupid thing. things haven't changed at all.

you're immersed in a conversation with heeseung until someone takes a seat across from you. it's heedo, your fake boyfriend's older brother.

and your childhood crush.

there's a girl sitting next to him, and they're holding hands, just as you and heeseung were a few minutes ago.

heeseung seems to notice your curiosity, because he leans closer to speak into your ear. "that's yeri, heedo's girlfriend." he takes your hand again and squeezes it. "are you okay? we can leave if you're uncomfortable," he offers, knowing about your long-term crush on his brother.

you shake your head. "i'm alright. just surprised."

he nods, understanding. "are you over him? i mean, you've dated since you last saw him."

"i think so, actually." you smile, nostalgia hitting you suddenly. "he was my childhood crush, so i guess it's just weird for me. it's not like i haven't seen him with a girl before."

you remember the time you saw him making out with a girl at a party him and heeseung had thrown in high school while yours and their parents were on a trip. you'd then gotten drunk on wine to the point of throwing up, and heeseung had held your hair back half the night at your house while you threw up.

then, when he brought his first girlfriend for dinner with his parents. heeseung had invited you over, not knowing he was there with his girlfriend, and you'd spent the evening crying in his room while he held you.

heeseung grins at you, seemingly remembering those nights too. you feel eternally grateful to have someone like him in your life.

he presses a kiss to your temple, seemingly trying to keep up the act. "you hungry, cutie?"

you nod shyly, blushing as he ruffles your hair. "starved."

within a few moments, heedo and heeseung get up to help their mother bring plates of food from the kitchen and set them in the middle of the large dining table.

yeri stares at you across the table. you feel self-conscious as she eyes you up and down, as if she's analyzing how big of a threat you are to her.

heeseung catches a glance at her eyeing you as he sits down, sighing as he realizes what's going on. he glares back at her, and she just smiles innocently, fixing a napkin on her lap. she glares at you as she kisses heedo on the cheek.

"what's her problem?" heeseung whispers in your ear.

you shrug. "i have no clue. I've literally just been sitting here."

he rolls his eyes. "i hope she doesn't cause a scene."

dinner does end up going without a hitch. besides a few more glares from yeri when heedo asks about your experiences in university and settling into your new job, you feel at ease. even when yours and heeseung's parents ask how you two began dating, you're able to answer the questions just as the two of you practiced earlier.

you notice heeseung looking at you with an expression you don't recognize throughout dinner. almost like admiration, except his eyes are fiery. you just think he's playing the role of your loving boyfriend.

mrs lee brings out a tray of sweets. "anyone hungry for dessert?" she practically sings.

heeseung grins and leans close. "mine's already here." he places a hand on your knee.

you choke on your own spit, and he pats your back. "please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there," you whisper-yell into his ear as everyone stares at you both.

your hear giggles, and you realize everyone must have heard what you said.

your mother smiles sweetly at the both of you. "don't worry, we're not judging you. the two of you are adorable."

you blush furiously, and heeseung ruffles your hair again.

yeri huffs from across the table, and you realize she must be jealous of the attention you two are receiving as a couple, not insecure of her relationship. she busies herself with fixing heedo's collar aggressively.

he grabs her hands as the attention turns to them. "what is your problem? you've been like this all evening. can't you just act normal?"

heeseung stifles a laugh from beside you and you nudge him with your elbow. "what's funny?"

he leans over to whisper in your ear for the third time tonight. "just that they're seemingly an actual couple and they get along worse than us."

you giggle, and yeri turns to glare furiously at you. "what the fuck is funny, you callous bitch?"

there are gasps all along the table, and heeseung nearly stands up defensively before you grab his arm to pull him down.

"don't think i haven't noticed you flaunting you perfect boyfriend all night." she laughs mockingly. "you're like a three. how did you manage to pull that guy?"

"get out." heedo glares at his probably soon-to-be-ex girlfriend, motioning towards the hall that leads to the front door.

"what?" her tough front cracks as she wears a scared face. "heedo-"

"i said. get. out." he gets up, pulling her up with him and marching toward the hallway.

you can hear the yelling and screaming still. "i've told you before, she's like a fucking SISTER to me! who are you to talk to my family like that?" "SHE WAS TAUNTING ME WITH HER PERFECT GUY-"

eventually, the screaming is muffled as it seemingly continues outside.

mrs lee gains her composure and proceeds with setting out the dessert. "kids these days are so dramatic. minus my ____, of course. you're an angel."

you smile at her. "thanks, mrs lee."

her smile falters. "honey, why don't you just call me 'mom?' i'll be your mother-in-law eventually, anyway."

you nearly choke again, and heeseung stifles a laugh. "just go with it," he mouths.

you smile again. "sure, mom. thank you for the dessert."

dinner wraps up rather quickly after the dramatic scene. heedo returns at the very end, looking very disheveled as you and heeseung make your way up the long spirals stairs to his room, where you'll both be staying the night.

heeseung lets out a long laugh after he closes the door to his childhood bedroom, nearly slumping against it. "that was a train wreck. heedo has terrible taste in girls."

you giggle. "he should've just chosen me when he had the chance."

heeseung's smile fades. "no, i rather like having you to myself."

your feel a twinge of pain in your heart at the way his smile drops. "hee, i was just kidding. i told you, i'm over him. i think i like someone else now, anyway."

the smile that began to creep onto his face at the first part of your speech drops again as he hears the last part. "oh." his shoulders slump, face looking dejected.

you catch his face in your hands as he turns away from you. "hee, do you really not realize who i'm talking about?"

his eyes widen in realization. "you mean..."

"yes, i mean i like you, lee heeseung." you grin at him.

before you realize it, he's taking you into his arms and picking you off the ground and you're spinning through the air. you both giggle as you come back onto the ground.

now flustered, you look away from him "so..."

"i like you too, ____. i thought that was pretty obvious." he ruffles your hair yet again, pulling you close by your waist.

you giggle. "it kinda was."

he looks at you for a moment, gentle gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "can i kiss you?"

you nod, and he leans down to connect your lips gently. you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand resting on the nape of his neck, and the other tangling in his hair.

he pulls away and you lean your head against his chest, breathless.

"fuck, i think i might be in love with you." the words leave your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying.

he smirks down at you as you meet his eyes, yours wide. "yeah? what makes you think that?"

you inhale sharply. "you've been there for me through everything since we were kids. my heart hurts when you're sad, i feel angry when you're angry, and i'm happy when you are. also, i always find myself missing you when you're not around. i think that's love."

he smiles, eyes shining brightly. "if that's the case, i love you too."

minutes later, you're settled in a pair of heeseung's clothes, waiting on his bed for him to come back from the bathroom.

as he enters the room, your heart races. you've spent nights together as friends, no biggie. but now, it's the real deal.

he sprawls out on the bed beside you and turns to look at you. "cuddle?" he asks, opening his arms. you practically dive into them as they wrap around your body tightly.

you realize you feel safe here. that to you, there's never been any place safer than in his arms.

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries • Oscar Piastri (PART ONE)

Here it is! The first chapter of my new Oscar Piastri friends to lovers series! The series will be containing a lot of smut, but will also contain fluff, angst and more!❤️ I will try to post part 2 as soon as possible! Please let me know in the comments what you think, and also let me know if you have any ideas that I could maybe implement!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader (norris!reader) ↳word count: 3,5K ↳ parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, Oscar finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings and rising tension, leaving him conflicted about how to handle his emotions

↳chapter warnings: bestfriend!reader, eventual friends to lovers, best friends who are secretly in love with eachother, sexual content (no actual sex in this chapter yet), sexual tension, sexual thoughts, NSFW, 18+ content (mdni), oscar just getting turned on, little bit of fluff, brother's teammate trope (reader is lando's sister)

"Excited for your first day?" you heard your brother Lando say as the both of you were on your way to the track.

Your brother was referring to your first day as a physio for McLaren. For the last year you've worked as an assistant in the medical team, but since you recently graduated your physio degree, your boss offered you a promotion. Oscar's physio was leaving and they quickly needed someone else to fulfill the job, which you seemed the ideal candidate for. One of the reasons behind that being that you and Oscar already knew each other very well, which meant he didn't have to go through the whole process of getting to know his new physiotherapist, which your boss thought to be ideal.

You turned around and smiled at him "Yes, very much so" you replied honestly, raking your hand through your hair out of habit.

Initially, you were hesitant about accepting the job offer, as it involved a lot of physical contact with Oscar, such as massages. Your concern wasn’t about your own comfort, but whether Oscar would be okay with it. However, Oscar assured you that he preferred you over a stranger, trusting you completely. Given your naturally touchy friendship, both of you agreed that it wouldn’t be awkward at all.

As the both of you approached the entrance door of the hospitality. Lando looks at you one more time "I think you'll do a good job, baby sis. I believe in you" he says as he pulls you in for a hug "I gotta go now tho, Jon is waiting for me"

You smile back at him "Tell Jon that I said hi!" you called after him as Lando casually strolled away.

"Will do" you heard him calling from the distance

A smile crept up on your face as the enthousiasm of your new job poisition dawned on you. Here you were, in the McLaren hospitality in Bahrein. You have worked with McLaren for a year already, but now that you're here, actually doing the job that you worked so hard for, made you feel kind of proud.

----- 30 minutes later -----

As you enter Oscar's driving room, the familiar scent of Oscar's perfume fills your nostrils, feeling a sense of calmness washing over you. Oscar always had that effect on you. If you were honest with yourself, you have had a bit of crush on Oscar for a while now. He made you feel safe, you could always have a good laugh and not to forget, he was very good sight for sore eyes.

You did decide to not act on it for multiple reasons, though. First of all you were pretty sure you were not even his type. Second, he is your brother's teammate, so even if he felt the same, you don't think Lando would appreciate it all that much. And last, but certainly not least. You were closer colleagues now and it would probably be not done in your position. That's mostly why you decided to just suppress your feelings and accept your relationship with each other as purely friendly. He is your best friend after all, which you were really thankful for.

The feelings you were experiencing for Oscar weren't any reason for you to doubt taking the job. You were confident that the amount of physical contact involved with Oscar in this new position, wouldn't stir any emotions. After all, you frequently massaged friends during their appointments without it affecting you, so you were certain it wouldn't be an issue now. But, oh, how wrong you were...

As you walked in, you saw Oscar turn in his seat, a wide grin spreading across his face "Hey stranger" he said calmy as he walked over to you, to envelop you in a warm hug "Long time no see"

You sigh and relax into the hug "Way too long" you replied, smiling into his shoulder "How was your time off? Did you do anything interesting?" you asked him as you pulled back from the hug, taking a seat on the bench behind you.

"I had a good time! Went to visit my family and took some time to relax. But I'm also glad to be on track" he said, his voice laced with happiness "How about you?" he asked.

While you were explaining your experiences, Oscar took his time to look at you. His best friend standing in front of him. Beautiful as always, he also noticed you got tanned over the break. Your eyes now seeming brighter and more beautiful in contrast with your skin tone.

"Well, Lando and I went on a holiday to Indonesia with our parents and other siblings. So that was pretty fun! But i missed being on track as well. And you of course!" you said, ending with a giggle as you said the last part.

You chatted easily, catching up on everything they went through. As well as the upcoming season and what you were expecting. After a while, you glanced at the watch around your wrist and then back at the boy in front of you "Alright, so let's talk business" you laughed "As your new physio, i of course need to know if there are any specific things you prefer during your massages and treatments. Are there any muscle groups that have been giving you trouble?"

Oscar scratched his head as he thought about your question "Well, my lower back has been a bit tight lately, as well as my shoulders too, especially after long training sessions. I usually like firm pressure, but not too hard, if that makes sense"

"Got it" you nodded, making a mental note "What about any areas that are particularly sensitive? or maybe areas that need some extra attention"

Oscar was very glad that you were his new physiotherapist. He trusted you and knew you very well. It was a relief really, that he didn't have to get to know anyone new.

"Well, after a race, my thighs are prone to feel very sore. So I always seem to benefit from a massage after the race" Oscar said, looking around the room a little.

"Sounds good! Maybe we could start today with a massage, to get you a little relaxed before FP1 this afternoon" you told him, your tone professional as well as very friendly "And then afterwards we can make a plan for the next sessions, training wise"

"Sounds perfect" Oscar smiled at you, his confidence in you evident "I'm really glad you're here, y/n. It feels good to have you here, it feels comfortable. They couldn't have chosen a better person for the job"

A smile crept on your face as you looked at your best friend "I still have to prove that part, Osc" you laughed "Maybe I suck at massaging, you don't know yet!"

Oscar let out a laugh and rolled his eyes "I highly doubt that"

You giggled and looked at Oscar again "But for real, I'm also glad I'm here. It feels safe and trusted"

-------

It was already time for lunch break and Lando, Oscar and Jon were currently sitting at a table in the hospitality, while you were finishing up some tasks before you were gonna eventually join them.

It was Jon who spoke up, after swallowing a bite of his pasta "You know, I was surprised when I heard that your sister took the offer for the job"

Lando raised his eyebrow, looking at Jon questioning "Why?" he wondered.

"Well" Jon started, directing his gaze to the Australian across from him "To be fair, I was convinced Oscar and Y/n had a little thing going on, or at least it seemed like you guys are very much attracted to each other. You know, all those shared glances and inside jokes—it's pretty obvious"

Jon explained that the unspoken attraction between Oscar and Lando's sister could have influenced her decision not to take the job. She might have considered the potential complications it could introduce to their budding personal connection, opting instead to maintain a professional distance to preserve whatever was developing between them outside of work.

As the words left Jon's mouth Oscar's eyed widened and he turned as red as a beet, all while Lando choked on his water "You thought what, mate?" lando coughed out.

"Me and Y/n?" Oscar questioned, trying to hide his nerves and pretend he's not severely blushing, feeling caught in the act.

"Come on, mate. It's obvious. Have you seen the way she looks at him? Even a blind person could see that" he states, looking at Oscar again with a laugh "And you're way too obvious as well, Piastri"

"I.. uh" Oscar stammered, feeling nervous and flustered

Oscar looks down at the table, feeling the blush on his cheeks spread all the way to his neck. He couldn't deny that he always has felt a certain attraction towards you. You were definitely his type, and when he thought about it. He could definitely see himself dating you.

Before, he hadn't really given it much thought; after all, in his mind, you were off-limits anyway, being Lando's sister. However, ever since you took the job offer, he found his thoughts drifting towards you way more often. At first he didn't think much of it, he was mostly just very excited about the fact that he could spend more time with his best friend. Initially, he hadn't thought too much of it, just excited about the prospect of spending more time with his best friend. But as the first day of working together drew nearer, he began to dwell on it more, realizing that it stirred emotions within him. He couldn't quite pinpoint when it had started, his feelings for you. But it was that moment that he realized it.

He found himself replaying your interactions in his mind on a daily basis: the way you would smile at him from across the room, your eyes sparkling with amusement at his jokes; the times you stayed late in his hotelroom after races, sharing stories and aspirations over takeout dinners; the subtle touches of your hand brushing against his during casual conversations, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Oscar took a deep breath to get himself together. To be the coolheaded australian that he normally is, and he must say, he nailed it pretty well, he thought himself.

"No worries Lando, we're not a thing" Oscar replied

Lando laughed at the situation "You know, Oscar, if I ever found out you were dating my sister, I'd have to keep a close eye on you. Protective big brother mode activated!" he said with a grin on his face "and if I ever found out you would've hurt her. You'd have to run. Because when you hurt my sister, I'll go as quick as Verstappen in a Red Bull! And I'm not joking"

"Don't worry, Lando. I'm not dating your sister, and I'm also not planning on it either. I know she's off limits" Oscar replied, still feeling a little flustered about the situation "And besides that, of course, I'm not blind, she's very beautiful. But I don't have any feelings for her. She's my best friend and that's all. I don't see her like that" he lied, trying to keep a straight face, hoping his cover is convincing enough.

Lando seemed to believe what Oscar said and you could see a sense of relief washing over him. Glad that things weren't getting more complicated than they needed to be. Jon on the other hand wasn't convinced at all, and could see right through Oscar's lies. But he consciously decided not to say anything, for Oscar's sake.

_____

A few hours after lunch time it was time for your first physiotherapy session with Oscar. You were preparing the massage table in the room as you heard the door creak, a sign that someone was entering the room. It was Oscar, dressed in his standard McLaren attire.

The atmosphere that Oscar took with him seemed different than it normally was. He looked a little on edge. Something you weren't used from him. It was something that Oscar hoped you wouldn't notice. He noticed that the whole ordeal from today's lunch kept bugging his thoughts. Much to his own annoyance.

"Anything on your mind?" you questioned, wondering if something was going on in your best friends brain.

Oscar shook his head and shrugged his shoulders "Nothing much, honestly. Just having a sore back" he says, not lying about the last part. He actually got a painful back.

You shot him an honest smile "Good to hear, let's get going then" you said, patting your hand on the massage table "Well, casanova, get your clothes off then" you joked

Oscar Piastri burst into laughter, his eyes lighting up and a broad grin spreading across his face, as you delivered the punchline of the joke. The infectious sound of his amusement filled the room, showcasing the genuineness and shared sense of humor between you two.

The young Australian driver noticed that his nervous demeanor started to subdue, being replaced by the calmness that he usually experiences when he is around you. For now it seemed he's actually able to pretend there are no feelings involved. Pretend that right now as if it's just Oscar and you, his best friend, glad that you get to spend more time together now with your new job. For now it seemed like he could

Once Oscar got rid of his shirt, you were confronted with a sight you've been often enough. The driver without a shirt, his muscles present on his undressed upper body. A sight that you never thought to be unpleasant. After all, Oscar Piastri was a very very good looking young man.

He hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his trousers "You want me to take those off too?" you heard him ask.

You nodded "Yeah, that would be the best. Was planning on massaging your legs ass well, think you could use that before FP1"

"Honestly looking so forward to a massage again, my muscles are sooo tight" he complained, pulling his trousers down, revealing his black Calvin Klein boxers.

You felt your breath quicken a little at the sight. You've seen him in swim shorts before, but never in a tight boxer. It did things to you that you felt that you had to push away as quick as you could.

'Come on y/n, it's your best friend, ignore the feelings, stay professional...' you thought to yourself.

