#I just need to figure out how to use it but it seems. simple enough

[tomhockstetter7-111]

Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 5

2k+ words

Logan x empath!reader

It's a blessing and a curse, feeling other's pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....

Chapter CW: N/A

Masterlist

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

Mid - January, 2006

Westchester, New York

~~

“First,” Your attention snaps to Charles when he speaks, beginning your first training session. “We need to gauge how strong your powers are.” Charles seems to notice how your heart drops and rushes to reassure you. “I’m only taking a look at your mutation. Any memories or personal information will stay firmly behind a door.” 

You sigh before giving a cautious nod and leaning forward, his hands coming to meet the temples of your forehead. When he looks into your brain, it’s not a comfortable sensation. You can’t help but wince as ghostly hands reach into the crevices of your mind before they find what they came for, and you ball your hands into fists in an effort to ignore your brain's screams at the strange and foreign feeling.

“Ok, then, my dear.” He pulls away, sitting back in his chair. “It would seem we have a lot more to work with than we thought.”

“Is that…bad?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No! On the contrary. I believe you’re capable of more than you think. With enough practice, you may be able to look into the heads of those across the mansion if you like. But, we’ll start simple, for now.” He straightens a little, giving a cheeky smile. “How about you take a look into my head?”

“Alright…” It seems easy enough. You focus your attention on his forehead, avoiding any possible awkward eye-contact. You make your move and…nothing. Furrowing your brow, you try again. But, it’s like you hit some glass wall everytime you think you’re getting somewhere. This is proving to be more difficult than you imagined.

After what feels like hours, probably just five or ten minutes in reality, of trying to break through his barriers, you slouch back in your seat with a huff, crossing your arms. "How exactly is this supposed to help? Why aren’t I starting with someone more my speed?"

"My dear, I am the only other person within reach who has similar abilities," he explains. "Boxers are trained by former boxers. Ballet dancers are trained by former dancers. It only makes sense you would train with another psychic, no? Especially when what you need is to learn how to turn your abilities on like a dial." He creates a circular motion with his hand, like changing a stereo's volume. "Do you think weightlifters can only choose zero or three hundred pounds?"

“Hard to do that when you block me out like that,” you bite back.

“You and I both know you can do better than that. We've discussed before about how you don't use your powers to their full extent, and I'm sure you have good reason. But, in order to find the spaces in between, we first need to…”

Your mouth twitches, and you zone out as he explains whatever he feels is so necessary. This feels stupid. The least he could do is humor you. Accessing the “full extent”, as he calls it, isn’t terribly appealing. Your eyes are drawn to the shape of his face as he talks, and you watch the movement of his muscles as they arc around his mouth and eyes. You can’t help but notice the right side seems more expressive than the other—

You refocus your vision when you notice he's calling your name.

"You do know how your mutation works, right?"

You sigh tiredly and avert your gaze to the window. "Sorta?"

“Tell me, then.”

He’s testing you. You know that. Hell, he probably knows the ins and outs of your abilities better than you do after poking around your mind like that. Still, you figure it can’t hurt to say what you know. "Emotions are nothing but brain functions and neurons firing. I can manipulate those. I don’t like to do it. Not really. But, if I do, I prefer doing it to make people feel certain emotions, preferably good ones. I can't say I know how the transfer itself really works or why I have to sacrifice my own feelings in order to give them to someone else. I just know it’s a temporary fix and better not to do it too often." Your tone of voice turns bitter when you remember those nights in college after your roommate's breakup. Coincidentally, you had just learned you could manipulate people's emotions and thought you might help her — stupid kid you were, testing your power's limits on some poor girl. It didn’t go well. Not at all.

“If we keep working together, I may be able to decipher why it’s an exchange and not just a transfer. Perhaps we could minimize damage.”

“Right.” You clear your throat. "Usually I need physical contact to make it work. Usually. Doing it without physical contact is harder and takes more effort. It’s also just more strenuous in general. But, if I’m having a bad day I..." You trail off. You still see that night with the man all those years ago. The one time you didn’t keep your own feelings in check. You just wanted to go home after some abysmal frat party. And, he just wouldn’t go away. You quickly shut down the thought before Charles sees, assuming he meant it when he said he wouldn’t see your memories. Hopefully, he didn't see.

"Emotions are a powerful thing for all mutants,” he says. “But, for psychic types especially so. Keeping a handle on those is important, but pushing everything down will do more harm. That comes from fear, and fear is a very dangerous thing."

"Is that what happened to Jean?"

"Jean was a very different, very special case."

"How so?" You turn your attention back to him. He hesitates as he looks down. Since your arrival, all you had heard of was this mysterious Jean, but you still know nothing about her. You can’t place why it bothers you so much. Maybe you just feel left out. Hell, maybe you’re just jealous of that type of power. “Who was she?”

Charles sighs. "Jean came to us very young. My colleague, Erik Lehnsherr, and I practically raised her ourselves. Erik is now Magneto…but, I digress. Jean proved to be a source of unchecked power heavily activated by joy, rage, and pain. She was the only class five mutant I ever met, able to tear particles apart one by one if she desired. She could communicate telepathically, retrieve lost memories, make herself fly or walk on air…” He chuckles at that thought. “She was truly a marvel to behold. But, the older she got, the less controlled she was, and the more she came to fear herself. This led to me sealing her powers away, as I mentioned before."

"And...?"

"After that," he continues. "She became a valuable asset to the team. Much like you, she could feel the emotions of others. This led her to care deeply for those around her. She always looked after the students and her fellow team members, Scott especially. She fought for the rights of mutants everywhere, and she was even able to attain a doctorate in medical studies. In the end, she even sacrificed herself to save us."

"I see.” You’re coming to understand just how alike the two of you might be. Hell, if you were still twelve, you’d assume she was a long-lost sister or something. “Were her and Logan close?" You blurt the question out. You're not sure why, but you feel a strong desire to know. You look up as Charles chuckles and you feel your body heat up.

"Not my place to discuss," he says. "What I will say is that you also need to learn not to be afraid of your power. Fear is dangerous,” he repeats. “Fear will be the cause of harm. Not you.”

“Right.”

“Now then, we have a half hour left of our session. Shall we continue?"

~~

You plop down onto your bed and stare up at the ceiling fan. What a fucking day. 

Your meeting with Logan from earlier today begins polluting your mind the second your head hits the pillow. Fuck! He’s about to be both your coworker and your trainer. You’re not gonna be able to escape him. A cloud hovers over your head as you think on what to do. There has to be something, right? But, what could you possibly say or do to fix the situation when you don’t even know how you caused it?

Pulling your pillow close, you curl into a ball around it and stare out the window. You say a silent prayer to whoever's listening that you're able to sleep soundly tonight, no visions of your past and the things that could've been...or should've been. And please no visions of your life fuck ups now that a new one’s been added to the roster. In the reflection you see your leather jacket hanging on the coat rack by the door. Closing your eyes, you can still see it around his shoulders. 

His smile shines brightly at you as the orcas put on a show for the onlookers of the boat. He handed you his polaroid and you took it in your small nine-year-old hands, trying to get a clear shot of one of them sticking its head out of the water. It was smaller, probably a calf. You watched with bated breath as the picture slid out the slot before you grabbed it by the white edge and held it to the sun, just like he taught you.

"Nice shot, hon," he said when the picture came out clear. The orca was completely centered. "We'll get you on the front page of Nat Geo soon enough."

You smiled at his encouraging words, chest swelling with pride, as the wind blew through your ponytail and worked to relieve the heat of the sun beating down on your forehead.

"Do you think mommy will come with us next time?"

"I don't think so, hon. Mommy gets seasick. Might just have to be a you and me thing." His eyes look off into the distance briefly before turning back to you. "That's fine, though. Weirdos need weirdos to hang out with. I'll be yours if you be mine. Deal?" He holds his pinky out to you. You link it with yours with a smirk.

"Deal."

You're half asleep when you hear it. A loud grunting.

Prying your eyes open, you prop yourself up on your elbows as you look around. The sound is coming from your right, presumably another room. There's a palpable feeling of terror in the air. Someone's having a nightmare, a bad one, too.

Throwing your covers back, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and make your way to the door before creaking it open. You peak your head through the door and into the corridor, turning towards the source of the sound. The room sits just a few doors down from you.

You pad your way down the hall, leaving your door ajar. The closer you get to the sound, the dizzier and lighter your head feels on your shoulders, and the muscles of your ribcage tense. The grunting, the smell of old wood, what little light streams through the windows, everything seems to get clearer. All senses are on high alert. Whoever is on the other side is truly terrified. You know that much.

Leaning against the door for stability, you furrow your brows with worry as you look up around the door and find the metal plaque just at eye level.

James Logan Howlett.

Of course, it's Logan. You shouldn't be surprised. The guy was clearly going through hell the first time you met. But, somehow, you didn't expect it to be so bad it invaded his dreams. Curiosity getting the better of you, you lift your hand to the doorknob and give it a twist.

"I wouldn't."

Surprised, you yank your hand away from the door and step back as it creaks open. To your right, Remy stands half outside the next room over in loose boxers and a t-shirt. An exhausted look accompanies his face as he goes to shut the door again. "Is he ok?" You ask, treading cautiously.

"Logan has nightmares," he says. "Been that way since he got here," he brings a hand to rub his face. "Least that's what I heard."

You turn your head to the door again as Logan quietly yelps from the other side, some word you can't quite make out. The more you stare at the door the louder he seems to get, and the more you feel your chest clench at the visions he experiences in his unconscious state. "Does this happen often?"

"Damn near every night. But, he’s never been this loud before. Maybe something happened," he shrugs. Shit. Is this your fault? Remy goes to stand between you and the door. "He'll quiet down, though. Best to leave him be." He tries to sound reassuring, but you know better. Still, he takes a step closer.

"What if I don't?" You shoot him a glare, but he doesn't meet your eyes, instead glaring at the door with an unreadable gaze. "Remy!"

He sighs in defeat. "First and last person to try nearly got herself killed. No one tried since." His explanation is short and, frankly, unsatisfying. But, you acquiesce, anyway, taking a slow step backwards. He holds out an arm before repeating himself, "He'll quiet down, cher."

You press your lips together as you hesitantly take his arm and let him lead you back to your room, occasionally glancing back at Logan's door.

"Get some rest," Remy says.

You watch him stride down the hall and turn into his room before disappearing behind your own door. Pressing your back to it, you take a big, deep breath before going back to bed and trying to settle in. But, you can't. Not when you can still hear him. Not when you can still feel him.

~~

You sit in the kitchen staring blankly at your coffee as your vision blurs. The sun makes its way over the horizon in front of you. Remy said Logan would quiet down last night. He did, eventually...at two in the morning. How anyone in this damn house ever slept peacefully with that is beyond you.

A chair scrapes against the floor behind you, and you flinch. Turning around you see Logan at a bar stool by the counter. He sits there in a tight, white shirt with his back to you, water glass beside him. And, you can't help but notice how broad his back is from this angle. You watch, mesmerized, as it expands with each breath and clench your jaw to force down a smile as your mind wanders back to that night and how your nails dug stripes into his shoulders. You still remember the way it felt, however brief it was, and you feel your body go hot. Your pulse hammers in your arms and head, and you feel the muscles in your legs tense with a need to be pressed together.

"Keep starin' and your coffee's gonna get cold."

You return to face the window as he's turning to look at you. You can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head, now, and you bounce your leg at the awkward situation. You hear him quietly sniff behind you a few times before inhaling sharply.

"Long night or are ya just happy to see me…?"

You whip back around at the accusation. "What?"

"I can smell it. You do know that, right?" He glances down at your legs, but you shoot him look of mock confusion in response. "If you want me to fuck your brains out, again, it'll cost ya this time, doll." He gives a shit eating grin. You can't help but cringe.

"You fucking wish," you mutter under your breath, averting your eyes. He snickers in response. How the hell is this the same person Rogue had described to you? You scrunch up your nose and blurt something out, desperate for a subject change. "The hell are you here for anyway? Other than being a gross pain in the ass?"

He shifts his body so he's more leaning against the counter, long legs stretched out and hitting the floor. You fight, harder than you care to admit, to keep your eyes on his face. "History teacher."

"Really?" You scoff. "Charles made you sound like a glorified sub."

"Well..." He takes his water in his hand and sips it before elaborating. "When you suddenly remember you saw the last two centuries firsthand, some think that's worth a promotion, don't ya think?" He cocks an eyebrow at you, accentuating his point, and your face falls. You did that. How? You still can’t figure it out. But, just knowing it’s your fault, and he’s so, so not ok because of it…

The weight of the situation, the lingering tension from yesterday, his nightmare last night, and now this, all of it settles on your shoulders. You grumble a response and grab your coffee, walking out of the dining room before making a beeline for your office. You can still feel his glare on your back as you disappear behind the door. Somehow, putting away and dealing with it later doesn’t seem like it’ll work for this situation.

