#I just love hearing other people’s ideas

[ladsloveletters]

BACK FOR YOU

summary: Caleb returns to find out you’re having sex with your best friend Zayne.

warnings: MDNI, 18+ content

tags: Nurse!MC, ZaynexMC, CalebxMC, FWB!Zayne, Jealous!Caleb, Love triangle trope perhaps, Caleb doesn’t die in this fic, rough sex, fingering, spitting, spanking, gagging, other filthy stuff, there’s plot in here because i enjoy context lol

word count: 6.2k

notes: not edited and read over quickly once lol just want more caleb smut in my life. also like the idea of love triangle between childhood friends.

The morning shift was almost at its peak. People flooded the hallway. Nurses at the nursing station ruffling through patient files. Doctors pagers beeping as they scurry to the next consultation. Radiologists yelling at physiotherapists to move out of the way as they haul their giant mobile X-Ray machines. In the background you can hear all the patients using their call-bells, lighting up the ceiling TV screens like Christmas Eve.

You sigh, the usual midday headache creeping up your shoulders.

And yet amidst the normal chaos of Akso General Hospital, Dr. Zayne, your childhood best friend, manages to stop in the middle of it all and smirk. ‘Have you had a break yet?’

Flicking your gloves into the bin outside the patient’s door, you turn towards Zayne who happens to be walking down the hallway. ‘I have not peed since I woke up,’ you grunt, making your way across to the busy nurses station to where an amused Zayne rests his arms upon. You let yourself rest on your side, mirroring him.

If it weren't for the many years you had known the man, you would have been fooled by his cool calm demeanor he wears so well. You scanned him. Neatly gelled hair. Freshly shaved face (he missed a spot right by his left jaw). Baby pink button down peaking through his white coat. Polished black shoes matching his pressed pants. And yet you can also note the tick of his jaw. The soft crease between his brows. The faint shadows under his eyes. Zayne was equally as tired. You chuckled, only 3 more hours until the shift ends.

‘I heard the cafeteria is now serving apple pie,’ you offer.

His dark brow quirks up, ‘Since when did you show interest in apple pie?’ he shakes his head, dark hair covering his gaze, ‘Definitely not an appropriate lunch.’

You lean further into your arm, your hand keeping your head upright. ‘I’m sure a certain Colonel would disagree.’

Zayn turned rigid. Right. Caleb.

The DAA Colonel was scheduled to return tomorrow morning. Much to your excitement, the older childhood friend couldn’t help but sense something was off. It was simple. You and Caleb would play while Zayne would watch from afar. And when the sun had set at the playground, Zayne would be the responsible one to walk you home whilst Caleb stayed and played with the other neighbourhood kids. Always measured and always cautious, the childhood dynamic between the three of you remained unchanged even with the other’s disappearance. After high school graduation, the three of you promised to stay in touch no matter what. Even if that meant for Caleb to leave Linkon to join the DAA, leaving you and Zayne behind.

You had hoped for your friend’s return. But hope can be a fickle thing.

-

Caleb’s eyes were fixated on the small red box. Your hands were clasped around it so tightly, your breath caught in your chest. This was a mistake. A nervous laugh bubbled through your throat as you quickly drew the box behind your back, ‘It’s a stupid present!’ you stuttered shaking your head, ‘I just saw it one day shopping with grandma and-’

His lilac gaze darkened as he quickly snatched the box out of your hands.

“Hey!’

Using his height to his advantage Caleb turns his back towards you as he quickly rips open the box again and plucks out the necklace. ‘When you come back…’ he reads, holding up the dog tag out of your reach and smiling. ‘You’re really going to miss me, Pipsqueak?’

You huff as he continues to turn away from your reach, laughing at your poor attempts of swatting the silver chain out of his large grasp. ‘It’s not my fault you chose to become a stupid pilot instead of going to med school like Zayne!’

The older boy scoffs, turning away from you once more to quickly clasp the chain around his neck. He grins as he tucks the dog tag into his school shirt. Caleb couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten at the mention of the older boy's name. It’s always the same with you. Safe. Responsible. No wonder grandma always wanted Zayne to walk you home after school instead of Caleb. Zayne, your neighbour and best friend. The older upper classmen who always had people gushing about him despite his closed off personality. Personally, it always seemed to annoy Caleb.

But he was good to you, Zayne. Caleb knew that. He saw it every time he walked you home. He saw it when Zayne would drop off boxed lunch for you early in the morning on his way to University. And he knew that he would be able to take care of you whilst he went to the DAA.

But Caleb couldn’t ignore the sting in his eyes at the thought of leaving you for several months. And that's only if things at DAA go smoothly. At worst, Caleb may be gone for a few years before he’s even allowed for a stationed break. But he must go, in order to keep you safe.

‘Why don’t you go to medical school if you admire Zayne so much?’ he teases.

You stop attempting to take off Caleb’s necklace and blink up at him. The cotton blouse of your school uniform is dampened with sweat from the summer air. A soft cool breeze threaded through the leaves of the large tree you stood under, cooling your exposed neck under your ponytail. A mix of frustration and embarrassment reddens your cheeks, ‘Maybe I will.’

Caleb stares down at you. He had gotten taller over the Summer. A whole head taller and then some. Graduation was always bittersweet, and to be honest Caleb couldn’t care less for all the other classmates waiting to give him a parting present as well. After the graduation ceremony he found himself at the back court, trying to get some air before all the other students rushed out to celebrate. He wasn’t oblivious to his popularity. He knew from the stares he would get from other girls and glares from his basketball team. But it never mattered.

All he could focus on was you, standing under the big crabapple tree, small red box in hand waiting to give you a farewell gift. His best friend, who for some reason was always a little something more to him.

Caleb bit his pride aside and took in a deep breath. He stepped forward which made you instinctively step back. The treebark was rough against your skin. Your feet planted between the thick roots of the tree. ‘Stay out of trouble Pipsqueak,’ he murmured, reaching forward. He leant forward, bracing himself with one hand against the tree. The other hand reached under his shirt, thumb pulling out the silver chain. The small apple pendant dangled above your eyeline. The engraved words on the dog tag stared down at you.

‘I’ll come back home before you know it.’

-

Zayne was always gentle with you.

Despite him being your senior, Zayne had never let you feel small. In fact, he was the opposite. Any chance he got, Zayne had made sure you felt confident and empowered and supported. Even through nursing school with late night studying and long days working at the convenience store to pay for school- Zayne was there to help. Handwritten flash cards. Homemade lunch boxes. He was there.

And when Caleb stopped responding to your letters and emails, Zayne was there as well.

He can admit, the younger boy was trouble. But he also saw how much he cared for you. After all, you were so excited to give him his graduation present that you decided to ask Zayne for his opinion. ‘Do you think he’ll like it?’ you bit into your nails. Zayne would try not to roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders, ‘He would be an ungrateful idiot if not.’

After all, you were always looking out for them both. Even when Zayne had questioned your motives to become a nurse, you simply responded, ‘It’s so I can help others no matter what,’ you shrugged, ‘And so I can see you often and help Caleb if he ever gets injured.’

It came so easily to you, helping others. It was the biggest thing Zayne admired about you. However it was also your biggest weakness, wearing your heart on your sleeve. His biggest worry was how easy it would be to break your heart.

And so it was Zayne’s personal mission to ensure that no one would break your heart. Because at the end of the day, you were his best friend and he was looking out for you. He would take care of you no matter what.

Which is how you ended up in the abandoned storage room at the bottom of Asko Hospital. With Zayne, taking care of you.

‘A-Ah, Zayne hurry up,’ you whine.

His kisses were more rough today. Something you noted as soon as he had pushed you through the storage room doors. He had carelessly slammed his swipecard against the door lock, pressing his mouth against your neck as he closed the door shut behind you. Peeling off his coat and swipecard, he dropped everything onto the floor one by one.

You turn around to meet his soft lips, pressing yours against them. His tongue made no mistake in entering your mouth swiftly, softly entangling with yours. He smelled of coffee and laundry detergent as he pushed you against one of the metal shelves. His large hands made work to the back of your head, one hand firm at the back of your neck as the other took off the claw clip of your ponytail. Your hair fell around your shoulders as your hands tugged at his waist.

‘Does this count as a lunch break?’

Zayne grunted, taking his glasses off and placing them on the shelf behind you as he brushed your hair over your shoulder. He hummed as he pressed open mouth kisses along your collar bone and you sighed in bliss as your head fell back. This is how it was. It was a mutual decision. Working at a busy hospital meant a lot of stress and frustration would pent up so quickly and easily. It was only logical to find an equally quick and easy release.

Whose idea it was, you cannot remember.

‘You’re so hard already,’ you sigh as your hand feels up the front of Zayne’s pants. He chuckled as he brought a hand forward to cup your breast. Through your thin scrubs he could feel your nipple pebble and harden under your bralette. ‘Could say the same for you.’

You huff and make quick work of his belt buckle and Zayne lets you as you pull down the zipper and drop his slacks around his thick thighs. You groan at the sight of the tent in his black briefs. Lifting your arms up, Zayne swiftly pulls your scrub top over your head and throws it into the corner. He smirks at the sight of your heaving chest. ‘Eager?’ he teases.

‘Whatever,’ you grumble as you tug him forward with his necktie. His mouth was on yours once again. His kisses tasted divine. Not that you had much to compare to. Your mouth only knew Zayne’s. And Caleb.

But that was neither here nor there. And where you are now, wrapped in the strong arms of your favourite doctor, was where you wanted, needed to be.

You bury the thought of anyone else and let yourself fall drunk off his kisses. Pushing your front flush against him, he moans at the contact. Indeed, he was very hard.

‘Do you think you can take an extra fifteen for your lunch break?’ you murmur, mouth getting swollen from Zayne’s tender bites.

Not bothering to respond, Zayne tugs the bottom of your scrubs down enough to expose your pink striped panties. His hand cups the front of your pussy and lets out a short breath. ‘You’re so fucking wet.’ His fingers don’t take time to slip under the soaked cotton and glide themselves over your slick. ‘Is this how you walk around all day?’ he grunts, ‘Wet and waiting for me to take you?’

Your head falls onto Zayne’s shoulder, mouth agape. Your hips buck and grind against his palm, begging for more than just his teasing fingertips.

‘If it weren’t for you walking around like that,’ he buries his nose into the crook of your neck. His hot breath fanning your ear and you shudder. ‘I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything all day,’ he confesses, ‘Do you know how dangerous that would be for me, love? I am the most respected cardiac surgeon in all of Linkon and the sight of you reduces me to nothing.’

His fingers gently caress your swollen clit, massaging them ever so slowly. You can feel yourself getting more wet, practically soaking yourself into his palm. Zayne presses his lips against the sensitive spot of your neck, ‘So fucking wet just for me.’

You whine as your hand blindly reaches for his cock. You can’t take this anymore. You needed more. And today, for no particular reason, seems to have you both riled and wanting more. ‘P-please Zayne, I-I can’t take it.’

He chuckled, his fingers gliding down and slipping inside of you. ‘You can take it,’ he reassured, ‘You can take all of me just like you have been all these months.’

-

Caleb was coming home tomorrow.

That was what you had told yourself over and over again since you had woken up. You thought about him in the shower. While you were attending a patient’s wound dressing. While you ate lunch after your quickie with Zayne. And even now, laying in bed your eyes bore into the ceiling. Caleb was coming home tomorrow. Your head turned to your bedside alarm and sighed. Sleep won’t come easy tonight. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

You thought of Zayne. He was different today and you couldn’t pinpoint why. It was nothing out of the ordinary for you two to have sex. In fact, you almost had it scheduled every week. It was a mutual companionship you both had expressed was purely physical and even productive. As you shed away all the stresses of work and the world, you were able to relax in the comfort of convenience in one of your oldest friends’ arms.

And yet there was something about him today that was foreign. In the way he kept you close to him. Visiting you on the ward in the middle of the shift. Asking if you had lunch even though you normally skipped it in return for finishing work early. And how he had kissed you after you had come around his cock, mouth hard and earnest against you.

Your eyes remain closed, pictures of Zayne’s hot body pressed against yours. His hands roaming every inch of your skin. You bit down on your lip. Mindlessly, you let your hands start to feel up your body. The soft silky nightgown (a humorous birthday gift from Zayne last year) falling off your shoulder and exposing one of your breasts. You let out a soft sigh as you palm and pinch at your nipples.

‘Am I interrupting something?’

Fuck.

You could have swore you were dreaming at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide open you sit up, linen pooling around your waist as your eyes directly meet Caleb’s.

Mouth agape, like a fish out of water, you stare at him. Caleb. He stood by the doorframe of your bedroom, body leaning against it as one leg crossed over the other. His arms were folded and a smirk spread across his pink lips. It took you a moment to register who was standing before you. ‘Caleb?’

If Caleb grew a head taller than you after graduation that summer, then he must have grown another foot. His shadow loomed over you. His broad shoulders stretched the thick fabric of his military jacket as he uncrossed his arms and brought his hand up in a mock salute. ‘Nice to see you too Pipsqueak,’ he sings. His violet gaze flickers to your chest and you scramble to pull the sheet up to your chest. But you were too transfixed at the sight of him.

‘So this is how you kept yourself busy while I was gone?’

Pushing off the doorframe he walks into the room slowly. The leather boots and the sound of your breathing filling the bedroom. ‘I thought you were coming back tomorrow.’

Caleb shrugged, ‘I lied.’

He walked around the bed with slow steps. As if with every stomp of his boot, another thought came to his mind. The air around you drew cold and tense. And an air of uncertainty filtered into your bedroom window.

It was late at night. And in this hour, the moonlight painted silver stripes into your room. It shone across your bedsheets and highlighted the violet gaze which never left yours. It was as if the centre of gravity had shifted. And nothing but Caleb’s gaze was holding you down in the bed. You couldn’t even cover yourself, your breast bare to him. You were frozen.

‘I wanted to surprise you. But it looks like you had other things going on.’

You didn’t understand. This was not Caleb. Your Caleb wouldn’t speak the way he is speaking right now. With this air of fear and uncertainty you swallowed down your dry throat. ‘Caleb what happened-’

He stopped at the foot of the bed abruptly and turned to you. ‘One year Pipsqueak.’ he snarled, reaching forward and gripping the edge of the bedframe. ‘I was gone for one year and you had the nerve to go and fuck Zayne? Out of all fucking people?’

You were stunned.

Caleb let out a laugh you could only decipher as mockery. ‘You even went ahead and became a nurse for him! Just like I thought you would,’ he laughed. He took off his hat and your chest heaved as you fully took in his face. Pieces of short dark locks fell above his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. He placed his hat on your bed. The leather gloves tighten its grip against the wooden bedframe.

‘H-How did you know?’

There was no point denying it at this point. But if the man in front of you was truly Caleb, then you had to know how he came to know the secret arrangement you had with Zayne this whole time he was at the DAA.

Caleb snickered, ‘I always knew Pipsqueak.’

He pushed himself off the bedframe and made his way around to the side of the bed. There he stood over you, his shadow eclipsing the moonlight seeping from the window. In the dark, his violet eyes were shining with a sinister glint. He grinned, ‘It was just a matter of what I would do when I came home.’

You felt powerless. Your eyes couldn’t believe that Caleb was here. After a year of mourning his presence, missing him, the Caleb that returned was unrecognisable. Caleb smirked at your face. He could tell you were afraid. It excited him. It excited him even more to see how unfazed you were having your chest so exposed to him. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. ‘How long have you been fucking him?’

Your eyes narrowed, ‘I thought you knew everything, Colonel.’

Caleb quickly brought his hand under your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. He jerks your head closer to him as he leans in, ‘I want you to admit how much of a slut you are.’

‘You couldn’t even wait for me, Pipsqueak,’ he feigned sorrow, ‘You just had to jump onto the next guy that offered you cock.’

You scoffed and tried to pull away from his grasp. But Caleb held onto you tightly, his thumb pinching your chin tightly, ‘Caleb you’re hurting me-’

‘How long?’ he presses.

Your skin was on fire with the intensity of Caleb’s gaze searing into you.

‘Since I started working at Akso.’

He pulled you closer, you could smell him. Smoke and citrus. His lips were almost brushing against yours, his long lashes brushing your cheek as he turned to whisper into your ear. ‘You know you belong to me.’

You shuddered at his words and swallowed.

At this point your breasts were aching, begging to be touched. And the absolute terror Caleb reigned over you had all the more brought out the tingling sensation of your arousal.

He drew only a breath back, his grasp on your chin loosening only a fraction as his eyes stared into yours. Caleb smirked as he feels you practically lean further into his touch. ‘Well?’ he asked, cocking his head to the side in feigned interest, ‘Say it.’

A flash of confusion crosses your eyes before you blink away at his request. ‘What?’

Caleb brings a knee onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. He tilts your head up, ‘Say you belong to me.’

A silver shine catches your eyes and your lips part. There, tucked away under the collar of his fleetspace uniform, lay the familiar silver chain. Caleb watches your gaze flicker back to his, and notices the wet shine in your eyes.

When U Come Back.

‘I’m yours, Caleb,’ you choke out, tears threatening to slip against the burning of your cheeks,’I belong to you.’

His mouth crashes into yours almost violently as he pushes you back down into the bed. You land with a soft thud, his gloved hand catching the back of your head as he grasps a fist full of your hair.

A grunt escapes your lips and you gasp as Caleb slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes as good as he smells as he wedges a muscled thigh between your legs. You try to shake the thought that this man on top of you was the same sweet boy who had always played with you at school. The same boy that held your backpack when it was too heavy. The same one that would tie your shoelaces.

The loud crash of boots disappear in the background as Caleb kicks them off and turns your head to the side. He wastes no time in running his other hand up your side as he presses sloppy wet kisses down your throat. ‘You grew into such a pretty slut,’ he teased as he massaged into your side, ‘Do you wear these things every night hoping someone would find you?’

At this point your panting and Caleb chuckles at the sight. He’s proud to see such a reaction out of you. Flushed cheeks. Hair tousled and sticking to your forehead. Your lips parted and almost dry from all the airy breaths.

His nose brushes against your skin as he kisses his way down to your chest, ‘Or were you wearing this knowing I would be knocking on your door in the morning, Pipsqueak?’

Balling your fists, you held onto the sheets tightly. Cocky bastard. Your knees closed in one another, locking Caleb into place. Your eyes darted to him and you sneered, ‘Maybe I was expecting a certain doctor instead.’

The growl erupted from Caleb was carnal. You watched in a trance as he licked a stripe down the fold of your cleavage. ‘Shut the fuck up.’

Your laughter was cut short when Caleb took your breast into his mouth. He sucks roughly at your nipple, grazing at it with his teeth. He hums in approval when you let out a gutteral groan, ‘Fuck.’

His other hand lets go of your head and reaches towards your throat. In a firm grasp, he holds you down as he continues to lap at your tits. ‘That’s right baby,’ he released your nipple with a soft ‘pop’ before kissing his way to the other. He draws a circle with his tongue around the hardened bud before taking it between his teeth. ‘Your tits are so fucking perfect.’

If Zayne was gentle, then Caleb was brutal.

If Zayne was considerate, then Caleb was selfish.

If Zayne was your comfort, then Caleb was your undoing.