As Oscar lowered himself onto the the table, resting his head in the therefore intended headrest, you felt yourself getting back into reality. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of ambient music and the occasional rustle of your movements. You walked over to the cabinet near the door the grab massage oil "Osc, would you prefer a self heating oil or maybe something with a certain scent?"

"Hmmm" he hummed "Self heated sounds nice, I guess"

You grabbed the bottle from the cabinet and took it with you towards Oscar "Could feel a bit cold in the beginning, but this should warm up with the friction of my hands"

Once you unscrewed the cap of the bottle, a gentle, soothing herbal like smell filled the air as you poured a small amount of the oil into your hands, rubbing them together to activate the heat. Oscar tensed slightly, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him.

As the first few drops of the oil touched his back, Oscar felt a the cold you warned him for spread across his skin. Your hands, firm yet gentle, began to work the oil into his muscles with slow, deliberate movements. In no time he felt the once so cold oil, turning into an ejoyable warmth. Each stroke of your hands sent a shiver down his spine, not just from the physical sensation, but from the awareness of who was administering it. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the relaxation, but his mind kept drifting back to his feelings for you

As you knead the tension from Oscar's muscles, the touch of your hands feeling different than usual. The both of you have always had a touchy friendship, so he was used to it in some kind of way, but the way it made him feel today was different.

The intimacy of your touch, he hoped to be able to experience purely professional and friendly, now stirs something deeper within him. He could feel his heart beating a little faster, a silent hope mingling with the pleasure of the massage. The accidental brush of your hand against his neck makes him catch his breath, the line between professional care and personal desire blurring in the quiet intensity of the moment.

"How's the pressure?" you asked softly, trying to make your voice sound as calm as possible, to make this session for him as relaxing as you could.

"Perfect," he managed to reply, his voice slightly huskier than usual.

You felt yourself blush at the tone of his voice, it sounded raspier than usual "I'm moving on to your neck now, if that's okay with you?"

"Hmm, yes" he hummed in agreement.

Your hands moved up to Oscar's neck with a gentle touch, starting with your thumbs, rubbing in half circles on either side. Each stroke ended at the nape of his neck. Oscar let out a deep sigh, one so profound that you almost thought it sounded like a soft moan. But that couldn't be, could it?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice Oscar adjusting his position slightly. Unbeknownst to you, it was due to a certain tightness that had started to form in his boxers. One that he tried his utter best to get rid off.

"Are you okay, I'm not hurting you, am I?" you asked, noticing him adjusting his position again

Oscar's breath hitched in his throat. "N-No," he coughed. He wanted to come up with an excuse, maybe tell you that his leg had fallen asleep and he had to adjust because of that, but no words came out. He was too afraid he might actually moan, because while he was having his inner crisis, your hands were still working magic on his neck. The sensation was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, goosebumps forming on his body, and turning him on in a way he never expected.

You noticed his hesitation and the slight tremor in his voice, making you pause for a moment "Are you sure? You can tell me if something's wrong," you said softly, your hands slowing their movements but not stopping. You wanted to ensure he was comfortable and relaxed, but there was an underlying concern in your voice that you hoped he didn't notice.

Oscar nodded, trying to regain his composure "100%" he said softly, attempting to sound confident "I'm honestly just really enjoying the m-massage.. fee-feels like my muscles really needed that" he said, stuttering slightly, as he felt another wave of arousal surging through him.

"That's good to hear," you replied, your lips close to his ear as you leaned in to apply a bit more pressure to his neck. This caused Oscar to subconsciously shift his hips against the table, seeking some friction, and another almost inaudible moan escaped his lips.

"Could you turn on your back for me, Osc? I think your thighs could use some work as well, I'm sure that will give you some relief during the training" you proposed, you hand now resting on his lower back.

Oscar's eyes shot open and his cheeks started to flush. The warmth of the blush crept up from his neck, coloring his skin with a rosy hue. He shifted slightly, clearly aware of the sudden heat rising to his cheeks. Feeling embarrassed, he hesitated; turning around wasn't an option as he could feel his member straining against his boxers. There was no way he could turn without you noticing the bulge.

'Well, here goes nothing' he thought to himself, attempting to devise some sort of feeble excuse for why he couldn't turn around.

"Ehm…" just as he started to speak, the sound of your phone ringing cut him off.

You reached for the back pocket of your trousers to grab your phone and check if it was important "Oh.. it's Jon, I gotta take that real quick. Is that okay with you?"

"Y-Yeah, sure!" Oscar replied, his voice still sounding husky.

"I'll be back as soon as I can" you said as you headed towards the door, answering your phone in the meantime "Hi, Jon"

The sexually frustrated driver let out a sigh of relief once you closed the door. He flipped on his back, looking at the ceiling, but quickly hiding his face in his hands "Saved by the bell" he muttered under his breath.

Next part

Author's note: The upcoming chapters will be a lot more smutty than this one was :) so, don't worry lol! This one lacked that mostly because I wanted this chapter to be a little bit more about building the tension between Oscar and the reader, so that the experience of the smut in the upcoming chapters would be more enjoyable to read since the plot was build up more :)

Taglist: @aceyalonso

[eternalera]

i hate when people go "why cant people just be friends :((( why cant we have strong platonic bonds anymore?" to ships

and do you wanna know the reason? like do you really wanna know the reason. okay well here we go ig-

(click read more for an actual analysis of why this doesnt happen)

no one writes strong platonic bonds well anymore.

at least they cant do so without it seeming romantic because of one thing.

shipping and romance.

without a doubt it has taken over our society as a whole and this is for quiet a few reasons, we literally have a holiday about romance, one of the many things moments people experience in high school is taking out their crush to a dance (of course many people take friends and make just as fun if not longer lasting memories), influencers share their lives on the daily, most fans are teens going through puberty so yknow what that means, and hollywood.

the main reason being of course hollywood.

with all of these reasons combined hollywood sees this and basically goes "oh look at all of these opportunities for romance and most importantly drama!!" and then they take it, make a romantic bond, get you attached and then proceed to put you through hell with it getting you addicted to it. but why a romantic bond? why not platonic? because its simple, when tv and stuff started pushing out they wanted to get people heavily attached and they didnt think or care about platonic bonds because why have platonic bonds when you can instantly take it to the much "juicier" step? aka romantic bonds?

now im gonna lump in all of our previous reasons together. its no big surprise that our lives TYPICALLY (most likely not for people on the ace spectrum) are heavily centered around romance and sex and so in order to relate to the MAJORITY (from what large companies can tell) of people they tend to make that platonic bond romantic to get people swooning over it and thinking 'oh thats what i want in a partner'

so we tend to perceive these actions as romantic when in reality... theyre typically not, not unless youre kissing or actively having sex these actions arent all that romantic. even holding hands isnt really that romantic. ive had several friends who desire no romantic relationship with each other hold hands and jokingly press their faces close together as if they were being 'romantic' with each other. ive in fact shared a bed with my friend a few times and found that yeah... theyre just my friend. these actions are not romantic. so why do we think that they are?

hollywood, from our past memories and "experiences" (experiences in quotations because lets be honest... its just movie watching) we see these actions as romantic because theyve been dont with romantic undertones. for example let me put the absolute stupidest thing thats been romanticized.

giving someone your jacket or umbrella when its raining. especially when its friend.

yes. hollywood was romanticized basic human decency towards someone that you care about. im 90% sure that anyone reasing this would gladly give their jacket to their friend if it was raining and they didnt want them to catch a cold, or if they had an extra layer to just simply give them. OR if they had an umbrella they would share.

because thats what you do for someone that you care for

but in hollywood this was romanticized by the enemies to lovers trope or the rivals to lovers or... whatever you want to call it- it was romanticized and soon enough they began doing it with everything. friends to lovers. (i dont know which trope made it romantic first so dont quote me on this the main point is that they made it romantic when the gesture itself is NOT)

point being, like it or not romance is something that was heavily implemented into your mind as a child and will always be there. and its why we cant perceive friends as 'just friends' anymore or whatever youd like to call it. the implication of past experiences with media will always be there and guess what? suck it up. its always going to be there and theres nothing you can do about it.

so yeah. thats why people cant perceive things as just friends and why strong platonic bonds quite literally cant really be written well anymore. unless of course they shove it down your throat with the constant 'oh youre my best friend!' but even then- oops it was romanticized by hollywood...

so thats my take on the whole situation. personally i think you should just let people ship whatever they want as long as its legal lol

[adrixivy]

You guys know that classic trope in fanfics where the Avengers come over to Peter’s school and its always against Peter’s will or he doesn’t know?

What if he knows and couldn’t do anything about it because it’s some sports day at Midtown and they wanted to see Peter crush everyone. So he knows but it’s still against his will because let’s face it, Peter’s never going to invite them to his school, knowing how dysfunctional the whole team are and how it jeopardize his secret identity

Peter, walking infront of the Avengers as they reach the entrance, stopping and turning back to face them and saying this in the most serious tone he has ever used: Do not embarrass me.

The Avengers nod and spouts obnoxious remarks that they obviously won’t. But they obviously don’t listen and do the exact opposite of that.

Cue the madness that occurs the moment the Avengers stepped into the busy hall where students and other families gawk at the sight of them and Peter quickly rushes away from them to Ned and MJ while the Avengers are immediately surrounded by fans that want autographs or pictures.

Some kids may had thirst over the group. They’re all slightly scarred by the foul things said. (“Captain Rogers, you would look like a glazed donut all sweaty if you joined the games and preferably with that shirt off” “WHAT?!”) (“Ms Romanoff, suffocate me with your legs!” “I beg your pardon?”) (“Mr Stark, you still a playboy because I would love you to play me!” “I have a husband and a kid!”) (“Bruce Banner please smash me in bed! I don’t mind that big green d-” “I’m gonna have you to STOP right there”)

Once the teachers somehow deescalated the situation, the whole school is gathered at the field and the games soon begun. Peter is obviously holding back his strength and is one of the few people at the back during the track and field event. It’s a 2.4 km run and Peter lags behind. He suddenly flinches as he hears cheers from the Avengers and glances at them to see they have merch of him. Like his face plastered on t-shirts and signs of his face being held up type shit.

Peter is immediately embarrassed and wants to get the day over with and he also doesn’t want to disappoint them so he runs faster and acts like he’s struggling while he’s at it and runs past everyone including Flash who was first and was shouting at him. And Peter won. The Avengers are cheering loudly alongside Ned and MJ and he figures he’ll just do well for the running only and not anything else!

Yet he somehow wins all the competition even as he simply just stands at the side of the competition or don’t try much because for a school full of students who are supposedly hella smart in science, there are a lot of idiots. The Avengers may have sabotaged some of the games too. Well, tried to. (Tony may have tried to bribed kids to lose on purpose. Clint and Natasha definitely scared kids together. Peter drags all three away and apologizes)

Imagine a game where students have to remain in a certain area and they’re allowed to sabotage anyone. It’s the final round too. So immediately they’re all trying to push each other out of the area to win. Peter is somehow the last few students and not wanting to injure anyone with his super strength, sneaks off to the side and stands there like a statue. The Avengers watches him at first, slightly disappointed but understands why but soon, their attention is captured by Flash and some random kid fighting it out. The only two people left besides Peter. They’re full-on wrestling and for a moment, the Avengers are supporting the other kid. The fight is so intense, everyone has their attention on them.

Then the kid manages to shove Flash out and everyone who doesn’t support Flash cheers. The Avengers don’t, just smiling because at least Flash didn’t win. Then the kid steps out because he thought no one else is left. Till the coach blows the whistle and announces Peter wins. Peter is dumbfounded and the kid is fuming and the Avengers are cheering (“That’s how good our Petey is! He doesn’t even have to move to win!)

Prize ceremony begins and Peter is at the podium, embarrassed and ashamed he won without trying much, wearing a golden medal. The Avengers don’t care how he won. Peter won and that’s all that matters. Hell, they’re happier than Peter. (Peter secretly swaps the medal with the second kid, feeling guilty. The kid doesn’t accept, seeing it as pity. Peter befriends him somehow still)

[svmjaeyvn]

love maze, s.jy.

chapter one pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER ONE: PINEAPPLE

masterlist next

word count: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol, partying, creeper in a store, bestie jay, already stepping up to be a fake bf jake duhhh

a/n: short and sweet intro

"HEY SORRY, JAY's busy—”

"Hey baby!" You smile brightly, attempting to seem causal but emphasizing the conversation rather loudly. Wandering through the isles aimlessly, stopping to pretend to browse the selection of cereals while peeking through the corner of your eye, you keep watch on the unfamiliar man that seemed to be following you.

You've been at the store for 15 minutes, around 10 of those ago you noticed the same man over and over, passing by each other with first polite smiles which morphed into a sort of anxiety feeling on your end noting how he began to linger around more obviously, far enough away to not seem suspicious to those around but definitely setting off an alarm in your head to stay alert.

It was a Friday night, after finishing up with your last minute shift due to a coworker calling out, you decided it was time to finally grocery shop, something that you've been putting off all week due to laziness but now you wished you opted to eat eggs for the third day in a row rather than be here. Typically, you and Yunjin went to the store together, but with her out on a date, that left you alone for the night.

"We're still cooking for dinner right? I'm at the store right now picking stuff up," You continue after meeting confused silence on the other end. Due to the increasing gut feeling and you desperate for someone to come to your aid in at least knowing where you were if you did end up missing and on the news, you called the only person you knew in the area that would come. Jay Park, an extended family friend that you practically grew up attached to each others hips, had followed you along to the same Uni two years ago. With a three hour car ride being the distance to your home town, you and Jay depended on each other as a sort of familiarity and unspoken acknowledgment that there was support for one another.

University created a sort of distance in your relationship, both studying different majors and finding your own friend groups outside of one another but you still talked every other day through text and hung out occasionally. Jay, being a well know frat boy around campus, became a sort of gossip topic of him and his other frat members. His admittedly attractive looks that he grew into helping with his popularity along with his love for the party scene.

You on the other hand, were a home body more than anything. After your first year, you had moved into an apartment about 5 minutes away off-campus with your previous dorm-mate and newly founded best friend. You and Yunjin became close relatively fast and being able to get through freshmen year living together in the tiny space meant you'd work perfectly well moving in a place where you both got your own rooms and a private bathroom.

Thus, your routine consisted of lectures, homework, your part-time job, and sleep. It was quiet and comfortable. Not that you were opposed to a night out and getting drunk off your ass every once in a while but being a party girl didn't seem like your cup of tea to do every weekend.

"Sorry, ___ it's Jake. I don't know where Jay is, he just left his phone with me earlier," Jake speaks into the phone, making his way out of the booming house to better hear her. The muffled music and loud voices heard from his end causing a slight panic to rise in your stomach but also nearly face palm. It's a Friday night, of course he was partying.

You rake your brain to put a face to the name. You've met Jay's frat friends on occasion, though they mostly consisted of when you were all drunk so it was sort of a blur.

"Yeah I'm at Target," You nod, specifying your location and hoping that whoever Jake was, he was sober enough to comprehend that something was wrong and that he'd remember your words. "Do you want anything else specifically?" From the corner of your eye, you can see the man beginning to pace, seemingly growing antsy with waiting on you to move. Deciding it was best to make your way toward the front where more workers would be, you completely disregard your near empty cart and pushed it along while holding your phone to your ear.

"... Are you okay?" Jake inquires, his brows burrowed together in confusion but feeling the underlying feeling of the call. The only reason he answered was because he knew you and Jay were close, having met less than a handful of times but the contact picture Jay saved you under allowed him to remember who you were. The three spammed messages you sent prior to your call being unable to be read due to his phone being locked. He intended to only inform you of the reason the said boy wouldn't respond for a while but it ended up to this rather weird conversation.

"Uh... no I don't think so," You answer, acting as if you were responding to a question. Jake straightens up slightly, unaware if that was an actual answer or if you were still on the one sided random talk through the phone. He sort of hoped it was the second option for your sake. "Okay I'll look. I'm sure they have pineapple,"

Jay was an overprotective guy, especially when it came to those he cared about. Early on, whenever they'd go out, he told everyone that their emergency code word was pineapple. Jake, along with the other boys, found it utterly ridiculous and never once had to actually use it but he did remember the word loud and clear even months later. The conversation was far too random and specific for you to just casually be saying that, and thus Jake assumed the safe word was something Jay used universally.

"You're at the store in town right?" He asks, now heading back into the house, weaving his way through the bodies in search of his friends.

"Yeah," You nod disregarding that he couldn't see it. There was two Targets in the area you lived it, though one was undeniably farther away from the University. In town referred to the one you stood in, absentmindedly staring at the electronics assuming there had to be more cameras in this area. "Okay, well, I'll be home soon then,"

"Give me ten minutes," Jake said into the phone before handing up the call, not giving you time to respond. Scrunching up your nose, you felt significantly smaller without the comfort of another voice on the other line. From the opposite isle, you could see the man lingering around the corner, now staring directly at you but quickly looking away upon making eye contact.

With a slight pit in your stomach, you take a second to breathe. Attempting to seem inconspicuous, you glance over your items and visibly pale. The only things consisted of body wash, a bag of lemons, and ice cream bars that were now melting. You had circled the food department a near three times and hadn't picked up much even though you made it rather clear on the call you were meant to be getting dinner. Silently praying that the man wasn't keen enough to pay that much attention, you shake off the shiver that ran down your spine.

Meanwhile, Jake ran through the house collecting his friends one by one. Luckily, with it being only 7:30 and rather early in the night, no one was near hammered yet, barely started on a buzz when he interrupted. Not much was shared in the process, the urgent way Jake pulled them along was enough for them to follow but Heeseung finally questioned it once they were packed in the car driving away from their own party.

"Where we going man?" The eldest asked, running a hand through his hair lazily.

Jake, being the only one with less than half a bottle of beer in, was in the driver seat. He drove fast, weaving through the lanes occasionally but still safe enough to not seem suspicious.

He glanced back at Jay through the rearview mirror, said boy tilting his head back in confusion. "___ called you, she's having an issue. Said something about pineapple and wasn't having an actual conversation with me so I'm assuming someone was following her,"

Jay straightened up, leaning closer from his seat while the other two spared glances. "When?"