[egginfroggin]

Hey is trying to make a costume in like two days a bad idea

[readwritealldayallnight]

You know the woman in line behind you is getting impatient, hearing her not so subtle exasperated sigh as you continue to search through your bag, your cheeks burning a deeper shade of crimson when you catch the barista’s tight lipped smile in your direction, her attempt at reassuring you as part of her job, though you can tell she wishes you’d hurry up as well

As if your debit card declining a mortifying four times hadn’t been enough, but then your attempt at using your credit card was just as unsuccessful, the sound of the failed transaction on a stupid 6£ drink sounding out for everyone in queue to know how broke you really were

Embarrassment coursing through your veins, already thinking about how you’ll never have the guts to come back to this cafe again as you desperately search for enough spare change at the bottom of your purse to cover this morning’s coffee, your scrambling comes to a pause when a large shadow suddenly eclipses the overheard lighting above you

In the midst of your frantic searching, a tall figure has come to stand just next to you, their gloved hand stretching past your figure to tap a card against the machine, the happy beep of the teller confirming the transaction’s been accepted this time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.” A deep, gravelly Manchester accent mutters low enough for only you to hear, before the figure tries to retreat back into queue unnoticed

You eyebrows shoot up in shock, the barista equally appearing surprised but not displeased as she finally gets to hand you your drink and quickly wish you a good day before she’s already trying to help the woman waiting behind you

You step aside out of the queue, swinging your head around to try and spot your mystery saviour who stepped in and helped you out without even needing so much as a thanks in return apparently

You spot him instantly, the absolute size of him easily giving him away. No one else in the small cafe could have created such a large, intimidating shadow, let alone spoken in such a deep voice that sent chills down your spine

He stands a head above anyone else in queue, currently last in the line after he stepped out to pay for you. He’s wearing a simple black medical mask on the lower half of his face, a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head offers you only a small glimpse of his eyes, which are noticeably pointed at the ground at the moment

You’re walking towards him before you even realize it

“Th- thank you. I don’t-” You’re cut off when those same eyes glance up to meet your own, stealing your breath away. He seems almost as surprised that you’re speaking to him as you were when he stepped in and paid for you, his eyes betraying his shock for only a fraction of a second before he’s steeling himself and his eyes darken. You get the vague impression that he isn’t someone who’s used to being caught off guard

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” You say to him, wanting to express just how grateful you are to him for his random act of kindness, but he says nothing in return, hardly blinking once as he simply stares back at you

“I can’t understand why my cards weren’t working today. I promise I don’t like- this isn’t a thing I do. Go into coffee shops and pretend I can’t pay, hoping someone else will…” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, beginning to ramble in an effort to fill in the silence

“Anyways I just, really wanted to say thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re scrambling now, attempting to save face as this man just looks at you, an arm beginning to swing your purse off your shoulder in hopes of maybe finding enough change to appease this guy

“Not necessary.” The deep voice finally says again, his eyes leaving yours to scan you from top to bottom and then back up again, almost examining the sight before him. You almost feel like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, seeing the mask moving along with the sound of that gravelly voice an enrapturing vision

“Oh- well I- I mean that’s really nice of you, but I swear I can pay you back.” You recognize that feeling beginning to swirl low in your stomach, familiar with the warmth gathering in the apples of your cheeks; your body realizing it a split second before your brain catches up. You’re kind of into this guy. You can’t see much of his face, but the sliver you do see certainly isn’t unattractive, his height and build speaks for itself, with a voice like that and the fact that he’s just saved your butt and expected not even a thanks in return, you’re wondering if he’s too good to be true

“Do you come here often?” You’re asking him before you can stop yourself, watching a single one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. “I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

You’re losing confidence the longer he stands there, not answering. What were you thinking? This guy was just trying to be nice, get the annoying girl holding up the line out of the way so that people can order their drinks and go about their day, and here you are holding him up even longer-

“If it’ll make ya happy.” He’s suddenly answering, snapping you out of your downward spiral. If you could see the grin that slowly creeps upon your face, you might be otherwise embarrassed, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Oh okay, amazing. I mean- yeah that would- that would be cool. Okay.” You reply, glancing at your watch. “I’m not sure for you, but um, I’m almost always here each Sunday. Around this time.”

“I’ll be here next Sunday. Around this time.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Next in line please.” The barista at the corner calls out, interrupting the two of you. You glance back to see that it’s now his turn to order, feeling bad that you’re about to hold up the queue yet again.

“Great. I’ll see you Sunday then. Thank you again, seriously. I really owe you one.” You say, gripping the straps of your bag tighter as you offer him a sheepish smile before ducking out of the busy cafe, a small grin playing across your face.