You were squirming and your pussy was throbbing beneath your nightgown. And, unknowing to the man hovering above you, you were completely exposed. After all you lived alone, why wear underwear around the house? Saves on laundry.

As if he can scent you, Caleb pulls himself up and cages you under him. He rips off his gloves and jacket, leaving him in his white slacks and button down. His black tie dangles in your face as he leans down. ‘I can smell how fucking wet you are Pipsqueak,’ he muses. He palms his hard cock under his pants, begging for release. But he remains measured, composed. ‘Let me fuck you and I’ll make sure you never need to touch anyone else but me again.’

His words were seeping into your bones as his deep breaths masked his self restraint. You can feel the sheets curl beneath you as he fists the linen in earnest. With heavy lids you avert your gaze, the boldness of his attitude pinning you down. ‘But Zayne is so good to me…’

It was a mistake to even think of another man whilst Caleb practically hunted you down. At the sound of another man’s name, your childhood best friend snarled as he pulled down his pants swiftly.

Holy shit.

He was huge, even in his large grasp. You watch with mouth agape as Caleb lazily fisted his cock above you. His brows furrowed and his violet glare sent shockwaves all over you. He smirked, ‘Zayne might be good to you baby…’

‘But I’m not going to hold back.’

He leant forward once more and you gasp at the hard thickness of Caleb’s cock pressing against your stomach. You groan as he teases the tip of his cock down your navel to the top of your swollen clit. The hardened bud was throbbing and aching and practically begging for any friction. Your hands hold onto the sides of his biceps, the strong corded muscles shifting under his thin shirt.

He chuckled, ‘I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take everything I’ll give you.’

There was no question in his tone and no room for even doubt before Caleb pushed his hard cock inside you. You let out a yelp at the sheer force of him stretching inside of your pussy. Your fingernails dig into his arms deeper as you moan, ‘Holy shit.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Caleb muttered, drawing his hips back and watching the length of his cock disappear inside of you with a quick snap. The force of his weight moved your body against the bed, the sound of his pelvis meeting yours.

It wasn’t long for you to adjust to him. Your body was practically moulding beneath him, accommodating to every curve and every inch of his hard cock as Caleb begins a brutal pace. ‘Take it for me,’ he muttered, throwing his leather gloves off and finding his hands gripping onto your hips firmly.

The sound was filthy, your wet pussy slobbering all over Caleb’s length as he continuously pulls you into him. You pant and writhe beneath him, ‘Caleb it’s too much-‘

He huffed as he continued to fuck you harder, ‘No it’s not enough,’ he decided. Your eyes were watery at the overwhelming sensation of his touch. There was no time for you to even register him flipping you over to your stomach.

You whine at the sudden loss of him pulling out of you.‘See?’ he sneered, pushing you down and lifting your hips up. His large hands, calloused and rough compared to Zayne’s, kneaded into the soft flesh of your ass. Caleb hums as he palms your soft skin before delivering a loud slap onto you.

‘Ah! Caleb!’

You shudder with each delivering blow, your back arched as your moans muffle through your pillow. Your fingers gripped onto the sheets as the stinging heat of your skin continued.

You can hear the sound of buttons popping and a soft thud onto the ground as Caleb strips himself off from his clothes. Your cheeks reddened at the thought of him naked before you, dressed in nothing but a skimpy silk nightgown.

Caleb reaches for you, grabs a fistful of your hair and jerks your head up. Before you could protest, he stuffs his fingers into your mouth and shoves the black cloth of his tie into it. The sound of your surprise is muffled and gagged.

‘Now I wouldn’t have to hear you say any other name again.’

He wastes no time in pushing himself back into you. The thick head of his cock parting the soaking folds of your pussy before practically sucking him in. Caleb moans, his grip on your ass tightening as he stills inside of you. ‘Fuck,’ he laughs, ‘You’re pussy is so fucking tight.’

He snaps into you, ass in the air as his hips meet yours. You fall back into the mattress, hands bracing before you as your muffled moans fill the room.

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ Caleb asks as he pounds into you, pace relentless, ‘Your pussy was practically calling my name the minute I stepped into your apartment.’

His cock throbbed inside of you, penetrating your walls in an unforgiving manner. He was so thick and long and fuck you wanted to come so badly.

Caleb leans forward, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you up. Your back is flush against him and the hard muscles of his stomach heave behind you. He fucks up into you, the new angle giving him an even deeper access. His other hand reaches around to your bundle of nerves. ‘This clit is mine,’ he whispers in your ear. The sight of his tie balled up into your mouth turned him on so much. In fact, the sight of you completely reduced to nothing but a cock drunk slut gave him such euphoria.

‘Do you even know how much I missed you?’ he seethed, his fingertips circling your clit as he continued to pound into you. His hips jerking forward with so much intensity you were practically bouncing in the air.

You cry as Caleb’s cock presses itself into your G-spot. The massage of his thick bulbous tip grinding against you was enough to have you standing just by the edge.

Caleb slowed his pace just a fraction as if he could sense how close you were. His hands disappeared from your clit much to your protest. Pushing you off from him, Caleb flipped you back onto your back.

Pulling the gag out of your mouth, Caleb’s eyes were clouded full of lust and desire as you wet your lips. ‘I missed you,’ you return, panting and gasping for air.

Delight flickered in his eyes as Caleb pushing your thighs back towards your chest. He held your thighs there as he lined himself up to your entrance. ‘Fucking liar,’ he chuckled before spitting onto your clit. You moan and swear as the dollop of spit glides down your folds.

‘If you really missed me you would have saved yourself for me.’

He grabs his cock in a tight fist, his other hand holding you open before him. He teases the tip of his cock, covering it in the mixture of your slick and his saliva.

‘Please Caleb,’ you beg.

The sound was glorious. This was all he ever wanted. He didn’t care about anything else. All he wanted was you. And seeing you beneath him, practically a body full of lust and heat and want. It was driving him crazy. He would almost forgive you for what you have done. The betrayal you have committed.

‘Please, please-‘

Caleb fucks you like never before. He enters so smoothly before holding onto your thighs and pounding into you mercilessly. You moan his name over and over again. Caleb grunts in approval, the sight of your tits bouncing sending him over the edge.

‘Your pussy is mine,’ he declares.

You nod in a dazed state, ‘It’s yours.’

His thrusts drove deeper, bottoming out so his balls were flush against you. You let out a long whine, hands clutching onto your tits. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t think of anything else but Caleb fucking you so good. Your fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, palming and kneading your soft breasts.

‘That’s right baby,’ Caleb sighs at the sight, drinking you in. ‘Play with your tits as I fuck into you.’

His words turned you on so much. The filthy sounds of you fucking and his degrading tone left you feeling an incredible high. You knew you were close.

‘I’m going to come inside of you and you’re going to take it for me. You’re going to be a good girl for once and fucking take it.’

You nod. At this point you were agreeable to anything as long as Caleb continued to fuck you. You chew onto your bottom lip, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his cock continuously hitting that delicious spot.

‘That’s it baby,’ he moans, ‘Fuck you look so good taking my cock like that.’

Your mouth was dry as you stare into him. His foggy gaze was determined and shadowed with an almost animalistic lust. Your hands cup your breasts as you continue to bounce off him.

Fuck, he was going to come. The sight of you was too much. And at the edge of his unraveling, you leaned forward and pressed your mouth onto his. Your tongue lapped at his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into his flesh. Sucking at his lip, you moaned as his silver necklace pressed against your breast.

His kiss was hot and reckless. Losing all sense of control, you feel your own unraveling come before you. Letting out a long whine your pussy clenches around Caleb’s cock as you feel yourself coming over him. It was too much. All too much. The intense pull of your pussy and the taste of your tongue and the smell of you hair was driving Caleb closer and closer to the point of no return.

‘That’s right, come around my cock,’ he shuddered, ‘Show me how good my cock makes your pussy feel.’

His handprints were branding marks on your skin as Caleb delivers his final crushing thrusts into your pussy, claiming all that you could give to him. A wave of pleasure crashed into him as Caleb’s pace faltered. ‘Fuck!’

Hot white ropes of Caleb’s come seeps into you as he continues to fuck into your pussy. You moan his name several times, wrapping your arms around his neck. Caleb brings his arms around you, holding you above him as you grind onto his cock milking his come out of him.

‘Don’t stop fucking moving,’ he commanded, panting into your ear as you grind against him.

You moan loudly as you lazily roll your hips against him, chasing your high as your legs wrapped around his waist with Caleb sat on his knees under you. Your clit, swollen and tortured, rubs against his groin as you feel his come fill you up entirely.

Your hands run through his hair, sweaty and ruffled as you stare into his half-lidded gaze. His eyes flickered to your tongue as it sweeps over your swollen bottom lip. Caleb leans in to kiss you. This time it was more gentle, more soft. Almost tender.

You both take a moment to catch your breaths. Limbs still tangled and entwined, you remain still together in the bed. His cock was still warm inside of you. You didn’t care to move.

You sniffle at the sight of him. ‘How long are you here for?’ you whisper.

In the darkest of hour in the night, despite your loud rendezvous moments ago, your question was quiet and filled with fear and anxiety. Caleb is back. And you don’t think you could ever see him leave again.

Caleb offers you a small smile, arms wrapping around your waist again as you push back his hair from his sweaty forehead. ‘I’ll be here for as long as you need me to be, Pipsqueak,’ he teased. You grunt and slap his chest to which he burst into laughter. The tension in your shoulders lifting at the sound.

Caleb grins and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes as he brings his hand to cup the back of your neck. Pulling you down, his forehead presses against yours.

‘I came back for you, Pipsqueak.’

Your breath hitches as you can feel Caleb’s cock growing hard again inside of you. His other hand resting on the side of your thigh, his thumb massaging soft circles into your hot skin. The fire in your chest reignites at the carnal desire growing back in his violet eyes.

‘I won’t be leaving anytime soon.’

[angelfic]

OMG STOP THAT LAST TIM DRABBLE FOR THE VALENTINES THING REKINDLED THIS IDEA THATS BEEN LINGERING IN THE BACK OF MY MIND

Also I’ve been seeing this idea everywhere so I think it’s a sign

So could I get a Tim fic where the reader (gn if that’s okay!) gets this new lipstick and tests how pigmented it is on Tim, like how many kiss marks they can leave before the colors gone and they have to reapply it

Sry if that didn’t make any sense and ty in advance if u choose to write this 🙏🙏

tim drake x reader

warnings — kissing :) suggestive themes ig, established relationship

a/n; writing for tim lately has been so fun it gives me a better high than any class a drugs could. so serious abt that btw. I loved writing this so much anon like I wanna kiss you on the mouth just for requesting it

Tim is very much used to you trying things out on him by now. Your new perfumes, to make him walk past you so you can imagine what people smell when you’re around. Face masks so you’re not doing it alone. Different shades of your nail polishes painted on his fingernails because, well, that one’s mostly just for fun.

Even that one time when you wanted to try out a new heatless overnight curl method and had him sat on the couch for hours with his head full of tightly wound velcro rollers before you realised you’d done it wrong.

So when you plop down beside him on the couch with a freshly delivered package, he doesn’t even bat an eye.

“What’s that?” he asks politely, only sparing you a quick glance up from his laptop.

“New lipsticks,” you say, spilling them out onto your lap and picking one from the bunch to twist it up and reveal the velvety pigment. “I wanna test out the longevity.”

He hums, long fingers typing away. “Sounds fun.”

You grin. “Glad to hear you say that, because you’re helping.”

He pauses, slowly turning his head towards you and considering the lipstick in your hand. Then, he sighs. “Fine,” he relents, going back to his laptop, but not before pouting his lips out for you.

“Not like that,” you snort, gently shoving his face away. He glances up again, a confused crease etched between his brows.

“Then….?” he trails off, quirking a brow. “How am I helping?”

In response, you uncap the top of the lipstick and carefully apply it, using your phone reflection to stay within the lines. You press your lips together, before flashing him a smile. He parts his lips, no doubt to compliment you like he always does when you ask him about any new product. Before he can say anything, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a mark in the shape of your lips.

Tim blinks, touching his cheek where the red imprint of your lips remains and rubs the pigment thoughtfully between his fingers. “Ahhh. I see.”

“You’re my test subject,” you confirm, shifting closer. “My own little lab rat. Let’s see how many kisses it takes before the colour is gone.”

His ears flush, a muted version of your lipstick, but he doesn’t pull away, instead angling himself towards you and shifting his laptop out of the way. “Well,” he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips. “For science.”

You laugh, leaning in once again. This time, your lips land on his jaw. Then his temple. The high of his cheekbone. His neck.

By the tenth kiss, Tim is practically radiating heat, fingers curled slightly into the couch cushions, staying obediently still. By the fifteenth, he’s closed his laptop entirely, shoving it to the other end of the couch.

At twenty, he becomes visibly antsy. “Still pigmented?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse.

You lean back to inspect your handiwork, taking in the array of kiss marks scattered across his face and neck. “A little faded,” you say thoughtfully, tilting your head. “Might need to reapply this one.”

Tim huffs a laugh, shaking his head at you. “Of course you do.”

When you reach for the lipstick, which had ended up in his lap somewhere around the twelfth kiss, he catches your wrist and tugs you close enough to brush his lips against your own in a barely-there kiss. “Think I prefer it like that,” he murmurs.

Your stomach flips at the sight of your lipstick faintly colouring his lips. Then you grin, eyes sparkling.

“Well, that’s too bad. We have a test to finish and about… four more lipstick shades to go.”

Tim sighs dramatically, but the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Fine. But only because I’m committed to the cause,” he says, face as serious as he can muster with it covered in kiss marks.

And with that, you reapply the lipstick in pink this time, ready to start the experiment all over again.

[magnecalliope]

Something that I think is frequently lost in character analysis of Clown is that in spite of the popular idea that he is some sort of agent of chaos, he actually has a very rigid code of ethics that he adheres to that informs his actions and interactions with others.

First, consider that Clown held no feelings of animosity towards Pangi for eating the Kingdom's honey. He laughed about it and called Pangi a rascal for it, but he wasn't angry. To him, punishing Pangi was nothing personal, it was just a necessary consequence for his actions against the Kingdom. Consider his warning to Foolish about Owen when Owen killed Tommy. Consider his execution of Slimecicle. Owen killed Tommy out of turn, without orders from his king. But Clown executed Slime because he broke a decree by the king. This, more than his rivalry with Owen, is why he was so angry when Tubbo wanted to punish him but not Owen. They both broke Tubbo's rules, but Owen broke Clown's rules too.

Clown does not hate Pili. He told Pili that he was proud of him, that he missed him while he was gone. They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies, either. The only thing that could actually provoke Clown into fighting Pili was threats against Ros. Harming Ros requires punishment. An eye for an eye. Notice how many times during their duel that Clown stopped attacking Pili because it appeared he was having tech issues. He stopped attacking when Pili started to monologue. He did this because a fair fight is part of his ethics, but also because killing Pili was a duty that must be performed to achieve justice for his wrong. Just as any satisfaction Pangi got for his actions was irrelevant, just as Owen being an ally was irrelevant, whatever Pili got out of it was irrelevant to him. If Pili wants to have last words uninterrupted, let him. He didn't want to kill Pili, he had to.

Pili saw Clown's acknowledgement as his ticket to being respected, to being cared about, even if it's because he's a villain. And sure, people showed up, but just look at how they engaged with the fight. They made jokes. They were dismissive. Sneeg played a game of Balatro instead of paying attention. Scott changed his music away from epic battle themes to his regular music. People contemplated leaving and coming back later. It was a spectacle to gawk at for a few minutes and forget about later. They picked at his corpse for loot the second he dropped, even his own teammates. Nobody respects Pili any more for picking a fight with Clown. He died for nothing. It's almost symbolic that Pili deafened during the fight and didn't hear any of this occurring. He was so deeply entrenched in his beliefs that he was in denial of the truth even as it unfolded around him.

The things Pili wanted from Clown he already got from Pangi, and I think Clown saw that. Pangi loved and respected Pili, he was Pangi's entire world. He was the most important person on the server, his top priority. He was hurt when Pili talked about how badly he wanted to get Clown's attention. Pili's singleminded focus on Clown made him blind to that, but Clown wasn't. Clown understands intimately what a precarious position he occupies as "deadliest player" and that's not something he wishes on anyone. Being on top makes you a target not just of your enemies, but your allies too (just listen to the way Sneeg boasts that he can kill Clown if he really wanted to). He's got plenty of experience with that from Lifesteal. Pili doesn't. Clown didn't want to entertain Pili's flight of fancy that fighting him would solve all his problems. Clown's victory was hollow, but not because Pili got what he wanted. 

[d0rothydraws]

Piercing

(You have nipple piercings and Sylus finds out. I might do a part 2 is people want it i have ideas.)

You never thought that you would be the kind of person to do this yet here you were. You were out with some friends, as one does. Maybe you were slightly tipsy, maybe someone planted an idea earlier that night. You didn't really know. All you did know is you were laying on a padded chair, shirt off as a man was piercing your nipples.

Now you knew you wouldn't regret it. If anything, you could always take them out and the hole would close eventually. But as the piercings healed and you got used to it, you loved it. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be and also it was like jewelry only you could see. Well, you and..

The night Sylus discovered your piercings was a night you would never remember. You had been what some would call dating for a month or so. While you tried to take it slow because you felt like that was the responsible thing to do, things just felt very natural with him. Though physically, you didn't take the leap yet. At least, fully.

There were plenty of nights where you were on his lap. His hand between your thighs, lips on yours. Yet for some reason you didn't feel ready to fully reveal yourself to him. Call it insecurity or maybe even the fear of it all ending up being for nothing, like usual. You didn't really know.

It was your weekend off work and you came over to his place to destress. You had made plans to watch some movies, play some board games and maybe even finally if you were brave enough, take that final step of intimacy. Coming straight from work Friday night you were still in your work clothes as you arrived. You already had everything you needed at his place. A whole dresser of clothes, your own shampoo and body wash. Any toiletries. If you ran out, he restocked. It was like a second home.

Sylus was still out finishing up god knows what which meant you were alone to your own devices. A fresh change of clothes was calling your name. Moving through the house you entered a room that you continued to deny was yours even though it had more of your items in it than your own room in your apartment. Opening the dresser you pulled out a tank top and some shorts.

Maybe you were still tired from work, maybe you couldn't hear over the song you were humming. Either way, you failed to notice that you no longer were alone. You turned your head to toss your work shirt in the clothes hamper to be washed and in turn was met with ruby eyes. They weren't looking at yours though like usual. They were looking lower.

It took you a moment to realize, you pulled your bra off with your shirt. Not the best for your bra's lifespan. But the best for convivence. So there you stood, in front of Sylus. Topless as your little secret was exposed. You felt heat pull in your gut. This isn't how you wanted the big reveal to happen, but the look on his face made you feel.. powerful. He looked hungry. You even seen his adams apple bob just a bit as he swallowed. With just a simple action you made this man look like he was going to devour you. But even still, he knew you had boundaries. No mater how badly he wanted to touch you.

"My my, kitten." He said, his voice low as he tore his eyes away from your chest to look at you. "Now that is a surprise I wasn't expecting." His voice was teasing but playful. He chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder if you have any other secrets to uncover."