"Right before I went to find you, told her to give me 10 minutes," Jake answers, partially relieved that Jay seemed concerned by the matter meaning he interpreted the call correctly but that only meant you were actually in trouble. "It's been 6,"

"Drive faster," Was all the other boy said, the few shots of liquor seemingly gone as he sobered up almost instantly. Though, the panic and overwhelming anger that brewed in the back of his head indicated that he was being influenced by the intoxication. Not that it would be a problem, especially if you were in danger of some sort.

Heeseung and Sunghoon sat quietly as Jake drove, connecting the dots for themselves due to the conversation. A minute later, the four were barreling out of the car and into the building. The bright lights contrasted against the dark outside, the boys looking around for sight of the girl.

"Give me my phone," Jay tells Jake, holding out his hand expectantly while he pulls it out of his back pocket. Tapping through the screen for a moment, Jay hold up the device to his ear waiting for you to answer but it goes to voicemail.

"She was talking about food so maybe she was over there?" Jake offers, leading the way toward the back of the store which held all the groceries.

Jay tries once more, holding the phone up as it dials. This time, there's the faint chime of an incoming call that was further away. Sunghoon nodded in the direction it came from, heading toward the area which consisted of books, music, and other miscellaneous things.

"No, thank you, I'm alright," Your voice was recognized first by Jay. Speeding up his steps, he rounds the corner to see you backed away toward the far end of the isle, the cart in between you and an unfamiliar man who had his back toward the four. Your eyes widened seeing the familiar face, slightly relieved but still in a sense of panic considering the man that was following you grew the courage a minute ago to actually say something now, keeping you tucked away in the corner as he did.

Attempting to step away, you shift to the right but the man matched your movement, staying directly in your path and blocking it. Moving to your left, he matched that as well causing you to purse your lips. He smiled, seeming as if it were amusing to see you becoming undone with his actions which sent a chill up your spine. Aside from his creepy stalking, he seemed and looked like a regular guy, which made it even worse because of how normal he seemed upon first glance.

"Teenie," Jay spoke up, making his and the rest of their presence known, using a nickname rather than your actual one. The guy turned at the sound, his face morphing from the smile into one of annoyance, a  clear grimace on his features at the interruption. "Come here," The space between where you stood and Jay was a couple of feet, having to go around the man in the process as he had backed you into the wall moments ago.

Expecting for him to allow you to move without resistance this time, you go to step around him but he still continues to block your way. Going as far as grabbing hold of your arm causing your eyes to widen and pull back instantly. The anxiety that grew in your stomach elevated significantly, it was wishful thinking that having four grown and tall men would have the single one back down but it seemed he was crazy enough to not care about that.

"Stop being a fucking creep dude," Heeseung spoke up, growing rather frustrated and particularly peeved that he had the audacity to grab you. If they hadn't shown up he couldn't imagine what he'd attempt.

"We're not done talking," The man sneers, the tone of his voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up, goosebumps forming along your skin though your body felt like it was burning up inside. "You the boyfriend?" He adds, nodding toward Jay who faltered, confused by the sudden question.

Jake lets out a small sigh, growing tired of the back and forth. Stepping forward, he holds out his hand to you without a word. Now a mere foot apart, he stares down the guy, almost taunting him in attempt to do something. Quickly, your hand latches onto his, albeit clammy from your nervousness but as he pulled you into his side, you felt significantly safer than before.

Tucking you behind him, Jake walks you both back a few steps, returning to the rest who had moved up closer. Still holding tight onto Jake's hand, you grasp onto his arm as well, holding it as if it were a security blanket and would make everything better.

"I am," Jake answers, taking the rest of you by surprise. His fib was believable, you clinging to his side playing the part and the boys merely went along with it. "We done here?"

The man didn't say a word, the silent stare down that occurred between Jake and him more than enough. Finally, he looked away, accepting there wasn't anything he could do to win in this. Whatever that was. Turning around, Jake began to lead you away, not bothering to look back as the other three followed behind, ensuring he stayed in place as they went.

You let out a shakey sigh, deeming it far enough away as you could see the exit. Feeling the ever-growing tears weld in your eyes, a few began to slip from the corners painting soft streaks down the apples of your cheeks. Silently, Jake allowed for Jay to pull you into his embrace, presuming having the one you were closest with to comfort you would be best.

A quiet sob slipped past your lips upon being wrapped into his arms. Jay let out a small shush, one of his hands rubbing small circles with his thumb against your back, visibly upset by how affected you were as he tucked his head down toward your ear, whispering words of reassurance that everything was okay and nothing would happen.

Heeseung tapped Jake's shoulder, nodding him along to give the two of you a minimal amount of space but also linger close enough in case the crazed man decided to have second thoughts and come back. Meanwhile, Sunghoon had made his way over to one of the cashiers, explaining the situation and how the female staff should be cautious until security had eyes on the man.

Jake glanced over as Jay had pulled back from the hug, his hands on either side of your face as he wiped away the tears that kept falling from your eyes. His heart tugged at the sight of you, looking utterly disheartened with a slightly red nose and your mascara beginning to smudge.

He's glad he answered.

[pyeonghongrie]

Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better!

Summary: You and your academic rival do what academic rivals do, trying to one-up each other in grades. But the thing is, both of you are teachers.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong X Reader

Genre: humor

AUs/Trope info: Reverse Academic Rivals,

Word Count: 500+

Warnings: none??????

Rating: 16+

A/N: for @cultofdionysusnet's reverse trope event! Thank you to @kwanisms for helping with this!!!

It’s a new school year, which means, it's a new opportunity to crush your rival, Kim Hongjoong, in a battle of wits. 

You see, that would’ve been much more appropriate if both of you weren’t high school teachers. And if you both weren’t vicariously continuing this feud through which class could get a higher grade point average.

"My God, Hongjoong! You’re delusional if you think your class is going to get the higher GPA this quarter! It’s impossible,” you yell at him from across the faculty parking lot, your anger reaching a boiling point after he provoked you with yet another bet for this school year. “You suck at teaching and everyone knows it!”

“Oh, get over yourself,” he yells back, slamming the door of his car shut. “You’re just salty that my students love my class while they drone over your miserable little classroom that feels more like a prison cell,” he continues, power-walking in your direction. “You won’t even let them bring snacks, you Karen!”

“Oh, please!” you retort, rolling your eyes. “The only reason they like you is because you let them slack off! And Besides,” you continue, narrowing your eyes as he draws closer. “My classroom has these fuck ass linoleum floors that basically adheres food crumbs to it. I don’t want my room to have rats, especially if they look like you.”

He gasps, dramatically so, one hand over his gaped mouth and the other over his chest. “This has to constitute a hate crime, this is rodent discrimination. Everyone knows I’m a squirrel.”

You roll your eyes, “Save the ‘woe is me’ cries for someone who cares, Kim. I’ll see you after this quarter when my class destroys yours!”

Hongjoong’s class was, in fact, not destroyed by yours.

The final results came in and in fact, both your classes had the same GPA down to the decimal point.

Of course, from that confrontation, the both of you stormed over to the guidance counselor, demanding a recount, or at least a reason for this “impossible” tie.

“This is ridiculous!” You said, slapping the flimsy piece of paper over her desk, “There is no way that this guy’s class got the same GPA as mine!”

Hongjoong scoffs, “You act like we weren’t in the same education classes in college. You’re no better off than I am.”

“Well,” The counselor started, “Both of you were being really annoying about this feud, it was funny at first, but both of you need to get over this. You’re adults, not only that, you’re responsible for the education of the future professionals of this country. I’d expect both of you to prioritize the students’ education over this silly competition.”

The counselor clears her throat, “Enough,” she said as she stood up from her chair, “There is no mistake in the transcripts. Both of your classes scored the exact same, down to the decimal.”

Both of you look at each other. “But, how is that possible?” Hongjoong asked, just as confused as you were.

Both of you lower your head in shame.

“Now, this feud ends today. No more trying to live your rivalry through these kids.” She sits down again, waving both of you off.

You stand in front of the door to the driver’s side of your car, as did Hongjoong. With a silent agreement to end this rivalry, and call for peace.

Which only lasted until the next school year, much to the chagrin of everyone else.

[srjlvr]

ENHYPEN — As Love Tropes !

enhypen members’ as love tropes ! | ot7!enhypen X gn!reader | genre fluff ! | wc 1.3k+ | warnings none ! | ✎ ᝰ (‘a note from jo’) . i did one with sad love tropes and here’s one with happy happy one!

희승 ✶ (heeseung) | childhood friends to lovers (0.191k)

meeting heeseung for the first time wasn’t awkward at all! you both were eight and hella energetic, you befriended each other as fast as the light. both of your mothers being supportive and happy with your friendship, they forced you two to meet up at least three times a week.

as you grew up, so did your feelings for each other. every day you’d spend your time together, walk to school and then walk home together, even working in the same part time jobs and taking the same shifts to be together.

you were so desperate to confess your feelings to him, and he did too, but it always felt so forbidden to confess, as if it’s going to ruin your friendship entirely.

until one day, heeseung accidentally exposed himself.

“you look so cute in here” he giggled as he looked at the pictures he took of you, “no wonder i like you” he chuckled. you shot your glance at him as he froze, “you…” you whispered.

he coughed, changing his gesture and stepping closer to you, “i like you…” he smiled, finally confessing and not minding about his concerns anymore.

제이 ✶ (jay) | soulmates (0.190k)

you’ve been searching for your soulmate for quite few years already, and you’re almost about to give up.

you got tired of hearing your parents’ love story again and again, how their “eye color changed and the whole world stopped for a few seconds” when they first met each other.

it was a soulmates thing, and “when the right time will come, you’ll know it” — at least that’s what your parents have always told you.

you tried to be more social, going out to parties and meeting new people, just to find your soulmate, but every effort of yours got wasted—not entirely though because now you have loads of friends!

but then you met him, when you didn’t even try or expected to meet him, you did. you accidentally bumped into him while walking with your friend, and as soon as you shared an eye contact, you suddenly felt everything your parents told you about.

“i’m jay” he smiles, “y/n” you shortly replied. your friend who was patiently waiting for you was long forgotten and all you could focus on was him, “i guess i finally found you, soulmate”

제이크 ✶ (jake) | highschool sweethearts (0.204k)

it’s been a few years since jake got his eyes on you, it was love at first sight. you’ve been classmates ever since seventh grade, and both of you slowly became popular and social amongst other students at school.

everyday, he would leave a snack on your desk with a cute note and his name on it, you’d do the same, leaving chocolate bars on his desk with a cute note that has your name in it.

it was no secret that the both of you had been crushing over each other for so many years, yet you’ve never dated. your ‘friendship’ was too sweet and innocent.

until you decided to officially confess to him, and it was no surprise that he returned the feelings. everyone in the school cheered for you two, they’ve been waiting for this moment more than the both of you.

even after highschool your relationship kept strong, he loved you more than anything else, and you made sure to shower him with love as much as you can.

your shared friends always looking at you with such jealousy in their eyes, but “what can we do? we’re the best highschool sweethearts” you teased your friends and pecked jake’s lips.

성훈 ✶ (sunghoon) | enemies to lovers (0.187k)

(i think we can all agree that e2l is so sunghoon coded)

elementary school gave you headaches, especially when the boy you hate the most is always up you ass. but now you’re in highschool, expecting something to be different— oh i bet the universe is laughing it’s ass.

park sunghoon, your worst enemy, the biggest rival you’ve ever had (your first and last rival-) he made sure to make your highschool life a living hell.

always teasing and making jokes about you, he knows very damn well how to piss you off. you tried to avoid him as much as you can, but it’s hard when he’s the one following you.

“stop following me,” you rolled your eyes, “i might think you like me or something”. he stepped closer to you, you stepped back until you bumped into the lockers. he looked deeply into your eyes and smiled, “there’s nothing wrong with liking you”

he then left, leaving you confused and dumbfounded. your cheeks however, turned as red as a tomato— what is wrong with you?!

the poor boy was a blushing mess as well, smiling widely while thinking about how cute you looked so close to him.

선우 ✶ (sunoo) | fake relationship (0.194k)

your best friend sunoo, was willing to help you with whatever you need, whenever you need. so when you asked him to fake date you to make the person you’re crushing over jealous he immediately said yes, even when he was the one crushing over you.

you and sunoo had boundaries, but even with them, you couldn’t help but notice how good he was treating you, acting as if he was your real lover.

as a week passed by, your crush was long forgotten, all you could focus on was sunoo. he was treating you right, from picking you up to school till making you breakfasts and lunches because he knows you’re always accidentally skipping them.

you fell for sunoo, and fell hard.

you didn’t know how to put it in the right words and tell him that you actually fell for him, so he decided to do the first step.

“it was supposed to be fake, but i can’t really fake it anymore y/n,” he sighed, “i like you, i really really do like you” he held your hands while you never felt more relieved, you grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

정원 ✶ (jungwon) | work colleagues (0.169k)

part time jobs are very popular amongst high school students. you want to became independent and have your own money! that’s why you found yourself working in a convenient store close to your house.

at first, you hated it. you were alone most of your shifts and it was starting to become pretty boring. that was then until your boss introduced you to a new worker, his name is yang jungwon.

as soon as you saw him you knew your boring days are over. you immediately befriended him and explained to him everything he needs to know about the work, he listened carefully and took notes.

he’s definitely a cute one.

as time passed, you and jungwon became closer, taking a liking to each other and working in shifts together to be with each other.

“hey” jungwon waved his hand in front of your zoomed out face, “let’s go on a date after this shift ends” he added. you looked at him and nodded, “yeah, yeah let’s do that”

니키 ✶ (niki) | love triangle (0.185k)

niki did his best at expressing his feelings towards you by actions, you were just too dumb to notice how much he likes you.

you and niki have been friends for a while, and as time passed, your feelings for each other grew mutual—you both were clearly in love.

but then you started to hang out with someone else, niki felt like he was falling behind and drifting apart from you when he watched the both of you enjoying each other’s company without him.

the other person fell in love with you too, and now you were stuck between two.

niki was scared to lose you, and you too was scared to lose him. you were so scared to confess your feelings to niki-so it came out naturally and accidentally of course.

“i like you” the other person suddenly confessed, “i’m sorry,” you whispered, “i can’t return the feeling—i like someone else” you looked down, “who is-“ “niki, i like niki” you cut the person. little did you know niki was eavesdropping you two, and was a blushing mess when he heard the sudden confession.

[concreteburialplot]

𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 🌸 // 02

02 - I Can See You

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Masterlist: Here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 8.9k | Playlist: Here

Summary: After bumping into the boy who saved you from being locked out of your dorm, he whisks you away on an adventure to a bar you shouldn’t even be allowed in. Drunkenly, Sam invites you to a get together with his brothers. The anxious energy at the gathering has you questioning the invitation’s intent.

Warnings: (unknown) mutual pining, one bed trope technically, hint of forbidden twin?, very soft, sweet sammy, underage drinking, weed, jake being jake, unrealistic college experiences?, feelings of inadequacy, ~new crush anxiety~, 18+ MDNI

A/N; thank you so much to anyone who read part one, it makes me so happy to know it was enjoyed so much 🩷

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does not reflect any members of the band or their real lives/actions/etc. - i hope you like it 🥲💞🌸 smut next chapter promise

Vibes this chapter;

-I Can See You - Taylor Swift - Close To You - Gracie Abrams - Maroon - Taylor Swift - Fallingforyou - The 1975 - So High School - Taylor Swift

The moment consciousness seeped into your body, you jolted upright, your heart racing like a shot of adrenaline straight to your system—a perfect substitute for caffeine. Your eyes scanned the room within a millisecond only to have the throb of a hangover remind you of how you got there in the first place. You immediately looked beside you on the mattress even though you felt no presence there. The bed and the room were empty. The edge of your lips inadvertently downturned at the lack of him. Your eyes landed on the bedside table, finding a note there. 

Mornin’ - 

Help yourself to some snacks or some green

Hope to see you around, Wallflower ❀

-Sam :)

An embarrassingly wide grin crept across your lips and butterflies began to run rampant in your tummy. If the note itself wasn’t enough, the little flower doodle made your heart soar. You instantly tried to stifle it down, he was just some boy you met at a party. He didn’t make any moves on you and treated you only as a friend. You barely knew each other. You were nothing special to one another - at least that’s what you told yourself. 

Once ready to get out of bed, you stripped off the rust-colored shirt you’d borrowed from him the night before, folding it into a neat square on his dresser. You changed back into the stained shirt that his had temporarily replaced just to be clothed enough to walk across the hall to your room.

The notepad that seemed to belong to the note on the bedside table sat next to the boxes of incense on the dresser. You took it upon yourself to write him a note back. 

Hey - 

Thanks for the shirt and for saving me last night. 

See you across the hall! haha

-Wallflower xx

Weeks slipped by without a single sight of him. You thought he must really spend all his time at Danny’s, because despite living on the same floor, you never saw him coming or going. Each day, as you walked down the hallway to or from your room, you’d glance toward his door, just hoping to catch even the briefest glimpse of him. But every time, there was nothing—no sign of him at all. It was as if Sam had vanished into thin air.

The longing gnawed at you, filling you with the prickling rush of a high school infatuation. It was that same eager anticipation you used to feel while lingering around a crush’s locker, waiting for that fleeting moment when your worlds would briefly collide. The anticipation, the nervous energy that hummed through your veins—it left you with a familiar ache of wanting to see him, even just for a second. It felt almost insane to be so desperate to run into someone you’d met only once, but it was maddening how he seemed to occupy every corner of your mind, refusing to be forgotten.

You were beginning to wonder if Sam had just been a figment of your imagination until an hour before closing the on-campus café, when a familiar face walked up to the counter. When you looked up at him, his grin grew wide.

“Wallflower!” He exclaimed. 

A peachy tint coated your cheekbones at the fact he remembered the nickname he’d given you. “Hey Sam.” You tried to keep your voice level to not seem overly enthusiastic, but inside there was a flurry of excitement. “I haven’t seen you around much.” You kicked yourself for mentioning it, thinking he may find it creepy that you noticed.

“Ah yeah, I take night classes, so my schedule is all fucked up.” He shrugged. 