Ghost watches your figure through the large windows as you walk out of the shop, across the street, disappearing into the crowd of morning goers strolling about. Only once he cannot see you anymore, does he walk up to the counter, slipping a 20£ note to the barista along with a slight nod of acknowledgement, before he himself is turning to walk out of the cafe, empty handed, intent on catching up to you from a distance.

~~~~~~~~~~

AKA Ghost has been stalking you for months and finally comes up with a way to have you approach him

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

[hellobykittys]

𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ✦ 𝐎𝐏⁸¹

SUMMARY: You are Lando Norris’ twin sister and were completely obsessed with your brother’s teammate, but he was always avoiding you. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Reader! Lando Norris’ Sister. WARNING: Hot scenes, but not explicit; use of Y/N; Oscar is very shy. WC: 4.7k

MASTERLIST | THE (IM)PERFECT PLAN SERIE

“You need to go a little easier on him,” Lando said as soon as he entered the small room, throwing his backpack onto the chair with a tired sigh. “Oscar’s shy, and you’re scaring the poor guy to death.”

You, leaning against the desk with your legs crossed and your eyes glued to your phone, ignored the first part of the comment. But the last part caught your attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, feigning disinterest.

“Oh, come on, don’t act dumb,” Lando shot back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You’re cornering Oscar. I was going to let it slide because, honestly, it’s hilarious. But look, you’re going too far, and he clearly doesn’t know how to handle it.”

You realized denying it would be pointless. Lando knew exactly what you were doing, and probably the whole paddock did too. Maybe it was time to turn the tables in your favor.

“Did he complain about me?” you asked, now genuinely curious, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Because, seriously, I don’t get it. Sometimes it seems like he doesn’t care, but then, in the next minute, he acts like I’m the personification of chaos.”

Your voice carried a touch of frustration. Ever since you met Oscar last season, you had done everything to get his attention. Flirting, glances, little touches. But he always pulled away or acted like he didn’t notice. His shyness, which once seemed charming, was now starting to feel like an impenetrable barrier.

Lando laughed, clearly enjoying himself at your expense. “You know what’s funny? You think you can melt anyone with that smile and some games. But let me tell you, Oscar’s different. He’s more… reserved.”

“I know that,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “And that’s exactly why I’m trying harder. He’s not like the others. It just makes it more interesting.”

Lando shook his head, incredulous. “You’re impossible, you know that? But look, if you keep this up, he’s gonna start running away from you. Like, literally. One day, he’s gonna abandon the car in the middle of the track just to escape.”

You laughed. “He already runs, just in a way less obvious than that. But he’ll get used to it. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Or a restraining order.”

“Funny,” you replied, giving him a sharp look.

After a brief silence, you decided to change tactics. “You could help me out!” you asked, in an exaggeratedly sweet tone.

“No way. Stay out of this, Y/N,” Lando responded quickly, as if he already knew where this was going.

“You’re so heartless!” you retorted, with a theatrical touch. “I come every weekend to support you, and this is how I’m treated? You should, I don’t know, compensate me for always being by your side.”

“Support? You’re kidding, right?” Lando laughed. “The whole team already figured out why you’re always here. And the only person who might not have noticed is Oscar himself.”

“What slander!” you snapped, placing a hand on your chest as if deeply offended. “I come because I like my brother. And I thought he liked me too, but apparently, he doesn’t care enough to help me with something so simple.”

Lando just laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Simple. Find out if he likes me or not. Easy, right?”

Before you could continue the discussion, someone knocked on the door, interrupting the conversation.

“Come in!” Lando replied casually.

The door opened to reveal Oscar. Your excitement was immediate. He, on the other hand… didn’t seem as thrilled to see you.

“I didn’t know your sister was here,” he said to Lando, hesitantly. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I’ll come back later.”

Before he could leave, you rushed to his side and lightly placed your hand on his arm, still covered by his racing suit.

“You don’t have to leave, Osc,” you said softly, your fingers purposely brushing against the fabric of his suit. “Lando and I weren’t talking about anything important. Feel free to stay.”

Oscar hesitated but eventually gave in. “Alright, if you say so…”

Oscar tried to pull away from your touch without being rude, and you, noticing his discomfort, decided to ease the tension and let him slip away.

“Well… I just wanted to ask about the car adjustments for tomorrow. But I guess I interrupted something…” He seemed genuinely uncomfortable, which only made you want to tease him even more.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” you replied with a calm smile. “Actually, I’ll just sit here quietly while you two chat.”

With that, you sat down in a chair lost in the room, pretending to fiddle with your phone while you took the opportunity to observe Oscar. The way he spoke, gestured, or even furrowed his brow when something seemed confusing… it was fascinating.

The two of them spent a few minutes discussing technical adjustments for the car when they were interrupted again. This time, it was someone from the PR team, rushing in to inform Lando that they needed him for an urgent photo session.

“I’m on my way,” Lando said, standing up. But before leaving, he gave you a calculated look. “Oscar, can you stay here? Y/N was feeling a bit nauseous earlier, and I didn’t want her to be alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was obvious he was making it up, but the feigned concern in his voice was flawless. You knew you owed Lando a big favor now, but it was worth it. For Oscar, everything was worth it.

“Seriously?” Oscar looked visibly surprised, casting a suspicious glance from you to Lando. “Alright, if she needs anything…”

“Thanks a lot, buddy,” Lando replied with a mischievous smile, giving Oscar’s arm a friendly squeeze before walking toward the door. “I’ll be back soon. Wait for me here.”

As soon as the door closed, you jumped up and practically ran to the couch, pulling Oscar down to sit next to you before he could even react.

“Thanks so much for staying, Osc,” you said softly, as if you were truly vulnerable. “I wasn’t feeling too great, you know?”

Oscar tensed next to you, clearly uncomfortable. He looked around, as if searching for an escape route. “Is everything okay now? Do you want me to get some water or something?”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s passed,” you replied, placing your hand on his arm. “I just needed some company. I feel better this way.”

Oscar let out a nervous, short laugh and looked away, clearly trying not to acknowledge the closeness between you two.

“You look cute when you’re nervous, you know?” you remarked, a mischievous smile appearing on your face.

He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to lose his words. Finally, he muttered, “I’m… not nervous.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, leaning in a little closer, until there was almost no space left between you on the small couch. Oscar seemed even more restless, the blush on his face now impossible to hide.

“I think… we don’t need to be this close,” he managed to say, awkwardly trying to pull away. But, poor thing, there was nowhere left to escape.

“Osc,” you started, in a fake hurt tone, looking down at your hands. “I think you don’t like me very much.”

He seemed surprised, the tension in his shoulders easing for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“Because every time I’m around, you try to get away.” Your voice sounded almost like a lament, and you took the opportunity to glance at him before looking down at your legs. “Did I do something to you?”

When you looked back at him, your face was perfectly molded into a sad expression, your eyes slightly glistening, as if you were truly upset. It was almost impossible not to believe it.

Oscar hesitated, looking genuinely puzzled. “No… of course not. It’s just that…” He stopped, clearly trying to find the right words.

“It’s just that…?” you encouraged, tilting your head.

“You’re… too intense, Y/N,” he finally confessed, his voice low. “I don’t know how to handle you, that’s all.”

A triumphant smile threatened to appear on your lips, but you held it back, keeping up the act. “Intense? I just… like being around you, you know? Is that really so hard?”

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s not that. I’m just not used to… attention.”

“So, you’re saying I make you uncomfortable?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, closing the space even more.

Oscar looked away, his ears turning even redder. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Before he could answer, the door suddenly opened, and Lando walked into the room with that typical mischievous smile you knew so well. “Did I interrupt something?”

Oscar practically jumped off the couch, creating visible distance between you two. It was almost comical, but at that moment, you could only curse your brother. He had ruined the perfect moment. You were so close to getting what you wanted!

“No, no,” Oscar quickly denied, the words tumbling out almost in a rush. “Now that you’re here, I… I think I’ll head out. See you before the next practice.”

And without giving anyone a chance to react, he practically bolted out of the room, as if running away from a fire.

You let out a loud sigh, crossing your arms and shooting a deadly glare at Lando, who was still standing in the doorway, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“You did that on purpose!” you accused, frustration clear in your voice.

“Me? No way,” Lando responded, feigning innocence as he closed the door behind him. “But you should’ve seen his face. Poor guy, he looked like he was going to pass out.”

“He wasn’t going to pass out!” you retorted, throwing a pillow toward your brother, who easily dodged it.

“Alright, alright. But seriously, Y/N, you’re being way too hard on the guy.” He threw himself onto the couch, taking the spot Oscar had just vacated. “Don’t you think he’s nervous enough already? Every time you get close, it’s like he forgets how to breathe.”

You huffed, sinking into the couch next to him. “Maybe he just needs to get used to me. It’s not that hard, right?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “For you, maybe. But for him? Oscar is… different. He’s not used to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” you repeated, intrigued.

“You know,” Lando explained, gesturing vaguely. “Someone who’s not afraid to say what they want and go after it. Oscar’s more… reserved. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, he just doesn’t know how to react.”

You were silent for a moment, processing Lando’s words. Maybe he was right. Maybe Oscar just needed a little more time. But giving up wasn’t an option. Not now.

“Okay,” you finally said, a mischievous smile appearing on your lips. “I’ll go easy on him. For now.”

Lando laughed, clearly amused by your determination. “Good luck, sis. You’re going to need it.”

The next day, you positioned yourself strategically in the garage, waiting for the right moment to find Oscar. When he finally appeared, talking to one of the engineers, you calmly walked over with a relaxed smile, pretending you had no agenda in mind.

“Hey, Osc,” you greeted, your voice light and carefree. “How’s everything after yesterday? You seemed in a rush.”

Oscar turned to you, and it was almost funny how hard he tried to appear casual, even though he was clearly uncomfortable. “Oh, yeah… I was just running late for something.”

“Of course, of course,” you responded with a soft smile. “Well, I hope things are calmer now. Maybe we can chat after qualifying?”

He hesitated, shooting a near-pleading glance at the engineer beside him, as if he was hoping they could save him. But this time, something different sparkled in Oscar’s eyes. It wasn’t fear or discomfort. It was curiosity, though still shy.

“Yeah… maybe,” he finally replied, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, already considering that a small victory.

Unfortunately, finding Oscar after qualifying turned out to be impossible. Lando secured pole position, and you stayed to congratulate him, while Oscar, with a disappointing P5, was swept into endless conversations with engineers and mechanics.

By the time it was late, almost time to head back to the hotel, you went to Lando’s room to grab your things while he wrapped up the last commitment of the day. That’s when fate decided to be kind.

The door next to your brother’s room opened, and who stepped out but the exact person you’d been hoping to see.

“Osc!” you called out cheerfully, a bright smile on your face.

“Hey.” His response was much less enthusiastic. The tone of defeat and frustrated expression clearly showed that he was still upset about the qualifying result.

“Bummed about P5?” you asked, trying to start a conversation.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “But I’ll make up for it tomorrow.” There was a forced confidence in his voice that you didn’t miss.

“I’m sure you will! And look, I’m calling the podium: Lando in first, and you in second. What do you think?”

You stepped a little closer, almost unintentionally, trying to minimize the distance between you. But for Oscar, there was nothing subtle about your approach. He clearly noticed.

“You’re optimistic,” he commented, trying to ignore how you seemed to invade his space without hesitation.

“I’m not optimistic, I’m realistic,” you shot back, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

Oscar looked away, clearly looking for an escape route, but you weren’t about to let him slip away so easily.

“Look, Osc,” you began, your tone softening as you leaned in slightly. “I really think you underestimate how good you are at what you do. You’ve got everything to be at the top. You just need to believe in yourself more.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your change in tone. You saw the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, and that was enough for you to close the gap just a little more, your smile now sweeter than mischievous.

“You really think so?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I know it,” you replied, sincerity shining through.

Oscar still seemed hesitant, but he didn’t pull away when you placed a light hand on his arm, your fingers resting casually. “You just need to learn to relax more. Maybe I can help with that,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Oscar swallowed, his eyes finally meeting yours. For a moment, you thought he was going to give in. He seemed torn between wanting to escape and something he clearly didn’t want to admit. You leaned in a little closer, feeling you were on the edge of success.

“You’re really hard, you know?” he murmured, the words practically floating between you two.

Oscar opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. And just as you were about to close the distance even more, he took a step back, almost stumbling into the wall behind him.

“I… I need to go,” he said quickly, his voice shaky but firm. “Good night, Y/N.”

Before you could react, he was already halfway down the hallway, walking so fast it was almost a run.

You let out a frustrated sigh, but deep down, you couldn’t help but smile. Little by little, Oscar was starting to give in, even if he still resisted at the last second. It was only a matter of time.

And you knew very well that you had all the patience in the world to wait.

The paddock was a well-organized chaos, with mechanics, engineers, and drivers moving around frantically as the grandstands filled with enthusiastic fans. You, of course, were there, strategically positioned in Oscar’s team’s garage, pretending to be just casually walking around but with a very clear goal in mind.

He was there, adjusting his gloves while listening carefully to an engineer. He seemed so focused, he could have blended in with the rest of the team. Almost. You, however, always managed to spot him in the crowd.

“Hey, Osc!” you called, walking into the space without any hesitation.

Oscar quickly turned, his eyes widening slightly when he saw you there. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I came to wish you good luck, of course,” you answered with a sweet but mischievous smile.

“Good luck?” He seemed suspicious, clearly aware that you rarely did something that simple.

“Of course!” You tilted your head slightly, looking at him as if his question was absurd. “You know I’ll be cheering for you too, right? First Lando, and then you!”

Oscar opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, a blush already creeping up his face. He looked around desperately, almost as if hoping someone would save him from the situation. But, as you’d already noticed, no one was paying attention to you two.

“You’re kind of tense, Osc. It won’t go well like this, you know?” You stepped a little closer, lowering your voice slightly, but still clearly teasing. “Are you nervous because of me?”

“No,” he quickly replied, although his tone and the blush on his face said otherwise.

“Hmm… funny,” you murmured, pretending to think. “Because it seems like every time I get close, you get a little… uneasy.”

“Y/N, we’re in the pit… in public,” he whispered, almost as if trying to make you stop.

“So what? No one’s listening, and we’re not doing anything wrong, are we?” you shot back, a smile mixing sweetness and mischief on your lips. “I’m here to support you, Osc. And, speaking of that, I have a proposition for you.”

He squinted his eyes, clearly suspicious. “What kind of proposition?”

“If you get on the podium today… I’ll give you a special gift,” you said, leaning slightly toward him, your voice low but filled with mystery.

“What gift?” He looked at you, nervousness clear on his face, but at the same time, unable to hide his curiosity.

“It’s a surprise,” you replied, winking conspiratorially.

“Y/N…” He sighed, clearly trying to keep his composure. “You know you didn’t have to come here for that, right?”

“I know,” you answered, your smile growing wider. “But what’s the fun in cheering from a distance? Besides, you might not know, but I’m great at picking out gifts.”

Oscar seemed like he was about to say something, but one of the engineers appeared out of nowhere, calling him for the final pre-race meeting. He sighed in visible relief, almost grabbing the opportunity to escape.

“I have to go,” he said quickly.

“Good luck, Osc,” you replied, not hiding your satisfaction. “I’ll be waiting on the podium. And after the race… the gift is all yours.”

He didn’t reply, just nodded quickly before disappearing toward the engineer. You watched as he walked away, even more flushed than before, and let out a soft laugh.

This time, he had no way of backing out of the promise. And, knowing Oscar, the thought of a “special gift” would be enough to keep him thinking about you the whole time—on or off the track.

The end of the race was electrifying. You, as usual, were glued to the screen, following the final minutes with the anticipation of someone on the track. The last lap was a mix of tension and excitement. Lando crossed the finish line in first, and you couldn’t hold back your shout of joy. But what really made you jump out of your seat was when Oscar secured third place, holding off a fierce battle until the final flag.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, Osc!” you murmured to yourself, smiling proudly as you watched the celebration on the screen.

Soon, you were following the team toward the podium. The paddock was a party, with team members rushing to celebrate their drivers. You blended in with Lando’s engineers and mechanics but kept your eyes fixed on Oscar as he got out of the car, exhausted but visibly satisfied.

The celebration on the podium was contagious. Champagne flew from side to side, and Lando’s smile was so wide it seemed to light up the entire circuit. But your gaze never left Oscar, who looked more shy than ever as he raised his trophy. Even amid the celebration, he shot furtive glances at you in the crowd, which only made your smile grow.

As soon as the ceremony was over, everyone went back to the garage. The team was euphoric, celebrating the incredible result of the race. You found Lando first, who came running toward you with his trophy in hand.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, still sweaty and covered in champagne.

“You were amazing! Doesn’t even seem like my brother,” you joked, laughing as he hugged you and got champagne on your clothes.

“And Oscar, huh?” Lando commented, winking at you. “Are you proud of your favorite driver?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Don’t start, Lando.”

After the initial excitement, you began preparing to leave. Lando had some team commitments to take care of before heading back to the hotel, so you walked through the paddock, waiting for him. You bumped into Oscar, who seemed more relaxed, still talking to a few engineers.

“Congrats, Osc!” you said, with a genuine smile.

He quickly turned his head, as if he hadn’t expected you to appear there. “Oh, thanks,” he replied, a shy smile forming on his lips.

“I told you’d make it to the podium. Now you know what that means, right?” you teased, leaning slightly forward.

Oscar turned bright red, looking away at anything that wasn’t you. “I… think so?”

“Great.” You winked and walked away before he could respond, knowing exactly the effect you were having.

After a while, Lando finally appeared. “Ready to go?”

“More than ready.” You smiled, following him to the car that would take you back to the hotel.