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline of being walked in on or the look in his eye but your body moved before your mind caught up to you. You stood in front of him as you took his hand and moved it to your breast. Your heart raced as his fingers began to play with the piercing. Taking a deep breath to try and steady your nerves and quickly growing heat that was beginning to boil inside you, you took a step closer so his hand was pushed even more against the soft tissue.

"Why don't you come find out?"

That's all it took before his lips were on yours. His free hand moving to cradle your head as his other hand continued to play with your nipple. You stepped back. He followed. Another step back, and again. Each one until the back of your legs pressed against the bed. Pulling back from the kiss you looked up at him. He looked back at you, his eyes intense but waiting. He was letting you have full control, for now at least.

"I always wanted to try something." You admitted, feeling your heart in your throat. You motioned for him to sit on the bed and as he did you straddled him, not able to stop yourself from pushing your hips against his just enough to make him groan. You had barely done anything to him. You weren't even fully naked. Yet you could feel how much you effected him.

You curled a hand into his hair as you guided his lips to your chest. He didn't need anymore instructions. His teeth toyed with the metal, pulling slightly as it made you gasp. His tongue brushing against your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth. Your head fell back as your eyes closed. A groan vibrated against your skin as he licked and bit at your sensitive skin. After a few minuets he pulled back with a growl before he moved in on the other one. His hips rutted up against you making you moan. His hands moving to your hips as you moved back against him. It felt like he was devouring you.

You heard a slight wet sound as he pulled away from your nipple to lick up your chest and neck. Shivering as the air hit your sensitive, wet skin. A hand moved up your side to cup one of your breasts, thumb and finger playing with your piercing. His voice was a low purr that made your skin tingle.

"I'm not going to be able to keep my hands of you, sweetie."

~

I havent written anything in so long im tired im sorry. i found this prompt in my drafts and ran with it

[anthurak]

"I'd like to hear him out..."

(credit to @phuezo for the awesome art XD)

So here’s a fun little AU concept for the past couple months since Mastermind aired and people started throwing around ‘What if Charlie (or Lucifer) was at Blitzo’s trial?’ ideas:

What if Vaggie didn’t (entirely) lose her wings to Lute’s attack? Meaning that Charlie actually KNOWS that Vaggie is an angel from the beginning. And leading to Vaggie not hiding her identity by pretending to be a sinner and instead be generally open about her past as an angel and exorcist. Which I think could have some rather interesting ripple effects.

Now I realize it might be a bit headscratching how ‘Vaggie doesn’t lose her wings’ leads to ‘Charlie (and Vaggie) showing up at Blitzo’s trial’, but hear me out.

First off, I think the ‘How’ of this divergence is actually pretty easy to imagine; instead of ripping her wings off, Lute decides to inflict a different kind of sadistic torture on Vaggie. Terribly maiming her wings to prevent her from flying, but still leaving her wings to make it clear just what she is. Basically, Lute and Adam fully expect Vaggie to be torn apart by vengeful demons.

But in true dramatically ironic fashion, Vaggie is NOT found by the ‘evil, terrible demons�� that Lute and Adam (and even Vaggie herself) were expecting, but by Charlie Morningstar. And I think we can all agree that Vaggie happening to have a pair of angel wings would NOT meaningfully change Charlie’s reaction to finding her in the slightest.*

Charlie still basically falls for Vaggie at first sight, takes her in and patches her up and gives her a home. And in this version, after it becomes clear that Vaggie’s wings aren’t healing, Charlie also calls in a favor from Uncle Ozzie to design some cool cybernetics/prosthetics to give Vaggie full wing-functionality back. And after a while, Charlie and Vaggie fall in love and start dating just like they did in canon, possibly even sooner/stronger given that Vaggie doesn’t have the specter of hiding who she is from Charlie hanging over her in this version.

And this is where we get to one of those interesting ripple-effects of this change.

Because I think it is VERY likely (as in, I imagine we’ll actually see this come up in the actual show) that Charlie’s belief in sinner-redemption and drive to help sinners in large part came from Vaggie. Specifically in that Charlie believed that Vaggie was a sinner. As in, Charlie falling in love with someone who she thought was a sinner was a MAJOR factor in Charlie believing that sinners could be redeemed and general drive to help them.

Now obviously I’m not suggesting that Vaggie was the only reason or that Charlie wouldn’t care about the sinners otherwise. At the same time, I think it’s a bit ridiculous to assume that Charlie believing the woman she loves was a sinner all that time wasn’t a major contributor to her motivation in ‘making a hotel to redeem sinners’. Or that Charlie knowing Vaggie WASN’T a sinner from the beginning couldn’t put her on a different path…

Basically, this version of events with Charlie falling in love with ‘Vaggie the fallen angel/former exorcist’ instead of ‘Vaggie the human sinner’ ends up rippling out to lead Charlie to focus not on the problems of the human sinners, but rather the problems faced by the hellborn demons.

Say for example; because Charlie knows that Vaggie is an angel, and thus almost certainly NOT bound to the Pride Ring, the pair end up taking a few trips/dates to see the other rings. Particularly given that Vaggie already know Asmodeus.

But in the process of these trips, Charlie starts noticing many of the issues faced by the hellborn demons. Many of which she doesn’t remember from back when her father was running things…

Basically this ties into another theory I’ve had since Mastermind that a lot of the societal issues we see in Helluva Boss are the result of, or at least have been heavily exacerbated by, Lucifer’s long ABSENCE from ruling thanks to his centuries-long depressed isolation. Something that I think Mastermind pretty heavily hints at given everything we see from Satan in that episode. And that at some point, Hazbin Hotel is going to show Charlie having to DEAL with many of these issues as part of her arc of growing into a leader and future ruler of Hell.

And in this version of events, instead of being drawn to wanting to help the human sinners, Charlie is drawn to wanting to help the hellborn demons. Basically, since her father clearly isn’t doing his job, perhaps SHE should step up and try doing it instead?

And of course, Vaggie is right at her side through ALL of this. In fact, she may even be a bit more gung-ho about it, given that it probably feels to her a bit more feasible than ‘redeeming sinners’.

This all leads to Charlie pushing herself not so much into ‘replacing’ her father outright as ‘ruler’ of Hell, but rather starting to assume a kind of regency position. Not full-on ‘ruling’ (yet), but still starting to assume some of the roles and duties that her father has been neglecting for a couple hundred years.

And the fun thing is that nobody is really able to stop Charlie from doing any of this. After all, she IS the princess and heir apparent of the Morningstars, meaning she is well within her rights to assume a number of roles of her father. Particularly as Charlie makes it very clear that she is not trying to outright supplant her father, but is simply assuming duties that he’s been neglecting. To the point of keeping the title of ‘Princess’, or maybe ‘Princess Regent’.

Sure, some/most/all of the Goetia/other nobility might not like a lot of the ideas and goals Charlie is talking about, such as ‘Maybe the Imps, Hellhounds, etc AREN’T actually lesser and born to serve the nobility and shouldn’t be treated as such’, but there also isn’t really anything they can do to STOP her or remove her from her new position. After all, the only one with the authority truly above Charlie’s is Lucifer himself.**

And the nobles who do make a scene and/or pitch a hissy fit about Charlie’s ‘radical ideas’ tend to find themselves at the business-end of her girlfriend’s spear, sword or divinely-mailed fist. Really, in this situation Vaggie is a pretty big fucking deal all on her own, being a fallen angel and all. Certainly NOBODY is going to be judging Charlie on her choice of romantic partner. Well, maybe some sinners might judge her for dating a former exorcist, but any Hellborn demons, even the Goetia? No fucking way. Really, people would probably be making comments on how Charlie is taking after her mother.

Heck, even in the short time since Charlie started this endeavor, Vaggie’s probably earned her own title or two. ‘Blade of the Morningstar’? ‘Wings of the Princess’?

Of course it’s also worth noting that there are still some pretty hard limits to what Charlie can accomplish in terms of fixing/reforming the issues of hellish society, at least in the short term. She can’t just snap her fingers and fix classism or completely wipe out the Goetia’s authority (or the Goetia themselves). Particularly as Charlie doesn’t have the ultimate overriding authority of her father. Realistically, Charlie’s authority as Princess/Regent only just supersedes that of any of the Sins, and while that might put her above effectively ANY other one person in Hell, it also doesn’t give her absolute ‘do anything I want’ authority either. Not to mention that this is still Charlie we’re talking about, who in this timeline is still only JUST getting use to throwing her authorial weight around.

But at the same time, again there really isn’t anything anyone can do to fully STOP Charlie from doing anything either. Meaning that in the short time since assuming her new role as regent, say about a year or two, Charlie has already started making small but noticeable changes and ripples to Hell’s society.

Which brings us to this new version of Mastermind, with Charlie and Vaggie making a surprise appearance at Blitzo’s trial and Charlie actually wanting to hear the imp out. This leads to a number of other fun changes including but not limited to:

Charlie invoking both ‘Princess Regent Authority’ and ‘Favorite Niece Privileges’ to get all of the Sins voting on her side to hear Blitzo out and override literally all of the Goetia royalty.

Andy-the-not-actually-a-sister-fucker pitching a hissy fit over this and getting choke-slammed and almost speared by Vaggie.

Blitzo still finding a way to fuck up this golden opportunity by running his mouth. Because this is still Blitzo we’re talking about, and giving him a chance to talk is ALSO giving him a chance to dig himself into a deeper hole.

Stolas choosing the exact worst (and funniest) moment to dramatically burst in with his big, dramatic ‘sacrifice myself for the man I love via song number’ gambit, which actually only makes things worse/wackier when Charlie starts asking pertinent questions.

Andy pitching more hissy fits as his plans continue to unravel and getting repeatedly chokeslammed and/or kicked in the dick by Vaggie.

Striker getting dragged back in when it becomes clear there are a LOT of holes in his story, only to constantly flip-flop on his story because he can’t figure out which authority figure(s) he should be selling-out-to/kissing-up-to in order to save his own skin.

Charlie, Vaggie and even Satan becoming ever more flabbergasted as it becomes clear that the suspect (Blitzo), prosecution (Andre), defense (Stolas) and witness (Striker) in this trial are in fact ALL complete fucking idiots.

--

*Admittedly I do have one other possible change in mind to help reinforce this: rather than a sinner child, Vaggie actually spares an imp kid, or perhaps a sinner child and their imp kid best friend. Which leads to the imp kid actually leading Charlie to the injured Vaggie and also telling her that this angel actually helped them and got hurt doing so.*** Which again serves to reinforce just how wrong Adam and Lute and much of heaven are about demons.

** And if you’re going to ask ‘Why doesn’t Charlie just go to her dad directly and get him to do his job?’, remember that Charlie had to be practically dragged kicking and screaming by her girlfriend into calling up Lucifer for help in Hazbin. I think it’s pretty clear that pre-Hazbin, if Charlie can get what she’s after without getting her dad involved, she is ABSOLUTELY going to do it.

*** Also this hypothetical imp kid doesn’t actually show up again and DOES in fact have a living family, meaning that NO, Charlie and Vaggie DON’T ADOPT THEM. Because I KNOW that is exactly what some of you started thinking when I mentioned an unattended child in relative proximity to our heroines.

--

And of course, once again HUGE thanks to @phuezo for the awesome art of Charlie and Vaggie XD

[4ranghaes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd with pregnant!reader

ot5 bnd x reader [fluff, afab!reader, pregnant!reader]

a/n - i just felt a bit weird writing woonhak, considering he’s younger than me idk,, hope you still enjoy!!!

sungho🎀 [4 months along]

“wait! wait, wait,” he said quickly, slamming the car door on his side before running round and opening your own.

you chuckled, “thank you, ba–”

“here,” he said, taking your hand, placing his other hand on your back as he helped you out the car.

“sungho,” you sighed, as he rushed to grab your bag and lock the car before ushering you inside, “sungho!”

he stopped, turning to you. he’d just reached the front door of your house, key in his hand as he stopped.

“you need to stop fussing over me,” you laughed, “i’m fine. i’m barely even showing yet!”

sungho sighed, placing his hand protectively on your back as the two of you walked inside, “i know. i’m sorry, i just– i already worried about everything when you were just you! now it’s you and our baby, in one person?! everyday i think i’m going to combust when i think about it.”

you collapsed on the sofa, your body tired and achey. even if you weren’t showing, pregnancy was still doing a number on your body. you laughed at your husband’s words, beckoning him to your side, “i need you to be normal, for my own sanity. and i need you to calm down, for your own health.”

he nodded, leaning on your shoulder, wrapping his arm round your waist, “i’ll try.” he sighed in contentment, his thumb rubbing gently on your stomach, “that was a good scan today.”

you nodded, placing your hand over his, “i love hearing their heartbeat.”

sungho grinned, looking to you and nodding, “i know, makes it feel real that there’s a little person in there! i can’t believe it.” he quietened down again quickly, massaging your legs he knew were aching, kissing your forehead softly. “son or daughter?”

you chuckled, placing your hands over your stomach and humming, “i have no idea.”

“come on,” sungho jeered, “mum’s instinct?”

you smiled, butterflies erupting at the sound of being called mum for the first time, “the instinct is that they’re beautiful and loved, no matter what.”

“yeah…” your husband hummed, “but a daughter would be lovely, right?”

you giggled, nodding as you played with his hair, “and you’d spoil her completely, i’m sure.”

riwoo 🦦🍡 [3 months along]

“was that a dream?”

you hummed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before snuggling into your husband’s chest, “what?”

“last night,” he said, staring at the ceiling. he glanced at you, a small smile on his face as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “i could swear i had a dream that you told me you were pregnant.”

you giggled, “hmm, i wonder why.”

riwoo chuckled, “i can’t believe it. i feel like i need to do something… tell someone? buy something?”

you laughed, “just hold on. i think we should wait until 20 weeks to tell people. that’s what they suggest, anyway.”

“sounds good,” he nodded, sighing with contentment, “wow. i mean, before the years over we’re gonna have a baby. at christmas! oh wow. do you think it’s gonna be a boy or a girl?”

you giggled, closing your eyes from sleepiness, “i don’t know, sanghyuk.”

“i need to research,” he hummed, stroking your hair, “i don’t know anything about pregnancy or babies.”

“did you know they can already hear?” you smiled, rolling onto your back and placing your hand on your stomach. nothing was showing, but just the idea was exciting. riwoo looked shocked, scooting down the bed and resting his head on your chest, his hand on your lower stomach.

“they can hear me?” he smiled, stroking the skin softly.

“yeah,” you said, stroking riwoo’s hair, “go on, say something. i’ve done it a couple times.”

“okay,” he chuckled, humming for a moment as he swiped his hand over your stomach, “hey baby. i– i don’t know anything about you yet. haven’t even seen a scan. but i’m your dad. um… i guess you’ll get to know me pretty well. i’m excited to meet you, in 7 months. it feels long, but i’m sure it’ll go by quickly, and then you can celebrate christmas with me and your mum. speaking of your mum… you’re inside her now, so she’ll take good care of you. but i hope you treat her well too, don’t make her too ill. um… i don’t really know what else to say so i’ll say bye for now but i’ll speak to you again soon, okay? i’ll play you one of my songs too! feel free to kick or whatever to respond if you like it–”

“five months.”

“hmm?”

“usually you don’t feel the baby kick until five months,” you smiled, stroking your husband’s hair back as he turned his face to look at your face now, instead of your stomach.

he frowned, “that’s so long.”

“come on, we have to get up now,” you groaned, stretching before sitting up.

“okay,” riwoo sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and leaping out of bed, “i’ll start the coffee— oh.”

you grumbled, glaring at him, “don’t rub it in.”

jaehyun🪻🐕 [6 months along]

“hiya pretty girl,” he said, bursting into a smile as you wandered into the living room.

you glared at your husband, “don’t patronise me.”

“i’m not,” jaehyun laughed, “come on, sit down, i’ll rub your feet.”

“you will?” you asked, almost tearing up in gratitude.

“of course!” he exclaimed, voice soft like a melody as he helped you onto the sofa before pulling your legs up so they were resting in his lap.

“sorry i was grumpy,” you said sheepishly, as he started massaging your soft-covered feet and legging-covered calves.

“it’s okay,” he beamed, “be as grumpy with me as you want, my girl! you’re carrying my baby.”

one of his hands trailed up to rest on the bottom of your rounded stomach. you smiled, placing your hand over his before dragging it upwards to where your daughter’s little feet were kicking repetitively.

“woah, harsh!” he gasped over-dramatically, rubbing the spot with his thumb.

jaehyun was good at leaving you to your own devices during pregnancy, knowing that too much worrying and fussiness would be overbearing for your already over-loaded body and mind, but sometimes you didn’t mind a bit of fuss.

“do you want anything particular for dinner?” he asked, moving back to massaging your feet.

you hummed, “no, i don’t have anything in mind. you can choose.”

“okay,” he said suspiciously, “but i’ll check with you first, yeah? i want you to eat.”

you smiled, nodding and going back to your phone.

“oh check your emails, by the way,” he said, barely even looking at you as he spoke, “i ordered some things for the nursery.”

you clicked on the app, eyes widening at the confirmation email you’d received that morning. “some things?! jaehyun, this is the whole nursery!”

“well we needed to get it done, right?” he shrugged.

“oh thank you,” you cooed, removing your legs from his lap and instead cuddling into his side, “how did you know i was stressing about that last night?”

“you wrote it on a post-it note to remind yourself, and then forgot to put it up,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead, “no need to worry anymore, though.”

you sighed, pregnancy brain ruining your ability to even think anymore, “thank you, love.”

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he smiled down at you, “and hey, why don’t we go clothes shopping soon? hmm? you know we’re gonna love that.”

you smiled, nodding as jaehyun pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “you’re the best.”

taesan 🎸🐈‍⬛ [7 months along]

“dongmin, have you seen my tape?”

“woah,” he smirked, sitting up on the bed as he ogled you in the doorway.

“what?” you sighed.

you were stood wearing nothing but a crop top that only covered your boobs nowadays, with booty shorts, and your hair which had finally had a wash after a week was put away messily.

“you look gorgeous,” he blinked, face unwavering as you rolled your eyes.

“please,” you scoffed, practically waddling over to your husband.

he smiled, “no, i’m serious. i don’t think i’ve ever been more turned on. god you’re sexy.”

“oh my god keep it in your pants! i’m already pregnant,” you rolled your eyes, standing in front of him, “now can you answer my question?”

“your tape? oh the belly supporter one? yeah, it’s in the dresser,” he hummed, “i’ll get it, you sit down.”

he swapped your positions so you were sat on the edge of the bed and he wandered over to grab the tape, coming and helping you stand back up to put it in position.

“how could you possibly find me sexy right now?” you laughed, looking at yourself in the mirror as you planned where to put the tape to support your body the most.

“cause you’re all mine,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder as he stood behind you, “and everyone knows it. and you’re so cool, you’re carrying a person, our person.”

you smiled, taesan’s hands snaking round your waist and resting on your stomach as his head rested on your shoulder.

“sorry i find cool and powerful women so sexy,” he shrugged.

“wow you’re such a feminist,” you laughed, taesan shaking his head as he chuckled. “speaking of, how’s the nursery coming along?”

“nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, princess,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder as he went and grabbed his laptop off the bed, “in two weeks it’ll be done, and we’ll be fully ready for our little guy. okay?”

you nodded, smiling as taesan continued to stand behind you, admiring you in the mirror. you basked in the moment for a while longer, sighing in contentment as you leaned against his body.

“fuck,” you cursed under your breath, seeing a large wet spot appear on your crop top.

“fuck,” taesan murmured, “i need to get you pregnant more often.”

you glared at him, “not helping.”

leehan🪸🐠 [5 months along - warning: mentions of like,, being able to see the baby move? some people find that gross so i wanted to leave a warning😭]

“y/n?”

“up here!” you called from the bedroom, as leehan came through the front door after work.

you heard your husband sprinting up the stairs, two at a time as he usually did, appearing in the bedroom doorway with a goofy smile on his face.

“hey, how was your— woah.”

he stopped his question, looking at your rounded stomach which was seemingly moving beneath the skin.

“this is so freaky,” you chuckled, “i mean, interesting. but weird, right?”

“that is so cool,” he said, quickly coming to the side of the bed and kneeling down, peering closely at the skin.

you laughed, “she’s really in there, huh?”

“hey, baby,” leehan spoke, poking your stomach gently, “why you wriggling so much? you uncomfortable?”

you chuckled at his words, stroking the hair on the back of his head as he resting his chin on the mattress.

“wah,” he spoke, placing a hand flat on your stomach, letting it be moved by your unborn child, “wah. hi baby, it’s daddy. remember me?”

“i hope so, considering you speak to her twice a day,” you laughed.

he smiled, kissing his fingers and pressing it to the skin. he continued to blink, in a quiet fascination of your baby, and of you, for carrying her inside you.

“is it uncomfortable?”

“no,” you shook your head, “feels weird though. i couldn’t even describe it if i wanted to.”

he nodded thoughtfully, “how long has she been doing this?”

“all afternoon,” you said, before adding sheepishly, “i phoned the doctor at first. they were a bit pissed at me, i think, cause it turns out it’s absolutely nothing to worry about. but i just thought this movement seemed excessive, right?!”

“yeah, they’re a dick,” leehan said, voice almost emotionless, “you’re just worried for your baby, you’re being a good mum.”

you smiled, “thanks, love. anyway, they said she’s probably just moving position, but it’s early enough that they’re confident she’ll move back before it’s time to come out.”

“she’s just an acrobat, hmm?”

“or a dancer, maybe?” you smiled, leehan looking at you shyly before looking back to your stomach.

“i want to name her sua,” he said, suddenly.

“sua?” you repeated, “as in… water themed?”

he nodded, “either that or i name her after a fish, so it’s up to you.”

you laughed, leaning over and kissing his head, “sua sounds perfect.”

[harzilla]

I love creating OCs and sometimes it can be hard!

Some suggestions from me. If you're having trouble designing an OC. Use Picrew! Just mess around with the designs until you feel one that vibes with you. This is good if you're not that great or have difficulty at drawing. But it does give you a reference point you can share with anybody who may want to or you pay to draw your OC. I have a few OCs who I haven't drawn yet but I made picrew of to help me flesh out their design a bit.

Browse sights like Pinterest for clothing ideas. Make Pinterest pages for your OCs. Listen to different songs. If your OC is part of a fanon, does that song fit a certain part of the plot of the story? I make myself oc albums and different songs for based on parts of the story or a vibe. Like sometimes I simply think "this OC would absolutely sing and dance to this song"

Don't be afraid to share your OC ideas. Because there ARE people who will love to hear your ideas. A bunch of my OCs have come to life because I shared my ideas and others gave me inspiration with their own.

I don't know how much this might help, but even if it helps just one person a little in their OC ideas then it was worth it

Yall ever just?

[r-aindr0p]

About your vampire and Hunter AU, Rollo X Rook will be the only couple? Or eventually will have more?

Btw, Silver literally sleeping with his "victims" is very original, I would love to read if you write about it.

Tbh I've mostly been on the "lurking and vibing with the ships people make excitedly" side and not actually drawing or pair characters for a good while :')

But I have just so much fun with this AU and kinda want to make other unusual ships wether it's shitpost or not-

Here's a few options, nothing definitive, just some I have more ore less an idea for, they probably make sense with this AU only

No precise Idea with Silver but I'm sure he has a favorite nap victim/pillow

I will hear everyone out on your options, do tell me :))

[senipsenipsenip]

I’m a little obsessed with the idea of Ford making himself the most involved support network he can for Dipper and Mabel when they go off to college. Like weekly phone calls even if it’s just for five minutes to say “hey how are you you’re not alone I love you”. He knows what it feels like to be isolated, adrift in a new environment. He knows it can be hard to reach out, so he wants to make sure his niblings know he’s always reaching out already should they ever need him.

He makes sure he’s keeping up with what Wendy, Soos, Fiddleford, and the townsfolk are up to so that he can relay it to Dipper and Mabel, which has the (unexpected for Ford but unsurprising to anyone else) side effect of Ford gaining his own network of companions. If the kids are having trouble with their homework he does his best to help, but if it’s some subject he’s not versed in he’s quick to go to his college yearbook and find the name of someone he knew who majored in that field and tells Dipper and Mabel to look them up on the internet because “I hear you can do that now. You can find anyone but Stanley and D.B. Cooper. That’s because your uncle is technically dead and last I saw D.B. Cooper was in the Alibi Dimension.” Dipper reaches out to the alumni sometimes. He becomes sort of pen pals with this old guy who got his film degree at Backupsmore in his forties. The guy’s older than Ford, still works as a professor, and is thrilled to talk with a young, excitable student like Dipper. Mabel reaches out to ANYONE with fashion, dance, music, or any other liberal arts degree. She’s got about 400 LinkedIn connections and a lot of invitations to some family potlucks.

Sometimes even if Ford knows the answers, he still asks Fiddleford to help. It makes Ford happy to visit his friend and hear him proudly explain something that he helped Dipper solve over the phone. Ford tries so hard not to think of a world where this conversation is different, where Fiddleford has clearer eyes and is telling him all about how proud he is watching his Tate grow up.

“No use dwellin’” Fiddleford would say. “Not while we got years ahead.”

And Ford would say “Alright.” And after catching up with his old friend he would excuse himself because it was Friday and the kids would each be expecting a call. He would walk back home and scroll through his phone looking for the kids’ numbers, marveling at how long his contact list has become. How odd, to have lived in a town so long and only now be discovering the people. Oh well. No use dwellin’. Besides, Gravity Falls was full of odd things.

Odd, and often wonderful.

[seewetter]

1925 Reporter: So what does politically correct mean?

1925 Stalin: It means to obey the party line.

1925 Reporter: So it's possible to not obey the party line, right. Right?

1925 Anakin Skywalker: -

1925 Russian émigré: Hey Americans, Russia under Stalin was a nightmare. We don't know what to call his violent persecution of any dissent, but maybe politically correct will work?

1930s Reporter: So what does woke mean?

1930s Interviewee: We mean streetwise. To be woke is to realize the very real danger of racist cops and racists on the street. And to not forget where we are, and not to fall asleep at the steering wheel when it comes to progress against these unjust laws. Perhaps one day our civil rights movement might make a valiant effort to end that racism, that danger.

1940s New Yorker: So what does politically correct mean?

1940s New Yorker Leftist: Some people here in New York really mindlessly obey the local Communist Party. If the party agrees on something, it's gotta be right you know? We call those people politically correct to make fun of them.

1970s No One Asked...

1970s New Leftist: *Sigh* Chairman Mao looks so dreamy. Did you hear that he's all about free love and sexual liberty?

1970s Chairman Mao: Are women bourgeois?

1970s New Leftist: Mao says in his little red book we must hold the party line. Let's be politically correct!

post-1970s progressives: Huh, maybe this is a good word to describe decency and consideration for others.

1981 Ronald Reagan: I'm gonna pass laws so draconic and turn America into such an impoverished nightmare society that people are guaranteed to get really upset at the small things in their lives that they *can* change, cause I've made all the big things completely screwed up. This will result in right-wingers who can't stand good-faith left-wing criticism and "left-wingers" who get lost attacking other people for minor failings and incompatible lifestyles. If I play my cards right just 6 years from now some guy will explode at new ideas in education and even at universities there'll be moral busybodies who police other people's perceived failings. Yeeehaw!

1987 Interviewer: So what does political correctness mean?

1987 Allan Bloom, frothing at the mouth: College campuses. Universities. Students. hwuahifb. Young people. They have management students plan little real-life projects. The professors talk about the future of the industry and what jobs might exist! They do critical thinking exercises! BURN IT ALL! GNARHRGI!!!!

post-1987 right-wingers who need a book deal: wow. What a beautifully nebulous concept! Time to smear everyone and everything we hate and argue for more love towards our favorite pass-times: being insufferable. After all, some people on the Left TM attack people for small perceived moral failings.

1990s Press, *taking notes*: Political Correctness is when the Totalitarian Spanish Inquisition performs Witch Hunts and calls minor things by Extreme Names like Racism just like in George Orwell 1984.

1990s Russian émigrés from 1925 onward, now American neoconservatives: FINALLY someone listens to us about our experiences. I think. That's how I remember my experiences anyway. Gosh it's the 90s, that was half a century back! I'm old, memory is failing me. But these kids on them there college campuses sure do trigger my PTSD from my days under Stalin. Am I so out of touch? No, it's the children who are wrong.

2014 Curious person: So what does woke mean?

2014 Buzzfeed: We mean like hip. Here, take this "What kind of feminist am I quiz" where all answers you give, even misogynist ones, make you a feminist. To be woke is to be with the times, y'know. Being woke means riding the train of history. Just, y'know, without consulting the actual history of AAVE words. That might involve effort and we're way too cool and underpaid to put in effort.

2014 Anti-Feminist: Is this website a good source for what The Left TM wants? Must be.

2016 Asker: So what does woke mean?

2016 Terminally Insular "Leftist": Look, I get all my politics off Twitter and Buzzfeed, except I hate both. I live online and never try fixing things IRL. Woke is like bad Leftism: characterized by vanity, hysteria, shallowness.

2016 Anti-Feminist: Oh, like female vanity, female hysteria, female screeching harpies, female superficiality.

2016 Right-wing lobbyist: *taking notes*

2016 Right-wing spin doctor: *Hey*, guess which cool new word just dropped?! It's called woke, and you're not gonna believe this! It sounds trendy, it has no historical baggage, it lets us make fun of the Left, it only has one syllable and it'll get us a foot in the door with people terminally detached from actual politics.

2016 Right-wing spin doctor's polycule: Honey, come home. Please! We don't need your giant paycheck, we just want you. It's Christmas, can't you even leave the office on Christmas? Please?

2017 Confused person: So what is woke?

2017 Wise right-wing sage: Well. Uh. Um. It. Uh. When Left bad. Uh.

2017 Confused person: Is it different to political correctness? Is it the same thing? It seems like the same thing...

2017 Right-wing thought leader: We must oppose it with all our might. And by it I mean wokeness. And by wokeness, I mean um, uh, um, let me see, um, uh, uh...

The year is 2025. Legislators are passing anti-woke legislation. They still have the decency to put "wokeness" in quotation marks, because even they know, deep down, this has gotten ridiculous.

It’s kinda funny how “woke” as a negative term started amongst the online-left to criticize/make fun of obviously superficial and shallow displays of corporate inclusiveness (which has been clearly vindicated recently) but then the right coopted the term and for awhile they supposedly used it in the same sense of “it’s not actually sincere you’re dicksucking corporations the right is the true enemy of elites” but then it suddenly turned into “any minorities any acknowledgement a minority exists in this work of fiction is woke and grooming”

Similar story with terms like “politically correct” or “identity politics” which originated as critiques from the left but which the right grabbed onto and drained of any meaning

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

So High School | Dino one-shot

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem. Reader

tags: angst, fluff, fake relattionship, jenny han romcom coded, wooyoung in slightly negative shade (atinys don't come for me, it was just needed for the plot), bestie yeonjun, changbin special appearance, sports reference (not a lot but i tried)

a/n: It took me a whole semester to write this... (thank you adulting☹️) but this is basically a slightly changed, self-indulgent retelling of To All the Boys I Loved with dino being Peter Kavinsky...

masterlist

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could've just asked, right?" God! He was so insufferable and annoying. And mainly, he was completely irresistible.

Lee Chan, the school charmer. The boy who had every girl in high school wrapped around his finger. The gorgeous, talented football captain with the smile of a prince and lips that were meant to be kissed.

But right now, he was the bane of your existence, and he was getting on your last nerve.

“Just. Shut. Up. Chan.” You manage to whisper between catching your breath.

Chan’s smirk stays intact on his face, which is a mere two inches away from yours. The sun is blazing on the football field, making his fluffy brown hair glisten. His left hand is wrapped around your waist, sending cold shivers down your spine despite the heat. His other hand, the one that had scored a touchdown, is pushing stray hair from your face. His hand stays on your chin, tracing patterns. You’re a mess.

Your hands are clutching tightly around his neck, which is why his face is inches away from yours. The adrenaline of Chan scoring the winning point has brought you running down the stands and into this position. But now that he is here, your legs are giving out.

The initial gasps are turning into whispers and giggles.

“Princess, you can’t keep the audience waiting.” Chan’s voice flows like honey. His eyes are gleaming with surprise and mischief. His smile is bright and wide. He traces another pattern on your cheek, and you flinch involuntarily.

“Y/n, people are getting suspicious…” he sounds more serious as he looks around.

“Wooyoung is watching. You’re close to your goal.” The mischief in Chan’s face has been replaced with bitterness.

Oh, right! Wooyoung, the reason all of this began. The boy you’ve been in love with for the last two years. The boy you wanted to charm and make fall in love with you. The reason you’re currently in Chan’s arms.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea…

“Y/n… come on. It’s not like this is our first kiss.” You look at Chan with daggers in your eyes.

He wasn’t supposed to bring that up. But he has a point…

“Chan, I’m nervous. Can you kiss me…” you manage to say. Chan gulps but leans down.

Three. The smell of Chan’s cologne hits your nose.

Two. Chan leans in, blocking the light from your face completely.

One. His glistening eyes are all you see before his lips crash into yours.

Heaven…

Probably your biggest mistake, and your biggest blessing.

But if you could go back three weeks and redo all of this… you’d still choose this. This moment, this boy, his lips, his warmth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks ago

It was a regular day, with spring around the corner and the sun starting to shine brighter. Longer days and the lack of needing jackets always put you in a good mood.

A good day overall. Until that afternoon in the changing room. You overheard three freshman girls gossiping, and that was the beginning of your misery. "Did you guys hear that Wooyoung is looking for a female lead for his directorial drama..." One of the girls' excited voices traveled through the lockers.

"Oh my! Wait, isn’t his drama a romantic thriller? And he's the male lead!" This statement was immediately followed by a pair of squeals that made you roll your eyes.

"Do you think he’ll conduct auditions?" "Oh, I heard he was going to choose Mina." "Why them when Y/N is there? She’s a senior and she’s acted with Woo before..." "Maybe he’s into Mina? Or doesn’t like Y/N?" "Anyways, let’s see what happens… I hope he opens the audition for all of us. Imagine kissing Wooyoung!!"

And with another set of squeals, the girls exited the locker room, and you came out of the locker you had hidden in. Their conversation left you confused and heartbroken.

You had met Wooyoung during your freshman year theatre club auditions and immediately fell head over heels for the charming and handsome guy. It was no surprise that over half the school was in love with him. He was a sight for sore eyes, and his acting held everyone captive.

Your crush on Wooyoung only worsened over the years. You had tried dating a couple of other guys to forget Wooyoung, but every time the rehearsal for the annual school play began, you would realize that no one else could ever make you feel the way Wooyoung did.

Now you feel stupid about your crush. You kept pining for a guy who didn’t even consider you for his drama. A part of you is hurt; it is like all the hope you had built up in your heart came crashing down. But you still wanted to prove to him that you were worthy of his romance. If not in real life, at least on stage.

Did it sound like an extremely stupid idea? Yes. 100 percent stupid, but you were running on emotions.

Unrequited crushes never made anyone more intelligent, anyway!

The run-through that evening had been suboptimal at best; you were not in your head, and it annoyed everyone else. But you couldn’t care less, as neither Wooyoung nor the drama teacher, Ms. Kim, was there. As soon as the session ended, you ran to your car and went straight to the one person you knew could help you—Yeonjun.

Yeonjun was one of the most popular people in your high school—specifically among the ladies. If not for the fact that you grew up as neighbors since the two of you were three years old and had seen each other go through puberty, you'd also be head over heels in love with Yeonjun.

"What do you want now?" were the first words to leave Yeonjun’s mouth when you showed up at his room door. He’s sprawled out on his bed, watching something on his laptop and munching on chips. He’s not in the least surprised to see you there at 9 p.m. on a school night; he’s made peace with your presence. His parents were so used to you being there and treating you like their own child. This annoyed Yeonjun to no bounds, as he usually lost all single-child privileges around you.

"What's got your panties in a knot, Jjunie?" you inquire as you plop yourself on his bed and munch on the snacks he has. This causes him to groan in protest, but he doesn't take the snacks away from you.

"My date this weekend canceled on me," he says with a pout that makes him look like a baby. You can’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair and smile.

"Why are you smiling at my misery, you psycho?" he complains, further deepening his pout. "Aw, sorry Jjunie, you still look like that little kid I met on the front porch when we were 3." The memory of your friendship immediately makes him smile.

"Okay, enough niceties. Now tell me what you want." His demand makes you roll your eyes, but you do realize you’re here on a mission and need his help, so you refrain from retorting back.

"I need your help," you begin. "With what?"

A few seconds of silence, of you biting your inner cheeks and him glaring at you with his most judgmental expression.

"Spit it out, Y/n."

Sigh. "I need your help getting Wooyoung's attention." Your words lead to Yeonjun choking on the last chip he is eating.

"Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung? My friend Wooyoung? Your drama club partner Wooyoung?" His eyes are bulging like they’re going to drop out of their sockets, and you roll your eyes at his surprise.

"Since when do you like him?"

Ugh, this is feeling like a bad idea. "Since—since freshman year..."

"Holy shit! Y/N!" His mouth is agape right about now. The snacks and laptop are long forgotten.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Because I know you for so long and had no clue. God!" He runs a hand over his hair in surprise, and you just lower your head in shame. It does feel shameful that after all that bold personality you put up, you are ashamed to be yearning for someone for so long. It feels contradictory to the strong, independent woman persona you want to project.

"Okay, I've had my reaction... now let's get to work." Yeonjun sits up straight on the bed, the laptop long forgotten. You are glad he doesn’t make this feel weirder.

Here comes the harder part—the plan.

"I thought we could get his attention by pretending to be a..." you cannot muster the courage to finish the sentence without wanting to jump off a tall building.

"Be a what?" He is eyeing you suspiciously again.

You shrink into yourself more as the word leaves your mouth, "a couple."

The silence after you utter the words is heavy. At least he doesn’t laugh out loud at the idea—that should count as a win, but it doesn’t feel quite victorious as you had expected.

"Y/N... Is that really the only plan you have? Can't you just ask him out like a regular person... he already knows you..." He speaks softly, his words making sense to the logical side of your brain, yet it feels like a punch to the gut. It might’ve been an impulsive idea, but that is all you have for now.