“Oh, that makes sense.” You said in realization since you mostly took morning classes. It was no wonder you never ran into each other with your schedules flipped. 

He ordered an iced chai and watched as you swiftly threw together the ingredients without a second thought. “You really seem like a pro at this.” 

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess.” After throwing a lid on the cup, you slid it to him. 

“Hey, when are you off? I’m thinking of heading to the bar after this, wanna come?” He plucked a straw from the container full of them then smacked one end on the tabletop until it ripped through the other. 

“About 30 min-“ Your head tilted a bit. “You’re a freshman, aren’t you? How are you getting into a bar?” You asked skeptically. 

A smug smirk tugged at his mouth and shrugged nonchalantly. “I have my ways.”

“Oh, well I don’t have a fake ID or anything like that…” You trailed off suddenly feeling the excitement of seeing him again drain from your body. 

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said I have my ways, I know people. I can get you in no problem.” He paused. “If you want to, of course.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, still not fully convinced but you weren’t going to pass up on an invitation out with him. 

Upon arriving at the off-campus bar with Sam, you’re immediately overwhelmed. The bar was tiny, grungy with red neon lights adorning the outside. Posters of music artists, new and old, were plastered all over the walls. It was packed, people bustling and flowing in and out the front door. All Sam did to get you both in was show up. All the staff seemed to know him and didn’t blink an eye when he ordered you both drinks. You chose a lime margarita while he chose a beer. 

“Where are your friends?” You asked looking up at him before taking a small sip of your neon green beverage. You wrapped your cardigan around your body as a way to soothe your social overstimulation.

He looked at you a bit funny before outstretching his arms, “Well, look around!”

You giggled and did as he instructed. In a way he was right, just about everyone in the room seemed friendly with him but not necessarily his friends. You nudged his arm with your elbow, “You know what I mean.” 

“First of all,” He used his free hand to cover the area you had just gently poked. “Ow! That hurt.” He exclaimed teasingly. “Second of all, did I say I was meeting friends?” 

You reflected on the earlier interaction, initially perceiving it as him meeting up with friends and you merely being an afterthought. But as you reconsidered, one phrase stood out in your mind: "I can get you in no problem, if you want to, of course." It replayed over and over, taking on a new significance.

He could clearly see the hoops you were jumping through in your mind, and it brought a grin to his lips. His hand tentatively found your wrist to gently ground you enough to regain your focus back to him. “I asked you to come here with me, not them.” He said simply, like it was as easy as breathing but it hit you in the stomach like a punch. 

Blood flooded your cheeks bright red, “Oh,” You didn’t know what to think nonetheless what to say. The last thing you wanted to do was misinterpret what he was implying and make a fool of yourself. “I see.” If it had been any other man, they might’ve taken your curtness as a rejection or grown insecure, but not Sam. He just gave you a smile and said, “Good.” before taking a sip of his beer. 

He led you into the back corner of the bar where the pool tables and games were located. “You wanna play some pool? Test out those tricks you learned a couple weeks ago?” He asked but your eyes were elsewhere. 

A large grin pulled across your lips with a brightness filling your eyes as they returned to him. “What about darts?” 

His eyes flickered with uncertainty before pulling into a smile, “Sure, why not! Loser buys the next round.”

“Deal.” You happily went to gather the existing three darts on the board and brought them over to the boy. You offered them up like a gift in your hands. “Here ya go.”

He put his hand up and shook his head, “No, no ladies first.” He was being polite, but it just seemed like he was unsure of his abilities. 

You positioned yourself in front of the dartboard, feeling Sam’s gaze on you as you prepared to throw. The light hum of bar chatter faded to the background as you focused, the dart cool in your hand. Your fingers curled around it just right, and with a smooth motion, you threw. The first dart landed solidly within the outer ring—not perfect, but decent. You turned to glance at Sam, flashing him a playful smile before grabbing the second dart.

As you lined up your next shot, you made sure to take your time. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you, watching your every move. With a small flick of your wrist, the second dart hit closer to the center this time—just barely off the mark from a perfect shot. You gave him a small, satisfied smirk, the competitive spark in your eyes unmistakable.

For the final throw, you felt a playful and buzzed surge of confidence. Turning to Sam with a smirk, you gave him a challenging glance. “Ready to see how it’s really done?” You asked with a teasing lilt in your voice. Then, with another smooth, more controlled, flick of your wrist, you released the dart, watching it land just shy of the bullseye, so close that you could almost feel the victory in the air. You stepped back, letting out a breath of satisfaction. “Your turn,” you said, stepping aside and offering him the darts with a grin. "Good luck."

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, show off,” he sassed, clearly amused but a little more nervous now. He stepped up to the line, eyeing the board with a serious expression that only made you grin wider. 

“C’mon, Sammy,” you teased. “Don’t tell me you’re already nervous.”

He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Worried? Nah. Just making sure I don’t embarrass myself too much in front of you.”

Your cheeks felt aflame, the statement could’ve definitely been meant in a friendly way, but it made your heart race. Just the idea that he was conscious about your perception of him was almost enough to make you spiral into what-ifs.

Sam took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders like he was about to face a real challenge. He stepped forward, aiming carefully. The bar's warm lighting cast shadows over his features, giving his usual confident expression a touch of apprehension. He threw the first dart—landing just shy of where your first shot had landed.

"Not bad," you teased, crossing your arms. "Think you can do better?"

His lips twitched, that competitive edge sparking in his eyes. He glanced at you briefly before throwing the second dart, this time hitting dangerously close to where your second shot had been. "There we go," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Guess the pressure's on now, huh?"

Sam smirked, his eyes finding yours as he prepared for the final throw. "Always is when you're around." The words were light, but there was a certain tension beneath them, a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His focus shifted back to the board, and he released the third dart—this one just a hair away from the bullseye.

You let out a mock gasp, stepping closer to him as if to inspect the board. "Well, look at that! Seems like you could actually win."

He leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. "Could?" he echoed, his voice low, teasing. "Sounds like you're doubting me."

Your smile softened, feeling the heat of his presence next to you. "I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, and for a moment, the world outside of this dart game seemed to fade. It was just the two of you, standing close, the air charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. You wondered if it was just the alcohol rushing through you or if it was real, and more than anything, you wondered if he felt it too. 

You and Sam continued playing, the competitive energy between you both lighthearted but persistent. With each round, Sam improved slightly, his throws becoming steadier and more consistent. But despite his best efforts, you managed to stay ahead, winning both rounds with just enough of an edge to keep teasing him about it.

By the end of the third round, it was clear that you had the upper hand, your score pulling ahead with each set of darts. Sam finally threw his last dart, which landed just shy of the bullseye, and turned to you with a mock sigh of defeat. “Alright, you’ve officially beaten me three times in a row, I think it’s time to call it.”

You laughed victoriously, the burn of alcohol warming your skin and allowing your real, unbridled self shine through. “Fuck yeah!”

“Damn, beat my ass in pool and darts, gonna beat me in poker too?” He joked. “C’mon I owe you probably the most expensive shot on the menu.” Sam knew he’d lose to you the entire time. Not only because he really sucked at darts but because he just wanted an excuse to buy you a drink without it being an overtly romantic gesture.

While a shot wasn’t necessarily what you wanted, who were you to deny Sam of anything. You were certain that he could convince you to do goddamn anything with those big hazelnut eyes.

One shot of tequila turned into two, two turned into three until you were four shots deep, giggling at the bar with Sam over any and everything. With a new margarita in your hand and fresh beer in his, you both found yourself in the back corner again, this time on a leather couch. Your thighs and hips sat flush with each other, and it was all you could think about. Warmth radiated off of him and seeped burning heat into your side. You were aware of any and all movements beside you and your hazy mind worked hard to decipher them. Sometimes it felt like he was flirting with you and other times he’d act like a friend. This confusion wasn’t made any easier when he dropped his arm around your shoulders. 

Little did you know that Sam was feeling the same way, sensing a nervous pit in his stomach as he picked apart every expression and reaction you gave him. He paid extra attention to when he attempted to flirt with you, he noticed that your cheeks would redden but you wouldn’t flirt back. He was just as confused as you.

You both were nervous, confused and excited. As much as Sam wanted to rush it, he wanted it to play out organically to see if you felt the same. 

All the alcohol from the night was making you tired so when you leaned into Sam’s touch, it didn’t register that you could be overstepping. Sam froze but wasn’t upset about your sudden affection. 

“Sammy.” You hummed against his shoulder, letting the smell of his herbally cologne fill your nostrils. “You smell really good.” 

He let out a breathy laugh and wrapped his arm further around you, pulling you closer. “Yeah? You like it?” He asked, looking down at you with a soft smirk.

“Mhm. It’s perfect.” You looked up and giggled as you booped his nose. “Like you.” 

If you had been sober, you would’ve been mortified of your own actions but drunk you only noticed how his tan cheeks turned pink. He looked so cute with rosy cheeks. 

“Oh,” He laughed down at you. “You must be very drunk.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested sitting up, using Sammy’s thigh for support. He was immediately extremely aware of your hand placement but was trying his best not to think about it too much. “You had the same amount to drink.”

“I never said I wasn’t drunk, silly.” He stated proudly, “Just that you,” He booped your nose back. “Are definitely, very drunk.” 

You pouted at him before letting your defenses fall, giving way to your fatigue. “Sammy, I’m sleepy.” You informed with a bit of a slur. “Bed. Must get to bed.” 

Before he could respond, you were up and marching for the door - you had a mission and you were going to accomplish it. Sam gathered your cardigan and purse for you and hurriedly followed you out of the bar. “Hey, wait up!”

Once Sam caught up to you, the two of you stumbled through the night like only tipsy college students could, winding your way through the streets back to your dorms. You trekked through the quiet streets, making your way home with a mix of laughter and slurred songs. You sang whatever pop song was dominating the radio, your voice loud and uninhibited. Despite Sam's earlier claims of hating mainstream pop, he somehow knew every word. You both belted out the chorus together, the melody echoing in the still night air.

You skipped ahead, dancing and twirling under the streetlights, your carefree energy infectious. Sam, though a little more reserved, couldn't help but smile as he watched you. He wasn’t necessarily a reserved creature normally but even wasted he was nervous to make a fool out of himself in front of you. Sam mostly watched with a fond smile, occasionally giving in to your playful antics and joining in—whether it was a spontaneous spin or a goofy dance move—he couldn’t help it, you were addictive to him. Not so much like a drug, but more like a new favorite latte to be craved every morning. He didn’t mind getting lost in you; he was happy just being there with you, letting himself be swept up in whatever fun you dragged him into.

Once you reached your dorm room door you fell to your knees dramatically, “Nooooo!” You shook your fists at the sky over another sock on your door.

He giggled at your theatrics, “Does she do this often?” 

“AUGH.” You groaned and fell flat on your back. “Only every other fucking day.” You exhaled and blinked at the dust-coated ceiling. 

He held out a hand to help you up, which normally would take no effort, but your exaggerated movements were obstructing the ease. “C’mon let's get you into a bed.”  

Once on your feet again, his hands found your hips to push you forward and it sent a chill down your spine and a heat between your legs. Even in your heavily intoxicated state, you were extremely aware of just how large his hands were and how they enveloped your hipbones completely. The way he guided you to his room reminded you of that first night with him, though you were much less drunk then. When inside, the now familiar scent of marijuana and patchouli filled your nose, and the dim lighting comforted you. 

“I don’t even wanna know what you’ve been doing all these nights while you’re locked out of your room but,” He opened the top drawer to his desk, grabbing something that hung by a little white disc. “You can always just come here, since I’m gone most of the time anyway.” He shrugged, holding it by the disc in front of you between two fingers.

“Oh, I absolutely can NOT take that.” You pushed his hand back towards his body. 

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile and reached towards your pants, gently pulling your pocket open and dropping the key in. “Don’t use it if you don't want to but,” He paused, taking a moment to look at you. “I want you to have a safe space to go to.” 

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that you feared that your ribs might crack. His chocolatey brown eyes were so soft and genuine, and most of all concerned. The idea of Sam not only trusting you enough to give you his key but doing so because of his concern for you, made you want to melt into the floor. Which is exactly what you did. 

Your knees buckled and you fell onto the ground once again in dramatics. You sprawled out flat on the carpet with your eyes locked on the geometric tapestry hanging from the ceiling. He chuckled and towered over you with his hands propped on his hips, “You done now?” 

You blinked up at him. “Why would you do that?” You whined more of a statement than a question. 

“Do what? Give you the key?”

“Make me like you.” The words danced out of your mouth effortlessly, so much so that your drunken brain didn’t even register what you said.

The smile that pulled across his lips was so glorious, so beautiful - it reminded you of morning sunlight shining down on fresh, dewy grass. Sober you would definitely be filling your brain with 68 different ways he was too good and far too gorgeous for you – but right now, you just admired him and his presence. He reached over to grab his pipe and a lighter before sitting down criss-cross next to you on the floor. 

“You like me?” He asked with a soft smirk as he brought the pipe up to his lips and lit the lighter to spark over the herb. As the green burned, he inhaled a deep hit, held it, and exhaled a smokey cloud above you. 

You turned your head to him with a smile wide enough to hurt your cheeks and nodded. “Sure. Maybe.” 

He kept his grin like he was satisfied with your answer. The anxiety he felt before melted away just a bit. His own heart was full from your slight confession but still aware that you were heavily intoxicated. The admission filled him with both hope and apprehension. He offered the glass pipe over to you, “Want some?” 

You waved it away, “No, no. If I get crossfaded, I’ll throw up.” To which he quickly retracted his arms and his offer. 

“Please don’t puke on my floor.” He teased before setting the pipe back on his nightstand. 

After a bit of silence, he cleared his throat, “So, um,” He sounded nervous to continue his inquiry. “My brothers and I are having a movie-day-get-together thing this Friday, would you wanna come?” 

You tilted your head at him, your stomach dropping a bit in anxiety at the idea of being in a room full of people he knows, not just his friends, but his brothers. Nonetheless, a soft smile spread across your lips, “Sure, Sammy.” 

He let out an involuntary giggle, he loved the way his name sounded in your voice, “Cool.” Abruptly, he pushed himself off the ground and held a hand down to you. “C’mon, you said you wanted a bed, remember.”

“Mmmmmm yeah but the floor is comfy too.” In your drunken state, it felt like heaven. 

“Don’t make me pick you up, because I will.” He warned with a pointed finger, to which you just stuck your tongue out to like a defiant child. 

“Fine, hard way I guess.” He shrugged before leaning down and scooping you up into his arms with one beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck for stability. Time seemed to slow as you watched him focus on getting you into bed - he was breathtaking, glowing even. You weren’t sure why he was radiating but you bathed in the sun rays he beamed. His wavy brunette hair framed his face perfectly, cupping his jawline with a small curl inward. All of his angles were sharp which contrasted tastefully with his plump lips and soft eyes. If there was a blueprint to what a man should look like, it was definitely him. You weren’t religious but you were convinced that some god up there must’ve crafted him perfectly, sculpted him into the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. 

You were falling in love, and you didn’t even know it yet. 

“Sammy.” You mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into his arm as he set you down. “Don’t leave. Sleep.”

He chuckled, crawling into bed behind you. “Wasn’t planning on it, Wallflower.” He whispered gently, turning his body towards you. 

He muttered something along the lines of ‘oh shit the light’ before reaching over you carefully to click the lamp off. As he settled back into his original spot, he accidentally ended up closer to you. Before he could move away, your sleepy body instinctively grabbed his arm, pulling it around your waist. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy but your warmth was too inviting to resist. He quickly melted into the spooning position, holding you close as sleep began to overtake you.

Sam stayed awake a little longer, savoring the warmth and closeness. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed this—being able to hold someone, feeling a comforting connection. It had been a long time since he’d had a girlfriend, and while he often saw his brothers and shared platonic affection with friends, it wasn’t the same. Cuddling had always been the part of relationships he cherished most, even more than sex. As he snuggled into you, and you unconsciously pressed back against him, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a while. Whether it was just a drunken gesture or something more, it didn’t matter right now. It simply felt good to hold someone again.

Your sleep riddled eyes slotted open slowly to warm light seeping in and gentle music playing. When your eyes finally adjusted to the light, you saw Sam lighting incense and dancing a bit to music you didn’t recognize.

“Morning.” You said gently as not to startle him, which proved useless since he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

He placed a hand on his heart, “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” He then readjusted to lean against his dresser in a ‘cool’ way, “You didn’t uh, see anything did ya?”

You giggled, bringing the duvet over a yawn. “You mean like you dancing? Nooo didn’t see any of that.” You replied teasingly. 

“Whatever, forget what you saw.” He waved you off and went back to trying to get the incense lit after being interrupted. The lighter flicked a couple times before finally igniting and catching the tip of the scented stick. 

“Already forgotten.” You smiled into another yawn and stretched, pulling the muscles in your shoulders and arms. 

You suddenly got a rush of ‘I need to go home’ when you realized you were still in last night’s clothes but relaxed the second you realized that your room was just down the hall. 

“You hungry? I ordered some food that should be here soon.” He grinned, hesitantly. “I didn’t really know what you liked or if you’d be awake so I just kinda ordered a bunch of stuff.” He laughed bashfully. “I was also a little high when I placed the order so…”

You chuckled at him, “Yeah sure, I could use something to soak up all this alcohol.” 

Soon after there was a knock at the door with the food. You watched Sam greet the deliveryman who he already seemed to know, and tipped him a $20, which you thought was extremely generous until you realized just how much food he ordered. 

He turned to you with an expression that embodied both shock and embarrassment. “Okay so maybe I was really high when I ordered.” 

You both laughed as he set down four bags of food for the both of you. While it was true that he had been quite high when he ordered, he also hoped that he’d pick something from the menu that would entice you to stay a bit longer. 

He plopped down on the floor in front of all the food, starting to separate all of the transparent containers. You soon met him on the floor on the other side of the mountain of food. “What is all this stuff?” You questioned, not recognizing the green branding. 

“It’s my favorite little bistro, Rose & Lentil! You’ve never been?” He pulled out what looked like a smoothie bowl, something pudding-like, a mixed salad and some grainy pancakes. You never expected a boy like him to be eating anything other than junk. 