Back at the hotel, the exhaustion from the race still lingered, but the excitement pulsed even stronger. Lando was sprawled on the couch in his room, talking nonstop about the race and, of course, the party that was about to happen.

“I need to get ready. What, you’ve got about 30 minutes before I drag you to the party?” you teased, grabbing your bag.

“Thirty? You’re being way too optimistic,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to get ready in 30 minutes even if Oscar asked you to.”

“Oh, Lando…” You smiled slyly as you walked toward the door. “For Oscar, I’d do it in fifteen.”

Lando’s expression was priceless, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. You walked out laughing and went straight to your room, already imagining how you’d make the night unforgettable. After all, a P1 for Lando and a P3 for Oscar was more than enough reason to celebrate in style.

You chose a stunning black Versace dress, fitting just right, and paired it with high heels from the same brand. But the special touch was in the details that no one would see—or rather, that almost no one would see: a papaya-colored lingerie set, matching the team’s colors, chosen especially for the occasion.

The team had reserved a table in the VIP section of a luxurious club. The atmosphere was pure euphoria—champagne, loud music, and laughter filled the air. As soon as they arrived, you made sure to sit strategically next to Oscar, who seemed out of place, unsure of what to do with all the attention around him.

“Osc, relax,” you murmured in his ear, smiling as you noticed he seemed more nervous than he had been during the race.

“I’m relaxed,” he replied, but the hand holding his drink was trembling slightly.

The conversation flowed with the team, but you made sure to provoke Oscar in little moments. You brushed your leg against his, made comments about how well he did in the race, and, of course, mentioned the “special present.”

“If I knew a P3 would make you this happy, I would’ve tried harder earlier,” he joked, trying to appear more confident.

“Oh, Osc, you have no idea,” you replied, smiling with an enigmatic tone.

As time went by, more people started to drift away from the table to dance or talk in other corners. Before long, it was just the two of you. That was your cue.

“So, Osc…” You leaned in a little closer, the loud music muffling the conversation. “About my present… do you want to know what it is?”

Oscar blushed instantly, looking away as he always did when he felt uncomfortable. “I… I don’t think I should ask.”

“Oh, you definitely should.” Your voice dropped low, almost a whisper, as your eyes challenged his. “I did something special to celebrate your P3. And maybe to encourage you to get more podiums in the future.”

He swallowed nervously. “I need… to go to the bathroom,” he said quickly, standing up before you could react.

You smiled to yourself. “So predictable,” you murmured as you followed him with determined steps.

Oscar looked genuinely surprised when you appeared in the hallway, blocking his escape route. “Seriously, Y/N? I just wanted a minute of peace.”

“No chance.” You took a step forward, cornering him against the wall, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “I followed you to show you my present.”

Oscar looked at you, clearly uncomfortable, but his curiosity won out. “I don’t know if I want to see that,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

You laughed softly, almost amused, and slid the strap of your dress down, revealing a glimpse of the papaya lingerie, the color of the team. “See? Something special for my favorite driver.”

For a moment, Oscar was speechless, his face turning a deeper red than usual. But something seemed to have shifted in him, as if the provocation had awakened something. He took a step forward, closing the distance between you. The look he had now wasn’t shy, but challenging, almost provocative.

“You like to tease, don’t you?” His voice was low but filled with a newfound confidence that you didn’t expect. “But you know what, Y/N? You can’t last three minutes when the roles are reversed.”

The smile on his face made you hesitate for a second, and he immediately seized the opportunity. Without saying another word, he pulled you closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist. The warmth of his body against yours made your heart race, and before you could say anything, Oscar’s lips found yours.

It was an intense, heated kiss, as if he had been swept away by the wave of provocation you had started. Oscar's hands glided over your skin, as if memorizing every part of you, while you couldn't think clearly anymore.

When he pulled away slightly, his eyes glowing in a way you didn't recognize, you were speechless, your body still burning from his proximity and touch.

He leaned in again, whispering in your ear:

"Lost your voice, baby? Always knew you were just talk."

Your breathing was uneven, but you could only stare at him, completely lost.

He grinned to the side, satisfied with the effect he was having.

It didn't take long for him to attack you with even more intense kisses.

You were getting addicted to the taste, to the feeling of being touched by him.

One of his hands slid up your thigh, slowly rising inside your dress. He squeezed your butt firmly, and you couldn't contain a moan. He played with the waistband of your panties, starting to pull them down.

"What are you doing?" you asked, breathless. "Someone might see."

"Now you're afraid of being seen?" he continued, dragging the fabric down your leg. "You never cared before."

He knelt down, completely removing the piece of lingerie.

"But don't worry, baby!" He stood up, pressing his body against yours again.

"I'm not going to do anything here."

He kissed you quickly and pulled away, looking into your eyes while slipping the piece into his pocket.

"If you want it back, find me in my room later."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you there, completely speechless and hungry for more.

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[theonottsbxtch]

MILLION DOLLAR WOMAN | OP81

an: i head to france tomorrow guys, today is my final day of freedom rip. this was so fun to write because imagine just finding out your partner is a millionaire fr, based off of this request

wc: 2.5k

Oscar could see her sitting at the dining table through the floor-to-ceiling windows as he parked his car. The quiet of their home in Monaco always took him by surprise—no revving engines, no buzz of the pit crew. Just her typing away on her laptop with her usual cup of tea. She looked up as he walked in, gave him a quick smile, and then returned to her screen. Always so relaxed, even as he walked in carrying the tension of a bad training session.

"Good day?" she asked, barely looking up. He nodded and mumbled something about a corner he'd taken too fast. She listened but didn’t pry. She never did. That's how she was. She was more interested in weekend hikes than race standings, in cooking simple meals than joining him at fancy team dinners. It was a refreshing kind of simplicity, though sometimes a little mystifying. She didn’t ask about the sport or his schedule, never got jealous over the fans, and didn’t seem to care about the lifestyle that came with dating an F1 driver.

In a way, it was...perfect. He didn’t have to worry about her growing tired of his schedule, or about her expectations getting out of hand. She worked her 9-to-5, met him after, and never asked for more. The fact that she paid for her own things when they went out had caught him off-guard at first, but she’d laughed and shrugged it off when he offered to take care of the bill. "I’m used to it," she’d said. And that had been that. No strings, no expectations.

Tonight, she must’ve been finishing something for work, because she was typing away with focus. He walked into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, glancing over his shoulder at her every now and then, content. The glow of her screen was the only light in the room; the apartment was quiet but comfortable, like this was all they’d ever need.

“How’s work?” He asked as he shut the fridge.

She briefly looked up, “Long” she sighed but smiled at him.

As he walked past her he placed a brief kiss on her forehead and slid onto the sofa, stretching out and letting the quietness of home sink into his bones. She was already back to her typing, nodding to herself as she worked through whatever was in front of her. It was one of those things he found himself both fascinated by and grateful for—she didn’t need him to fill the silence. She seemed just fine with her job, her laptop, her little rituals that didn’t have anything to do with him.

Oscar watched her for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through emails and messages. A lot of them were about his upcoming sponsorship deal, a whirlwind of numbers and logistics. He thought about calling his manager to check the final figures but decided against it. Just thinking about it wore him out.

He read email after email as he heard the scrape of a chair, he looked up to see her stand up and take a call in their terrace, something he adored about this house.

Then his phone rang, Mark, he picked up automatically. “Yeah, hey,” he said, voice still soft from the calmness of the evening. As he talked through the details with him, he realised he needed to jot something down. With no pen or paper in reach, he glanced over to the dining table where she always kept a notepad beside her tea.

Oscar rose, walking over to her seat, quietly picking up her pen. But as he did, his eyes fell onto the screen of her laptop, where her banking app was open.

It was one glance, just a flicker of his eyes, but enough for him to catch sight of the balance there. He paused mid-sentence, his own words catching in his throat.

That number didn’t look right.

Surely it was missing a decimal.

Wrapping up the conversation with Mark, he wrote down what he needed, and looked at the screen once more. In that time, she’d walked back into the room, her feet padding on the cool granite of their dining room floor.

Oscar couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.

"Hey," he said, voice a little strained, still trying to process what he was seeing. "Uh…how much money do you make?"

She blinked, the corner of her mouth lifting in that effortless way of hers. "Enough," she said with a little laugh. "Why?"

Oscar blinked, struggling to wrap his head around it. This was his girlfriend—quiet, low-key, not a trace of the usual high-gloss life he’d always associated with wealth. He’d seen people obsess over money, hover around him just because of it, make a whole lifestyle out of it. But her? She was the woman who insisted on bringing packed lunches to work, who chose thrift shops over boutiques, who still wore her decade-old watch without a second thought. She was content. Comfortable. But this…

"That’s…a lot of ‘enough,’" he said, pointing at the screen, unable to mask the amazement in his voice.

She just shrugged and closed her laptop, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I guess I don’t really talk about it, huh? Not exactly first-date conversation."

He leaned back against the table, watching her with a strange mix of awe and curiosity. "Not even, like, fourth-date conversation."

"To be fair, I didn’t ask what you make, either," she pointed out, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Money’s not really…our thing."

He felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. She was right, and yet, here he was, dumbfounded. She’d been living in his world all this time, never asking him for anything, never trying to claim any part of the lavish life he could provide. Now, he realised, maybe she didn’t need it at all.

"So…why not mention it?" he asked, still trying to understand. "I mean, I just assumed…" He trailed off, feeling a little sheepish.

"I know," she said, her smile turning gentle. "I guess I liked that you assumed. It made things easier. It let me be just…me. No expectations, no need to fit into any box."

Oscar nodded slowly, taking that in. It made sense, but it still felt surreal. Here was someone who, from the very beginning, hadn’t wanted anything from him other than his time, his company. She wasn’t here for his lifestyle or his status, things he’d been conditioned to believe were a part of every relationship he’d ever have.

He glanced at her laptop again, unable to stop himself from wondering. “So, wait—what exactly do you do? Something like…senior management?” he asked, half-joking, his tone teasing.

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head as the absurdity of it all settled in. He was still trying to wrap his head around the whole idea—his girlfriend, his laid-back, thrift-shop-loving girlfriend, was apparently not only financially secure but really well off.

She raised her eyebrows, a sly smile creeping across her face. “Something like that,” she replied, taking a sip of her tea.

He squinted at her, suspicious. “Oh, come on, don’t leave me hanging. How high up are you, really?”

She glanced away, as if considering her words, and then said it, almost like a casual aside. “I’m the CEO.”

He blinked, the statement hanging in the air like a punchline he hadn’t quite caught. “Wait…CEO? As in, like, the CEO?”

She laughed, shrugging it off like it was nothing. “Just of a mid-sized company, Oscar. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Darling,” he said slowly, realising dawning. “What company?”

She paused, her eyes darting away, and he could see the hint of mischief there. “Ever heard of Catalyst?”

“Catalyst…wait, as in Catalyst Dynamics?” he asked, his voice growing louder with shock. “The same Catalyst Dynamics that sponsors my team?”

She pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—not to smile. “Do they?”

“Oh, you are kidding me!” he exclaimed, grinning in disbelief. “You’ve been secretly spoiling me this whole time!”

She shook her head, looking away as though he’d accused her of something scandalous. “Oscar, it’s a sponsorship, not a…spoiling thing. Besides, that’s business. I keep it separate from…this.” She gestured between the two of them, clearly trying to play it cool.

But Oscar wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “Oh, no you don’t.” Before she could say another word, he leaned down, scooping her up and carrying her toward the sofa.

“Oscar!” she yelped, laughing, half-protesting, but she didn’t resist.

He set her down on the cushions, pinning her playfully as he hovered above her, grinning with that spark of mischief that usually only showed up on race day. “You’ve been keeping this a secret, haven’t you? The big boss lady, looking out for me, pretending you’re just this regular 9-to-5 woman…”

“Oscar, I’m not spoiling—”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” He grinned wider, fingers finding her sides as he started tickling her, his hands relentless. She burst into laughter, twisting and squirming, but he didn’t let up.

“Okay, okay!” she managed between laughs, her breath coming in gasps as he kept up his assault. “I admit it, I admit it!”

“Admit what?” he asked, pausing, a playful gleam in his eyes as he waited for her to say it.

“Fine!” She was breathless, cheeks flushed from laughter. “Maybe I had a tiny bit of a hand in sponsoring your team, maybe. But it wasn’t to spoil you! It was just…good business.”

He chuckled, finally letting up, settling beside her on the sofa. “Good business, huh?”

She took a deep breath, still smiling as she nudged him. “I mean it. I didn’t want you to feel any pressure…or obligation. This—us—is different.”

Oscar looked at her, his heart feeling fuller than he’d expected. “Different is right.” He slipped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Guess I’m just lucky to be dating a CEO with a secret soft spot.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder, content. “And I guess I’m lucky to be with someone who never needed me to be anything but…me.”

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Oscar’s mind was still spinning, pieces clicking into place one by one. He glanced around their beautiful apartment—the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sleek, minimalist design. The place had always felt like an oasis, calm and understated, like Anna herself. But something new was nagging at him now.

“Wait…” He looked down at her, narrowing his eyes. “That’s why you won’t let me pay rent, isn’t it? You said this place was your dad’s, but it’s not, is it?”

She bit her lip, trying not to smile, but the faintest hint of a smirk gave her away. “Well…okay, maybe it wasn’t technically my dad’s. He…may not have anything to do with it.”

“Sweetheart!” he said, laughing as he sat up, staring at her in mock betrayal. “So you’ve just been letting me think I’m staying at this family-owned place when all this time you’re the one paying for it?”

She shrugged, looking at him with playful innocence. “It’s already been paid for. Besides,” she added, her smile widening, “I like the idea of you feeling at home here without any pressure.”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m onto you now. You may be this relaxed, low-key CEO, but you’ve secretly been spoiling me this entire time. Admit it!”

She laughed, a bright, carefree sound. “Fine, I admit it—I may have bought this place. Technically. But it’s still your home, too.”

Oscar pulled her close again, marvelling at how effortlessly she balanced everything—her high-powered job, their quiet, easygoing life together, her uncanny ability to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world. “You know what?” he murmured, looking into her eyes. “I don’t care if you own half of Monaco. You’re still my love.”

She grinned, leaning her forehead against his. “Good,” she whispered. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

They stayed like that for a moment, her nestled into him, the quiet warmth of the room settling around them. But Oscar couldn’t resist one more question, the thought gnawing at him.

He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, one last thing, Miss CEO.” He paused, eyes twinkling. “Is your net worth bigger than mine?”

She tried to stifle a laugh, her eyes darting away as if avoiding the answer itself. “Oscar…”

He gasped, leaning back in exaggerated shock. “Oh my god, it is, isn’t it? You’ve got me beat!”

“I’m not answering that,” she said, biting back a smile as she pressed her lips together stubbornly.

“You don’t need to,” he replied, grinning even wider. “The silence says it all. Here I thought I was the big shot, and my girlfriend’s out here just quietly sitting on an empire.”

She laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Well, maybe I just like watching you think you’re the fancy one.”

He pulled her close again, laughing softly. “Alright, fine. But don’t think I won’t bring this up anytime you try to sneak the bill.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

Oscar chuckled, still shaking his head in disbelief. He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling as if he’d just pieced together some incredible mystery. “You know, our kid is going to be spoiled,” he said, the words slipping out with a grin.

He felt her shift beside him, and when he looked down, her expression had softened, her eyes faraway, a little spark of excitement in them. “They won’t,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Humble start, just like we both had.”

“Oh, so you’ll be the strict parent, then?” he teased, arching an eyebrow. “The one laying down the law?”

She laughed, giving him a gentle shove. “So I’m the bad cop?”

“Absolutely. I’m not budging on this.” He grinned, taking her hands in his as he leaned in close. “You’ve been lying to me for four years about practically everything. I think that officially makes you the bad cop in this relationship.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was warm, even a little shy. “Fine, I’ll take ‘bad cop’… but only if you’re ready to be the softie who gives in.”

Oscar laughed, wrapping his arms around her, feeling that sense of joy settle in even deeper. “Deal, I was already planning on it” he whispered, his voice full of promise. And as he held her close, he realised he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oscar pulled her even closer, his hands resting gently on her cheeks as he took in the warmth of her gaze, her face illuminated softly in the low light. The playful edge between them softened into something deeper, and the laughter faded into quiet, shared breath.

Slowly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss that held all the words they hadn’t said. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers curling there as she melted into him, and for a moment, everything—the teasing, the surprises, the whole world around them—faded away.

the end.

[sugutiva]

❝ THAT P ★ SSY GOT POWER ! ❞ — G. SATORU

ᥫ᭡. synopsis : for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world ( purposely ) got struck by a lust curse.

tags : smut, p in v, oral sex ( f! receiving ), enemies to lovers (?), reader folds quickly LMAO, gojo eats us out against the wall . . . again, hair pulling, pussy spanking, overstimulation, teasing, cowgirl, switch!gojo, slight orgasm denial, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : if this flops again tumblr is RACIST.

“ we need you to go talk to gojo satoru, and convince him to come back to jujutsu high.”

oh. so he’s the reason why you’re attending a meeting even though it’s your off day.

your face twists into an expression of displeasure, not only from the burdensome demand of gakuganji and possibly the other higher ups, but from the sound of his gravelly voice ringing throughout the spacious room. nonetheless, you bite your tongue. “ seriously, me? why would i ever do something like that?”

it’s extremely rare as a sorcerer to catch a simple day off, and the fact that you were called in to fetch a man-child to come back to his responsibilities was . . . aggravating. to say the least.

gakuganji continues, “ his disappearance has already gone on further than we’d like,” he takes a pause to lift his head slightly, looking you dead in the eyes. “ so seeing how you’re the only free adult, we chose you to go fetch for him.”