So you gather yourself and heave a deep sigh as Yeonjun looks at you anxiously. "Jjunie... I know it's weird, but I wouldn't have suggested it if I knew a better idea. And it's not about Wooyoung knowing me, it's about him seeing me... you don't need to immediately decide, but please think it over."

Before Yeonjun can say a definite no, you leave his house in a hurry. Poor boy looks so confused as you watch him pout and stare at the wall at what just happened. He is too nice to say no but also a very good friend who would not want to do anything weird, neither do you want to, but something about wanting Wooyoung makes you act all pathetic.

The night is the most restless in a long time. After six hours of tossing and turning, you decide to go to school earlier and work on the new play. After a strenuous day, where you'd almost forgotten about Wooyoung, Yeonjun, and the plan, you run into Wooyoung on the way to your last class. He throws you his classic polite smile and runs down the hall, and it makes your heart drop. He doesn’t even stop to say hi; to him, you'd just be Yeonjun’s neighbor and best friend. The thought makes your stomach churn more, and you decide to catch Yeonjun after his football practice and make him agree to your plan.

And that's how you find yourself power-walking toward the bleachers at 5 p.m. past the hunky, sweaty boys sitting after a tiring practice session. Usually, you'd stay and chat with some of the boys on the team—especially Beomgyu, Heesung, and your favorite Changbin. But today you walk right up to Yeonjun, who looks at you with the utmost surprise.

"Need to talk to you. Now." You sound curt, and he just nods before getting up and leading you to the locker room. It isn’t your first time there, but the place always disgustes you. It smells of sweat, testosterone, and teenage boys. But the conversation is important, so you adjust.

"What's it, Y/n?" He says, stopping in front of his locker and starting to dry his hair with a towel. He looks exhausted, and a part of you feels bad, but you still carry on.

"Did you think about it?"

"About what?" He looks so nonchalant while answering you that for a second, you think you've dreamed your conversation from the previous night.

"Jjunie..." He sighs and faces you fully.

"Y/n, I thought you were joking. Please come up with another idea, please..."

"Yeonjun, it is not a joke. He thinks of me as your friend, and I need him to see me as someone he can date. For that, I need your help. If we pretend-date, he might notice that side of me." Your words leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Y/n, did you maybe consider that you don’t need to do all that for a boy? If someone likes you, they’d see you no matter what..." You sigh.

"Yeonjun, I didn’t come here for your self-love propaganda. I came to hear your answer. If you don’t want to fake date me and help me get Wooyoung’s attention, I’ll find someone else who's willing to do it." He looks defeated. You already know his answer and the explanation, but you want to hear it anyway.

"I won’t do it, Y/n. And I really hope you don’t find someone else for the plan either."

There it is. The blow to your chest. You are disappointed, but do your best to put on a brave face and nod. But before you can say anything, someone calls for him, and you just force a thin smile on your face as he leaves.

When Yeonjun is out of sight, you cover your face with your hands and sigh heavily. Now what...

"I can do it."

The voice comes out of nowhere and startles you so much that you jump out of your skin.

When you look up, there he is at the far right end of the locker room.

Lee Chan.

You know him, but you aren't exactly friends. His reputation of being the school playboy makes you keep your distance from him.

There he is, leaning against the locker with only a towel tied around his waist—abs in full display—as he lazily wipes his dripping wet hair. When you look at him, it makes sense. But you are still unsure of what he said.

"Sorry, what?" You croak out at him.

He straightens up, a smirk plastered on his gorgeous face, and walks toward you. When he is a mere five inches away from you, he stops. You can see his clear-cut abs, water droplets making them glisten. After a good minute, you realize you should probably stop checking him out and force yourself to look at his face (another mistake, because man, is he gorgeous!).

"I said I’ll do it." His face, voice, and words all drip honey.

"Do what?"

"Date you." You are sure your eyes fall out of their sockets at his words. He still smirks, and his eyes gleam playfully.

"What… what do you mean?"

His smile widens as he speaks. "The proposition you offered to Yeonjun now... I can do it. If you're okay with it, that is."

"Oh."

Oh? That’s all you can say!

After making sure you aren't dreaming, you think for a second, and before you can change your mind or regret it, the words spill from your mouth.

"Okay!" His eyes grow big in surprise. He looks devastatingly good when he smiles fully.

"Cool."

The two of you stand there smiling at each other for a while before he clears his throat and breaks the silence. You straighten up and fix your hair in embarrassment.

"Yeah, okay. So I guess we should come up with some kind of agreement... rules, maybe?" Years of watching romcoms gave you the idea, and while you know it is counterproductive, you still want to do it. To have a sense of security.

He raises one of his eyebrows, "Yeah, I guess... whatever you say."

"Okay!"

Why is he agreeing to all of it? What does he get out of it? There are so many questions unanswered, but before you can do anything about it, his phone rings. He answers it with just hums and then turns to leave. You watch him walk toward his locker room and turn around to face you.

"Hey, gotta bounce now, but I’ll shoot you a text and we can discuss the rest of it." You just nod at his words, feet frozen in place. He stares at you for a second before breaking out into a small laugh.

"What?"

"Are you going to stand there and watch me change?" He looks amused. Your face heats up at the implication, and you walk out of there without another look at him.

Only after you go all the way out of the school campus do you question how he will text you and what rules you will lay down.

But there are bigger problems, like studying for the upcoming quiz and memorizing your lines for the play, so you let it slip out of your mind.

Until five hours later when your phone blinks with a text notification.

Unknown Number: Hey Y/n, Chan here!

Your heart leaps to your throat as you drop the play script and pick up your phone to save his number and reply. Just as you hit send, your phone pings with another text.

Yeonjun: Hey, sorry about today... but I hope you understand.

You sigh. In all these years of friendship, you've had several petty fights, but this one feels heavy. You do not like fighting with Yeonjun and hope it will all work out in the end.

Y/n: Hi Jjunie, I am sorry too.

He begins typing immediately.

Yeonjun: We’re okay?

Y/n: Yes!

Before you can switch off your phone for the day, Chan texts back.

Chan: Sooo... came up with the rules yet?

Oh God. Why did you have to commit to that?

Y/n: Not yet.

Chan: Alright. If you're free, we can meet tomorrow and discuss.

Oh! Why is he so interested in this? That’s the question you cannot figure out. But you do not want to throw away the opportunity either.

Y/n: Yeah, I’ll be out of rehearsals at 5.

Chan: Cool. We can meet near the bleachers after 5.

Oh, that was easy!

You know it feels weird to think this would be so easy. The minute you walk toward the bleachers, you can see all the cheerleaders and other girls ogling all the boys playing in the field. And in your years of cheering on Yeonjun, you know that most of the crowd is here for their star player—Chan. Getting to discuss this private matter with him while his fangirls are squealing around him is going to be no easy feat. Not to mention that you have completely forgotten about Yeonjun and the whole team being present. You don’t want him to know that you are going behind his back, especially with his teammate and close friend. He will get to know once the charade is up, but there is no need to rub it in his face this soon. Every minute waiting on the bleachers feels like a lifetime in hell. Your palms get sweaty as more girls gather after classes and their own extracurriculars. You hope Yeonjun hasn’t spotted you yet. Every time it feels like he turns toward the far left corner of the bleachers, you feel your palms getting sweatier.

After what seems like ages, the practice is finally over, and hordes of fangirls slowly trickle out of the bleachers. Now it is time to wait for the man of the hour to show up.

Lee Chan walks toward your seat a good half an hour later with such ease and charisma that it is hard to believe he has just gotten out of hours of rigorous practice.

"Wanted to see your future boyfriend play on the field that badly, huh?" he says with honey dripping from his words and the smug smirk on his face. For lack of a better response, you just roll your eyes.

"Chan, can we just get on with the rules now?"

"I'm pretty sure you already have a curated list you want me to follow, so go ahead, sweetheart." You try your best not to gape at him at the accuracy of his words. You have been so anxious about the rules the whole night that you have prepared a comprehensive list of five points. Without fighting him, you reluctantly give him the piece of paper you have scribbled the rules on.

Y/N + Chan Dating Rules

Do not tell anyone about this arrangement.

PDA: only when Wooyoung or the team are present. (2.a. No kissing. Just holding hands!)

Post each other on social media (posts that can be deleted when the time comes).

Attend each other’s games/shows.

No flirting with other girls (this is exclusively for Chan).

You watch with sweaty palms as Chan reads the five points. His eyebrows raise as if he is questioning them. Truth be told, you are questioning the points yourself.

“Really? You had to write the fifth point?”

He looks up, waving the paper accusingly, and his expression is somewhere between anger and amusement. You were hoping it would lean more toward the latter.

You try to smile and shrug it off, but he just stares at you in disbelief.

Before you can cave in and apologize, he angles himself in his seat facing you. Suddenly, your face is in his palm—a bruised and calloused palm—and his face is alarmingly close to yours. You can see every freckle on his face, the twinkle in his eyes, and the water droplets on his hair from the post-practice shower. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears.

God, this is a gorgeous man.

“Sweetheart, do you really think I’d look at another girl, much less flirt with her, when you are sitting here looking so pretty…”

WHAT?!

Did he say… that! Why?! Am I having a stroke?!

It would’ve been easier to think you were having a stroke, but instead, the tickle on your skin where his palm met your face is telling you that this is real. Lee Chan is sitting here and telling you that you’re pretty. Lee Chan is flirting with you.

And you need to stop it. For your own sake.

And Wooyoung, of course.

So you straighten yourself up and, with every ounce of energy in your body, remove his hand from your face.

“Hey! Rule 1. No flirting unless Woo or anyone he knows is around! How are you already breaking the rules…”

What began as an amused expression on Chan’s face changes to outright laughter.

Chan is laughing at you. And all you can do is recognize how young and charming he looks while laughing.

“Oh—okay, wow. You were serious,” he says in between breaths, stopping his laughter.

“Yeah, I was, idiot!”

He raises his hands in surrender with a big smile plastered on his face. “Alright, ma’am. I’ll follow all the rules from now on.” He ends his sentence with a mock salute.

Eye roll.

“Sooo, you don’t have any suggestions or changes?”

“Nope.” He says as he reads through the rules once more.

Well, that was easier than I thought!

From then on, Chan just agrees to everything you say, and you go through the rest of the rules within the next thirty minutes.

By the time you are done with the list, you are exhausted from sitting and talking under the hot sun in the bleachers. You can’t wait to go home, make some nice lunch, and take a nap. So, you begin to pack your bags and leave when Chan stops you.

"What now?" you scowl, hoping he won't waste further time on your one free day of the week.

"Wow, so grumpy..." he snickers as he picks up your bag despite your very little protest.

"Let me buy you lunch, Grumpy." He says with an easygoing smile, and even though you want to fight back, you don't.

Lunch with Chan turns out to be a pleasant ordeal. He takes you to a small bistro near school, and the two of you chat about anything and everything in the world. You would’ve never guessed that a conversation with a professional pretty-boy jock like Chan would be so rich and funny, but he has a breezy manner of carrying the conversation and making you laugh often.

He drives you back home, and you realize this is the best meal you’ve had with another person, and it has nothing to do with the food.

Chan also officially takes your plan into action by posting a misleadingly cute photo of your lunch on his Instagram. You have no idea when he took the photo, but you look at yourself in the picture, smiling widely at something he had said minutes prior. For the first time, you might actually like a candid smiling picture of yourself. And for the first time since your dad, someone has paused to take a picture of you that you didn’t ask for.

You chuckle as you see his post again, and just as a text pops up on your phone.

Chan: Now that I’ve kept up my side of the deal, it’s your turn to post something.

Oh shit.

You curse yourself for forgetting one of the rules and not taking a picture of him.

Chan: Unless you didn’t think of taking a picture of me…

You facepalm at Chan’s cheeky message and start to whine loudly in your room at your stupidity as Chan blows up your phone with sad face emojis.

Uff... Such a drama queen!

You let your head fall back on your bed, cursing yourself until it hits you... you did in fact take a picture of him that day when he was playing.

Excited at this realization, you immediately begin posting the photo. You can’t help but admire yourself for capturing his sincerity and athleticism so perfectly in your shot.

As you post, you realize how hot Chan is.

Wait, what...

Your phone keeps buzzing with likes, replies from friends, and two texts that have all your attention.

Chan: Mhmmm, good to know my fake girlfriend likes to watch me play… 😉 Yeonjun: Y/n, you're being stupid.

The first text makes you light up, and the immediate next one makes you scowl. You decide to ignore Yeonjun for now and reply to Chan.

Y/n: Oh please, don’t flatter yourself too much. I did it for the plan, just like you.

Chan: Oh.

You see the typing bubble come on and off for a minute until the reply comes from Chan.

Chan: Mine wasn’t for the plan, you just look beautiful smiling.

It is now your turn to go speechless (or rather, textless), until Chan himself ends the conversation.

Chan: Goodnight, princess ❤

Sleep never finds its way back home to you that night, and the thought of Chan’s smile, Chan’s body, Chan’s texts, and Chan himself fills you up until the sun rises.

Two days later, Chan shows up to your drama rehearsal. The previous day, when you saw Wooyoung in your rehearsal, he was polite as always. There is no hint of him even acknowledging the post made by you or his friend. Meanwhile, some of the other girls and guys in the team start subtly teasing. You are crestfallen at Wooyoung's obliviousness and text Chan that you need to do something more to catch Wooyoung's attention.

Chan takes it upon himself to reply with nothing but a thumbs-up emoji to the dozen messages you have texted him, which has you worried that he forgot about the plan. But when you find him sitting in the second row of the auditorium as you get on the stage, an involuntary smile breaks out on your face.

This earns you a prompt scolding from your teacher, causing you to fix your emotions to reflect your character's despair. With only five days before the big show, you don’t want to mess up, so you reprimand yourself for trying to glance at Chan.

The next time your eyes meet him is when the cast is practicing the final bow. You glimpse at him from your position at the center with Wooyoung and Mina. Chan is smiling wide—nothing out of the ordinary for the cheerful and charming jock. Your smile grows as you watch him clap until he has the loudest clap of all.

"Omg, Lee Chan, what a sudden surprise to see you indoors!" Wooyoung’s voice booms across the auditorium, and the claps die down. This finally snaps you out of the trance you had supposedly been in.

Chan seems to cause that every time he is in the vicinity…

You watch as Chan walks toward the stage where Wooyoung, Mina, and you are standing. He is laughing at Wooyoung’s comment—his usual sparkle spilling pure laughter.

"Haha, when did you become funny, Woo? Can’t a friend come to see his friend rehearse his performance?" Chan quips as they shake hands.

"Friends do, yes, but not Lee Chan, the star football player, who practices seven days a week without fail. In fact, didn’t you miss the last Fall show because you had a match in two weeks that you couldn’t skip training for?" Both the boys laugh as Wooyoung finishes, but you are silent in shock. You don’t know Chan is that disciplined and dedicated.

Chan brushes off Wooyoung’s comment, and the guys laugh it out as you stand there smiling.

"Jokes apart, what brings you here, Chan?" Chan looks right at you as Wooyoung asks this question and holds your hand. Before you can process what is going on, he pulls you toward him. You are standing hand in hand with Chan, facing a very confused-looking Wooyoung. Chan looks at you with a beaming smile before he turns to the other boy and says, "I actually came for her."

Wow… he's good!

You gulp as Wooyoung just stares between the two of you, nodding slowly as he tries to make sense of this. You are glad the rest of the cast has almost entirely dispersed from the auditorium by now, as you can feel yourself heat up under Chan’s stronghold and Wooyoung’s sharp gaze.

Eventually, the latter boy starts smiling—slyly. He mimics a salute to Chan.

"Well done, Chan! Can’t believe you landed the hottest girl in our drama group." As soon as Wooyoung says this, you feel your jaw drop open. Did Wooyoung just call me the hottest girl here…? Did that mean he doesn’t like Mina? Did he already like you? Was this whole plan useless…? Maybe I should just tell Wooyoung the truth now...

Just then, as if on cue, Chan’s grip around your fingers tightens, and you turn to look at him smirking at Wooyoung.

"I can’t believe I landed the smartest and prettiest girl in the school either… I knew she was incredibly talented, but seeing her shine the brightest on stage today was amazing! You’re lucky to see it every day..." Chan says each word with deliberate elaboration, all while holding your hand a little too firmly.

The tension that was supposed to come from Wooyoung seems to be emanating from Chan instead... But Wooyoung seems slightly put off by Chan's reply as his smile turns into a grimace. He looks between the two of you and nods.

"Yeah, she’s amazing... Anyway, I need to go. See you guys..." Wooyoung leaves hastily as he is talking, leaving you to glare at Chan. When Chan finally turns to look at you, he is smiling.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Was that comment necessary, Chan?"

"Yeah, it is the truth."

Dammit, he's good... Chan starts leading you out of the auditorium, your hand still in his. "But there was no need to be rude to Wooyoung. He’s definitely the best here..."

Chan stops in his tracks, hearing you. He drops your hand and turns around to face you.

You’ve never seen Chan lose his temper—he is known to be one of the calmest during games, too—but he looks very close to shouting at you. He opens his mouth as if to say something but grunts instead.

After a long sigh, he says, "Alright, it was rude, but he got jealous, didn’t he? Wasn’t that what you wanted?"

You are lost in the words Chan has said that you forget to note Wooyoung’s complete reaction. He does get jealous, hopefully of the right things...

Not wanting to piss off Chan anymore, you nod.

Both of you stay silent the rest of the night as he drives you home from the rehearsal after learning that the bus that should’ve taken you home left while you were picking up your things.

Right as you get down and head toward your house, you hear Chan call your name out and turn to look at him.

"I meant it, you know..." You scrunch your eyebrows, not sure what he is talking about, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I really meant that you were shining the brightest on that stage. I couldn’t take my eyes off you..."

What the...

You gulp and look at him. His eyes are wide, lips pursed together, and tousled hair. He looks sincere and very hot.

You smile. "Thank you, Chan. Good night."

You thought you had experienced all sorts of butterflies there are to be known while acting with Wooyoung in the Fall play, but the tumbling and soaring your heart does at that moment don’t even come close. Maybe this is a bad idea after all...

The following week goes by much smoother than the start. Chan shows up everywhere at school—before classes, during breaks, after school, after rehearsal, and lunch. He chooses to eat with you instead of at the table with his guys. He drives you home the whole week as a show of romance and even brings you homemade meals and flowers. All of which he makes sure to show off in front of the cafeteria or the drama club members.

Honestly, you are loving all the attention. Chan makes your life easier by taking care of your lunches and driving you home, which makes you less anxious about prepping more for the show.

You do your best to watch Chan play and even manage to cheer for him from the bleachers during touchdowns. He is so focused and precise while playing that it gives you chills each time. But the minute the game is over, he comes over to you with a big smile and eyes shining like diamonds. And that is incentive enough to go sit through another game of football for him. Luckily, his big match is a week after your show, and you’d be able to go support him without the tension of the show.

Through all these antics, the two of you are the talk of the school. Most people are very happy for the two of you—except Chan’s fangirls, Yeonjun, and Wooyoung.