“No, I’ve never been, but it looks yummy.” You half lied. “What’re you gonna eat?” 

“Hmm, I was thinking either the açaí bowl or the chia seed pudding. But if you want either of those, by all means.” He kept hands off all of it until you chose. 

“I was actually gonna ask for the pancakes so that’s perfect!” You hungrily reached over to grab the container and brought it to you. 

Sam opted for the açaí bowl, informing you that it was actually his favorite breakfast food, aside from regular pancakes. The ones he’d ordered were whole grain pancakes, but they ended up being delicious regardless - that or you were just starving. 

Breakfast was full of jokes about the previous night’s events, with both of you laughing over the silly moments and playful mishaps. As you sat across from him, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each joke and shared memory bringing another burst of laughter. Everything felt so easy and natural with him, like slipping into a comfortable routine. But even amid the lighthearted banter, there was a small, persistent flutter of anxiety in your stomach. It was a twist of nerves that you couldn’t quite shake, a subtle hint of the deeper feelings lurking beneath the surface.

As you watched him move around some blueberries at the bottom of his clear container, you were suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude. You were thankful that this stranger attended that frat party weeks ago and that he spotted you. You were so grateful for his kindness; you didn’t know what you would’ve done these nights being kicked out of your dorm. But mostly, you were thankful for his friendship. Katie was a decent friend and roommate, but she was absent most of the time and you hadn’t made any other friends. If it didn’t sound so lame you would’ve thanked him verbally for spending time with you. Being away from home was lonely and it was nice to spend some time with a friend. You weren’t sure if this little flutter in your heart would actually lead anywhere but if anything was for certain it was that you’d find any way to make sure he stayed in your life, even if it was just platonic. No matter how much the idea of platonic hurt to think about. 

After breakfast you said your goodbyes and slipped out of his room and back into your own, quietly, in case Katie was sleeping or still had company. Thankfully, the room was empty, and you could decompress in solitude. You pressed yourself against the back of your door and took a deep breath. All Sam did was be kind to you, and you were already smitten with him. How could you not be? With beauty like his you were surprised he didn’t have a jealous girlfriend kicking you out of his room. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back replaying the night. Suddenly, a vague memory arose, of him wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Heat filled your cheeks and the tips of your fingers at the thought, and you wondered if you had just imagined it. Regardless, you now felt the absence of him around you, and it was a feeling you didn’t like.

But you stuffed down the sensation as much as you could, he probably was taken or uninterested in you in that way. With how pretty he was there was no way that he’d be interested in someone as mediocre as you thought yourself to be. He probably dated the most beautiful girls on campus, and you believed you definitely weren’t one.

A week later, you arrived at the address Sam had given you and craned your neck up to the skyscraper-esque building. Sam had called this an apartment building, but it was definitely a condominium. You didn’t even know there were condos on the outskirts of campus, but you went to a prestigious university so, it would make sense the rich kids lived here. Which surprised you because you never even suspected Sam to be a “rich kid”, he was just, Sam. 

After a long elevator ride, you reached the 7th floor and stood in front of a white door adorned with a gold number paired with a letter, 7C. You shift back and forth on your heels and grip the straps of the tote bag hanging on your shoulder. After exhaling a deep breath, you mustered the courage to knock your knuckles against the door. 

You’d briefly met all of his friends already except for the brother that owned the condo, but you hadn’t met them yet. Not sober anyway. 

The door suddenly swung open only to reveal a boy with shaggy brown hair and a giant, toothy smile on his face. 

“Y/N!” He exclaimed excitedly and you wondered how he knew it was you even though you’d never met before. The boy just a bit taller than you wrapped you in a big hug. Your brows furrowed a bit at the gesture, seeing as again, you’d never met before.

You chuckled nervously, “Josh? Right?” 

“The one and only!” The grin never leaving his face. “Welcome, welcome!” He announced, spreading his arms wide. “Make yourself at home, grab a drink, enjoy yourself!” It was then that you realized he’d been holding a beer the whole time. “Oh, and please take your shoes off at the door, thank you!” 

“Thank-“ You began but he had fluttered away before you had a chance to finish. 

You could hear the bustle of the other boys in another room which is where you assumed Josh had run off to. You took in the condo as you were left alone. It was spacious with an open floor plan. Floor-to-ceiling windows filled the room with dim light from the cloudy day. Everything was white with abstract art decorating any sparse areas.

Josh must’ve promptly informed Sam of your arrival because he appeared quickly after his departure. 

“Hey Y/N,” He smiled softly, and you took note of his reserved cadence and the fact he didn’t greet you with your nickname. He wrapped you into a half hug, which after Josh’s bear hug seemed small. You felt crazy for noticing the tiny differences in behavior when they probably meant nothing. 

“Hey Sam.” You smiled shyly and gave him a small wave. The interaction seemed so… new, and stale, when you’d been hanging for a bit and even at the beginning, he hadn’t been like that. It settled a storm of nerves in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly every interaction you'd had with him was replaying in your head, wondering if something went wrong. 

“Do you want a drink or something?” He asked, leading you into the spacious modern-styled kitchen. Once in front of a rather large silver fridge he opened the french doors to reveal a plethora of alcohol, taking up most of the appliance. 

“Oh, um,” In the corner you spotted one row of water bottles. “Could I have a water please?” You figured that alcohol may not be the best idea when feeling as nervous as you did. 

He smiled, “Of course.” His hand plucked a bottle and handed it to you before grabbing a beer of his own. 

“Hey, Sam!” Called a voice you recognized as Jake’s calling from the other room. “Come help fix this shit with this TV.” 

He rolled his eyes but placed a tender hand on your shoulder, “Excuse me.” He said in a tone insinuating that he’d rather do anything else than go help them. 

Shortly after Sam left, you soon felt another presence enter the kitchen. “Well, well, well. Nice to see you again.” Welcomed Jake adorned with a faux British accent and a half drank amber beverage.

“Hi- uh,” You pointed over your shoulder. “Didn’t you just call him over for help?”

Jake smirked and gestured over in the general direction. “Yeah, that’s what he’s doing. Helping.” He took a sip of his drink, his chocolate browns eyeing you over the brims of the short glass. He looked even better in the daylight, in a patterned button down, unbuttoned til the very last few buttons before being sucked into his jeans. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and fluffy. His face was sterner than Sam’s but not as angular or sharp.

“Oh.” You replied shortly, feeling naive and a bit cornered.

“Oh love, you can’t be only drinkin’ water.” He stayed in the British accent except it was sounding a bit Irish. “Let me make you something.” He began taking bottles off the counters and pulled a stemless martini glass from a cabinet. 

“No, no.” You tried to stop him using your hands to wave away his actions. “I’m okay really.”

“Nonsense. I’ll make it light.” His gravelly voice returning to his American dialect. Though, what he was making looked far from light and the churning anxiety in your stomach only worsened. 

He poured in some vodka into a shaker and took the opportunity to glance up at you while the liquid poured. “So, Sammy wooed you huh?” The corner of his lips curling into a smirk. 

“I-I,” You began but fell short, not really knowing the answer. It was true but Sam didn’t even know how you felt, you couldn’t let Jake know first. 

“I see.” He nodded, adding cranberry juice to the metal container. “Either you haven’t told him or he’s not doing a very good job at wooing you.”

A bright red blush bloomed to your cheeks at his words, seemingly stunned silent, lost in your own jumbled thoughts.

He paused with his brows lowering then raising, “Or both.” Before the smirk returned again. “What a shame.”

“What is?” You asked innocently.

Some other juices and ingredients you didn’t recognize were added to the shaker before he snapped the lid on it. “You’re easily the most beautiful girl he’s ever brought around.” He said effortlessly, no hesitation behind the words - unlike with Sam, who had you questioning your entire purpose there. “It’d be a shame for him to fumble the opportunity to win you over.” He brought the shaker over his shoulder and shook it with one hand, ice clashing into metal filling the silence in the room. 

“Oh, no.” The blush on your cheeks had dulled to dusty rose and your eyes fell to your water bottle as you played with the label. “I don’t think it’s anything like that.” When the words left your mouth, they felt like lies. It had to be something right? There’s no way you were just imagining everything. You shrugged. “Or maybe? I don’t know.” 

He poured the martini glass full of a cloudy pink liquid and handed it to you garnished with mint. “You’re far too stunning to be that confused about someone’s feelings for you.” 

You took the glass delicately to not disturb the beautiful presentation. “Thank you.” You replied quietly to both the drink and the compliment. 

Jake’s eyes darted to the left catching Sam making his way back. The smirk returned to his lips before leaning over to reach your ear. “If you’re not impressed by him, let me know. I can do anything he can’t.” His hand lightly gripped your arm before parting from you to walk past Sam in the opposite direction.

Your eyes widened unsure how to take his claim, but a buzz fell into your hips nonetheless. What could he possibly show you that Sam couldn’t? But more importantly, was there truth behind his words, should you not be blindly crushing on Sam without knowing his feelings? While Jake wasn’t the one you wanted, he sure had a way of making everything so simple.

You were startled out of your thoughts when Sam finally reached your side. “C’mon, they’re about to start the movie.” He said quietly then placed his hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to the living room. 

The feeling of his touch on you made your heart swell but only further confused you about his behavior. Even after his hand left you, it still tingled where it had been. He plopped down in the middle of the couch and patted the cushion beside him, inviting you to sit next to him. 

You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your recently glossed lips and took the seat next to him. 

It didn’t take long for all the boys to gather around the tv, some on the couch and some on the floor. They put on some indie movie that you could barely keep up with, not because it was necessarily over your head, but because of Sam’s proximity to you. Your knees were barely touching and there’s just a hair of space between our stationary pinkies on the cushion, just begging to cross over each other. Your heart stayed high the entire time, but you try to hide your chest rising and falling rapidly. You wonder if Sam or anyone else around them could tell or if Sam felt the same way.

Jake sat on the other side of Sam, and you were grateful for it because the idea of being sat between them made your head spin. It was bad enough you’d already caught him stealing looks at you every now and then, but you paid no attention to him, not wanting to fuel whatever fire he was trying to start. It was bad enough that his words were ringing in the back of your head and your curiosity running rampant.

You and Sam’s pinkies were still barely touching, and the contact remained light yet electric throughout the entire movie. The sensation of his skin brushing against yours was enough to keep your heart racing and your skin tingling with goosebumps. The quickened pulse and fluttering nerves never eased during the film’s two hours and seventeen minutes, despite the lively chatter and laughter of the group around you. Each time you shifted, or the couch creaked, the brief, tantalizing contact was a constant reminder of his closeness, amplifying your giddy nervousness. Every slight movement or accidental brush seemed to heighten the tension, making it almost impossible to focus on anything other than the shared, electrifying proximity between you. The soft, shared touch was like a delicate thread binding you together, making every casual brush of his hand feel intensely significant.

As the movie ended, the group burst into animated discussion, gesturing enthusiastically about their favorite parts. You were more than content to fade into the background, relieved not to be thrust into the conversation since you had barely paid attention and couldn't have contributed meaningfully. As the chatter continued and the group began to scatter—grabbing their belongings or placing glasses in the sink—You rose from your seat, stretching your arms above your head to loosen the muscles that had been dormant for the past two hours. Then, you navigated around the couch, stepping out of Jake's way as he made his way toward the living room exit.

You ended up leaning forward against the backside of the couch, pressing your palms into the headrests for support. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of Sam’s head resting on your shoulder from behind. It was a simple, unassuming gesture, but it sent your heart racing, making it feel as if it were leaping into your throat. The thudding pulse in your ears seemed to drown out everything else, and every hair on your body seemed to stand on end.

Sam's hands were tucked behind him as he bent slightly to rest against you. “Did ya like the movie?” He asked casually, completely unaware of the mini panic attack his closeness was causing.

“I—” You stuttered, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. He chuckled softly, sensing your unease.

“You didn’t like it, did you?” He guessed with a knowing smile.

The blush deepened on your cheeks as he pulled away, giving you a moment to regain your composure. You turned to face him, trying to steady your breath. “I did,” you said, not entirely untrue, since you had been too distracted to focus on the film.

Sam’s face softened into an endearing, embarrassed grin, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Ah, I told the guys we should’ve picked a more interesting movie.” It was adorable, the way he was nervous about you enjoying the piece of media, nervous about impressing you. 

You noticed then that it was just the four of them, no extra partners or friends. This was really about him introducing you to his tight-knit circle. He was more reserved with them compared to his larger-than-life charisma he normally exuded in other social situations. Being the little brother of two other grandiose personalities, it made sense that he’d sometimes get outshined. You wondered if this was the normal dynamic with them or if they were on good behavior because of your presence. 

Without thinking, you reached out and found his wrist, giving it a little squeeze. “I liked it. I think I’m just tired.” 

His regular joyful smile and the sparkle in his espresso eyes returned, “Oh, I’m glad. I was scared it would bore you.” 

You shook your head with a reassuring grin, “No, I think I just need some coffee.”

“Hey, Y/N!” A voice called from the kitchen and when you leaned over to follow it, you found Jake with a cigar perched in his lips while he lit the end. “You should join us at the arcade tomorrow night.” 

Your eyes flickered up to Sam, who looked like Jake just asked a question he had been hyping himself up to ask. “Sure.” You smiled up at Sam before moving back to Jake. “I’d love to.” 

“Cool.” Sam nodded, trying to act nonchalant about it all but the truth was that he was ecstatic. 

The more he got to know you, the more he became something he rarely was - shy. Fidgety and nervous were never part of Sam’s repertoire, he was always his most authentic self, never caring who thought what of him. Until you. Especially since you weren’t seeming to pick up on any of his hints. True to your nickname, he thought of you like a flower, something delicate. Delicate for Sam was dancing around all of the obvious signs instead of blurting out his feelings. He didn’t want to scare you away with overstepping or misread signals. You were slowly becoming his new favorite person, and he didn’t want to rush or lose that because of his own impatience. 

After saying goodbye to the boys and thanking Josh for his stellar hospitality, you and Sam wandered over to an on-campus café for some much-needed coffee before Sam’s evening class started. The atmosphere was cozy, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It felt like the perfect way to wind down after the busy day.

The view from the amply large windows gave you a perfect view of the setting sun, casting pink and gold through the glass and onto the tan boy. You couldn’t get over just how beautiful he was, you wondered if he knew that about himself.

“Thanks for drivin’ me back to campus,” Sam said as he brought his cup to his lips. You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift to his mouth, watching as his pink lips touched the plastic lid. You felt a strange pang of envy toward that cup, wishing you were the one he was drawing closer to.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you replied, quickly blinking away your stare and taking a sip of your hot coffee to distract yourself.

He set his cup down and cleared his throat, his gaze locking onto yours with a spark of mischief. “So,” he began, drawing out the moment with unnecessary suspense, “I have a very important question.”

Your eyes widened as you mirrored him, placing your cup down too. “Oh god, what?”

Sam paused for effect, leaning in ever so slightly before finally asking, “What is… your major?”

You let out a relieved laugh, placing an open palm on your chest. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Sam chuckled, flashing you that easy grin of his. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Um, honestly, I’m kind of undecided,” you admitted with a shrug. “I came in as an English major, but now I’m not so sure. You?”

“Ah, I’ve got no major,” he said casually, taking another sip of his coffee. “Why choose? I want a little bit of everything, ya know?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I believe they call that Liberal Arts.”

“Damn,” he sighed dramatically, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “And here I thought I was being revolutionary.”

If you didn’t have a massive crush on him, you might’ve teased him more, maybe something like, "Yeah, a lot of men seem to think they’re revolutionary," But you bit your tongue, opting for something lighter instead.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to think outside of a bigger box, Sammy,” you teased, tipping your cup toward him with a grin.

“I guess you’re right, Wallflower,” he shot back smoothly, making your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t your name but god did you love the way he said it. You felt the familiar warmth creeping up your neck, threatening to color your cheeks red, so you quickly changed the subject.

“So, your brothers just go to arcades regularly?” you asked innocently, trying to steady yourself.

He laughed, setting his cup back down. “Not just any arcade. It’s The Arcade. It’s this bar-arcade place, kind of like a smaller, off-brand Dave & Buster’s.”

Your lips formed an understanding "O." “My bad.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” Sam continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I think you’ll really like it.”

You smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm, but something had been gnawing at you for a while now, so you leaned in with a half-serious grin. “Hey, so how do you get into all these places anyway? Just how many people do you know?”

Sam laughed easily. “Honestly, just one—my dad.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “He’s the Dean.”

You almost spat out your coffee. “Your dad is the Dean? Of our school?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin. “And, well, I guess I know three people if you count Jake and Josh. They set some traditions before I started. Most of the bars let me in because of them.”

You blinked, processing the information. “So, your dad just lets you guys drink and party wherever you want?”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Kinda. He wants us to have the full ‘college experience.’ As long as we keep our grades up and don’t screw up too badly, he pretty much lets us do whatever. It also helps that no one really wants to say no to us because, you know, Dean’s kids and all. Not that we’d ever get anyone kicked out or anything, but they don’t need to know that.”

You laughed, leaning forward on your elbows with a teasing glint in your eye. “So basically, don’t piss you off?”

Sam grinned, his expression softening as he leaned in slightly. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to piss me off.”

As you finished your coffee, the conversation drifted into lighter topics, the laughter between you and Sam making the café feel even cozier. But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the café windows, the thought of your upcoming weekend plans lingered in the back of your mind. The idea of spending more time with Sam at The Arcade filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and excitement—a little nerve-wracking but thrilling all the same.

“Ah shit.” Sam quickly shifted his watch into view. “I gotta get out of here before I’m late - again.” 

The anticipation was sweet, a pleasant undercurrent as you both stood up to leave. You didn’t know it, but he was feeling just as anxious and excited as you. 

Sam flashed you a grin that made your heart flutter. “So, Saturday then? I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect,” you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. It felt like the weekend couldn’t come fast enough

As you said your goodbyes and parted ways, a smile lingered on your lips, the thought of seeing him again sending butterflies swirling through your chest. 

You found yourself looking forward to it more than you expected, not just because it sounded fun, but because it was with him. You couldn’t help but smile at the idea of what the weekend might bring—laughing over games, the buzz of the arcade lights, and maybe even an excuse to let your guard down a little more around him.