you cross your arms and legs before leaning back in the couch. as he explains in more detail on how there’s an increase of curses, and how no one's teaching the second and first years, ( not like they’d mind ) you start to feel a twinge of sympathy.

sure, you and gojo don’t see eye to eye sometimes, but it was unusual for him to go missing all of a sudden and leave everything behind. ( although he’d eerily fantasize about killing the higher ups whenever he was provoked enough ) you uncross your body before standing up from the couch swiftly.

“ i’ll check on him. but i wouldn’t guarantee a return from him,”

“ great choice, [last name].”

- -

all for jujutsu high and humanity.

giving three loud knocks to his door, you wait, and get no answer in response. “ gojo satoru, can you open up already?” you yell, surely loud enough for him to at least crack the door open. still, you get no answer from the other side.

just as you were casually mapping the outside of his house for an easy way to get inside, the door swiftly opens. there stood the man in question in all of his glory; he wore grey baggy sweats— and it seemed like no boxers underneath because of how his white happy trail seductively peeked out from underneath while the print of his cock was hardly concealed. the upper half of his toned body shined in a coat of sweat while he leaned his upper body against the door frame.

was he exercising. . . or maybe doing something else?

“ you just gonna stare at me after almost breaking my door off it’s hinges?”

shit. he caught you practically gawking at him.

“ i— um. we need to talk,” you gulp, feeling more nervous compared to any other time you’ve talked to him before. “ you‘ve been playing hooky for quite too long now and the higher ups are on my ass about it.”

he stares at you unfazed, you stare back.

but to your surprise, instead of slamming the door in your face and hiding away for longer, he shifts his body over, enough for you to come inside.

“ geez. those hags don’t ever know when to fall back.” he dramatically groans as you hesitantly step in to take your shoes off before walking in further.

vaguely, you swear you felt the weight of his eyes tracing your figure as you walk into his apartment, heading to his living room. you choose to brush it off.

inside it’s modern and creepily bare, like there’s no one actually existing in here— including this alluring scent. it’s not bad but it is heavy, as if a burdensome weight is on your shoulders. definitely musk but the strong scent of cinnamon is also within the mix. again, you brush it off while sinking down into the couch cushions, too late to turn back now.

gojo walks in later than you, and instead of sitting across from you— he plops right next to you, sluggishly resting his long arms on the back of the couch while manspreading, his freakishly lengthy legs invades the little space you have. your face contorts into an expression of outwardly discomfort. “ why’re you sitting right next to me, gojo?”

“ you rudely wake me up by pounding on my door, and now i can’t sit where i want in my living room?” he blows out a breath of air while rolling his eyes with a level of sass that makes you cringe slightly. “ girl. you really don’t have any manners at all. not like that’s a surprise tho—“

” please, let’s just focus on the reason why i came here.” you curtly cut him off, barely refraining yourself from slapping him in the head now that his infinity was off.

you knew he wouldn’t listen in the first place, so the sight of his head hanging off the couch while his leg rocked up and down rhythmically like this was the most boring lecture he had to sit through shouldn’t really piss you off— but it does. you let out an exhausted groan while rubbing your temples to soothe your growing headache. you really wish you hadn’t picked up the phone today. “ do you even care about the effect your disappearance has caused right now? you really are a careless manchi—“

“ i need to fuck you.” he bluntly states.

what? you couldn’t had possibly heard that right.

“ i-i’m sorry?”

he shifts, his body is now upright, contrasting his previous lazy posture. “ you want to know why i’ve been gone?” he waits for you to nod, which you do. “ i got struck by some sort of lust curse, so in order for it to go away, we need to fuck.” you don’t get a chance to fully register his words before his lips are on yours.

you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you two making out on his couch relieved him from all his frustrations. you can’t deny that you’re into it like how he is, especially when he rolls his raging bulge into the inside of your thigh so desperately— but this isn’t the reason why you came here. obviously gojo thinks otherwise.

“ g-gojo! we can’t,” your voice trembles, and so does your body as you push the white haired man away from you. when he looks back in your eyes, you immediately notice that there’s truly something wrong. his pupils are wildly dilated— to the point where you can barely see his signature blue.

the intensity of his gaze freezes you in place. but you can’t shake off the feeling of being lured in.

almost like he’s hypnotizing you.

“ says who, baby?” his hand creeps down to the waist band of your pants, he tugs on your panties, only letting them go so they can soundly snap back against your skin, making your hips jolt in his grasp. “ don’t deny it now. i bet ya’ she’s gonna be leaking f’me.” the palm of his hand grinds down on your clothed mound.

this time, you’re the one to pull him into a heated kiss, and he matches your energy fully. your nails scratches at his undercut, forcing a needy moan to leave his chest and wander into your awaiting mouth. the kiss is so intense that you don’t realize that he’s taken off your pants along with your underwear until your bare skin touches around his while he carries you into his bedroom.

he presses your back to the wall only to hike you up further on the wall— the way how you’re positioned is that you’re currently using him as your own chair.

“ you do the most. are you really going to eat me out against a wall?” you tut, knowing that you’re not actually against the idea. your question isn’t answered with words, but when he presses moist kisses leading from your thigh to your soaked cunt, you think you have a inkling of the answer.

he blows on your erect clit before focusing his attention on your flustered face. “ for someone who was pushing me away . . . you sure are soaked.” your mouth opens, most likely with a bratty response. although it’s quickly forgotten when he presses a spit filled peck on your clit. there’s a line of spit that connects him to your cunt as he pulls away. “ ‘m not tryna embarrass you. just find it quite adorable.”

“ w-will you ever just shut up, and eat me out? i’m sick of hearin’ your mouth, gojo.” you murmur, watching as his grin grows impossibly wider— the bastard is riling you up on purpose just for his twisted entertainment. there will be a time later on tonight where you’ll get him back for that.

but for now, you need to feel his tongue mapping out every inch of your pussy.

he huskily chuckles, you want to ignore the effect that the sound does to you. “ heh. i got you baby,” with that, he rolls his tongue out on your heat, licking a fat stripe of spit in the direction to your pulsing clit. your body shudders as you finally get what you desire; your sworn enemy eating you out while your figure is trapped between him and a wall.

and oh is he nasty with it.

“ s-shit— you’re doing s’gooood, satoru!” you lewdly whine out, the knuckles of your hands turn a shade brighter than your skin as you tug on his pristine hair. moving away from your clit, he focuses on sloppily flicking your opening with his tongue. “ satooooru!”

for this being your first time hooking up together, gojo is uncannily skilled at fucking you dumb with only his tongue. it makes you yearn for what else he can do to you next.

gojo pulls back from your cunt, the lower half of chin is alluringly coated with your juices and his saliva. “ damn. she tastes too fuckin’ good. and why have you been keeping this away from me for so long?” he mutters to himself rather than you. his hand comes down on your cunt as a harsh smack, he delivers another and another before waiting for your reaction. when more slick dribbles out your hole, sliding down to your ass, it makes him want to go beyond feral.

“ looks like i’ve got myself a masochistic slut, heh.” no more is said as his mouth resumes back on your pussy, throwing you back into that wave of euphoria. the muscles in your thighs twitch, drawing him closer to your syrupy madness.

satoru moans, his hips bucks up on the wall as if to find some friction while splitting you down with that wonderful tongue. your toes are curled, back lifting from off the wall and every strangled moan you yell makes him thrust his tongue faster, along with his hips— the distant pleasure coming from fucking the wall is not near enough to make him cum, not that he’s worried about that, as your hypnotic taste is making him shamefully pussydrunk.

“ oh. ooooh, ‘m so close, you’re gonna make me cum!” you pant out while instinctively clamping your walls around his tongue shoving itself in. he’s more determined than ever, messily tongue fucking you while kneading your ass in his big hands. how he manages to hold you up by your ass only, it’s still a wonder.

your hips have a mind of their own as they grind down for your sweet release, and at this rate you don’t know if your pulling him away or closer to you. but when he hollowly sucks at your empty hole, that triggers your powerful orgasm.

“ d-don’t stooop! i’m cumming!” your eyes clamp shut as you throw your head back before bursting out into trembles. satoru continues to listen to your earlier words. he delivers kitten licks onto your clit just begging for his attention. “ satoru— i’m too sensitive,”

he doesn’t care to listen.

finally, he comes up from the spot between your thighs as your recovering from yet another messy orgasm. “ okay messy girl, as much as i love eating you out— i think you should show me some attention too.”

wordlessly, he carries your limp body over to his bed— in the traditional bridal carry this time. you think it’s somewhat romantic, but of course gojo has to ruin it by chucking you on piece of furniture, making you meet his incredibly soft duvets face first. “ the fuck?” you gain composure by lifting yourself on your hands and knees, looking back to throw him the nastiest glare you could muster. “ i swear at this point you’re getting no pussy, gojo.”

he pays your words no mind. as he pulls his pants down, his cock uncontrolledly springs free from it’s restraint. fuck, it was so big and pretty. the sheer length will no doubtfully have you feeling over cockdrunk, his tip flushes an angry red that makes your mouth water.

“ what about not getting any pussy?” he cheekily mocks you, stroking the head of his cock to smear the pearly pre-cum down his length.

“ shut the fuck up and get on the bed.” you whine, struggling by the second to keep up your bratty facade. the sound of the bed dipping under his body weight makes you flip over on your elbows and spread your legs wide for his gaze.

complying, he still rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “ geez. okay daddy,” his hands grabs you by the thighs and yanks you on your back completely. he presses the slit of his head against your clit, watching with delight as your folds compliments each side of his cock like a lewd hotdog. “ yer’ so mouthy but that’s expected, gonna have to fix that little problem though.”

“ i’m the mouthy one? that’s real fuckin’ funny coming from the one who cannot shut up for one second to save his life.” you bitterly cackle, although your voice comes out shaken from the audible clicks of your pussy getting played with. when he slightly dips into the warmth of your opening before trailing upwards to your clit again, you resist the urge to strangle him. “ — if you’re teasing me, i’m going to hurt you.”

he rolls his eyes unenthusiastically at the cold stare you give him from underneath your full eyelashes. “ tsk. you’re no fun, baby.” with one swift movement, he’s sinking into your gummy walls with a relieved groan.

maybe, because of the high side effects of the lust curse running it’s course is the reason why satoru finds himself cumming too early with not even a full pump.

and it’s a lot.

“ s-shiiiit— that was t-too early, can’t s-stop!” his body bursts into violent trembles— mimicking your own previously. hot ropes of cum taints your walls with the sensation of his cum while his hands grab at your thighs with a death grip that will for sure leave bruises later, having you sore for days. you think it’s rather endearing how vulnerable he looks.

gojo was just— if not more, surprised than you were.

it feels like forever when he finally comes down from his high, and you feel out of breath just watching him. “ that . . . that was not supposed to h-happen.” he weakly mutters, his head hanging down from embarrassment. somwhat, you’re prideful knowing that only you had him feeling like this.

“ ‘nd all that big talk just for you to be a one pump champ,” now, it’s his turn to weakly glare at you, “ think you can still fuck me? or do i have to ride you?” you grab a fistful of his hair before tugging his face close, to the point where your breath fans over his open, panting mouth. the pain from your dominant actions shoots through his veins and to his sensitive cock, resulting in it twitching greedily in your tense walls. “ am i talking to myself, satoru?”

“ fuck— n-no.”

you smirk, and to satoru you look exceedingly sexy and evil; a deadly combo. “ my good boy,” you peck his lips, letting the grip you have of his hair go so he can pull out of you. when he does, copious amounts of cum immediately pours from your quivering hole in a thick, flowing motions with a loud popping sound to accompany. with just one load he’s managed to stuff you full.

he flips over while hugging your body close to his. relaxing his figure, he watches as you aligned yourself against him, your shirt long gone by now, and your body is beautifully presented to him with the marks he inflicted upon the free reign of skin.

you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“ don’t— don’t think about teasing me now, not when i need you this m-much.” he briefly forgets how to breath as your sticky folds rubs against the head of his cock, drowning in more cum until it reaches his base.

“ oh, you don’t like your own game being played on you?” you grunt, rolling your hips sensually down. his adam’s apple bobs as swallows his growing anticipation he can barely contain. but after a few dragged out moments of teasing, resulting in you feeling torturously edged as well— you finally sink down on him. “ fuuuck . . .” you whisper to yourself.

you lips tremor as you pause, allowing yourself to being properly stretched out as your pussy invites in as much as possible. this isn’t the first time you’ve had sex with someone, but the hefty length of satoru makes you pause before going on. when the dull stinging pain shifts to that familiar mouth watering pleasure, you find your pace. satoru hands fly out to grip the sheets with faux serenity as your pussy continues to clamp around him like a vice grip.

“ haaah, you just couldn’t w-wait to fuck yourself silly on my cock, huh?” his voice is eerily clear, as if he wasn’t a overstimulated mess from his previous release. you make fiery eye contact with him, the way how his eyes are hazed but still feel so heavy on your body makes you almost go numb. “ this is everything i needed baby, shit!”

“ that mouth never knows when to s-shut up.” you mutter out, before the action of you bouncing up and down on his lap increases viciously. the sinful sounds of your skin clashing down against his, every inch of him knocking on your sweet spot, and both of your sweet moans combined together sounded like an erotic song that gojo would never get tired of hearing. “ sa— mmph, satoruu!” gojo has the most cockiest but pathetic expression right now; his brows are furrowed while he shamelessly watched you recoil your body against his.

“ i . . . i think ‘m close, keep on rocking your hips like that— fuck, you’re so sexy!” his tip spasms in your tight space as a warning as of what’s about to come.

but suddenly, you stop moving. edging him on with a cheeky smirk.

you cut him off before he can talk, “ we can’t have you cumming just yet ‘toru.” he’s surprised he didn’t bust right then and there when you said his nickname in that sultry tone. you give him a vigorous show by rubbing two fingers on your pearl for his view.

“ such’a needy slut playing with her pussy f’me.” he bites his lip as he watches your clit swirl under your ministrations, his orgasm is on the back burner of his mind while he watches you. “ roll it just like that— there ya fuckin’ go, babe.”

once you feel your pleasure heighten inevitably, you resume back to bouncing on gojo. this time, with your hand advancing rapidly on your clit, and his calloused hands squeezing your ass heart fully. he effortlessly looks attractive underneath you, his chest and neck are flushed a sweaty mess as strands of his white hair sticks to his damp skin around his forehead.

“ wan’a cum with you, toru.” you lean over to nip his throat, your pussy contracts when you feel his breath hitch. “ want to feel you s-stuff me full, pleaseee fuck!”

it’s unintentional, but your whiny voice alone drags him into a powerful orgasm.

it’s not long before you follow suit.

“ my nasty good girl,” his voice comes out as an harsh whisper before he grabs your hair to tug you closer to his face. the kiss you share together is no short of animalistic; it’s all teeth with tongue, and when you pull away your lip is bleeding, tainting his own an alluring deep shade of red.

you force your hips to continue rocking against him due to the frenzy. increased squelches resonates through the fuzzy room along with your combined moans. you feel sparks of electricity shoot through your limbs, your cunt squeezes more slick out, creating a translucent ring around the hefty base of his cock.

there must be something in the air, seeing how many orgasms you pull out of each other.

for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world got struck by a lust curse.

and you’re able to bring him back a day later, with just your pussy alone.

[thinkinonsense]

DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

[elikajinnie]

Heyyy could you do a oneshot of sh or hs inspired on the song what you need by the weeknd

I Am Everything You Crave - L.H

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

Warnings: Non-Idol!au, Suggestive Content, Situationship?, Pursuing, Possessive Behaviour, Begging, Alcohol Consumption, Jealousy if you squint, Mature Content, he kinda down bad.

Synopsis: Working at the campus café was fine—until Lee Heeseung entered the picture. A colleague with a reputation, Heeseung had made it his mission to add you to his collection of women. Much to his surprise, you rejected him. That is, until one party changed everything. You thought you could forget what happened and move on, but Heeseung? He has no intention of letting you go so easily.

a/n: This is very suggestive okay?? since the song is freaky :3

now playing: what you need by the weeknd | fuck yeah by ballinciaga | rude boy by rihanna | shameless by camila cabello

--

Life had its ups and downs. Right and wrong. Yin and yang. It had always been like that, and it would always be like that. Life isn’t easy, and everyone experiences it differently. People make decisions—some good, some bad—and they live with the outcomes.

Your latest decision? Getting a job at the small campus café tucked between the library and the science building. It seemed easy enough. Take orders, make drinks, serve a few pastries, smile. You needed the money, and the huge gaps in your class schedule meant you either spent hours scrolling on your phone in the student lounge or aimlessly wandering around campus. You figured it was time to be productive.

Simple. Easy. A perfect plan.

Yeah, right. Super easy until the news that someone new was starting, and the worst part? You had to train them.

You found out the hard way, too—your manager casually dropped it into conversation while wiping down the espresso machine.

“Oh, by the way,” they said nonchalantly, “the new hire’s coming in tomorrow. You’ll show them the ropes, yeah? You’re good at this stuff.”

You blinked. Good at this stuff? You’d been working here for all of two weeks. Sure, you hadn’t broken the coffee machine yet, but that hardly made you a veteran barista. You wanted to argue, to say there was no way you could teach someone else when you were barely keeping yourself afloat, but the words never made it past your lips.

So, here you were—standing behind the counter the next morning, mentally preparing yourself for a complete disaster.

The door jingled, signaling someone’s arrival, and you looked up with a sigh.

And you physically recoiled, because why was Lee Heeseung standing right in front of you?

Your brain short-circuited for a moment as he stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, looking around the cafe like he owned the place. Out of all the people on campus, it just had to be him. You’d rarely spoken to Lee Heeseung, he wasn’t worth your attention—one of those guys always surrounded by people, mostly girls, and partying like it was his full-time job.

And the worst part? He was good at it. Heeseung had that effortless charm, those annoyingly good looks, and he knew how to use both to his advantage. He could flash one of those lopsided grins and suddenly everyone in the room was falling over themselves to talk to him. Successful without even trying.

You narrowed your eyes as he stepped closer, stopping just short of the counter. For a second, it looked like he was sizing you up, like you were the one out of place.

“Uh… are you the trainer?” he asked, his voice smooth, as if he wasn’t about to ruin your morning.

You stared at him blankly, the words barely registering. This couldn’t be happening. Heeseung—the Lee Heeseung—was the new hire. The guy you were supposed to train.

And just like that, your “simple and easy” job turned into your personal nightmare.