Yeonjun keeps throwing glares your way whenever you show up to a game and waits outside your house to talk to you, but you keep giving excuses.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, has taken a passive-aggressive approach by constantly commenting on how theatre kids are better than jocks. He keeps showing off and asking if the football players can sing and dance at the same time like him.

Usually, receiving specific shows of Wooyoung’s talents and him making so many continuous unprovoked conversations would’ve sent you flying to the next galaxy in joy. But now, everything Wooyoung does makes you think that Chan could definitely do it better. And if you are not aware of Chan’s ability at something Wooyoung is demonstrating, you immediately text Chan about it.

Texting—that’s another place where the romance meter has unintentionally gone way up. Chan is always flirtatious with you, calling you "princess" and saying things that he knows will fluster you. But you’ve turned it into a game of who can fluster the other more.

Essentially, the two of you are now competitive flirting, and it is going way better than you could’ve ever fathomed.

As the days to the show get closer, you see Chan less and less.

The text flirtation is going strong, and you often find yourself smiling widely at your phone until someone from the team asks you to join them for rehearsal. Every time you look up from the phone, smiling, Wooyoung turns away sharply—giving away that he was staring at you. The pressure of the show has gotten to him, and he stopped showing off; now he just looks pissed off and exhausted.

You feel bad for Wooyoung and try talking to him. Instead of you cheering him up, he ends up making snide remarks about Chan, and you give up thereon.

Things were going pretty smoothly in your life until the dress rehearsal for the show—one day before the big show.

There is half an hour before curtains up, and you are pacing back and forth in the far end of the green room assigned to you and a few others. Everyone else has gone to grab food or meet someone or the other, while some are rehearsing. You are holed up in the green room trying your best to calm your nerves.

This is not your first show, and definitely not your first as part of the main cast, but no amount of experience seems to reduce the pre-show jitters. The memory of you puking five minutes before going on stage last fall comes back to you, and you can almost feel the bitter taste of anxiety forming at the back of your throat.

But before you could let the anxiety win, you hear someone clearing their throat and turn around to see none other than Lee Chan standing, leaning against a wall, hands in his jean pockets, smiling with his beautiful, kind eyes at you.

The relief that floods through your mind and body at seeing him there is beyond logic, and you do the only thing your entire existence wants to do—run up to him and hug him.

Till that moment, the maximum you both have done is hold hands in public, and you can feel Chan freeze under your embrace for a second before his warm, strong hands wrap around you.

It feels nice... the thoughts, fears, and the anxiety melt away in a second.

You rest your head on Chan’s shoulder, and he rests his head on top of yours.

“You’re going to rock the stage, princess.” He says softly, near your ear, and you instinctively move your head back to look at his face. His eyes are shining, and a soft smile is playing on his face.

“Thanks, Chan.” Your words make him tighten his hug around you, and you just stay there, looking into his beautiful, kind face.

Someone shouts from outside, "Ten minutes, guys!" You gulp and try to look away from Chan, but he lifts your face back to his eye level with his index finger and smiles.

“Y/n, I know you’re nervous, but you’re going to rock it. And I’ll be there for you…” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to lean toward his face.

Three. The smell of Chan’s cologne hits your nose.

Two. Chan also leans in.

One. His eyes are all you see before his lips crash into yours.

Heaven…

His lips feel like the ascension to heaven. Chan is kissing you with such delicate tenderness that it makes you melt further.

The kiss might’ve factually lasted less than a minute, but you felt the pull of his lips, and body into yours for what felt like a millennium.

When you finally pull apart due to breathlessness, both of you are smiling wildly. You notice some of your lipstick is smeared on Chan’s face, and he reaches to fix your face and hair.

"Go kill it out there, princess," Chan says and leads you out of the green room with one little peck to the lips.

All the nerves and anxiety seem to have transformed into butterflies and giddiness as you take your position on the sidelines of the stage.

You are lost in the memory of the kiss when you do not notice Wooyoung come up next to you.

"You know, you should make out before getting your makeup done. It’s disrespectful to the makeup artists and your co-stars."

"Excuse me?" What’s wrong with him? You notice he looks red with... anger. You’ve never seen Wooyoung like this before—at least offstage.

"Are you alright, Wooyoung?" You try to touch his shoulder to calm him down, and he jerks you away.

"One minute to go..." Wooyoung turns to you, face looking bitter. "You know, Y/n, I always thought you liked me. Never thought you’d go for someone like him." His words catch you off guard, but the curtains are going up, and you force yourself to get into character.

The next two hours are a blur—of running around backstage, helping everyone get to their scenes, performing your scenes, costume changes, and all the drama of it!

You always lose yourself on stage, and the sound of the thunderous clapping from the audience is the only thing that wakes you up from that trance.

And this time, you wake up from the trance to see Lee Chan’s beaming, proud face. He’s clapping so hard you’re worried for his palms. It makes you even happier to see the entire team there with him—including Yeonjun, who looks significantly happier than your previous encounters.

After spending the next hour thanking people and changing out of your costume, you finally reach the common halls of the school.

You find Chan, leaning against a wall and waiting for you. He is smiling at something on his phone, and it instantly makes you smile. You walk slowly toward him, careful not to startle him, and try to grab his phone from him. But being the incredible athlete that he is, he manages to turn you around and cage you in his embrace. But before he can snatch his phone from you, you catch a glimpse of what he is smiling at—pictures of you from the stage.

You whip your head to look at him, still snug in his embrace, and find Lee Chan blushing.

“Awwwww, you’re blushing... so cute,” you coo at him. He softens his hold on you as he fights a grin, and you turn in his embrace to pinch his cheeks.

“Chan, thank you…” His eyebrow goes up, as if to say why.

"Thank you... for going out of your way to be... you." He smiles so brightly, and his eyes become shiny. He hugs you tight.

There is a lot to be said between the two of you, but it seems like neither of you want to say anything and just be in the little bubble you’re in.

There is a slight disturbance to this as the sound of boys talking causes both of you to remove yourselves from the embrace and look as Wooyoung and his two friends—Yeonjun and Changbin—walk across the hallway to the parking lot.

Yeonjun makes fleeting eye contact—he doesn’t look pleased to see you standing so closely with Chan, and a lump forms in your throat. Following his line of sight, Wooyoung turns to look at you. He stops whatever he is saying, and his smiling face turns sour. You feel a bit of the bitterness come to your throat, remembering his words before the performance.

“You know, Y/n, I always thought you liked me. Never thought you’d go for someone like him.”

Just when you were hoping the moment would pass and they would walk away, you see Wooyoung whisper something to a very concerned-looking Yeonjun and Changbin, and walk toward Chan and you. Your heart is now pounding against the walls of your throat, and you want to hold Chan's hands, but it feels like an absolutely wrong move.

You don’t need to see Chan’s face to know that he is stiff with tension as Wooyoung glares right at him.

He stops in front of the two of you, crosses his arms across his chest, and says, in the snarkiest tone possible: "Well well well, if it’s not the two dirty little lovebirds."

Wooyoung stares competitively at the two of you, hoping for a reply, but both of you choose to be silent. This encourages him to continue—this time only facing you.

“You know, Y/n, I thought you were serious about theatre. I thought you understood how scared backstage and in the green room it is for a theatre artist. I thought you would know better than to go around kissing playboys in a sacred space like that... I thought you were smart..."

You’ve never seen or heard Wooyoung be so bitter and rude to anyone, and this breaks the expectation and pedestal you had for him over the years to come crashing down on you all at once. From the corner of your eyes, you can see Chan clench his jaws, and on the far end of the hallway, both Changbin and Yeonjun look very tense.

This is all your doing, that’s what your mind is screaming at you. This is not what you intended to do. All you wanted was to grab the attention of the guy you have an impossibly huge crush on. You never thought that your one idiotic move would break up a group of very good friends.

Most of all, you never thought you’d be standing there worried about your “fake” boyfriend’s feelings getting hurt over that of your actual crush, because of whom you’re all in this conundrum.

“Wooyoung, you're not in your right mind now... let’s talk about this later.” Chan’s voice comes out slow, low, and deliberate. You can tell he is speaking through gritted teeth, but his face is the picture of calmness.

Wooyoung scoffs, "Ohh, I am in the perfect state of mind for this, Chan." He smiles mockingly.

"I just couldn’t understand how someone so smart and pretty like Y/n ended up with... you. Or maybe she isn’t as smart as I thought and is just as easy as every other girl you’ve dated." His words are getting sharper and he oozes poison. The arrows from his mouth pierce straight through your heart.

It takes all your energy to not burst into tears, and Chan seems to sense it as he closes the gap between the two of you before replying to Wooyoung.

Chan takes a deep breath as his palms subtly run circles on the back of your arms. You can feel the heat emanating from him.

“Wooyoung, don’t let your bitterness get the best of you. Look, I don’t know why you are acting like this... if you’re jealous, you should’ve expressed your emotions to her sooner. I know you’re saying things in anger, but please stop because neither of us want to pick a fight. We can talk about this when you’re not in a mood.”

Chan is choosing to be reasonable, and you’re praying Wooyoung will too. You wait a beat and another to see Wooyoung scoff. Before he can say another word, Chan grabs your wrist firmly and walks you away from that hallway.

As you walk under the firm guidance of Chan's grip, you heave a big sigh of relief.

There is pin-drop silence as the two of you get into his car and he drives toward your home. You look over at his face, and his usually smiling and bright face is sullen, with his lips pursed tightly. You don't like seeing Chan angry and sullen one bit.

"Hey, Chan..." your voice comes out slowly as he parks near your front door and turns to face you.

You shift in your seat to face him more and reach out to touch his forearm resting on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry, Chan." He raises his eyebrows in confusion, and you proceed to explain. "I'm sorry that I ruined your friend group... you wouldn't have fought if not for me..."

"Y/n..." he sighs and locks his fingers with the hand you extend to him. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. We’ve been through a lot worse. In fact, it’s only considered a fight if at least one of us ends up bruised."

He says that so nonchalantly that it makes both of you chuckle.

"Are you sure, though?" Your worry brings a soft smile to his face as he caresses your face. You lean into his palm and smile.

"Yes, I’m sure. So don’t overload that pretty head of yours with unnecessary worries, princess. You rocked the stage tonight and deserve some good rest."

His words bring a big, unwarranted smile to your face. He always knew how to put your nervous heart to rest.

And in that moment, every single thought of logic goes out the window, and you act on pure instinct. You grab Chan’s face and kiss him. The moment your lips touch his, he takes over. He leads you both toward the romantic swan dance that is your kiss. Chan and you are intertwined at that moment of pure bliss, wanting nothing but to stay this way for eternity, but alas, humans breathe a little too much for your liking then.

So both of you move apart to catch up on your breaths, smiling ear to ear while doing so. Seeing Chan’s smile light up his whole face makes you want to pull him into a kiss again, but your phone begins ringing right then, and you groan as you pick up your phone.

“Oh shit, it’s Mom... she’s probably waiting for me. Shoot!”

You start panic-adjusting yourself when Chan places his hand on your wrist gently. “Hey, breathe. You’re right outside your house... it will take two seconds to go in. Okay?”

You smile and let out a big breath at his calming words. Once you pack your bags and reach to open the door of the car, you feel his hold on your wrist again. You turn around to see his face awfully close to you, his eyes big and glistening.

You raise your eyebrows at him in question, and he says, "Thank you for accepting me to be your boyfriend..." His voice is sincere, deep, and scared. Your own heart is beating at a thousand miles per minute. Before you could begin to think of anything to say, he interrupts. "You don’t have to say anything, princess... If you ever end up feeling the way I’ve felt for years, you know where to find me."

And with that, he himself reaches across you to open the door and gives you a soft smile. You’re too stunned by his confession to form words, so you just pick up your stuff and head home. You might have acted on stage, but having to pretend everything is dandy and normal to your parents is more artistically challenging.

The rest of the night is spent tossing and turning in your bed and replaying Chan’s words. Especially the part where he implied that he's liked you for years. You have already been a wreck with all the negativity with Wooyoung and your hopes getting shattered, but also the happiness with Chan and the multiple impeccable kisses. There are too many emotions swirling in your head, and Chan’s confession only makes the insanity meter go up.

The confusion in your brain is palpable. You type out multiple message drafts to send to Chan and give up eventually, thanking whoever invented the backspace feature.

At the odd hour of 2:45 a.m., you finally give up on sleep and switch on your room lights to try to get schoolwork done. In pure coward fashion, you spent the following two days bedrotting and avvoiding any and every message and call from Chan. Thankfully your excuse of "recovering from the show" seemed to work fine for your parents but Chan kept texting.

Chan: Hey princess, good morning. Hope you're feeling better ❤️ Chan: I want you to take proper rest, but I also want you to talk to me! Chan: Okay, I need to go practice for the big match... talk to you soon The same went on for every session of the day. You could clearly notice he kept texting you whenever he got a break from practice. You felt bad for ignoring him. In fact, you did not understand why you were ignoring. It was clear you liked him too, then what was stopping you from into his arms.

On the other hand, there was the whole mess with Wooyoung. You still had to go back and meet him, after all this. If your plan had gone the way you wanted it too, instead of kissing Chan twice on the day of the show you would've ended the night in Wooyoung's arms and the rest of the year would be paradise in practice.

Instead you're here, pacing in the middle of the ngiht, thinking of quitting your passion just to avoid the tension.

And right as you're about to draft an email to your professoe, a ping from your phone startles you—it's Yeonjun.

Jjunnie: "Why are you awake?"

You look out at his window, confused, only to find the lights in his room also switched on and Yeonjun staring at you. You give him a weak smile, which he returns and gestures for you to open your window. Your smile grows bigger as you pop open the window door, adjust the ladder the two of you had set up between your windows as kids, and watch Yeonjun crawl into your room.

"What brings you here?" you ask as he’s dusting himself off.

He stares at you for a long second and pulls you into his signature bear hug. You let go of all your worries and hug your best friend back—he’s the only one who can see that you need comforting.

After a couple of minutes, both of you settle down on the bed with some chips. He still hasn’t said anything, and you figure you owe him an apology anyway.

"I’m sorry, Jjunie... for everything." He smiles and apologizes back.

After a second, you realize something and whip your head to face your best friend, who had warned you against all this mess.

"You knew, didn’t you?" You couldn’t believe that your speculation could be right, but you had to know for yourself.

He looks confused for a second before he lets out a deep breath and nods. You can feel a big lump forming around your throat and you want Yeonjun to spell it out before your mind jumps into big conclusions, and as your longest and closest friend, he knows this too well.

"Y/n, I told you not to mess with Wooyoung because I knew he’d never treat you the way you thought he would. He is my best friend, but you’re family... I didn’t want you to get hurt. That’s why I told you to stay away."

The hot tears forming behind your eyes are threatening to spill, but you bite your lips and nod at Yeonjun’s words. You couldn’t believe that you lived with an illusion of the person you thought you knew for years. It feels like someone had taken away your pretty-pastel dream box and shattered it into pieces and said that you would never find it again. The lump in your throat is almost suffocating, yet you want to know more.

"And Chan..."

Yeonjun looks at you with a slight smirk, and it irks you.

"Chan was... a curveball I didn’t see coming. Of all the people you could’ve chosen to help you in this charade, I never thought you would choose Chan..."

A smile comes up on your face at the memory of what happened.

"Wait, what..." Yeonjun looks confused at your smile.

"So actually I didn’t ask Chan... after you said no in the locker room... he volunteered. He apparently overheard our conversation and offered to... well... you know..."

Yeonjun starts laughing at the revelation, and it leaves you more confused than you began with, so you start whining for Yeonjun to spill.

"Oh my God! Of course Chan was the one who volunteered! I should've known!"

When he finally calms down, he turns you to face him all serious.

"Y/n, I wish I could tell you everything, but you need to talk to Chan. The only thing I can tell you, though, is..." he boops your nose saying so, "he’s a good guy. Just be patient and talk to him. He should be the one to explain it to youo."

"Oh wow, Jjunie... that was so melodramatic. Just tell me what’s going on, please..." you whine.

"Nah nah nah... I wish... but it’s not my place to. Plus, Chan would kill me." He dramatically enacts being scared, and you playfully hit him in the arm and pout.

"But... I don't know if I want to talk to him. This all happened very bizzarely, one moment I liked Wooyoung and that turned out... not great... What if Chan turns out to be an illusion too?" You can feel your heartrate increase as the words leave your mouth. Yeonjun places his hands on your shoulder to ground you to reality.

"Hey, Y/n, don't be an idiot. Wooyoung was an illusion becuase you were in love with the idea of him. Chan is real! He knows you, and you know him. Just trust me, this is a good thing... I want you to be happy. Just please talk to him. Don't take any stupid decisions on your own"

You sigh. "Alright, I'll talk to him after the big game tomorrow!" "Now that's my girl!" Yeonjun beams at you as you grin brightly.

"Okay okay, you go sleep now. You've got a big game tomorrow Jjunie. And you need to bring your best!" "Aw, thank you!"

And with that, he bids you adieu. Although you are happy to finally make up with your best friend and have fun with him, his words leave boost your confidence.

You decide to finally text back Chan, now that you know what you want.

Y/N: Hey Channie, sorry I couldn't text... was caught up, thinking...

And before you could send all your texts he replies back.

Chan: Oh hi princess ❤️, good to hear from you!

Y/N: Why are you awake? You have a big game tomorrow!!

Chan: Couldn't sleep... a certain someone's silencce was keeping me awake

This drama queen!

Y/N: That's no excuse for an athlete! Y/N: Also I'm really sorry about that... we should talk, but now you need to sleep.

Chan: No sleep is for the weak. All I wanna do is talk! Chan: To you that is

Y/N: We will... after I watch you win the game tomorrow and treat you to victory lunch🥰

Chan: Oohh is that a heart and a smile I see! 🤯 I can't wait to see you tomorrow ♥ Chan: We really do need to talk. Chan: I've been going crazy since that night...

Aw poor Chan...

Y/N: We'll talk... but just know there's nothing to worry about 🥰

The next fifteen minutes is just Chan and you flirting on text until nyou both will yourself to fall asleep. And for the first time in three days, you sleep with a big smile on your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Today Chan's kiss was life-changing.

You did not remember how long it had been since you ran across the field to kiss him, but when you broke apart from the kiss- breathless, you felt like a different person.

Chan's full happy laugh fills you up as he holds your face in palms. He feels like a dream.

"Just so you know... I did not kiss you becuae people were watching... or because Wooyoung was watching..."

He raises his eyebrows at your words, a smirk dancing on his face. "Oh?" You can feel a blush creep up on your cheeks, spreading all over you.

"I kissed you because... I 'm just a stupid girl who thought fake relationships is the way to get someone's attention without realizing that there's already someone who gives me eveyrthing I could ask for and more. I am sorry to myself that I didn't understand that before, but I am happy I have you now... because I love you and I want you to be my boyfriend... for real, no rules or contracts." You manage to finally say, you're heart feeling 10x lighter.

Chan's smile feels like it could light up the whole world.

"I've always been ready to be your boyfriend, princess. I am glad you realized it now... I've been a big simp for too long now. " He jokes as your jaw drops to the floor at his revalation.

"Well, you don't have to stop simping now..." you say cheekily, and he laughs- the sound fillling every part of you.