The thought of the upcoming date left you both excited and a little bit anxious. It felt different, but you couldn’t tell how. But mostly, you couldn’t wait to see where the night would take you—after all, being with Sam always promised an adventure.

Next Chapter -> 03 - Deflowering*

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[staytinyville]

Greed

For my Cult of Dionysus Secret Santa @thelargefrye I hope you love this as much as I did.

↣ Summary: You grew up thinking there was something wrong with you when you couldn’t step a single foot into a church without getting sick. It wasn’t until you became friends with 8 boys that your worry of being possessed by a demon passed and you realized where it was you actually came from. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: ot8 ATEEZ x Reader 

↣ Genre: smut (mdni)

↣ AU/Trope info: Fallen Angel!au, Religious!au, Inspired heavily by Death of a Bachelor album by Panic! At the Disco (Specifically Hallelujah, Emperor's New Clothes, and Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time)

↣ Word Count: 9,024

↣ Warnings: Very wrong depictions of the church, small amount of blood, I swear you might think it’s grooming but it’s not because I do in fact explain how everything worked, soulmate type deal almost

↣ A/N: This is the longest imagine I have ever written (that isn’t an entire like chapter type fic). But damn if I didn’t love writing this and creating the story. If some of these conversations didn’t make me giggle. Really got my creative juices flowing with this. 

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↣ Affiliates: @cultofdionysusnet , @pirateeznet , @wonderlandnet

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You couldn’t remember a time where you didn’t have one of the four boys flocking at your side at all times. You could remember meeting them in grade school–three boys who had chubby cheeks each and eyes that sparkled every time they looked at you. The fourth one came in the following year seeing as he was younger than you all. But still once he made his way into your life things had always been the same. 

You, Yunho, Yeosang, and Mingi were all in the same grade–being in the same kinder class at the age of 5. You stayed quiet that first day of classes, opting to stay where the teacher had assigned you to and listen to every instruction. The table was meant for four kids, and seeing as your class only had so many girls, the teacher had made a move to place at least one girl at each table.

So you were destined to be sat with three other boys who beamed the moment they saw you. They each introduced themselves that day, sharing their school supplies or making sure they were always next to you in the line. You had thought you had made great friends that day, having people to play with rather than just waiting for someone to go up to you. 

It was an eventful year for your little 5 year old brain to really see that over time the other kids seemed to talk behind your back. It was often petty little toddler drama about a girl who didn’t want to be your friend because you were friends with one of the boys they had a crush on. There was one fight that had escalated too far that six children had to be taken into the front office to have a talk. 

Like always you were giggling as Yunho chased after you, Mingi and Yeosang trapping you on the playground to keep you from running away. Yunho had told Mingi and Yeosang to go the other way, wanting to catch you before you got off. But you found another route and ended up on the other side of the playground. 

Just as you were about to jump off the last step of the structure, some girls quickly crowded you causing you to flinch from the sudden invasion of privacy. You froze on the steps, standing above them as you looked down. 

“Excuse me.” You politely told them, trying to move around them. 

They barely moved as you reached the ground, causing you to bump into their shoulders. “You need to stay away from Yeosang! He’s my boyfriend.” One girl called out. 

You turned around confused, frowning at the girl’s words. “He’s my boy friend too.” You tilted your head to the side. “He can have more than one friend.” You explained to her. “He has Yunho and Mingi too.”

“No! He’s only mine.” She continued to yell–she even stomped her foot. 

“Hey, don’t yell at her.” Mingi said, coming up as the three boys finally caught up with you. 

“Yeosang, tell her you're my boyfriend.” The girl pointed her finger at you, causing you to hunch your shoulders back as tears began to form in your eyes from her anger. 

Your lips began to tremble, which Yunho immediately saw. He took your hand then, pulling you into a hug. 

“I can have more than one friend.” Yeosang told the girl. 

“No! You can only have one.” The girl continued. 

“Then I want (Y/N). She lets me have more friends.” Yeosang walked over to where Yunho was hugging you, taking your hand into his. 

“No! You are mine!” With that the girl quickly shoved Yeosang and Yunho off you. 

Her little hands were on your body as she shoved you down onto the floor. You yelped out, feeling the small pebbles digging into your palms as they created wounds. You started to cry loudly, making the girl look at you with wide eyes. 

“(Y/N).” Mingi cried, his own tears forming in his eyes as he saw you hurt. The boy quickly dropped down to you, hugging you closely to him. Yeosang sat down too as Yunho looked around to find a teacher. 

You, the three boys, the girl who had pushed and someone who saw in passing all were sent to the headmasters to talk about what had happened. Your wounds were used as evidence for the girl's shove, even if she tried to argue that you had shoved her too. But all three boys were backing you up and the kid who was there as a witness solidified things. 

That was the day things settled in that you were not going to make many friends who were girls that year. The class already had a few and they all disliked you because you had all the boys wanting to be your friend. 

When you three had entered 1st grade, you had all met Jongho who was a year below. You all had an assembly in the gym when you met the boy first. He had sat next to you and gave you a kind smile, kicking his feet from sitting next to you. When you all would get the chance to play on the playground together he would be seen running with all four of you, keeping up. 

It was also discovered that he lived in the same neighborhood as you all, right next door to Yunho. So when you would have playdates, all of them were invited. It didn’t feel right when one of them wasn’t present. Like there was a part of you missing. 

Jongho had been the first one to ever be missing from some playdate, which led you to realize the problem you had when he was gone. The three boys who had known you for longer than a year were quick to realize when something was wrong with you. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi asked.

“I miss Jongho.” You spoke out loud. 

The three boys all looked at each other, humming in agreement. “We can go see him.” Yunho suggested, coming to a stand from the coloring all four of you were doing. “His parents told me I can go over whenever I want.” The boy added. 

All four of you quickly got up and followed after Yunho. He walked over to the younger boy’s house next door, knocking once he made it past the porch. Jongho’s mother opened the door, greeting all of you. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, clearing her throat as she turned back to Yunho. 

“Can Jongho come out and play with us?” He asked the mother politely. 

“Jongho has to finish homework first and then he can play.” She answered. 

“Can we help him?” You immediately spoke up, not wanting to waste more time without him. “It will go by quicker.” You explained. 

The woman thought for a moment before sighing and allowing you all to walk in. Jongho was in the living room doing his homework at the coffee table. When he saw all of you walking in, he grinned grew and his eyes sparkled. 

“They are here to help you finish. Not play.” His mother told him. “You can do that after finishing.”

“I’ll help you.” You told him, sitting down next to him to where your shoulders touched. 

So you spent a good 15 minutes helping him out with his work, the three other boys watching and helping out where they could. By the time you knew it, all four of you were outside playing tag like normal. However, you still felt like things were missing. 

Because of them, everyone else in your class seemed to avoid you. The girls called you names for always hanging around boys. You tried to do what they did–tried to play their games and ask your parents to dress you up in pretty clothes to fit in–but no matter what you tried to do the others would still alienate you out of games because they knew the boys were always on your side. 

You once tried to get them to stop being your friends in 2nd grade but it seemed to prove difficult. Every time you would distance yourself from them, nightmares would plague your sleep leaving you crying at night. You worried your parents so much they tried to find a solution by taking up a religion they thought would be able to help you all. 

However it was obvious that did not help. Not until Yeosang had gone up to you the day after you tried to get them to leave you alone and asked if you were okay. That was the first night you had not had a nightmare. It was also the day you realized you couldn’t be without them. 

So you grew accustomed to their presence. 

You could remember the first time your parents had forced you to go to church with them. It was the Sunday after you made up with the boys and spent a couple of days without nightmares. You were only 7 when you stepped into the place of worship. 

You remember it like it had just happened the day before. If only because it was the start of a horrendous life that your parents wanted for you. At least a life they forced on you. 

“Hey you go, (Y/N).” Mingi told you, handing you a chalk stick to continue painting along the sidewalk. 

“Thank you, Mingi.” You answered him, bending down to color in your poor drawing of a unicorn. 

“Anything for you.” The boy beamed, giving you a tooth filled smile. 

You blushed, eyes almost closing from how wide you had smiled back. You, along with your four boyfriends as your classmates called them, were all enjoying the Sunday sun drawing on the neighborhood sidewalk. 

Yeosang had been kind enough to bring out his chalks and called upon all of you to spend time together. Yunho had come from down the street with Jongho, while Mingi joined you quickly, seeing as he was your next door neighbor. 

“(Y/N).” You snapped your head up, seeing your parents looking at you coldly from the front porch. 

“We have to go.” Your mother called. Her eyes scanned over the four boys that seemed to crowd you, wanting to share your space. “Now.” She said harshly.

You got up in a hurry, wiping your hands on the grass for a moment so as to not stain your white church dress. “I'll see you guys later.” You gave the boys each a smile, turning around to join your parents in the car. 

The moment you stepped through the large doors of the brightly colored church it felt like your throat closed up. The stained glass that showcased different kinds of stories made shivers go down your back. The pews that were lined with more church goers made you miss a step and almost trip on yourself. 

And the large cross that was placed directly in the middle of a stone table made you feel nauseous. 

“Stop slouching.” Your mother scolded, pushing your shoulders back to straighten you out. 

“I don't like it here.” You whispered, swallowing down the bile that was rising in your throat. 

You flinched and turned behind you as you heard some screeching noise. It made the hairs on your arms stand, leaving you frightful. 

“How can you say that?” Your father shook his head. “This is a house of god. He has done no wrong to you for you to say that. You should be thanking him because we are here to help with your nightmares.”

“My nightmares stopped though.” You told him. 

You began to roll your shoulders, your stomach making weird noises as the cross seemed to get bigger the more you stared at it. You squeezed your eyes shut as the screeching was suddenly heard directly behind you, rocking back and forth to get it to go away. 

The old man you knew to be the father began to speak to the mass, which only made the swirling of your stomach get worse. “I don't know.” You shook your head, hands clutching onto your dress. “It feels really stuffy in here.” You swallowed again. 

And when the father began to recite words from the holy book, things made you go dizzy. 

“I'm going to be sick.” And with that you turned to your mother and let go of all your breakfast into her lap. 

“(Y/N)!” Your mother screeched, standing up and interrupting the sermon. 

And that was the start of your anxiety-inducing journey of attending church every Sunday and throwing up every week. It got to the point where you were terrified of stepping into the church, not wanting to have the acidic taste fill your mouth once again. 

“Why does she get sick so easily, father?” Your mother cried. “And it's only in the church!”

“I cannot explain it.” The man sighed, shaking his head. “But there is something that is tethering her to the other world.” He looked out the window to see you playing in the church yard with your four friends. 

“Something attached to her.” He finished. 

Your parents looked at each other. As they saw you laughing with the young boys, they frowned as they thought about something sinister overtaking your body without anyone knowing. 

“An exorcist?” Your mother whispered. 

“We can try.”

And so you sat patiently a couple times a week for the next few years as the father received things in a language you didn’t understand. A couple of times it would be your church's pastor, other times it would be someone new they would bring in thinking it would change things. At one point you heard your parents talking with the pastor that they had brought someone in from the Vatican. 

However, even then, you sat patiently swinging your legs back and forth as they would repeat the words you had learned by heart at that point. You would repeat it in your head to go to bed, even telling the father of the church that you did that. 

It left him and everyone else baffled at how you seemed to get sick so easily in a church but somehow didn’t react to the exorcism. It seemed that whatever was keeping you from going to a house of worship was not what they had originally thought it to be. 

“Please we've done everything but there is nothing!” Your father had finally started to cry after years of trying to fix your problems. 

“Your daughter doesn't have a demon attached to her.” The pastor explained. “Nothing close to sinister. At least not that we can tell.”

“Then what can it possibly be!?” Your mother was frustrated. 

“God is punishing your child for something she has done.” Was all the father told your parents. 

They kept trying–taking you back every week to see if one day you would magically stop getting sick at the church. You went your entire grade school and middle school life getting sick to your stomach until you left the wooden boards and felt the dirt under your shoes. 

You tried to make your parents stop taking you, but they stuck to their belief that you had something inside of you that needed to be expelled. So you endured it. You cried on Saturday hoping that the next day would be the day everything stopped. The day you were finally free of the sickness that tormented you each time you saw that white building. 

Until one Sunday, things took a turn in a direction you didn’t know if you were allowed to go in.

Puberty had come and gone for each of you, changing everything to prepare yourself for adulthood. You had all taken classes that explained most of what it was–what was the human body and what came with it. You were taught what most people needed to know in order to have a smoother transition into your teenage years. 

However what the classes didn’t teach you was the sickening feeling you got each time you saw one of the boys. It left you feeling icky because of how much you wanted to be with them–how much something called you to them. You had asked your parents about it and they only gave you angry responses. They had told you to stop seeing the boys for a while but when the nightmares returned you couldn’t stay away. 

You had sat down with the boys to ask them about it. And they all seemed to have the same answers. 

“I don’t know. Ever since I started puberty I’ve been having these weird dreams.” Mingi told everyone first. 

“What kind of dreams?” Yunho asked. 

“I think it’s heaven.” You looked at him oddly, tilting your head to the side. You didn’t notice how the other boys all shared the same look. 

“I have those too.” Yeosang spoke up. “We’re all there. With other people too.”

“It seems like you’re looking through someone else’s memories.” Jongho explained. “Yunho?”

The boy had a dazed look on his face, seemingly lost in thought. He quickly looked up at the others, giving them a kind smile. He was the oldest out of all of you, probably the smartest seeing as he always had an answer for everything. 

“You’ll understand when you finish going through puberty.” He told you all. 

“I don’t have those dreams.” You frowned. “They didn’t tell us it was part of puberty.”

“For us it is.” Yunho told you. “You have to wait for yours.”

While you were glad to know you weren’t the only odd one out, you were still left confused at how much Yunho didn’t seem to tell you. And the confusion only reached tenfold after each of the boys began to talk in private or hang out without you. You were upset about those kinds of things but you realized they were boys–you weren’t always going to be there with them. 

The Sunday that changed your life was some random one in your Sophmore year of high school. 

It was the day your new neighbor had moved in. He was a year older than you and the boys–already a junior in high school. You had been walking home from the library with your four boys, pressing yourself to whoever had been walking next to you that day. You had explained to your parents that you had to finish a report before going to church that day.

“Such a pretty girl.” Jongho brushed your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “My love.” He whispered.

“Did you say something, Jongho?” You asked, turning from your conversation with Yunho.

“No.” The boy grinned. “I was talking with Yeosang.” He answered.

“Are you still going to church?” Yeosang asked, coming up next to Yunho who stood to your left. 

You had to lean over to see around the tall boy, smiling grimly at Yeosang. “I have to. You know my parents always make me.”

“Would you like for us to go with you?” Yunho asked, fingers brushing against your own causing yours to twitch. 

Things had started to change between the five of you when you had all entered high school. You began to see each of the boys differently. You watched as they grew out of the chubby cheeks and turned into handsome men. 

Yunho and Mingi grew to be the tallest out of all of you. Jongho began to fill out his body, his baby fat filling the right places as he began to look like a bear. And Yeosang was probably the one who called all the girl’s attention. His birthmark was the one thing that made you recognize the boy anywhere. 

Because of this, you started to question if things were going to be okay. Having a crush was nothing you were new to. However, being in love with all of them made you anxious. It wasn’t normal. Not from what your parents would explain to you. Not from what you read in the book they made you study. It was a sin. 

But how could you say anything when you couldn’t even step foot into a church. 

“No, it's alright.” You smiled at him. “You guys do enough.”

As your house came into view, you all saw a moving truck parked in the road. The house next to yours–the one that wasn’t Mingi’s–had the door open with people moving in and out. 

“You guys have a new neighbor.” Yunho told you and Mingi.

“I guess so.” You spoke up.

You weren’t able to see the subtle look each of them gave each other. They gave small nods of their head before turning back to look at you. “Let's go say hello.” Yunho added. 

And so there you were, standing on the porch waiting for your new neighbor to walk out. And when he did, your lips pressed into a thin line as you took him in. He reminded you of the angels you would read about, the ones you would see depicted in pictures. You didn’t think that was how they truly looked. You couldn’t see them as cherubs that flew around with wings. 

In your eyes all you could think of is black feathers that fell from the sky. A bright light that shined in your eyes from a part of you that was taken away. You couldn’t look at them for too long, being reminded of something that you didn’t want to be. However for some reason, this was one you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Hello.” He smiled at you. “I'm Seonghwa.”

“(Y/N).” You shook your head. “These are my friends.” You gestured to the boys standing at the end of the porch, all of them giving nods in greetings. 

Seonghwa gave them a smirk, nodding his head back before turning to look at you. “It's nice to meet you all.” He spoke out loud.  

His eyes trailed down your body, taking note of your nice dress and ruffled socks. “Are you going somewhere?” He asked.

“I have to go to church.” You answered.

“Do you need company?” He immediately asked.

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “I won't be long.” You felt the need to tell him. “Thank you.” You quickly added, minding your manners. 

“Anything for you.” Seonghwa smiled softly. 

You didn’t question the way he spoke to you. You had other worries on your mind as you drove towards the building that had left you with trauma. However this was the day that changed all that you had known about the church.

You had walked calmly behind your parents that day, head dropped to the floor as you prepared yourself for the nauseating feeling that would ultimately burst the moment you passed the doors.  But your shoes scuffed against the floorboards, creaking with each step you took deeper into the building. 

You had reached the pews and the seats your parents normally sat at. You sat down, looking around as you waited for something to start giving you anxiety. You had never made it farther than the music that the choir sang–usually letting go of your breakfast by then. 

And yet, you were there the whole time, listening as a young man played the piano for the choir. You listened to the father you had become acquainted with as he began the sermon, speaking about the god that the people worshiped. You flinched as each new song began to play as the man skimmed his fingers along the keyboard each time. 

And when the final song came to a finish, your family looked at you with wide eyes. Tears began to slip from their face as you had not gotten sick once. Not a single complaint about a bad stomach. Not even a single peep from your lips as you seemed to be in a trance the whole time. What they didn’t catch was the way your eyes were directly at the new boy who played within the choir. 