You slowly nodded at first, then answered, “Yeah,” your voice as flat as your enthusiasm. You gestured for him to come behind the counter.

He made his way around to the small door flap on the side, moving with that casual confidence that you already found irritating. You led him to the back, pointing out the row of lockers shoved into the corner.

“You can set your stuff in there,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Aprons are on the hook.”

He nodded, tossing his bag into one of the lockers with no hesitation. Then he grabbed an apron, slinging it over his head and tying it around his waist in a way that seemed far too graceful for someone doing something so basic. Of course, even putting on an apron looks good on him, you thought bitterly.

Wordlessly, you grabbed a name tag from the counter nearby and handed it to him. It was generic, just the word Assistant in bold letters, no real customization. He took it with a small smirk, pinning it to his chest like it was some kind of award.

“Assistant, huh?” he said, glancing down at it. Then, he looked back up at you with a grin that had trouble written all over it. “Does this mean I’m your sidekick now?”

You stared at him, unamused. “It means you’re here to learn, not mess around.”

“Got it. I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had,” he replied, throwing you a mock salute.

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, heading back to the counter. “We’ll see about that. Come on, I’ll show you how to use the register.”

He followed you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smug energy radiating off him. This was going to be a long day.

You led Heeseung back to the counter, pointing to the register like it was some holy artifact he’d need to respect.

“This is the register,” you said, tapping the touchscreen. “It’s straightforward, but don’t let that fool you. People will make it hard for no reason.”

He nodded, leaning in a little too close to the screen for your liking. His shoulder brushed yours, and you instinctively stepped to the side, putting some much-needed space between you.

“Here’s how it works,” you continued, ignoring the way he casually leaned against the counter like he had all the time in the world. You ran through the basics, showing him how to input orders, handle different payment methods, and deal with the occasional glitch.

“And this,” you added, pointing to the small clipboard tucked in a corner, “is where we keep track of special requests. You’ll hate this thing within a week.”

“Good to know,” he said with a small laugh, like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

Next, you moved to the shelves and machines behind the counter, pointing out where everything was.

“Coffee beans are in these bins,” you said, lifting a lid to show him. “Pastries are in the display case—use gloves if you’re touching them. Cups, lids, straws, napkins… all in this section here. And the espresso machine—” You gestured toward it like it was a ticking time bomb. “—don’t touch this yet. Not unless you want to break it and have the entire staff hate you.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Got it. Hands off the espresso machine. Anything else I’m banned from touching?”

“Pretty much everything until I say so,” you shot back, turning to face him. “For the next three days, you’ll shadow me. Watch what I do, ask questions if you’re confused, but don’t try to take over. Once you get the hang of things, you can start doing some tasks on your own.”

He tilted his head, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smile. “So, I’m basically your personal assistant for three days?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re here to learn the job, not to entertain yourself.”

“Right, right,” he said, holding back a chuckle. “Serious business.”

“Exactly.” You folded your arms, watching as he leaned against the counter again, a smug glint in his eye.

Something about him made your patience wear thin, and you already knew these three days were going to test every ounce of your self-control. But you weren’t going to let Lee Heeseung get to you. Not a chance.

The door opened, and the bell above it gave a cheerful ding. Immediately, your customer service smile snapped into place, and you turned to greet the new arrival.

“Hi! Welcome in,” you said brightly. “What can I help you with today?”

The student—a guy in a hoodie and glasses—gave a polite nod before stepping closer to glance at the menu board hanging above the counter. After a moment, he pointed. “I’ll take a medium latte and, uh… one of those chocolate croissants.”

“Got it,” you replied, turning to the register. But not before noticing that Heeseung was watching you intently, his expression curious, almost amused. Ignoring him, you quickly entered the order, your fingers flying over the screen as you spoke. “So here’s how it works,” you said to him, motioning toward the display. “You tap the drink size, then pick the pastry from the bakery menu. Easy.”

He nodded, his eyes following your movements as if committing everything to memory.

Once you’d printed the receipt, you handed it to the student with another practiced smile. “Your total is on there, and I’ll bring everything out to your table in just a minute!” The student murmured a thank you before heading to a nearby seat.

Turning to Heeseung, you gestured toward the pastry display. “All right, rookie. Go grab that chocolate croissant and give it to the customer. Just use the tongs and put it in one of the small paper bags over there.”

He gave you a mock salute, grinning. “Yes, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning to the espresso machine. It hummed quietly as you prepped the steam wand and started on the latte. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung make his way to the display case, grab a pair of tongs, and carefully place the croissant into a bag like it was some precious artifact.

When he finally handed it to the student, you couldn’t help but listen in as he said, “Here you go. Chocolate croissant, fresh and perfect. Just like I made it myself.”

The student chuckled awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond, and you had to fight the urge to laugh. Of course Heeseung couldn’t resist being a show-off.

“Good job,” you muttered under your breath as he came back to the counter.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning against the counter again, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I’m a natural.”

You ignored him, focusing on finishing the latte and pouring the steamed milk into the cup. Sliding the drink onto a tray, you carried it over to the customer, who smiled and thanked you.

As you returned to the counter, Heeseung was watching you with an amused expression.

“What?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Nothing,” he said, clearly lying. “You just take this whole customer service thing really seriously.”

“It’s called doing my job,” you shot back. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’m already learning from the best.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself for how long the rest of the day was going to feel.

For the rest of the shift, you took Heeseung through the rest of the basics. You showed him how to restock the pastry display, explained the cleaning routine, and gave him a quick rundown of how to prepare simple drink orders. At first, you were all business—focused on making sure he didn’t screw anything up. But after a while, you started to notice something… entertaining.

Heeseung didn’t just follow your instructions—he did it almost eagerly. Whether it was wiping down counters or organizing cups, he jumped at every little task you gave him. It was, admittedly, kind of fun ordering him around.

“Go grab the cups from the storage room,” you said at one point, just to see how he’d react.

Without hesitation, he nodded and walked off to fetch them, returning a minute later with the stack of cups in hand. As he set them down on the counter, he turned to you, that expectant look back in his eyes.

You frowned slightly. “What?”

“Did I do good?” he asked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. Did he just… ask for praise?

“Uh… yeah,” you said, a little unsure. “You did good.”

The way his face lit up at that simple acknowledgment made you pause. Heeseung looked… happy. Actually happy. Not smug.

From then on, you couldn’t help but notice it. Every time he finished a task, he’d glance at you like he was waiting for approval. And every time you gave him even the smallest bit of praise, his smile would grow, and he’d seem even more motivated to keep going.

“Nice job restocking the pastries,” you said after he carefully arranged the croissants and muffins in the display case.

“Thanks,” he said, his grin widening as he shut the glass door.

“Good work wiping down the tables,” you added later, watching as he gave the last one an extra wipe just to make sure it was spotless.

“Thanks, boss,” he said, standing a little straighter.

It became a game in your head, almost without you realizing it. Every time he did something right—or even just passable—you threw him a little compliment.

“Great job with the lids.”

“You’re getting the hang of the register.”

“Nice work steaming that milk.”

Each time, he’d light up like you’d just told him he’d won a trophy, his energy growing as the shift went on. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was… kind of cute.

By the end of the shift, Heeseung was practically buzzing, his earlier smugness replaced by something more genuine. And you couldn’t deny it—it felt oddly satisfying to see him so eager to prove himself.

As he pulled off his apron at the end of the shift, he glanced at you one last time, his expression hopeful. “So… did I survive day one?”

You smirked, tossing your own apron into the laundry bin. “You survived. Barely.”

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Can’t wait to see what you make me do tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

You quickly grabbed your bag from the locker and didn’t waste any time heading out the door.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket as you walked, scrolling mindlessly through notifications and you were halfway through reading a message when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Hey, wait up!”

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Sure enough, Heeseung jogged up beside you, falling into step like he’d been walking with you all along.

“What, no goodbye after all my hard work?” he teased, his tone dripping with mock offense.

You glanced at him briefly, then back at your phone. “Goodbye,” you said flatly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he kept talking, launching into some story about how he almost burned down his dorm’s microwave last week because he forgot to add water to his cup noodles. You hummed in acknowledgment, barely listening, more focused on the text thread in front of you than his words.

But even as you tried to tune him out, you couldn’t ignore how close he was walking next to you. His arm brushed yours more than once, and he seemed to lean in slightly every time he spoke, like he wanted to make sure you heard him—even though he was plenty loud already.

And then there was his tone. It wasn’t just casual conversation; there was something… different about it. The way he dragged out certain words, the way his smile lingered as he glanced at you, the way he leaned a little closer when he joked—it all felt too deliberate to be innocent.

You finally tore your eyes away from your phone, catching the tail end of whatever he was saying. “…but honestly, I think the ramen was just defective. You ever had something like that happen?”

“Hm,” you hummed again, your answer vague.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his grin widening. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“Not really,” you admitted without hesitation, slipping your phone into your pocket as you approached the entrance to your building.

He laughed at that, completely unfazed. “Wow, I see how it is. I pour my heart out, and you just ignore me. You’re cold.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you had something important to say,” you shot back, finally giving him a proper glance.

“Everything I say is important,” he said, flashing you a playful smile that you could only describe as shamelessly flirty.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his smile lingered just a little too long. “Well, thanks for walking me to class, but I can take it from here.”

“Oh, so now I’m dismissed?” he teased, taking a half step back but still lingering just close enough to make his presence known.

“Yep. Bye, Heeseung,” you said, your voice pointed as you turned toward the door.

“See you tomorrow, boss,” he called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother looking back, but you could practically feel his grin as you walked away.

--

After your morning classes, you made your way back to the cafe, already bracing yourself for another day of dealing with Heeseung. When you stepped through the door, the first thing you saw was him leaning casually over the counter, his apron already on, talking to a group of girls.

You sighed to yourself. Typical.

From the way they giggled and leaned in, it was obvious they were eating up every word he was saying. And Heeseung, of course, seemed to thrive under the attention, throwing out a smirk here, a playful laugh there, and just enough charm to keep them hanging on his every word.

It wasn’t until you caught bits and pieces of his smooth, too smooth tone—compliments that were barely disguised as flirty remarks—that you really rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised. Flirting was practically his second language.

When he finally noticed you standing there, his entire demeanor shifted in an instant. He straightened up quickly, waving at you with an almost boyish smile. Gone was the smooth talker leaning on the counter; now he looked like someone who’d just been caught red-handed.

You gave him a small, unenthusiastic wave back, not bothering to stop as you headed straight for the back room.

Inside, you grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it around your waist, and leaving your bag in the locker.

But when you turned around, ready to head back out, you nearly jumped.

Heeseung was standing in the doorway, blocking your path, a smug smile already plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for you to notice him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your tone edging into annoyance.

“Just wanted to say hi properly,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You rushed off so fast, I didn’t get the chance.”

“You were busy,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “Looked like you were having fun.”

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “They were just asking about the menu. Nothing serious.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, unimpressed. “And I’m sure all that flirting was part of the menu explanation?”

He grinned, not even trying to deny it. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Move. I have work to do.”

But instead of moving, he stayed firmly in place, blocking the door like he had no intention of letting you pass.

“Wait,” he said, his grin softening into something more playful. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

You froze, blinking up at him. “Jealous?” you echoed, then let out a sharp laugh. “Not even in your dreams, Heeseung. Now move.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender but still smiling as he stepped aside. “No need to threaten me, boss. I’m just messing with you.”

You gave him a pointed look as you brushed past him, heading back to the counter. But as you did, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grin lingered, like he’d just gotten away with something.

The rest of the shift carried on as usual—or at least, you tried to make it usual. Heeseung, of course, wasn’t making it easy.

He followed your instructions like he had yesterday, doing everything you asked without hesitation. But you couldn’t help but notice… changes. Subtle at first, but as the hours went on, they became impossible to ignore.

For one, he’d started staring. A lot.

You could feel his eyes on you almost constantly—when you were at the register, when you were showing him how to steam milk again, when you were wiping down counters. It wasn’t just a casual glance, either. No, this was the kind of stare that felt heavy, like he was watching you. Like he was noticing things he probably shouldn’t be noticing.

And when you did catch him looking, he didn’t even try to hide it. Instead, he’d just flash you this lazy grin, like he wanted you to know he’d been caught.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked pointedly after the third—or was it fourth?—time you caught him staring.

He shrugged, unbothered. “Just observing. You know, trying to learn from the best.”

“Sure,” you muttered, turning back to the espresso machine.

But the staring wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way he spoke to you. Everything he said was low, smooth, and infuriatingly deliberate.

“Hey, boss,” he said at one point, leaning just a little too close to you as you refilled the sugar packets at the counter. “You always look this focused, or is it just when I’m around?”

You didn’t even look up. “It’s called doing my job, Heeseung.”

He chuckled, his voice warm and annoyingly charming. “Just trying to make it more fun.”

When you showed him how to set up the sandwich press later, he leaned in closer than he needed to, his shoulder brushing yours as he peered at the controls.

“So, when do I get a promotion?” he asked, his voice low enough that it sent a faint shiver down your spine.

“A promotion?” you repeated, rolling your eyes as you stepped back to put some distance between you. “You haven’t even lasted a full week yet.”

He smirked, straightening up. “Yeah, but I’m doing a great job, aren’t I? You tell me all the time.”

“You’re doing the bare minimum,” you said flatly, trying to ignore the way his smirk made your stomach flip.

“Still counts,” he replied, winking.

By the time your break rolled around, you were honestly ready to strangle him—or maybe strangle yourself for letting him get to you. You’d only known him for two days, and yet he was already worming his way under your skin in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

You sighed as you finally sank into the chair in the back room, a half-eaten sandwich on a napkin in front of you and your laptop open to a half-finished school assignment. Break time was supposed to be your one reprieve from Heeseung’s constant attention, and you were determined to make the most of it.

The cafe wasn’t busy, and you’d left him at the front with strict instructions to just hold down the fort, take simple orders, and not burn anything. He had nodded enthusiastically, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving him alone might have been a mistake. Still, you couldn’t babysit him forever.

With a deep breath, you focused on your laptop, determined to finish at least a paragraph of your essay before your break ended.

But, of course, Lee Heeseung had other plans.

Not even five minutes into your break, the door creaked open, and there he was, leaning casually against the doorframe with that infuriatingly smug grin on his face.

"Shouldn't you be up front?" you asked without looking up, your tone flat as you typed out another sentence.

“I am,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Just came to check on you. You know, make sure you’re not slacking off back here.”

You gave him a deadpan look, your hands hovering over the keyboard. “I’m the one slacking? You’re the one who left the counter unattended.”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving you off as he stepped further into the room. “There’s no one out there right now. Plus, I work better when I know my boss is doing okay.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your screen. “I’m fine. Now get back out there before someone walks in and thinks we don’t know what we’re doing.”

But instead of leaving, he sat down in the chair across from you, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you with a lazy smile.

“What are you working on?” he asked, nodding toward your laptop.

“Schoolwork,” you said shortly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So hardworking. Do you ever take a break, or is that not a thing for you?”

“This is my break,” you snapped, glaring at him. “Which you’re currently ruining.”

He grinned, completely unfazed. “Come on, boss. You’ve gotta learn to relax a little. Life’s not all about essays and coffee orders.”

“It is when you’re trying to pass your classes and keep a job,” you retorted, taking a bite of your sandwich.

He let out a low hum, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting into something softer—almost teasing, “you look kinda cute like that.”

You froze mid-bite, your eyes snapping to his.

“What?” you said, your voice flat but your ears burning.

“Just saying,” he said with a shrug, his smile widening as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’ve got this little furrow in your brow when you’re focused. It’s cute.”

You stared at him for a moment, debating whether it was worth throwing your sandwich at his face.

“Heeseung,” you said finally, your voice low and warning.

“Yes, boss?”

“Get. Back. To. Work.”

He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender as he stood up. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much.”

You groaned as he sauntered out of the room, leaving you alone again—but not before tossing one last wink over his shoulder.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the door and wondering how you’d managed to get stuck with the most annoying coworker on the planet.

You tried to push Heeseung’s antics out of your mind, refocusing on your laptop. But it wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped. Every time you typed another sentence, your mind wandered back to the way he had called you cute. The audacity of him, the nerve—he just said whatever came to mind, didn’t he? Like there were no consequences.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. Heeseung was just being Heeseung—cocky, shameless, and way too full of himself. You weren’t going to let him get under your skin.