"I don't plan to princess..." And before you could say anything he pulls you in for another soul-altering kiss.

This time you are force to stop due to someone coughing precociously and both of you turn to face Yeonjun. He's standing there with the rest of the team, all of them smiling at you. You feel so shy you shove your face in your hands and they all start laughing.

"Hey lovebirds, I am happy for you both but Chan needs to egt his ass in the locker room to talk with coach!" Yeonjun shouts as he walks away from the field.

"Yeah Yeah I'll be there!" Chan shouts back mid-giggles.

Hearing him you finally let go of Chan and push him towards the locker. He runs forward two steps then turns back, his big smile lighting up his eyes, walks toward you and gives one more tight kiss before running toward the locker rooms.

This man is straiight out of a romcom I swear!

Things weren't perfect now, you still had to figure out how to face Wooyoung in drama practice. But seeing Chan passionately play today, and realizing how much he risked to be with you even when he knew you liked his close friend, you decided to stick it out and try to fix things with Wooyoung.

There's always time to fix things later, for now you want to stay in the lavender haze you're in and enjoy the upcoming summer break with the most romcom-coded, kind-hearted, and hot boyfriend.

Everything else can come after, but now you're feeling high school at it's best and you're going to live it💖.

[911lsbts]

TheWrap: What would this potential Tarlos series have been about?

Rashad Raisani: I had been desperately trying to get some steam going for a Tarlos thing with the Texas Rangers, and it just couldn’t quite get the corporate liftoff. In my mind, if Carlos got stationed in a new city in Texas as a Texas Ranger, and TK and Jonah went to El Paso, or went to some other city, and just tell a new story that way.

Why didn’t it happen?

It was because of the same issues that plagued “Lone Star,” meaning that we had a different network partner than a studio partner. And even though we’d all started under the same roof, by the end of the series, we were a child of divorce, and that was just a recurrent obstacle.

If you put it to a public vote, I’m pretty sure a Tarlos spin off would do really well.

Never say never. I pushed and pushed, and I’m not done pushing. I still believe in it very much.

And the actors would be down for that, potentially?

While they’re available. These guys are pretty successful, so I’m sure there’s a lot of people running to get them on their shows and movies. I think creatively, they were passionate about it. But the longer it goes, the harder it would be to to get them while they’re still available . I absolutely would love to be writing this. I love those actors. They’re like my little brothers. I would love to keep it going.

With Owen going to New York, was there ever a plan for New York to be the setting for the new spin-off?

When I was pitching it to Rob, I just said, “Look the beautiful thing about that is, one, it’s completely true to who he is. Two, it’s the biggest job there is in firefighting in America. And three, if there’s ever a spinoff in New York, they have to go through you, my friend.” He’s like, “Let’s do it.” He was loving the idea of New York. Certainly, if something goes through New York, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have Captain Strand up there

Could we see “Lone Star” characters on any of the other “9-1-1” series after this?

Part of the reason why I wanted them all to be standing at the end of the series was if, God willing, there’s some way to get one of them to LA for the 118 or the new city, we could still have Captain Judd, or we could have Mateo or Nancy could visit or whoever. I really would love that. I just don’t feel done talking. having these people talk, I love hearing all of their voices.

[girl-lostconnection]

Tehehehe thinking thoughts of helldivers getting a moment to relax for once in their life and gathering up at one spot as almost like a small party, except the helldivers are being rough and rowdy with each other like how wolf/dog packs are rough and rowdy while playing, they’re trying to be playful and friendly but being out of practice on proper socialization so they can get a little too rough but they all mean well.

Even funnier idea of the 141 witnessing just a giant pack of Helldivers, maybe in and out of suits. Some of the helldivers even bringing along their ‘runts’ (cadets they’ve taken under their wings) to get them to befriend other divers so their existence would be less lonely

God, this is so cute. I love this idea so much, thank you for bringing it to me😭

Initially it was planned to be just a small gathering, few Helldivers that offered to bring you in some of their old manuals that you were collecting. But somehow along the way some of their little charges slipped onto your ship as well and then other’s on the orbit slid closer.

It was a rare thing for Helldivers to have any kind of gatherings, you weren’t the ones who were regularly invited on military parades, you weren’t ones who were invited on official military parties so you made do with what you had.

So you didn’t really have time to warn the 141 about the impromptu party that took place. And frankly, you got a bit carried away in the process.

A pack of cadets now circling your “Stratagem Hero” and Engineering compartment of the ship, whose “no way” and “lemme try, scoot over, McMillan” you could hear on the other side of your steel home.

Few Helldivers in civilian clothes, helmets propped up on a bench in your armoury, capes hanging off the chairs, eyes crinkling with laughter.

Others who even in armour pulled as much of it off as they could without actually getting naked, pulling off gauntlets and gloves and helmets and heavy chest/back plates.

For one evening you weren’t mutts of the military. For one evening you all were people again.

Helldivers always in their armours and always covered from head to toe don’t get a lot of physical contact on daily basis, so to have a little gathering with others just like them was more than welcomed. You could see the invisible itch that scratched everyone here from inside — hands smacking shoulders too hard, wrestling and roughing each others up.

Go too long without proper socialising and you forget how it’s done.

But on here, in the armoured belly of your ship it didn’t matter. You were all Helldivers. A mutual understanding brought out of years of hardship, of loneliness.

So when little runts wiggle their way to tuck themselves to the side of divers that brought them no one’s going to say a thing.

Physical contact is so rare for your branch, you people make a habit of always biting off more than you can chew. Just to save it up for later, savour it until there’s nothing but memory of salt of someone’s skin on your tongue.

Until there’s only memory of memory of how it feels to have a palm on your back or nose pressed to your throat. Knowing that you won’t get it torn out.

You don’t even notice the 141 at first, because the moment you get somehow free there is a new diver literally scooping you up, grinning from ear to ear, squeezing you until ribs protest, until you hiss, kicking. Just to ease their hold and laugh in your shoulder, smacking your back with more force than necessary.

Smooching kisses on your cheeks and jaw, exchanging stories, reminiscing about the past.

You are a rowdy loud bunch. Too touchy and too powerful for your own good, a big pack of starved wolves that for one evening are getting it all.

Eating until you feel sick, kissing until you are lightheaded, wrestling and smacking each other until the body feels more of a bruise than anything really.

You whisk Kyle in time because god, he’s so pretty with his easy smiles and warm demeanour and your pack are starved wolves and they will lick his meat off the bone, they will suck the bone marrow out if he’s not careful.

They mean well, they don’t know he’s not one of them. They don’t know he doesn’t share the same bone deep hunger, the same madness crawling under the tips of his nails.

Still one of the younger charges gets a rough smack on his shoulder. The lad is fairly young but he’s drunk on happiness and hazy with good company, he doesn’t know his own strength — too used to being around monsters that your branch is.

The smack makes Gaz sway, his eyes sharpening as he snaps his head back at the cadet.

You tut your lips at him and practically drag the man to the rest of TaskForce.

You know that they don’t really get it. That it seems too much, too rough, too loud. Fraternising is frowned upon everywhere.

Everywhere but here.

Average lifespan of Helldivers in the field is less than half a minute. On your ship there are people who lived years in the field and came back.

Wrong and twisted and too rough around the edges, stripped of all the humanity until there was nothing but white of their bones to remind that they are people.

You are exactly the same.

So you rub Kyle’s shoulder, your grip is too hard, your hands are too heavy for him not used to being manhandled, urging him to get back to his team. Practically herding him back.

It might’ve not worked with anyone else, but surprisingly Gaz lets you do just that, his own hand carefully wrapping around your waist. He’s not sure how much is okay, he’s not sure what to do.

You stray from being too close to him, to any of them really. You maintain careful distance, you sit behind your walls, you don’t let anyone close.

Johnny watches an older Helldiver pad his way to you, breathing out something in your ear, rubbing his knuckles on the nape of your neck, fingers circling around the scruff of it and you, who twitches when any of them gets too close, fucking melt into touch.

Like that’s the only form you know how to take it in. Like you don’t remember there is any other way.

Simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes heavy when one too many divers smack you around for his comfort, but you don’t ask for help.

You laugh.

He’s not sure any of them heard you laughing before. For some reason the thought stings more than he expected because yes, you let them onto the ship and into the armoury and to your control panel.

But did you really let them in? Are they inside?

Because Price can see the way smaller divers — young, if he can judge by uniform so crisp it feels like they got it issued a few days ago — hug their cuteness aggression on you, yelping when you suddenly hoist some of them up in a bridal hold.

Giggling entirely too unserious when you show how you can pick two of them at once.

You herd Kyle back to his team and suddenly he understands why.

They aren’t meant to be here. They may be in, but they didn’t get the invitation to step behind your barricades. They didn’t earn it yet.

You don’t trust them to handle what you have.

So he nurses one god awful beer, Soap propping His chin on Kyle’s shoulder, relaxing when he sees two very much male Helldivers kicking the doors behind them shut — already dismantling each other’s armour, kissing with so much teeth it’s a miracle they aren’t bleeding yet.

“Wild bunch”, Simon comments, but there’s no edge to his voice, just quiet gruff realisation. Same one Gaz had when he watches one too many divers hug and smack and kiss and hold you.

When he watches you grin and double down on their advances, eyes shining and grin so wide it’s a miracle your face hasn’t cracked.

He tenses up only when one of the older Helldivers slides next to their team, swatting the younger charges away from him, cooing something in their ears when he sends them to the other side of the ship.

“I know what’cha think of us”, the man suddenly says and there’s no malice in his voice but something in his tone makes it clear that he knows. They aren’t meant to be here.

They are not Helldivers. It’s not their gathering.

“Pack of feral animals, eh?”, the diver continues, eyes so heavy it could bend the steel, edge of his mouth a little sharper than before. There’s exhaustion itched in every line of his face.

There’s hunger dripping off his molars when he grins down at shorter diver across the room.

“Think it’s your and your men’s business how you relax”, Price hums, eyes just as heavy when he tilts his head to the side.

He’s not sure he fully understands Helldivers as a brunch but he definitely understands them as soldiers. Seen the same starved mad look before in the eyes of men who were less human than he’d like.

“Half of this room will be dead in a few months”, the man suddenly says and John can feel blood flowing back, chill running down his spine as he turns his head to the diver. Man looks suddenly calm, almost peaceful as he announces it.

“We rarely get out, Captain. We lose way too many of ours down there, we lose even more up here”, Helldiver taps his temple, grin a little too feral, a little too pained. Like there’s glass digging in his gums with every word he says. “But we need something to remind that we are still here. Still human. Still alive”

There’s heavy silence in their corner, stark contrast to booms of laughter and playful wrestling and occasional sparrings with way too many stray touches.

“Little runts need to have someone to fall back on if me or captain of this bird suddenly find ourselves bleeding out in a shithole no one wants to go down to”, diver continues like it’s a completely normal thing and Soap tightens his arms around Kyle. “It’s a good thing we got out for some celebration. Don’t get too many of these in our line of work”

The man is heavy for entirely too long moment before he hums, eyes distant as he flicks his lighter on and off in long scarred fingers.

“Never thought I’d be one for religion, you know. But sometimes…sometimes I get why these angels fell, you know?”, he murmurs, watching the young divers play arcade, watching laughing divers smack each other one too many times before they finally allow themselves to hug it all out.

“Always an angel and never a god.”, the diver chuckles but there’s no amusement in it. “Wonder how they felt when they realised there’s nowhere higher to go. If they hurt just as badly. One too bitter of a thought it is on a night like this one”, the man shakes it off like a big dog would water and grins at Price.

Big and slightly feral, he smacks John’s shoulder too hard than necessary and jogs off, throwing over his shoulder.

“Welcome to the party, gents. Enjoy people watching, might not get another chance to see this many ‘live Helldivers”

[undomesticated-animal]

Honestly, body euphoria has done WONDERS for my ability to keep a physical self care routine, and I keep thinking back to Young Domi being so fucking OVERWHELMED by the thought of having to haul myself through the daily gauntlet of mirrors, lights, smells, self-shaming, and dysphoria inducing body modifictions made in a desperate bid to feel worthy of my skin. The idea that this could ever be anything but NEUTRAL AT BEST was laughable to me, so much so that I didn't even realize how terrified I felt by the possibility it could be real.

I can't go back and tell Past Domi all the things I understand now that I know would have mattered so much, but I can say them on the internet and maybe someone gets to learn them faster than I did.

Body euphoria isn't just for trans and intersex folks. And I mean this more than just "oh cis people should get gender ephoria too" (it's true!) because I also mean that the idea that body euphoria/dysphoria is neatly segmented up into little slices of life with no crossover is unrealistic and painful for everyone. Thinking that I was only allowed to care about my euphoria around gender actually made it REALLY hard to recognize I was having DYSphoria around my gender at all. After all, I avoided thinking about that in exactly the same ways I avoided thinking about the dysphoria around other aspects of my embodiment! I must just be bad at body positivity, "it's always easier to do for others than for myself 🤗 teehee" was a go to blow off for me when people asked me to confront how visibly uncomfortable I was in my body.

Because the thing is, it ISN'T easier to do for others than yourself. It really isn't. The part that's easier is avoiding the shame we feel about it. But once we confront the shame, loving your body is the easiest thing in the world. <- this is gonna be where Past Domi went "oh fuck this noise" and bounced but HEAR ME OUT

A body you cannot live with is a body you cannot care for, and a body you can't care for is a body you will almost always struggle to live with. This feedback loop is the CORNERSTONE of body dysphoria for a lot of people. It's a chicken and egg situation where it's nearly always going to be impossible to know what came first, but once either is present, the other will kick into gear to really hunker down in your psyche.

The feedback loop works the other direction too though. This is why people tell you to find the little things that make a tiny difference. They are (usually) not telling you that it'll be enough on its own, but every one of those you find uncovers new ones, and little by little you start feeling up to bigger pieces of self care because you've recovered enough to start putting int the front-loaded work for the worthwhile outcome

When that upwards feedback loop clicks? It's night and day. Like I genuinely don't know how to describe what it's like to just sort of.....wake up different. But it happens all the time, and it KEEPS happening. And you start to realize you're not "waking up different" you're just....getting to know yourself without feeling so uncomfortable with what you're learning that you shy away from yourself

I dunno man, I don't have a point here, but I've been processing old grief lately and the grief of how long I spent viciously hating myself and truly believing that's what neutrality feels like.....Little-Domi deserved better, and so do yall

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Can you talk more about your opinion on Mary and Arthur’s relationship? I genuinely don’t think that they could have ever worked, with Arthur being an outlaw or not, it seems more like they loved the idea of each other and even if they had ran away, that they would end up resenting one another (something that is sadly quite common in high school sweethearts who end up married)

Absolutely!!!

So before I get started, I just want to say that I don’t necessarily like Mary. Okay, I said it. It’s off my chest. Guys, don’t come for me yet. I’m not saying I don’t like Mary because she’s a woman or anything like that. It is entirely a personal opinion on why I just don’t enjoy her, and it’s absolutely debatable on the reasons I’ll be giving as to why I don’t enjoy her or their relationship.

A few things that sort of rubbed me the wrong way are the way that Mary talks about the gang and the people in it. They’re bad people, they’re murderers and outlaws, and she doesn’t have to have a high opinion of them. However, she knows that these are people who are dear to Arthur that he loves and cares for, and speaking of them to him in such a demeaning manner has to sting. In her letter to him the first time, she says something along the lines of not knowing the polite term for the women that ran with them, as if those women are beneath her or not deserving of the title of just being women because of where they are in life or what she assumes they do (this assumption of them being SWs is fair, but being uppity about it is not). She makes a few other off-comments that rub me the wrong way about the people themselves, which leads into my first point of why I don’t like their relationship.

Mary doesn’t see herself and Arthur on the same level. Again, that’s fine; she doesn’t have to, but that to me brings their relationship down a peg. If you don’t see your partner as an equal, then it won’t ever work; you won’t ever have a healthy relationship, and we can see that by how quickly they argue with one another. I mean, Arthur yells at her in the middle of the street, and she just takes it because she has said some stuff too—they aren’t this perfect lovey-couple, and I don’t think they ever were. You don’t feel that comfortable being that nasty with one another if it isn’t a staple in your relationship. They both felt fine doing that and acting like it never happened after.

This one is overdone, and it can go either way, but their relationship on her end, in the game, is completely transactional. I know, I know, but before you come after me with the “it’s a video game! That’s the point,” hear me out first. Other members of the gang, even in stranger missions, will have missions or scenes where you’re not doing anything for them: Charlotte making Arthur dinner as a thank you, Albert inviting Arthur to the gallery and hanging a picture of him, same with Charles (painter), The Nun sits and talks to Arthur, comforts him as he confides in her, even Rains Fall takes Arthur to get some herbs for his cough. In camp, you can interact with people like normal; there are even times where you can sit down and talk with the women in camp about everything, have heart-to-hearts. The only time they see one another was when she needed something, and the only way they go out on a date is if Arthur agrees to it. This is after the mission where you help her get her brooch back. I feel like this is intentional. There are no fun letters sent back and forth, no additional interactions of them just being (other than the date, which again, only was out of convenience). The only time they see one another is for transaction. Which I feel was intentional.

Them running away together could’ve never worked. Mary even says so herself. She has this wonderful idea of Arthur in her head when they’re together, but as soon as they’re apart, all of the flaws and demons he has come rushing back in. I can’t imagine how maddening it would be for her to be with someone who she knows deep down is someone she loves the idea of, the prospect of what they CAN be, not what they are. For him, it would be maddening to know that the person you’re with looks down on you, that they don’t see you as an equal, that you’re beneath them. Pushing this notion in their head, you can be better than what you are while never truly accepting you as you are, flaws and all. Not to mention that irresistible pull for him to go back to that life eventually. Those demons he does face would always be right around the corner, and giving into them even in the slightest would strain the relationship more.

There was a reason their engagement didn’t work, and Mary has every right in the world to not want to be with Arthur or be involved in the life he leads, no woman who has had the experiences and life she has would. We can see how that works out with Molly. Their relationship is built on idealistic versions of the other and transactions. They miss the nostalgia, that first love. Not to say they don’t have love for one another because it’s very clear they do, but not the love that’s going to weather any storm. Mary and Arthur have such a complex relationship, and I love to talk about it, but I don’t like them together as much as I may get flamed for that. They would, as you said, absolutely end up resenting one another because of these issues. They would never have truly worked out as much as I wished for the both of them.

Loved this ask!

[livingformintyoongi]

Poème | Kim Taehyung

Summary: For centuries, Taehyung has roamed the world, trapped in an eternity he never truly desired. Desperation led him to accept an offer of immortality, a gift that quickly turned into his greatest curse. Once a hopeful young man dreaming of a future with the love of his life, he now wanders through time burdened by regret, forever mourning the one he lost. No amount of power, beauty, or wealth can fill the void left by you. If eternity means living without you, then what is the point of living at all? Author’s note: Hi again! I hope everyone is well ^^ I know I had said I was going to focus on GAS? but…. Tae vampire came to my head and demanded to stay until I managed to bring him to this world :) Soooo, I don't know if most of you read this but I seriously, seriously need your help for this, I really don't know how to move it forward :(( so please, if you have any ideas on how to move it forward or any scenes you'd like there to be, send me an ask or a dm, I'd really appreciate it <3 Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human!Reader (female) AUs: Vampire!AU Word count: 4.6k Status: Unedited Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthougths Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop and @strangergraphics

What would you do if you were given the option to live for all eternity? If someone offered you the secret behind immortality and eternal youth, would you accept? Would you be capable of leaving everything behind just to avoid facing death?