The father was the first to greet your parents in astonishment as he watched you standing directly in front of him after the hour long service. He couldn’t believe that here you were standing next to him without so much as looking green. Even he couldn’t believe his eyes.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, choosing to glance around at the church that you had never gotten the chance of admiring. Still though, the glass stained windows with depicted stories left you unsettled–like a bug crawling under your skin. 

“You don’t like them either?” You turned your head, facing a boy who had blue hair. 

He was looking up at the windows, sucking his teeth as he sneered at them. When he turned back to you, your eyebrows rose. You got the same feeling you had when meeting Seonghwa, flashes of falling feathers seeping into your mind. Your mouth opened as you let go of a breath, pressing your lips together as you didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh, this is Hongjoong.” The father introduced the boy to you and your parents. “He’s one of the orphan boys the church took in. They will be under my tutelage.”

You kept your eyes on him, trying to find out what it was that made him so familiar. He reminded you of your friends, like you had known them forever. Like he meant something more to you. 

“An amazing boy with the piano. A protege, honestly! If he hadn’t insisted on wanting to become a father, I would have had him become a performer.” The father laughed. 

Your parents beamed, telling Hongjoong he was an amazing pianist and that his performance was grand to watch. With your parents occupied over talking about your sudden healing, Hongjoong took the liberty of taking you away to the piano, sitting down carefully as he began to lightly press on the keys. 

“You did play beautifully.” You told him. “I had never heard something like that.”

Hongjoong laughed, smiling brightly at you. “It means a lot coming from you.”

Hongjoong began to play another tune, causing you to become dizzy with an emotion you couldn’t explain. While he continued to enjoy his playing, you took the liberty of moving up the little stage at the front and behind the stone table. 

Nothing seemed to cause you any harm. Not until you would catch sight of a mis-depicted angel. You subconsciously would sneer at them, quickly turning your head to avoid further headaches. You could feel the statues mocking you, laughing at your expense. When you reached the cloth covered stone table, you turned, looking out over the empty church. 

Taking in the deep breath you felt something buzzing around the building, malice seeping out of its presence. You frowned, shoulders shaking from the ghostly being. You felt fingers touching you harshly, as though they wanted to hurt you–pulling at your hair, pinching your skin. 

Hongjoong had stopped playing, turning around to face you with wide eyes. But you were too in your own head to notice that something had moved the large cross off its hanger behind you. 

All you heard was your mother’s scream and people rushing forward. You turned around to find what it was they were looking at, only catching sight of the large wooden structure heading towards you. It never touched you though, someone having reached you on time and quickly saving you from a large gash to the head and possible death. 

You flinched a bit, eyes closing shut as you were brought out of your stupor. You turned to find your savior, catching sight of a man with cat-like eyes. He had broad shoulders, ones you were gripping onto to keep from falling over. 

“Are you alright, heaven?” He asked you quietly, his lips a breath away from yours. 

You nodded your head softly, feeling your legs come back to life as you tried to stand on your own. Your fingertips tingle when you feel his own slot themselves between yours, interlocking your hands. He helped you to stand on your own feet, keeping you at arm's length. 

You didn’t notice your family and the father quickly making their way over to you. You didn’t hear them fussing and asking you if you were okay. All you could see was the way the boy’s eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked at you. 

“Thank you so much, son!” Your father patted him on the back. “You have no idea how terrible that would have been if (Y/N) had been hit.”

Your mother was frowning at the cross, keeping an eye on the wood figure that was on the floor in shards. “You don’t think-” You mother began but was stopped as another boy came up to the statue and quickly began to clean it up. 

The father began to speak to him, causing you to look over at him. They were discussing how the statue had fallen, taking note of the nails that had been embedded into the wall had popped out. The father turned back to your parents, but you kept looking at Hongjoong and the other two boys cleaning up the cross. 

“No,” The father waved your mother’s worry away. “It was faulty screws.” He pointed up to where the cross was. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You felt sick to your stomach as your eyes zeroed in on the screws. Your lips turned up, hearing someone snicker in your ear. You looked over your shoulder, trying to find the issue. It wasn’t until you heard someone’s sharp intake of breath that you turned around to find the problem. 

“Your hand.” You said, finding the boy who had started cleaning up first cradling his finger that had a bleeding poke from a splinter. 

You leaned down next to him, between the one who had saved you cradling his hand closer to you. He watched as you carefully took out the splinter before moving his finger up to your mouth. You didn’t know what came over you, or how it was you knew to do that. But you slowly licked over his wound, cleaning the small droplet of blood from his palm. 

It wasn’t a lot, maybe a drop or two that seemed to cause a small dribble. As you pulled away from him, you looked up to see all three of the boys staring at you with wide eyes, mouths agape. Your own eyes went wide, quickly letting go of the boy, coming to a stand.

“No!” The boy spoke up, standing next to you. “Don’t be sorry, my love.” He told you, eyes bright as he looked at you. 

“You’re (Y/N). Right?” He continued, holding his hands together at his chest making him look cute. 

“Yes.” You nodded slowly, a bit speechless from his looks. 

“I’m Wooyoung.” The boy smiled. “The man who saved you is San.” He gestured to the broad shoulder boy. “It feels so great to be with you.” He reached a hand out for you, gently cradling it with his. 

You didn’t question any of their words that day. You didn’t think much about their nicknames for you or how they spoke as if they had known you for ages. Any sane person probably would have, but you weren’t normal. At least not until you had finally met all 8 of them. They made you feel whole–like that was a part of you missing this whole time. For once in your life, there was nothing wrong with who you were–what you did. 

At least that was what you thought. Your family thought something else completely. 

When you finished high school, they had tried to take you away from them all. They didn’t like how much they all doted on you. At least not all of them. They didn’t like that you spent so much time with them–alone. They would yell at you, call you names that made you look down in shame. 

You knew all about those people who roamed the streets at night, looking for company. That wasn’t who you were. Wasn’t who you wanted to be. But you couldn’t let go of them. You needed them all there with you or else it wouldn’t feel right. They meant everything to you, just as you meant everything to them.

But still, you chose to appease your parents. You would go to the church–confess your sins to the father who had known you since you were a child. He wouldn’t tell you anything but you knew he would repeat what you said back to your parents. And when you did you would get looks that showed they were disgusted with you. 

First they were terrified of you, worried that something was inside of you that was not meant to be there. Now they were disgusted, and knew exactly what it was that made you sick in church. God knew the kind of person you would become so they punished you for it. Now you had to repent to fix the mistakes you were bound to make. 

You were going for your weekly confession, bringing along the five boys who had always trailed you since high school. The other three were waiting on the other side of the church doors, any moment they would come out to greet the others as they would wait for you to finish and then walk you home. 

“We'll wait out here for you.” Seonghwa spoke to you, leaning down to touch his forehead with yours. 

“I'll be quick.” You told him, giving the other four boys a smile. 

You walked in as you had for the past 20+ years of your life. You took in a breath, knowing that the sick feeling wasn’t going to come up after so long. Your feet shuffled towards the box that you had memorized inside and out. You knew where every splinter was, every scratch, every paint stain. It was something you were once again forced to do–even after so many years. 

You sat down on the bench, closing the door behind you and waiting for the father to get situated. When he did, you leaned back, head bumping into the back rest. 

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.” You spoke monotonously, already knowing how things were going to go. 

“What troubles you my dear?” The voice spoke up, catching your attention as you sat up. 

“Hongjoong?” You questioned, turning to the side where the father would normally sit. 

You could barely make out his dazzling grin, the way his cheeks rose as he smiled at you with glee. You knew how he looked–you always enjoyed looking at all of them. But you were here to confess about him, you couldn’t exactly tell him about it now. 

“Hello, my dear.” Hongjoong smiled.  

“Where’s the father?” You asked. 

“He is allowing me to take his place for the time being. Let me get some practice in–think of me as the father.”

You sat back, sighing as you realized you weren’t going to be able to get out of it. You wanted to get it off your chest–having had it pent up for the last couple of days from when you last confessed. It was always the same thing over and over again. But with Hongjoong now being the one to listen to you, things changed. 

“But that's why I'm here, Hongjoong.” You sighed, dropping your head back. “I have to confess I have not been on the right path.”

“And what path is that?” He asked, sounding professional. 

“One of sin.” You answered. 

“Is that what you think of it?” He spoke up, eyes on you as he kept his head forward. “Why?”

“Because I am not meant to be greedy.” You whispered, turning away from him knowing he was one of the reasons. 

“You think it’s greedy?” You heard him lean forward, chin moving to rest on his hands. “To have feelings?”

You didn’t know how it was he knew, but it seemed like he did. He knew where it was you were going with the whole thing. Of course he did–him and all the others always knew. 

“It’s greedy to love.” You explained to him. 

“It’s how we procreate though.” Hongjoonf shrugged, moving to sit back again. “So why is it?”

“Because I’m not supposed to love 8 men.” You cried. 

He kept trying to get you to say it, and you did. You didn’t know if you were meant to–this wasn’t the normal conversation you would always have with the father. All he knew from all that you would tell him was that you spent too much time with men and it left you bothered. 

Truly it didn’t. It left your family bothered, so you would try to lessen their anger by doing as you were told. But here you were finally confessing the real reason you felt like you weren’t good enough to be a person. Because you had been so traumatized that you began to think what you were feeling wasn’t right. 

“It’s not okay! I am to be the wife of one man only. I have to give him children and continue my family line.” Your voice quieted down, looking down at your hands. 

“And?” Hongjoong only shrugged. 

“I can't love all of them!” You gasped out, coming to a stand but immediately sitting back down knowing there was no space. “That's being greedy.”

“I don't think you should worry about being greedy.” Hongjoong sighed, leaning back nonchalantly. “You are your own person who deserves everything she wants.”

He paused for a moment, making you turn to look at him. You couldn’t see him completely but you knew he was in thought. 

“Do you love us?” He asked you suddenly.  

You felt your breath stop for a moment. Your fingers twitched on your lap, clenching onto the fabric of your skirts. “It's wrong—”

“Do you love us, (Y/N)?” He asked again, stopping you from continuing your rant. 

You had never thought of the word when thinking about the boys. You knew that there was something there that seemed to call to you but you had no idea that it was love. You couldn’t be without them just as they couldn’t be without you. You would get physically sick not being able to spend time with them together. 

There wasn’t a time where you wouldn't think about them. Wouldn’t want them to be at your side to take care of you. You knew they meant so much to you. A lot more than you were willing to understand. It went beyond physical emotions. It was something out of this world. 

“Yes.” You answered quietly. 

Hongjoong paused once more, the silence filling up in your throat as your words lingered in the air. 

“Then come home to us.”

You went home that day. To your parents waiting for you to have dinner with the rest of your family. Watching as they all bowed their heads in prayer, reciting the same words as the ones from the morning at breakfast. Calmly eating with your head down to avoid catching your parents eyes. 

You took slow bites, making sure you didn’t catch too much attention to yourself. You tried to make yourself small, but of course, even if you did, you were still noticeable in the eyes of your parents. 

“Did you go see the father today, (Y/N)?” Your mother started, calmly eating as though she wasn’t about to cause a scene.

“I did.” You answered.

“And those boys?” She continued. 

“What about them?” You didn’t look at her, trying to show that you weren’t really bothered by her question. 

“Did you see them?” She asked again. 

“No.” You swallowed your food. 

You didn’t think your parents were dumb. You knew even if you denied your mother’s question they would know that you had been with the boys. It was the same thing over and over again. As it has always been since you were a little girl. It wasn’t physical abuse but mentally you were exhausted. 

Before bed, you sat on your knees, clasped your hands together and recited the same prayers you had for years. Your parents made you sleep with the door open, they could hear you skip a day of prayer. It was the routine. What you had engraved in your head for years. 

It was easy to fall asleep. Easy to fall prey to a dream that makes you gasp for air. A dream that showed you just the kind of life you used to live. With whom you used to live. 

The walls were too bright, you couldn’t see anything past what was above you, what was next to you–under you. The feathers felt soft under your fingertips, almost like you were on a bed instead of the ground. You could feel their hands softly touching your skin with their fingertips–it made you close your eyes as tears began to pool.

“Don’t cry, my heaven.” Your eyes slowly opened, coming face to face with Seonghwa.

You hummed, a hand moving up to touch his cheek. “Seonghwa.” You whispered, stroking your thumb along his cheek. 

He smiled at you, moving back. His hand drifted down your arm, pulling you to a sitting position. As he sat behind you, pulling your back to his chest, you noticed someone else coming up at your side. They lightly grabbed onto your hand, pulling it up to kiss your knuckles.  

“Jongho.” You breathlessly spoke up, smiling at the man. 

“Yeosang.” You said next, your other hand moving to grab onto the man who walked on your other side. 

“My love.” He whispered. 

“Heaven.” You looked down, giggling as Wooyoung pressed his cheek to one of your thighs. 

Letting go of Jongho and Yeosang, you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. 

“Sannie.” You smiled, watching as the boy pressed his own cheek to your other leg. You did the same as you did to Wooyoung, watching as his eyes closed and he hummed in content. “Sweetheart.” He hummed, giving your knee a kiss. 

You almost hit his cheek as your body tingled from his lips pressing against your skin. You giggled, stroking his skin as he reveled in your touch. 

You felt two more people make their presence known at your sides, touching your shoulders as their heads nuzzled closer to your neck. 

“You made it.” Yunho breathed against your skin. 

“We have been waiting for so long.” Mingi left a small kiss on your neck, leaving you to close your eyes in pleasure. 

“Mingi.” You answered breathlessly, rolling your head to give him more room for kisses. 

Opening your eyes, you turned the other way to smile at the boy at your side. “Yunho.” You smiled, moving to rub a thumb along his cheek. 

You took the moment to look around some, noticing there was one still missing. You knew he was here–you always knew when they were all there. 

“Hongjoong?” You quietly called out, looking in front of you as a silhouette appeared and began to walk closer to you. 

The other’s began to run their fingers along your skin again, applying both light and harsh pressure. All of your skin was on display, nothing hidden to their eyes just as nothing of theirs was. You could feel their skin on yours, feel their warmth radiating onto your very being. It made you dizzy. Made you want to fall into the bed of feathers and lay with them as you were meant to. 

“We are yours to please.” San whispered, rubbing his cheek against your thigh.  

“Yours to do as you wish.” Wooyoung’s hands moved along your other thigh, messaging the skin. 

“We are here as your lovers.” Songhwa whispered in your ear from behind you. 

“You are our one true treasure.” Jongho squeezed the side of your hip.

“We will do all that you ask of us.” Yeosang’s hand came up to brush against your breast.

“The reason we live.” Yunho’s lips brushed against your cheek, nose bumping along your temple. 

“The final piece of our earth defying souls.” Mingi kept his lips pressed to your neck. 

Someone pulled at your chin, making you look up at him. You breathed out your mouth falling open as Hongjoong kept his lips just enough away from yours to make you tremble. 

“Our angel.” He was the first to take your lips.

The others moved out of the way as Hongjoong leaned over you, pushing you back against Seonghwa. His knee placed itself between your legs, causing you to move your hands down to his naked thigh. You let go of him though when more hands started to roam your body once more. 

You felt hands start to play with each of your breasts, fingers lightly skimming over your nipples. Two more pulled your thighs apart, hands slipping between them as they messages your heated skin. A pair began to rub at your hips, pressing his fingers into your soft skin. Separate hands rubbed at your neck, thumbs pressing into your pulse point causing you to feel dizzy from the lack of air. 

Hongjoong leaned back from your lips, watching as your eyes fluttered open. “Tell us what you want.” He whispered. 

He leaned back then, allowing you room to look at them all. Seonghwa’s lips skimmed the shell of your ear. Mingi and Yunho kissed your shoulders. Jongho and Yeosang attached their lips to the side of your breast. San and Wooyoung placed open mouth kisses along the side of your hips. 

“I want all of you.” You breathed out. 

“Then take us.”

And so your head fell back onto Seonghwa’s shoulders, eyes falling shut as you felt all of them attach their lips to your body. They all kiss and suck at their own pleasure, leaving marks on your body that let them know who it was that you belonged to. They all left their own special marks, different shapes and sizes–in different parts of your body. 

You felt them everywhere. Felt them touch you in a way you had never been touched. They showed you things you would never be able to see on your own. They made you feel things you had never felt before. It was euphoric, a feeling you would never be able to get enough of. You needed more–something they gave you. 

You had them all. One by one they took the time to worship you. 

Hongjoong was the first, taking your lips and allowing himself to feel your warm walls around him as he laid on top of you. Seonghwa came next, keeping you sitting on his lap as you bounced with his thrusts. Yunho had you lay on your back, legs held up to rest on his shoulders as he held your thighs. Yeosang had been the most gentle, spooning you from behind as he kept one of your legs up to keep you from getting tired. 

San had you on top, sitting on him as he laid down and used a hand to grope your breasts. Mingi didn’t hold back and held you up against him, groaning and whining in your ear. Wooyoung was a childish one, taking you from behind while he held you against his chest and his fingers lightly pushed into your neck. Jongho was the last one, but he was the longest, taking his time and slowly moving to keep you from burning out after so many orgasms. 

And once you were done, heat leaking with so much cum, you still felt full and complete. Even if you were tired and probably hallucinating from everything but you knew now what you were. What you had been. And you knew the reason you were casted out. It was the very same thing that had stuffed you full one by one. 

You had been greedy in heaven.

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you had woken up. Fog was settling in outside as the streetlamps illuminated the neighborhood. It reminded you of a horror movie but you knew where the real horrors lied. You felt something had changed in your body. Something that didn’t leave you scared of who you were or what you had. 

You were no demon from hell that had come to create chaos. You were a daughter of god who had chosen to love instead of following orders. You were an angel. The angel who had 8 men waiting for her at their home. 

And so you left in that moment, pajamas still on your body, feet bare as you walked towards the church you grew to hate so much. You could hear the whispers the closer you got, but you only sneered their way. You jaw locked, not wanting to hear another moment of their mindless gossip. 

When you threw the door open, the whispers stopped, everything coming to a harsh silence as you looked down at the aisle and towards the altar.

Hongjoong sat in the middle of the stone table, playing with an hourglass in his hands as he flipped it back and forth. The other seven boys were scattered around, turning their heads the moment they heard you enter. You walked closer, fingers twitching at your side. 