Another five minutes passed. Your essay was slowly taking shape, the sound of typing helped you settle into a groove. Finally, some peace and quiet.

But, of course, that didn’t last.

The door creaked open again, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Heeseung,” you said sharply, “if you’re not coming back here to tell me the cafe is on fire, I swear—”

“Relax,” he said, stepping into the room with a to-go cup in his hand. “Just thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You glanced up, and sure enough, there he was, holding out a cup of coffee like it was some grand peace offering.

“What is this?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Coffee,” he said, completely unbothered. “I made it myself. Thought you’d want a break from whatever sad sandwich you’ve been eating.”

You looked at the cup suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything weird in it, did you?”

“Wow,” he said, clutching his chest like you’d just insulted his honor. “No faith in me at all. That hurts, boss. Really.”

You rolled your eyes but took the cup anyway, cautiously bringing it to your lips. The coffee was… actually pretty good.

“Not bad,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Heeseung’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a gold medal. “See? I’m a fast learner. You might be stuck with me, but at least I’m good at what I do.”

“Barely,” you muttered, but your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

He pulled out the chair across from you again, sitting down with that same cocky grin.

“Don’t you have work to do?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“The front’s all clear,” he replied, leaning back in the chair. “And besides, I’d rather hang out here with you.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re strange, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you turned back to your laptop. But even as you tried to focus, you couldn’t ignore the way he stayed there, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“So, there’s this party on Saturday,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence that had been hanging over the room for minutes, his tone easy but clearly fishing for something.

You paused mid-motion, glancing over at him. “A party?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straight now and looking at you. “It’s at my friend Jay’s place. Big house, lots of people, good music… You should come.”

You blinked, surprised. Heeseung inviting you to a party wasn’t something you’d expected, especially since you weren`t close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“What?” he asked with a small grin, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like parties or something?”

“I didn’t say that,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I just wasn’t expecting you to invite me.”

“Why not?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his grin widening. “You’re cool. And besides, I figured you could use a break. You know, have some actual fun for once.”

You scoffed, about to reject him outright with a “Sorry, I’m busy,” but the words caught in your throat.

The truth was, you weren’t busy. Your weekend was looking painfully empty, and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gone out for something other than groceries or school. You’d been drowning in assignments and deadlines for so long that the thought of getting out, even for just one night, sounded oddly tempting.

And besides, you’d heard about Jay. The guy was rich—practically loaded—and you knew his parties were worth it. You weren’t exactly a party animal, but a night with good music, decent booze (and not the cheap stuff from corner stores), and a chance to let loose didn’t sound half bad.

You leaned over the table, pretending to think it over, and caught the way Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours. He almost seemed… eager, like he was waiting on the edge of his seat for your answer. His gaze lingered just a second too long, and you noticed the way he leaned in slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.

Was he… entranced?

The thought made you pause for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Alright,” you said finally, sitting back in your chair. “I’ll go.”

His face lit up almost immediately, and you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was.

“Really?” he asked, his grin growing.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “Why not? I could use a night out.”

“Great,” he said, his excitement obvious. “You won’t regret it. Trust me, Jay throws the best parties. I’ll text you the details.”

“You don’t even have my number,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Not yet,” he said smoothly, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but took the phone anyway, typing in your number before handing it back to him.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I won’t. Promise.”

The next few days passed in a blur and as much as you hated to admit it, Heeseung was actually learning everything pretty quickly. Sure, he still made the occasional mistake—like giving someone oat milk instead of almond milk—but those moments were fewer and farther between.

You had to give him credit: when he focused, he was good at what he did. The problem was getting him to focus.

Heeseung always found ways to make things interesting. Whether it was asking too many unnecessary questions just to mess with you or deliberately trying to get a reaction out of you with his relentless teasing, he kept you on your toes. And yet, he still managed to meet all the training goals you set for him, almost like he wanted to impress you.

Finally, by the end of the week, his training was officially done. He knew how to use the register, make all the drinks, handle pastries, and even clean up without leaving a mess behind. So, when the time came to hand him his permanent nametag, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment.

You stood behind the counter as Heeseung wiped down a table nearby.

“Hey,” you called out, catching his attention.

He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, boss?”

You held up the shiny new nametag with his name etched on it in neat, bold letters: Heeseung.

“Congratulations,” you said, holding it out to him. “You’re officially not the assistant anymore.”

His eyes lit up when he saw it, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost… touched?

He took the nametag from your hand and stared at it like it was some kind of trophy. Then, with no hesitation, he ripped off the old “Assistant” nametag and tossed it on the counter.

“Finally,” he said, grinning as he hooked the new nametag onto his apron. “I was getting sick of being ‘Assistant.’”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still the newbie.”

He shot you a playful look. “Yeah, but now I’ve got my actual name. Feels good.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you teased. “You’re still not getting a promotion anytime soon.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, leaning against the counter with that familiar lazy grin. “You know I’ve been doing great. Admit it—you’re impressed.”

“I’ll admit you’ve survived training,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s about it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re tough to please, boss. But don’t worry—I’ll win you over eventually.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Get back to work, Heeseung,” you said, brushing past him to restock the pastry case.

But as you moved, you caught him staring at his nametag again, his grin still firmly in place.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you stood in front of your mirror, adjusting your outfit for the third—no, fourth—time. Your hair and makeup were done perfectly, your clothes hugged you in all the right places, and yet, you found yourself staring down at Heeseung’s message with a sense of hesitation.

Heeseung: Party starts at 8. Jay’s place. Don’t be late, boss

He’d attached the address below, followed by another string of teasing texts you hadn’t bothered to reply to.

You bit your lip, the urge to second-guess yourself creeping in. What were you even doing? Parties weren’t exactly your thing—not anymore, at least. You’d spent so much time lately focused on school and work that the thought of walking into a house full of strangers felt overwhelming.

Maybe you should cancel. You could just text Heeseung, say something came up, and spend the evening curled up with your laptop and a blanket instead. He’d probably roll his eyes, call you boring, and then leave you alone.

But then again, when was the last time you let yourself actually have fun? You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out, much less to a party. And besides, Heeseung had been so weirdly persistent about you coming. You could already picture his smug little grin when he saw you show up.

You shook your head at yourself, sighing.

“Get it together,” you muttered, turning back to the mirror.

You straightened your outfit, smoothing out any wrinkles and with one last glance at Heeseung’s message, you took a deep breath and grabbed your bag.

It was just a party. You’d go, stay for a little while, maybe have a drink or two, and then leave. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you locked your door and headed out.

When you arrived at Jay’s house, you weren’t surprised to find it exactly as you’d expected: massive, loud, and packed with people. Music thumped through the walls, and the glow of colorful lights spilled out through the windows and onto the front lawn.

Though the moment you stepped inside Jay’s house, the sheer size of the place struck you again. You’d been to a few big houses before, but this? This was something else entirely. The ceilings were impossibly high, the decor looked like it had been ripped straight out of a magazine, and the crowd of people packed into the house made it feel like a full-blown club instead of a casual get-together.

You maneuvered through the throng of people, recognizing a few faces here and there—some classmates, some mutual friends, and plenty of people you didn’t know. A few offered you quick smiles or waves, but most were too busy dancing, drinking, or talking loudly to notice you weaving through the chaos.

You found a massive coat rack—overflowing with jackets and bags—and hung yours up carefully before stepping back into the crowd. The noise was almost overwhelming, but you quickly found your footing, asking a couple of people nearby where the kitchen was.

“Down the hall, to the left!” one guy shouted over the music, pointing in the direction.

You nodded your thanks and headed that way, weaving through more bodies until you finally reached the kitchen.

And just like you’d predicted, it was a dream come true for any broke college student.

The massive kitchen island was completely covered in bottles of alcohol—every drink you could dream of—all the expensive brands that only the rich could casually stock up on without a second thought. There were mixers, fruit garnishes, pre-made cocktails, and even a blender shoved to one side.

Your eyes scanned the island, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Jay definitely wasn’t messing around.

You made your way to the fridge, pulling it open to find even more options stacked neatly inside. After a moment of deliberation, you grabbed a cold bottle and popped the cap off with a satisfying snap.

You tossed the cap into the trash, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip. The sweet taste was like heaven, and you couldn’t help but hum in satisfaction.

“Enjoying yourself already?”

The familiar voice came from behind you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Heeseung.

Of course.

You sighed, lowering the bottle and glancing over your shoulder to see him leaning against the doorway with that same lazy grin he always wore. He looked effortlessly good, as usual, in a casual black button-up and jeans that fit him a little too well. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn’t bothered trying too hard—but somehow, that only made him look better.

“Didn’t expect to see you here already,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling over to you.

“Didn’t expect you to find me so fast,” you shot back, taking another sip from your bottle.

“What can I say?” he teased, grabbing a random bottle from the island and inspecting it. “I’ve got good instincts.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother responding, instead focusing on your drink.

Heeseung unscrewed the cap of his bottle, taking a swig before leaning against the counter beside you. “So,” he started, glancing at you with a sly smile, “what do you think? Not bad, huh?”

You gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “It’s… a lot.”

He laughed. “Yeah, Jay doesn’t do anything halfway. Wait until you see the backyard. He rented a whole fire pit setup and some fancy outdoor lights. It’s insane.”

“Of course he did,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Heeseung tilted his head, watching you closely. “Not a party person, huh?”

“Not at the moment,” you admitted, taking another sip. “But… I figured I could use a break.”

Heeseung’s smile softened, just slightly. “Well, you came to the right place. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’re gonna be glad you showed up.”

“Confident, aren’t you?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, raising his bottle in a mock toast. “Always.”

You clinked your bottle lightly against his, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

Heeseung downed the rest of his drink, then nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Come on, boss,” he said, flashing you his trademark grin. “I gotta introduce you to the crew.”

“Your crew?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, my friends,” he clarified, already motioning for you to follow him. “Don’t worry, they’re cool. You’ll like them.”

You trailed after him through the crowded house, sidestepping groups of people until you reached a section of the living room where a group of guys stood huddled, laughing over something you couldn’t hear over the music.

“Yo!” Heeseung called out, catching their attention.

The group turned to look, and almost instantly, they greeted Heeseung with wide grins and casual fist bumps. Then their attention shifted to you, curious but friendly.

“This is my boss,” Heeseung announced, slinging an arm over your shoulder with no warning. “You know, the one who’s been making me work my ass off all week?”

You stiffened under his arm, giving him a pointed look, but he didn’t seem to care.

The group laughed, and one of them—a guy with bleached hair and an easygoing vibe—stepped forward. “Ah, so you’re the one Heeseung’s been talking about nonstop,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Sunoo. Nice to meet you.”

You hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

The rest of the group followed suit, introducing themselves as Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon.

As they started chatting, you found yourself relaxing a little. They were cool, just like Heeseung said. You even caught yourself laughing at a few of their jokes.

But after a while, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself. The noise and energy of the party were starting to catch up to you, and you figured a quick breather would help.

But by the time you came back, though, the group had completely disappeared.

You frowned, glancing around the living room. Nothing. No Heeseung, no Sunoo, no one you recognized. Shrugging, you decided not to overthink it. Maybe they’d moved to another part of the house.

Instead, you headed back to the kitchen, grabbing another drink from the fridge. This time, you opted for something stronger, figuring you might as well enjoy yourself while you were here.

With the bottle in hand, you made your way to the main area where most people were dancing. Leaning against the wall, you watched the crowd sway and move to the heavy beat of the music.

But then someone approached you.

“Hey,” a guy’s voice said, drawing your attention.

You turned to see a soft-looking guy with an easy smile standing next to you. His energy felt entirely different from the usual partygoers—calmer, more approachable.

“Hi,” you replied, tilting your head slightly.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’m Shotaro.”

You shook his hand, noting how friendly his smile was. “Nice to meet you, Shotaro. I’m—”

“—Heeseung’s boss, right?” he finished for you, grinning.

You blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”

“Heeseung’s been talking about you,” he said casually, leaning against the wall beside you.

You felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite place. “I see.”

“So,” Shotaro continued, taking a sip from his drink. “How’s it been, working with Heeseung? He’s not causing too much trouble, is he?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh, he’s definitely trouble. But he’s not… terrible.”

Shotaro chuckled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “That sounds about right. Heeseung’s kind of a handful, but he’s a good guy.”

“Is that your way of warning me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Shotaro said quickly, his tone light and playful. “Just… preparing you for what you’ve probably already figured out.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself enjoying his company. But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar figure lingering near the edge of the room, watching.

Heeseung.

His expression was unreadable, but the way his eyes stayed locked on you made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that crept over you, focusing back on Shotaro’s words. He was still talking, casually, but your attention kept drifting. Your eyes flicked back to Heeseung, who hadn’t moved, still standing in the same spot with his gaze fixed on you.

There was something about the way he was looking at you—intense, but not quite… angry? Maybe it was something else entirely. You couldn’t tell. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing from him, especially not with the easygoing vibe he’d always had around you.

You couldn’t look away. Not at first, at least.

Shotaro noticed your distraction, following your line of sight and smiling knowingly. “I think he’s waiting for you,” he said, his tone light but laced with something that you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from Heeseung. “What?” you asked, momentarily disoriented.

“I said,” Shotaro continued with a slight grin, “I think your friend is waiting for you.”

You could feel your cheeks warming slightly. "He’s not—"

But before you could finish, Shotaro waved a hand dismissively. “No need to explain. It’s pretty obvious.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your thoughts were a tangled mess now, and whatever you’d planned to say evaporated when you saw Heeseung take a few steps toward you.

Shotaro noticed the change too and gave you a sly smile. “I’ll let you handle that.”

You barely had time to react before Heeseung was standing in front of you, his posture still casual but something about his energy shifted the moment he stood near you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little more self-aware. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung didn’t immediately answer, instead studying you for a moment as if he was trying to figure something out. His eyes flicked over to Shotaro, who had already started talking to someone else close by.

“I thought you were having fun,” Heeseung finally said, his tone softer than usual.

“I am,” you replied, a little defensively, but the way he looked at you made the words feel like they didn’t hold much weight.

He chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “You know, you don’t have to be so uptight. Relax. This is supposed to be fun, right?”

His closeness made you feel like your skin was on fire, and you took a small step back, instinctively trying to put a little more space between you. “I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just getting a drink and talking to people.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, but it was subtle, like a flicker of something deeper, something that was just below the surface. You tried to ignore the sudden heat building in your chest. “I’m sure you’re having a great time,” he replied, his voice low but just loud enough to make you question if there was something more to his words.

You shifted, glancing around the room again, feeling uneasy under his intense gaze.

“So,” you began, trying to change the subject, “how’s your night going?”

Heeseung shrugged, not answering immediately. Then he flashed that signature smirk of his, though it looked a little more forced this time. “Better now that you’re sticking around.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Yeah, sure."

He stepped a little closer, almost uncomfortably so. "You should stick with me tonight," he said, as if it were a casual suggestion, but there was something to his voice that made it feel like an order.

“Maybe later,” you replied, forcing yourself to stay casual even as you felt the pressure of his proximity.

But Heeseung didn’t move away. Instead, he held your gaze for a long moment. “I’ll be waiting.”

Before you could react, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there.

You stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling, you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a minute, maybe something a little stronger to clear your head. The noise of the party faded as you opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for something that might do the trick.

You reached for a bottle of something dark and smooth—whiskey, you thought, perfect. The cap twisted off easily, and without hesitating, you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a deep swig. The burn was immediate, scorching your throat, but you welcomed it. The heat spread through your chest, distracting you from the confusion still swirling in your mind.