Taehyung wished with all his heart that he had asked himself those questions before saying yes to the beautiful woman in the elegant dress who offered him a second chance at life—one without sickness or poverty, a life filled with luxuries and privileges he could never have had as a mere villager in the Victorian era. Something he could have never even dreamed of when he was still human.

When desperation consumes you and you don’t know what else to do to avoid falling into the clutches of death, you… accept the first offer placed in front of you, no matter how risky it may be. That was exactly what led Taehyung to an eternity of regret, suffering, and torment.

He had been blessed with eternal life, but what was the point of living until the end of time if he was alone? What was the use of existing for centuries, watching people be born and die as if they were nothing more than tiny toy soldiers with an expiration date set by a child who had decided it was time to discard them, believing he was too grown up to play with them anymore?

He refused to live an endless life if you weren’t in it.

But you had been gone for so, so long, and he could never forgive himself for it. He could never turn back time and reject the offer from the one who was now his creator. He would never see your smile again, hear your laughter, or smell the soft scent of flowers, of the forest, of you. If only he hadn’t left home that night, if only he had waited a few more minutes… If only you had gone with him, perhaps… Perhaps now, the two of you would be living a long life together, enjoying each other’s company until the end of time.

But that wasn’t how things happened. He left his home that night. He didn’t wait. You didn’t go with him. And now, his fate was sealed. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t be harmed, he would have eternal youth and an ethereal beauty that could make any human give him anything he asked for with just one look. He could have everything—everything except you. And that, without a doubt, was the greatest torture anyone had ever inflicted on him.

That had happened over 170 years ago, and he had spent each one of those years tormenting himself. When he was still human, he had been vibrant and full of life, a social butterfly who, even without the seductive abilities of a vampire, could charm anyone with a single smile. Now, he was nothing but the empty shell of the man he once was.

During that time, he met many like him—those with whom he managed to form something close to what he could call a "family." Jiah was his mentor, the woman who had turned him and helped him through the difficult transition from human to vampire. Chaeyoung was the second oldest, a cheerful and optimistic young woman who had been a vampire for over a thousand years. Sooah and Hoseok came next, both turned in the 15th century. Then there was him, Jiwon, and Jimin—the three of them transformed in the 19th century, all saved from the brink of death by the compassionate leader of their small group.

They had been his family until now, and though he loved them as much as he was still capable of love, his love for them would never amount to even a fraction of what he felt for you. Not even a hundred people could mend the wound in his heart, no matter how hard they tried.

He could still remember his life by your side, when his body was still warm and his heart beat in a rhythmic melody, reminding him that he was alive. The two of you met because of Taehyung’s father’s work—you were a young lady from a wealthy family, and he was the son of a tailor who barely had enough money or resources to live. Yet, you noticed him—his smile, his playful jokes, and his flirtatious charm, reserved only for you.

You weren’t supposed to be together—you both knew that. But neither of you wanted to give up, you didn’t want to lose the only real thing in your lives. So, you ran away. With no money, no place to stay, only the hope of finding a place in the world where you could live without regrets or judgment.

It was his selfishness and foolishness as a teenager that led you both to that situation.

He should have realized it was madness, that there was no way you could survive in the outside world with dreams and hopes coated in sugar and honey. This was the real world—it was cruel and ruthless, showing no mercy to anyone, no matter their age or gender.

The first few months on your own were peaceful. You traveled from town to town on horseback, living freely, loving each other with all your hearts, talking about your dreams for the future, and how exciting it would be to have a family together.

You had managed to stabilize your life—Taehyung making elegant garments for high-society ladies, and you painting beautiful portraits under a pseudonym, which he promoted and sold with his natural charm.

For the first two years, life had been peaceful. Until smallpox arrived. That was when everything fell apart. No matter where you went, how much money you had, or which doctor you saw, once you were infected, there was no escape.

You both caught it at the same time. He did everything he could to keep you both from falling into death’s hands, but it was a fatal disease—there was no cure, especially with their limited resources.

It was on a dark winter night that everything changed. You were starving, and Taehyung was determined to find something—anything—to feed you. Despite his weakened, trembling body, he walked through the dark streets of the coastal city until he reached a shop. But his body was on the verge of collapse, and he fell just a few meters away from home.

He clung to the last bit of strength he had, trying to crawl back to you if necessary—anything to avoid dying far from you. He didn’t want you to think he had abandoned you, didn’t want to make you suffer when you found out he had died in the cold, damp streets, all for the sake of bringing you something to eat. He didn’t want to die without you by his side.

That desperation was what made him accept so quickly the offer placed before him by a complete stranger. “Just one drop, and you will never feel pain again.” And he accepted. He drank whatever she gave him, clinging to the hope of surviving a few more minutes. Then, everything went black for a moment—until he opened his eyes again.

Everything felt new, as if he had been reborn and was rediscovering the world. He felt good, healthy, strong, and maybe a little thirsty—but alive. And that was all that mattered.

When the initial shock passed, he begged the woman to do the same for you, to save you just as she had saved him. She smiled kindly and let him lead her to your small home.

But she stopped before entering, giving him a look of pity and compassion. At that moment, he didn’t know that he could hear a human’s heartbeat from a distance. He didn’t know that, even before stepping inside, she already knew that you were no longer in this world, and nothing could change that—not even her blood.

Taehyung may not have died that night, but his heart… His heart shattered into a thousand pieces the moment he laid eyes on your pale, lifeless body. His body had survived death—but his soul never would.

For a long time, his life had become a series of meaningless events that only served to make his desire to die grow stronger. He knew it was foolish to feel this way when he had what many would kill for; his eternal life was a miracle that tormented him every damn day, and he knew that would never change.

It took him 138 years to get over you—if that was even the right word to use in this context. Perhaps a more accurate way to put it would be, well, trying to forget you through other people. 138 years of solitude, where his only company was six other vampires just as reserved as he was, each keeping the scars of their previous lives a secret, each too afraid to open up to the others and relive memories of a past they all wished to forget.

The first time he tried something with a girl was because of Jimin, who insisted that he should look at someone else besides your portraits—the ones he himself had painted back when he had wanted to immerse himself in your world. He went to a stupid bar, too loud and filled with drunk and high people looking for something casual. But he didn’t want something casual. He wanted something lasting. He wanted you.

Hours passed before a rather beautiful girl approached him. Her shy smile and flushed cheeks seemed endearing, but nothing inside him stirred the way it had when he first met you; her eyes weren’t like yours, her essence wasn’t like yours. He didn’t like her, but still, he forced himself to try.

That night was the first and last time he attempted to move on with someone else. There was only a kiss, a brief brush of lips that the girl gave him as a thank-you for walking her home. That night, he cried like he hadn’t in years, clawed at his lips with his nails until they bled, and his screams were so agonizing that everyone in the house had to check if he was okay, because it sounded as if someone had just run a blade of iron straight through his body.

Taehyung felt that kiss exactly like that—like someone had just plunged an iron sword into his heart and desecrated his body in every possible way.

Sooah called him dramatic. Jiwon even mocked him for making such a fuss over a simple kiss. But it was Jiah who ordered them to be quiet and stayed by his side all night, comforting him as his tears fell ceaselessly down his cheeks.

After that day, he resolutely refused to go out with anyone else for the rest of his life. He didn’t need a replacement—he was much better off living with your memory than trying to forget it.

That was exactly how he managed to slowly overcome his pain—by treasuring your memory through the works of art he created, reliving every one of his feelings for you with each brushstroke on the blank canvas, until there was no trace left of the pain he had once felt. Now, all that remained was peace and a beautiful memory that he would keep deep in his heart for the rest of eternity.

It took him 175 years to achieve that peace—175 years in which he held onto the one thing he had left of you: your last painting, the one of a young wealthy woman standing alone in the middle of a grand ballroom. The soft tones and the contrast between the setting and the woman in her simple pastel dress gave off a strange warmth. It wasn’t one of your best paintings—he knew that better than anyone. You had created true masterpieces, works that your clients back then would have died to own. But this one… this one was simple, more discreet, with much less detail—mostly because you were already unwell when you finished it. But your essence, your touch, the feeling you poured into it… all of it was still there. And that made it the most important piece you had ever created.

That was why, as the last act of love he could offer to you and your memory, he traveled to Paris to present it at the Musée d’Orsay. The meeting with the museum’s curator was far more pleasant than he had expected, and he even considered making a generous donation after they agreed to exhibit the painting.

The inner peace he felt when his eyes saw the painting hanging on those cream-colored walls, among hundreds of other paintings from important figures of his era… was something he could never put into words. For the first time, his heart felt at ease—it did not beat, it did not pump blood, he knew that. And yet, for a second, Taehyung felt as if he had come back to life.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent around him. Despite the years, there was still a faint trace of you in it. And though it hurt to think that he would never again hold you in his arms, never again breathe in your scent, he felt happy.

Happy for you—because finally, one of your works bore your real name, because at last, people could see the incredible talent you had. This had been your dream, and somehow, he had made it come true for you.

He wondered if there was something after death, if there was truly a paradise in the afterlife. He knew that if such a place existed, you would undoubtedly be in heaven—in a paradise unlike any other, shining like the brightest star the world had ever seen. If that place was real, were you watching him from above?

What would you think of him right now? Would you be afraid of the fact that he was no longer human? Or of the fact that, in his first years as a vampire, he had taken the lives of many?

Would you still love him from that place so far away from him?

He prayed every day to a god he wasn’t sure existed, just to hold on to the hope that the answer was yes.

"How are things going over there?" Jiwon asked through the phone.

Taehyung’s feet carried him through the museum for the sixth time that afternoon. He still wasn’t in the mood to leave, and it’s not like anyone needed him at home at the moment. He would probably head to a nearby bar, have a glass of wine, and wander around the city until the sun rose again.

"Fine, I guess," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the paintings displayed in front of him. He had seen many of them online, but seeing them in person… it was definitely something completely different. Noticing the brushstrokes, the old traces of a brush over the oil paint, the colors, the size—everything was a new experience. It was like meeting the same person a second time; the feeling and the first impression could never be the same if you only saw them through a screen.

"So expressive, Kim." Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jiwon’s mocking tone. He wasn’t in the mood to be expressive, and it’s not like he was obligated to be.

"Anyway, Jiah is pretty worried. You know how she is, especially when it comes to you."

Taehyung nodded in silence, even though he was aware she would never see the gesture. Jiah was… she was like a mother to their small family. She was the one who turned them, the one who took care of them and taught them how to maintain their composure, always patient and loving with everyone. Taehyung couldn’t recall a single time when she had ever raised her voice at any of them.

He had always known, just like the others, that she had a certain weakness for him, something he associated too much with the fact that she had witnessed him fall apart upon finding you lifeless that night. She was the one who worried about him, who paid to give you a proper funeral, who helped him get through his sleepless nights, and who showed him a completely new world. She was the mother Taehyung never had, and he was grateful every single day for everything she had done for him, despite all the trouble he had dragged her into.

"I’ll be back soon, I just… I just want to say goodbye properly."

He stopped again in front of the painting he had submitted. That small pang in his chest had returned and, although for a few seconds he regretted it, the weight lifted when he saw someone else stop in front of your artwork to take a photo. He had managed to immortalize your memory—that was all that mattered.

At last, he would no longer be the only one completely in love with your art.

There were a few seconds of silence in which neither of them seemed to know what to say. The stillness was broken by Jiwon's soft and—unusually—understanding voice.

"Are you really okay over there, alone? We’re all a bit worried about you."

Taehyung let out a soft chuckle, lowering his head to glance at his elegant brown oxford shoes. When he was still human, he had longed to wear a pair like these, and now that he could afford them, half of his wardrobe revolved around them. You would probably be just as enamored with them as he was.

"I’ll be fine, Jiwon. It’s just a few days, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing."

He made his way toward the museum exit, but not before giving the painting one last look. This would be the last time he saw it—this was the final farewell. He sighed, running his tongue over his dry lips.

"Besides… I need to do this alone."

"Alright, okay, I get it. It’s your healing process and all that cheesy crap you love." Jiwon let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. Even miles away, Taehyung could feel the worry in her voice. A part of him was touched by it. It was nice to see that, despite everything, she still cared for him.

"Just… call us if anything happens, okay? Jimin is about to lose his mind."

"Jimin is always about to lose his mind," he chuckled under his breath, politely nodding to the guards watching the entrance.

The first thing he saw upon stepping outside was the sky, painted in pastel hues, with a faint trace of stars beginning to emerge, preparing to turn it into a beautiful nocturnal canvas with the moon as its protagonist.

"I’m going to hang up. I need to go somewhere else before heading back to my hotel."

"Alright, I get it, you’re bored of me." Even without seeing her, Taehyung knew she was smiling on the other end of the line.

"See you."

And with that, the call ended, leaving him alone with his own thoughts once again.

He wished that becoming a vampire had meant his emotions—like his heart—simply stopped functioning. Life would be easier that way. Carrying the weight of his emotions would be… probably a little more bearable.

The soft sound of Taehyung’s footsteps echoed through the dark streets of Paris, faintly illuminated by the streetlights surrounding the small, quiet alley he had chosen to escape the bustling crowd—and, in turn, his own thoughts. He had stopped by the bar he had wanted to visit for so long, but after spending a couple of hours sitting at the counter, sipping a drink he could barely taste… it was dull not being able to savor it the way he once did.

He gazed up at the night sky stretching above him, noticing how the stars seemed much closer, as if they had gathered there just to shield his eyes, rather than simply existing as part of nature’s design.

Tomorrow, he would probably buy a ticket back to Korea, still debating whether to purchase a first-class seat or a regular one. Jiah had given him more than enough money to indulge in any luxury he desired, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. He had his own savings, and not just a small amount—old trinkets he once considered worthless centuries ago were now worth millions, a fortunate advantage for all of them.

A soft melody from a nearby radio pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed the old record store beside him, still open for some reason. It had a distinctly vintage, understated charm—exactly Taehyung’s style. He studied its exterior, noting the yellow sign with red lettering perched atop the roof, reading: Le cœur de la musique.

In the display window, several vinyl records from the ’70s and ’80s were neatly arranged, among them the famous Can’t Help Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, the very song now enveloping the alleyway with its gentle notes and romantic lyrics.

Taehyung truly loved that song. He closed his eyes, letting the music seep into more than just his ears—letting it settle into his body as well. With graceful movements, ones that seemed almost ingrained in him, Taehyung began swaying to the melody. He had been a great dancer in his youth. When you were both just children, you had asked him to be your dance partner so you could practice. The two of you had ended up falling completely in love with the warm, intimate feeling of it. Even when your bodies had grown cold, even when death gnawed at your bones and drained your souls, neither of you had ever stopped dancing.

His memories of you returned, vivid as always; he could almost feel the soft scent of your skin against his nose, the sensation of your hair brushing against his rough fingertips, your forehead resting gently on his shoulder, your breath against his chest. It was almost as if you were still there with him, dancing in the empty streets of Paris, in front of an old record store, your hearts swaying in perfect harmony beneath the stars.

His feet continued moving across the pavement until a soft click snapped him out of his trance.

Instantly, all of his senses sharpened. He halted his movements at once, scanning his surroundings for whoever had made that sound. He knew it was a camera. And he knew it hadn’t been close—if it had been, he would have smelled the person’s blood by now, wouldn’t he?

His dark eyes flickered with a brief glint of alertness as he surveyed the alley. That’s when he finally noticed her. At the far end of the alleyway, a young woman stood frozen in place, her face still partially hidden behind the camera lens aimed directly at him.

Before he could even think, his feet carried him forward, ready to demand why she had captured such a personal moment without his permission. But then, the delicate scent of strawberries and roses reached his nose. And right after—her blood.

Sweet. Addictive. More tempting than any other scent he had encountered in his 175 years of existence.

For a fleeting moment, Taehyung swore his heart beat again, just from the sheer intoxication of it. His gums began to itch as his fangs pressed against the inside of his lip, the thirst for blood growing exponentially with every step he took. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the overwhelming urge to feed suffocating him, clouding his mind.

Until she lowered the camera.

Until he saw your eyes.

Large. Bright. Filled with life, staring at him from the end of the alley.

His heart—still lifeless, still incapable of pumping blood—felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. And though he had no need to breathe, he swore the air caught in his lungs.

Did that make sense? Of course not, but you—standing right there, smiling at him as if you hadn’t died in his arms over 170 years ago—didn’t make sense either.

And yet, there you were.

The same eyes. The same lips. Your hair was different, yes, but everything else… everything else was exactly as he remembered. Exactly the same as the day death had stolen you from him.

Was this some kind of punishment? Retribution for the countless lives he had taken in his early years as a vampire?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” you blurted out the moment you noticed the man standing just a few feet away from you. A soft, warm blush quickly spread across your cheeks—not only from the embarrassment of being caught photographing a complete stranger without permission but also because that very stranger, the one now standing before you, was breathtakingly handsome. And now he was looking directly at you, so intensely that you could feel his gaze burning into your skin.

“I-It’s just that I was on my way back to my hotel, and I saw you dancing alone. You had this melancholic expression that was just so captivating from here and… I’m sorry, that’s no excuse for what I did, I’ll delete the photo right away!”

As you fumbled over your apology, nervously gripping your camera once again, Taehyung took the opportunity to examine you—every detail of your face. You had the same beauty mark beneath your left eye. The same faint scar between your index and middle fingers. Even your voice—one he remembered as if it were his own—was exactly the same.

Your clumsy way of speaking.

The pink flush on your cheeks.

Your long eyelashes.

There was no doubt in his mind. The young woman standing before him was you.

“I…” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s your name?”

He watched as your eyes lifted to meet his. He couldn’t help but notice how your lips parted slightly at the unexpected question.

Ah.

He still remembered the way your lips moved against his—soft yet intoxicating, slow yet sensual, always keeping him on edge. He remembered the way you used to smile whenever he playfully nibbled on your lower lip.

He missed it.

He missed you.

“Oh! S-Sorry, how rude of me,” you chuckled nervously, carefully lowering your camera so that it hung freely around your neck. The strap dug slightly into your exposed skin, but it was the safest way to carry it without accidentally dropping it. “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, savoring every letter of your name.

He knew it. He knew it. It was impossible for you to be anyone else.

His eyes began to sting as the reality of what was happening finally settled in.

After 175 miserable years—

You had come back to him.

Looking exactly as you had the last time he saw you.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said softly, reaching out to take your hand in his own, gently, fearful that the moment his fingers brushed against your skin, you would disappear.

But you didn’t.

You were still there when his lips pressed lightly against your knuckles, inhaling your scent as discreetly as possible.

So this is how you smelled when you were full of life.

Without an illness slowly stealing you away. Your blood had the sweetest scent he had ever known, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes at the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart echoing in his ears, proof that you were alive, proof that you were here.

Taehyung had never believed in God, but now, with you standing before him— he could only describe this as a miracle.

Masterlist.