“Why were we casted out?” You asked, taking the steps that led to the small stage. 

“Because our love was seen as greedy.” Hongjoong stood up from the table. “What we do isn’t what others think is right.”

“Father would never think that.” You told him, looking at all the boys who gave you small smiles. 

They grew closer to you, Hongjoong taking your hand and turning you around to sit on the table. They began to surround you as they had in the dream, touching your body. 

“It wasn’t father.” Yunho answered you. “It was our brothers and sisters.”

“They would never understand what we have.” Jongho told you. “Too jealous of the power we had together. 

“But yet, father gave us the chance to find it here–on earth.” Seonghwa smiled, lips brushing against your hair. “We have you here with us now.”

Your lips pressed together as you glanced over all of them. All those feelings you had since you were a child were making sense. The time when the boys went through puberty and were having dreams of heaven. The times when they would hang out without you. You understood where it was they were coming from, but it only left you confused on why you had taken so long to notice where you were in your past life. 

“Why did it take me so long?” You asked. “Why were you all able to find the truth before me?”

They took a moment to look at each other, telepathically coming up with an answer to your question. They already had it but they had to make sure they worded it in a way that you understood. 

“Father had us know the truth before you did because you went through challenges that kept you from learning the truth” Yeosang explained to you. “Your parents prevented you from seeing who you truly were which led to you having inner struggles with yourself.”

“The moment you realized you loved us was the moment you found your past self.” Wooyoung smiled at you, eyes tearing up at the thought of you finally being with them fully. “Your parents were filling your pretty head with nonsense about the church that made you question everything about us and yourself.”

You moved a hand out to wipe at his eyes, making the boy nuzzle into the palm of your hand. 

“We never questioned what we felt for you so we found ourselves quickly.” Mingi began. “We all understood once we finished puberty. It was when we all got our wings back.” Mingi said.

“Wings?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

The boys suddenly grinned, all perking up at the idea of showing you something magnificent. San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all moved to stand in front of you, hands stretched out not wanting to let you go for a moment. 

The only things in the whole church that had lighting were the candles practically finished burning through and the bright full moon that was on full display behind you, but you could easily see the boys clear as day. They stood a good amount apart, squaring their shoulders and the moonlight that showed through the window behind the pillars. 

A cloud suddenly passed over the moon, blocking out the light for just a moment. But in a quick second the moon flooded its light causing shadows to fall behind the boys. Your eyes went wide and a small gasp fell from your lips as dark shadows of wings displayed themselves on the pews of the church. 

All three boys had different shapes, different places that had holes but you could clearly see them. Just as quickly as they appeared, they quickly disappeared the moment another cloud passed over the moon. You looked up at them, breathless from the stunning sight.

“They’re beautiful.” You whispered.

The three boys smiled at your statement, quickly making their way back over to you. They reached their spots, finding a way to touch you once more. 

“They are nothing compared to what they used to be. But it means so much to hear you say that.” Yeosang softly told you. 

You felt at home. Safe in their arms and caressing touches. You had nothing to worry about now that you knew the truth. Nothing to hide from. And no parents to think about anymore. You were your own person–much more powerful than they could ever be. There was no reason to be scared of them anymore. You were someone who found their heaven. 

“What about heaven?” You asked suddenly, remembering your old home. 

“We don’t need it so long as we are together.” San kissed your knuckles. “You are the last piece of our puzzle.”

“Welcome to our heaven, my love.” Hongjoong kissed you then.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz , @puppyminnnie , @smilingtokki

[writerscall]

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

“Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door. 

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.

[babywhosaid]

RATING (DRAMIONE) FANFICS I READ THIS YEAR

Many years ago I used to read a lot of fanfics/AUs of Julie and The Phantons (btw, I'll never forgive you, netflix), but this year I got to read dramione and I have to say, I was obsessed. I read three in the beginning of the year, stayed on an hiatus and than BOOM! came back with full force.

A couple of days ago, I was talking with my friend and decided that would be so fun to write about what I read, but I have such a bad memory and I would like to write it with details, what won't happen (LoL)!

I read about 67 stories, I'm currently reading the 68 and I appreciate every single person who dedicated their time to write and create such beautiful stories. Between them there were a few that I believe I should comment on it (in positive and negative aspects).

Before I continue, I believe it's important to say that the stories I read might have some delicated topics that I don't recommend for people under 18 or are uncomfortable with it. I don't necessarily mean sexual topics, that I will mention for sure, but also topics that can trigger your mental health. So, please, if any of what I just said fits you, I recommend stop reading this post! Take care of yourselves!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Now that we have talked about that, let's go!

DRACO MALFOY AND THE MORTIFYING ORDEL OF BEING IN LOVE by isthisselfcare

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34500952/chapters/85870804

One of the first fanfics that I read this year was the amazing, the beautiful, the extraordinary story "Draco Malfoy and The Mortifying Ordel of Being In Love" by isthisselfcare.

I have to start saying that I'm obsessed with stories that have strong names and this one has. In this one, Hermione Granger is a healer who has a dangerous project that only a few people know what is it about, because of the dangerous of it, an auror was assigned for her protection and can you guess who it was? Yes, the one and only, Draco Malfoy, ladies and gentlemen.

What I like about it, it's that the author don't make it their contact immediate as if they need to see each other 24/7 right in the beginning, by the opposite, it grows through the story, specially when she needs to travel because of her project and he needs to go with her (yes, that makes me giggle... a lot), in those travels, they spent a lot of time together and we get to see they going to some adventures together. In the books, we see hermione being the smartest one, but draco isn't very far behind her.

Hermione is AMAZING, she's not only a healer, but algo a doctor. Draco is INCREDIBLY, he's also very sassy. (Tell your cat I said psipsipsipsi)

Another point is the beautiful fanarts in the chapters, it brings life to what isthisselfcare wrote.

Is it HEA? Yes, it is!

Is there smut? I think it has, yes.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

ISOLATION by bexchan

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461513/chapters/56242591

I believe that Isolation by baxchan it's the most accurate option for what could have happen on the book "Harry Potter and The Deatlhy Hollows". For this one, we have to come back for the end of "Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince".

Draco Malfoy is in dangerous after the astronomy tower and Snape (and I think that McGonagall) create a plan to hide him. Where? Well, of course it's in hogwarts, but not anywhere, no, no. On Hermione's private monitors bedroom.

What I like in this story is that they don't have secret crush, at least I don't believe so (please, I love that trope, but not for this fic) and Draco Malfoy is a little shit, he still believe in blood supremacy and all those horrible things we was raised to believe. Hermione is also not very please to those news.

This fics happens through the last book, hermione in deathly hollows is supposed to be with the boys hunting horcruxes, but she had to stay in this fic.

I like that through the story, we can see Draco changing, questioning his beliefs. Hermione also has to go through what she created of him in her mind. It's very well constructed.

If you like forced proximity, this is for you. I love it, a 100% recommend.

Is it HEA? Yes!

Does is have smut? But of course.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

BLOODY, SLUTTY AND PATHETIC by WhatMurdah

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52884502/chapters/133769302

As I said before, I do love stories names that makes an impact, and WhatMurdah has done just that. Well, please, believe me when I say that Draco Malfoy is all of those things and we are here for it.

In this one, the Minister of Magic creates a law that people have to get married for a reconciliation in the magic world. Guess who gets married? Of course, Draco and Hermione.

What is very important in this one is that her "mudblood" scar hurts her a lot and she finds out how to make it better, I won't get into details so I don't spoil it.

I like it how the author constructed the marriage and even tho I don't remember much (not because I didn't like, but because I forget things), I remember I had a really good time reading it.

Is HEA? YES!

Does it have smut? Baby, WhatMurdah didn't put slutty in the tittle for nothing! *wink wink*

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A YEAR AND A DAY by Pubella

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31026083/chapters/76641353

Can we bring Daddy Draco, please? Yes, let's to this. As you can see, I'm a fool for a single dad trope, in this fic, he's not exactly single, he's getting a divorce (bye, bye, Astoria) and wants to keeps he's son, Scorpius. Narcisa, as the wise woman that she is, thinks it's better for him to marry someone and who's better than the golden girl? No one. Hermione is going through a rough path and kind of don't have other options and Narcisa's ofter becomes very appealing as she thinks about.

I LOVE Scorpius, but in this fics he's brilliant and he's relationship with Hermione is amazing.

Another thing that I was amazed by was the epilogue, I confess that epilogues in general always go in the same way, but in this fic, I was positively (and emotional) surprised by it.

Hermione and Draco's relationship isn't good in the beginning, and I love how it grows. What can I say? I like the yearning, the doubts, they questioning feelings and while you read you are screaming inside saying "STOP THAT NONSENSE AND KISS"

Is it HEA? YES and I cried.

Does it have smut? I do believe so.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

MEASURE OF A MAN by inadaze22

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523892/chapters/64648648

There are a few fics that are very popular in the dramione fandom and Measure of a Man is one of them AND FOR A REASON.

Let me start saying that this fics is so so sooooo long, it's not a bad thing tho. Inadaze22 wrote 3 acts, they being nothing, something and everything. I like her choice in acts because it makes easier to see and understand when things change.

Narcisa Malfoy has dementia and Hermione Granger ends up being her healer (please, it's not a spoiler), that makes her get in contact with Draco Malfoy, but it's not a fast burn, but the opposite. They contact starts to grow.

Through the story he see Draco as a man, a father and a son, how much he has changed before the story started but algo through it. Hermione is not perfect and I'm here for it. I will defend woman's right and wrongs. What I like it that they both calls each other's bullshit and I think that honest that they develop is beautiful.

In this one, we have Scorpius, he's a child going through so much, I like how the author shows how much the parents' figures have an impact on a child's development. (Oh, please, let's give a round of applause to the emotionally supported cactus)

This fic is real, it brings pain, love, suffering, healing, acceptance, forgiveness and also mourning. That does not include necessarily the couple here. I did wish sometimes for more fluff, but that's on me, not in the author, this story was not about that and I love it how it was written.

Is it HEA? YES!

Does it have smut? Yes and also NSFW art.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I read many others, but for this post, I decided to only talk about those. I tried to not give many spoilers or get into dedicated topics.

I hope you all liked and please let me hear your thoughts!

[happypotato48]

List of Thai BL dramas i've watched with short opinions about them i guess :P

Thai BLs that i finished:

A Boss and a Babe. It's cute for what it is, i loved the gaming friendships and i'm a sucker for forcebook. 7/10 need more unhinged energy from book.

A Tale of Thousand Stars/Our Skyy 2 : Bad Buddy x A Tale Of Thousand stars. this show reminds me a lot of early to mid 2000s lakorns. it's a beautiful by the book love story, i appreciated that a bl got to take a spin on this kind of quiet thai story. 8/10 loved it but still too vanilla for my taste.

Bake Me Please. Guide Kantapon is the cutest man alive and CAKES! that it, that all i have for this show. 6/10 it's a show that exist.

Be My Favorite. damn fluke gawin is so pretty what was this show about again? :P i'm kidding, i actually really liked this show. i watched it when i had zero knowledge about bl industry, i was oblivious about krist's controversy and i find krist acting to be charming and think kawee is very relatable as a cringe fail human myself. 8.5/10 this show made me want to collected weird thingies.

Cherry Magic (Thailand). oh boy this show. it's was everything to me also the only show so far that i've written extensively on this site. here is my personal feeling about this show. 9.5/10 would kill for taynew.

Cooking Crush. what! the fuc$! look look, i just learned that both offgun are older than me. when i first saw the show i thought they were some rookie actors with how young they looks. watching cute bl is gonna be the death of me. anywho this show is supercute don't have a lot of thought about it though. 7.5/10 cutting half a point cause of no samsee x metha.

Cutie Pie/Naughty Babe. what a fuckin legend of a series. all the characters have zero braincells and somehow all the rich pretty boys are engaged to each other and by arranged marriages nonetheless. wtf is this fanfic version of thailand and where can i get hit by a truck and get isekai to it. 7.5/10 still haven't watch Cutie Pie 2 U, i hope it get dumber.

Enchanté. this show is so dummmb it should've go full camp reverse harem yaoi nonsense but it didn't and ended up being kinda boring. 6.5/10. meh, i'm still a sucker for forcebook.

Last Twilight. UGHHH!! i'm still so mad. this show was going to be THE SHOW for me then ep 11-12 happened i legit mentally check out halfway through ep 12 and i basically blocked the ending from my mind. this show came out at the right place and the right time for me, the first 9 episodes helped me through a very tough time in my life. the story of two people helping each other finding their way out of the dark was very compelling to me. ughh. 5.5/10 (9/10 for ep 1-9) P'Aof why are you like this!!

Laws Of Attraction. yassssssss this show slay(literally :P) the show is a breath of fresh air for me despite how very lakorn of it is. i'm glad that there is a bl that feel this soapy and campy cause like i do love my angsty and innocent school bls but the industry really need show like laws of attraction. jamfilm also were very great in their roles espically film, charn is the most babygirl corrupted cute evil lawyer of all time. 9/10 no note headempty only charn's evil smirks in my mind

La Pluie. now, this is a romance. this show is one of the most romanctic media that i personally have experience. i loved that the show took the cheesy premise of soulmates and work it so well to do both deconstruction and exploration of the trope. i think using rain, thing that isolated people as a narrative tool for love connection is absolutely brilliant. last but not least pat is just the perfect bl love interest, he's an very idealized character but he do feels like an actual person. i want to give a shout out to Pee Peerawich the way he said "มันหนาวอ่ะ" in ep 8 sent me, the raspy voice, the eye twich and combo those with a back cuddle, sir! you just commited a mass murders with that move. 9/10 plz i need season two with my baby boy tien.

Love in Translation. the unhingendness of that first meeting is probably my favorite bl meet cute. look if you don't get into a fistfight with the guy you destined to be with then what is the point of life. this show fake date is very well done it's doesn't feel forced like in a lot of other bls and it make the growing attraction feels very genuine and it pay off in one of the best sex scenes in all of bl, yang is such a freak and i loved him for it. 8/10 the last two episodes did got slightly off the rail for me but i still enjoyed the show.

Moonlight Chicken. one of the most beautiful shows i ever watched. when watching this show i can feels, smells and tastes everything it depicted. from the comfort khao man gai to jim's loneliness, from alan's heartbreak to liming and heart's midnight motorcycle ride. this show gave me all the feels and i still can't completely shake it off. 9.9/10 this show is a healing.

My School President. These boys!!!! i can't, i loved these boys so much, all the boys, YES ALL OF THEM! this show is on the opposite spectrum of Moonlight Chicken for me. while MC give me the good heartaches this show give me unbridled joy it's like heartstopper on cracks. i absolutely adored tinn and gun and the show relentless optimism about thier first love. love is awesome no matter the romantic, familial or platonic kind and i think this show hit the marks with all three. 10/10(i'm super bias but fuck it idc i even liked the singing) this show made me started watching thai bl and it always will have a place in my heart.

My Ride. this show is lacking in intimacy but making up by being all heart. could this show be better if they fleshed out and explore more of tawan and his cheating bf's relationship, maybe but i'm happy for what we got. 8/10 mork and tawan were very cutie patootie, i don't remember much about the het and the side couple were just st ok.

Step by Step. man trisanu is exactly the same height at me and i want everyone to know that is the only reason i started this show🤣 . i feels like this show have a lot to say about stuff but i kinda got lost staring at man trisanu while watching. one thing i really loved is the very fem *ตุ๊ด coworker who got to be a real character not just a jokey sidekick and having a loving relationship with a hottie. 7.5/10 can i get more man trisanu in bl plz.

Triage. asshole doctor stuck in a timeloop for him to find the meaning of life, yes plz give it to me. i loved stories about assholes who need to better themself for love and other junk. tinn and tol are both grumpy bitches and i just loved that the show use the timeloop to soften these nerds. at the end i just want to wrap them in blanket and let's them cuddle each other forever. 8.5/10 the last ep is bit convoluted but i forgave the show for that cute clocktower kiss.

You're My Sky. i started this show for my boy suar and he did not disappointed. the pining and the longing for an older boy who been there for you most you life, chef kiss. this show also very beautiful to look at. 8/10 i'm kinda meh about the side couples, i do think they all got the "good ending" for their stories.

Thai BLs that i didn't finish or gave up and skipped to the ending:

Bad Buddy. Oh boy, am i gonna get murder for this??? sorry but idk why i didn't wholeheartedly love and give this show my undivided attention. i watched this show very weird and out of order, i started with the last ep than just watch other episodes in bit and peice. i think i've seen 70% of this show. plz forgive me this is the first thai bl i tried to get into but can't. maybe i need to give this show another chance and watch it properly. or idk maybe cause the way i watched it, it's ruined for me forever. 6.5/10 i loved the rooftop kiss plz don't kill me.

Dangerous Romance. this show is trash and not the good kind, how this show depicted relationship between a rich asshole and a poor boy feels very gross to me. i fast forward a bunch and gave up after the not just dumb but very cruel breakup. 4/10 it's watchable if you ignore the plot and the chatacters.

Hidden Agenda. wow this is the most nothing show that ever nothing for me. it's a perfected white noise while playing chill video games. i stopped watching after ep 8 cause look like there going to be a dumb break up, i have no desire to revisit this show. 5/10 joongdunk were kinda cutes.

The Miracle of Teddy Bear. this show is too god damn long with too many side plots the one and a half hour per episode killed the momentum for me. i liked the show and do think i want to revisit and finish it one day. 6/10 for now.

Vice Versa. why are they giving jimmysea this show. this show is so boring for me, i gave up in episode 6. 4/10 gmmtv give my babies better shows!!

Thai BLs that i've watched all the sex scenes and have no intention of watching the actual show:

Kinnporsche: heheehehhehehe everyone were so hot, too bad i don't like rich mafia story. mile being a nepobaby also significantly killed the mood for me. 55555/dead bodyguards (idk how many there are but i don't care) the ost are bangers though.

Venus in the Sky and Love in the Air. cringe gay sex for the wins. 69/420.

ok, whoo that was a lot. gonna pin this cause i don't think anyone want to read all that in one sitting. i think i'm gonna make another post for non thai BLs in the near future. thanks for reading my unhinged opinions hope i'm not gonna get moider for it 55555555.