You winced slightly at the strong taste, but it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. In fact, you felt a little relieved.

With the bottle still in your hand, you moved to the counter, leaning against it as you wiped your hand across your forehead, pushing your hair back from your face.

Was Heeseung always like this? So… forward?

And why did it bother you so much?

--

You stood there in the bathroom, leaning over the sink as you splashed cold water on your face. The bitterness of the drinks still lingered in your mouth, and you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You rubbed your lips together, trying to rid yourself of the aftertaste, all the while trying to steady your breath. The last thing you needed was to get sick and ruin the night.

Just as you finished wiping your mouth with a tissue, you heard knocks on the door.

“Give me a minute,” you shouted, your voice a little tighter than you intended as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were trying to compose yourself, trying to act like everything was fine, even though you were sure it wasn’t.

You grabbed your lipstick from your bag, carefully applying it to your lips. Then, before you could finish, the door suddenly swung open, and you froze.

Standing in the doorway was Heeseung, his expression unreadable as he stepped inside, blocking the exit with his body. You blinked, unable to mask your shock.

“Heeseung—”

He didn’t let you finish. Without a word, he closed and locked the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the small, quiet room.

Your heart raced, and you instinctively took a step back, eyes widening as you tried to process the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning your face as if he was taking his time to study you. The playful smile that was usually on his lips was gone, replaced by something more serious, more intense. He took a slow step toward you, and you instinctively stepped back, your back hitting the sink with a small jolt.

“You’re avoiding me,” he finally said, his tone low and steady.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you protested, though even you could tell it didn’t sound convincing.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “Then why are you not beside me?”

You swallowed, the heat of his gaze making you feel trapped in the small space. “I am—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice soft but insistent. “I know what you’re doing.”

Your chest tightened as the distance between you grew smaller. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his proximity—how your breath caught in your throat, how your pulse quickened.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to break the tension, but Heeseung cut you off. “I’ve been waiting for you to stop running from me, to give in and see,” he said, his voice smooth. “And I’m not going to let you get away tonight.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and the world around you seemed to narrow down to just Heeseung, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your mind was racing, thoughts scattered in every direction as Heeseung closed the distance between you. His bottle was placed carelessly on the counter behind you, the sound of glass clinking against porcelain barely reaching your ears over the pounding of your heartbeat. His eyes never wavered from yours, as he leaned down, his arms caging you in against the sink.

You couldn’t help but look down at his lips. They were so close—too close—and you felt the pull toward them. Was it the alcohol clouding your thoughts? Or was it simply him?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the bathroom suddenly felt unbearably hot.

Your mind screamed to pull away, to stop this before it went any further, but your body betrayed you. The space between you closed completely, and before you could say anything—or even fully register what was happening—Heeseung kissed you.

It was fast, surprising, and far more urgent than you expected. His lips were warm against yours, and for a split second, you froze. The kiss was deep, his hand coming to rest beside your face, his thumb brushing against your jaw. You could feel the force of his kiss, the way he was pulling you into him, and something inside you stirred.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of his kiss, the way it made your heart race.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. His eyes were hungry—more intense than you had ever seen them before.

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured, his voice low, almost like a warning. His lips brushed against yours again, a fleeting touch that made your stomach twist. "I know what you’re thinking."

You swallowed, your mind a blur as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. But the only thing you could focus on was him.

Heeseung didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, his fingers brushed against your skin, tracing a path down your neck as he moved to kiss you again, more slowly this time, as if savoring the moment.

And despite everything inside you telling you to stop—to pull away and think—you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

Your hands instinctively moved to his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, the feel of his lips against yours made everything inside you tighten. The kiss deepened, and that was when you felt him shift, his hands slipping under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly off the ground. The action caught you off guard for a moment, but you didn’t have time to process it before he set you down on the counter, careful to avoid the sink.

His body moved in between your legs, and you instinctively parted them to make room for him, while his hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing the curve of your waist.

At that moment everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for more contact.

There was no going back now, no hesitation.

The only thing that mattered was the way his body pressed against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. You weren’t quite sure who was losing control more: him or you.

Your hands, naturally, found their way to his biceps, grasping tightly as if to anchor yourself.

Heeseung's kisses became more intense, his tongue dancing with yours, and you could feel his hands, warm and strong, as they slowly made their way under your shirt.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his hands on your skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation.

As Heeseung's hands continued their journey, his moan escaped his lips, a low sound which sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't help but grip his biceps tighter, your nails slightly digging into his skin.

Heeseung's moan turned into a growl as he felt your response. With a sudden movement, he ripped off his shirt, a few of the buttons flying in all directions.

The sight of Heeseung's bare chest took your breath away. His muscles, defined and strong, glistened with a slight sheen of sweat.

As Heeseung's shirt fell to the ground, he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours. His hands, now free, roamed over your back, tracing the curve of your spine, and then down to your waist, where he gently squeezed.

Heeseung's lips left yours for a moment, only to trail kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft whine, your body arching into his touch, inviting him to continue.

Heeseung's hands, slowly and deliberately pulled up your shirt, gently sliding the garment off your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.

With a subtle smile, Heeseung slung your shirt over his shoulder, his hands, now free to explore, slipped up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You leaned back against the mirror, your legs parted slightly as Heeseung's hands continued their journey, their grip tightening as they reached the top of your thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at Heeseung, his chest, still heaving from the intensity of the kiss, rose and fell with each breath. You could feel his fingers trace the curves, his thumbs gently massaging.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I could look at you forever."

"I could say the same about you," you replied, your voice soft. "Every inch of you is perfection."

Heeseung's lips twitched into a soft smile. "Don't say that unless you mean it," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.

You tilted your head slightly, your hands looped loosely around his neck. "I do mean it," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. "Every word."

For a moment, Heeseung didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly.

"You have no idea what you’re doing to me," he said finally, his voice low, almost a whisper, like the words weren’t meant for anyone else but you.

Your lips parted, unsure of how to respond. But before you could say anything, he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as if he was savoring every second.

His hands slid up to cradle your face, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. The way he kissed you made your head spin, every thought slipping away until all you could feel was him.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you," he admitted.

You breathed out shakily, leaning forward to kiss him again, unable to resist. Heeseung groaned softly against your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

But the sudden, rapid knocking on the bathroom door shattered the moment like glass. "Come on, man! Some of us need to pee!" someone shouted, their voice muffled but impatient.

You both froze, and then, as if in sync, you both pulled back with a wet sound, the abrupt loss of contact leaving you cold. You quickly slid off the sink, your legs shaky as you adjusted your balance. Heeseung stepped back to give you space, his lips slightly swollen, his hair tousled from your hands.

You grabbed your shirt from where it had been discarded and slipped it back on with trembling fingers, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded in your chest. Heeseung, meanwhile, reached for his own shirt, pulling it on hastily as the knocking grew louder.

"You guys gonna stay in there all night?" a different voice called, followed by a round of laughter from the hallway.

Your face burned as you yanked open the door, not sparing a glance at the group of people gathered outside, their expressions ranging from amused to curious. Shouldering past them, you strode down the hallway and out into the main area of the party, your breath still uneven, your mind racing.

You didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around to see if Heeseung was following. The music felt too loud, the crowd too suffocating, and you needed air. Pushing past the groups of people dancing and talking, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting it open with shaking hands.

Taking a long sip, you leaned against the counter, trying to calm the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside you. What had just happened? One minute, you were at a party, trying to have a good time, and the next…

"Hey," a familiar voice said softly, and you stiffened.

Turning slowly, you saw Heeseung standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression unreadable. His shirt was wrinkled, his lips still slightly parted as if he’d run after you but didn’t know what to say now that he’d found you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tentative, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge how you were feeling.

You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair. "I… I don’t know," you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. "I just needed a second to breathe."

Heeseung nodded, stepping further into the room but keeping a careful distance, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry if that was… too much," he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Don’t apologize," you interrupted, surprising both of you with the firmness in your tone. "It wasn’t just you, Heeseung."

Your words seemed to relax him slightly, his shoulders easing as he took another cautious step closer. "Still," he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile, "next time, maybe we pick a place with fewer interruptions."

His playful tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Next time?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Heeseung grinned, his confidence creeping back as he leaned closer. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that."

You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as Heeseung stood right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His grin softened into something more intense as he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly under your jaw, tilting your head up so your eyes met his.

“Why so quiet now?” he teased softly, his voice dipping lower, his lips just a whisper away from yours. “You’re usually so good with comebacks.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Heeseung’s gaze flickered to your lips, and before you could think or speak, he leaned in, so close your noses brushed. “You drive me so crazy,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the thump of the music in the other room.

And before you could react, his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

It was different this time—not hurried or rushed like before, but deliberate, as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as he kissed you, and your body responded almost instinctively.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, your head spinning. Heeseung let out a low hum of satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist.

You barely registered the cool surface of the kitchen counter pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently but firmly against it, his body close enough to make you feel like you were burning up from the inside out.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his lips hovered near yours, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. “See?” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so instead, you reached up and pulled him back down into another kiss, your answer clear in the way your lips moved against his.

Heeseung chuckled softly against your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening like he didn’t want to let you go.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice reminded you where you were, what you were doing, and how very public this all was. Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, your breathing ragged as you pushed lightly against his chest.

“Heeseung,” you started, your voice shaky, “we’re in the middle of the kitchen. Anyone could walk in.”

Heeseung smirked, clearly unbothered, as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let them,” he said, his voice low and full of mischief. “Maybe they’ll finally understand that you’re mine.”

Before you could even form a response, Heeseung’s lips crashed into yours again, more desperate this time, as though he couldn’t stand the idea of even a few seconds without kissing you. His hands cupped your face, holding you firmly in place.

Your protests—if there had been any—dissolved almost instantly, and all you could do was cling to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as his body pressed closer to yours.

You felt his hands slide down from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel you, to confirm that you were there, that this wasn’t just some dream.

“Heeseung—” you tried to say, breaking the kiss briefly to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you get far.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, as if he was barely holding himself together. “Just… don’t. Please.”

Before you could think, his lips were on yours again, and this time it was slower but no less intense. His hands tightened on your waist, grounding you, and you found yourself sinking further into him.

You didn’t even notice the kitchen had gone quiet until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the haze.

Your eyes flew open, and Heeseung reluctantly pulled back, his breathing heavy as he turned toward the source of the interruption. Standing in the doorway was Jay, a drink in his hand and an amused smirk plastered across his face.

“Should I come back later?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your face burned with embarrassment as you quickly pushed Heeseung away, smoothing your clothes and trying to look like you hadn’t just been thoroughly kissed. Heeseung, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered.

“Not at all,” Heeseung replied smoothly, leaning casually against the counter as if nothing had happened. But the slight curve of his lips told you he was very aware of what just happened—and that he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest.

Jay chuckled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, don’t let me stop you two. Just don’t break anything, yeah? I’d rather not explain that to my parents.”

You shot Jay a glare, but he just grinned and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before leaving you alone with Heeseung again.

As soon as Jay was gone, you turned to Heeseung, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Heeseung just shrugged, his smirk widening. “Not when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you let him take your hand, curiosity and excitement bubbling in your chest as he led you out of the kitchen.

Heeseung led you up the stairs, his hand firmly wrapped around yours as he maneuvered through the crowded hallway. The music downstairs grew fainter with every step, fading away until it was just the two of you at the end of a dimly lit corridor.

He stopped in front of a door, glancing back at you with a small smile before turning the handle and pulling you inside. The room was quiet, smelling faintly of cologne and freshly washed sheets, and you barely had a moment to take it all in before Heeseung closed the door and locked it with a soft click.

When he turned back to you, his eyes were darker, filled with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He didn’t say anything as he took a step closer, and then another, until there was barely any space left between you.

“Heeseung—” you started, your voice a mix of hesitation and anticipation, but he silenced you with a kiss.

His lips were on yours in an instant, firm and unrelenting, as if he’d been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t wait any longer. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fervently. It was like he had unlocked something inside you, something that craved the way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Heeseung broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

His words made your heart race, and before you could even process them, his lips trailing down to your jaw and to the curve of your neck, his movements slow, like he was savoring every inch of your skin. The soft warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, but it wasn’t until you felt him suck lightly at a tender spot just beneath your ear that you gasped, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair.

Heeseung hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, the sound vibrating against your neck. His hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as his lips latched onto your skin, sucking just enough to leave a mark. You couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped your lips.

Your grip on his hair tightened, pulling slightly, and he groaned against your neck, the sound low and raspy. “Do that again,” he muttered, his voice husky.

You tugged again, this time more intentionally, and he responded by nipping gently at your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. His lips trailed lower, finding another spot on your neck to mark.

“Heeseung,” you breathed out, your voice trembling as he continued his assault on your neck, leaving a trail of small, dark marks in his wake. You could feel the way his breathing grew heavier.

“Say my name again,” he murmured against your skin, his voice full of need.

You tugged on his hair once more, tilting your head back to give him better access, and whispered his name again, this time softer, more breathless.

He pulled back for a moment, his lips glistening, his eyes heavy-lidded as they met yours. His gaze dropped to the marks on your neck, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perfect,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over one of the fresh hickeys. “Now everyone’s going to know you’re mine.”

--

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, rousing you from your sleep. You blinked groggily, taking in the unfamiliar room for a moment before the events of the previous night came rushing back to you.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down by something—or rather, someone. Turning your head slightly, you froze as you saw Heeseung sleeping behind you, his face peaceful, lips slightly parted, and his arm draped securely around your waist like he was afraid to let go even in his sleep.

Your eyes widened, and your heart started racing. Oh no. This can’t be happening.

You carefully reached down, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, and began to lift his arm off you. It was slow, nerve-wracking work, but as soon as you managed to free yourself, Heeseung let out a soft whine, shifting closer to where you’d been lying.

Panic flooded your veins as he reached out in his sleep, clearly searching for you. Without thinking, you grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and gently tucked it in your place. He relaxed immediately, his arms wrapping around the pillow as he snuggled closer to it, his breathing evening out again.

You released a quiet sigh of relief, grabbing your scattered belongings from the floor. You didn’t even bother putting the heels on, instead clutching them tightly in your hand as you made your way to the door, tiptoeing as quietly as possible.

The hallway was eerily silent compared to the chaos of last night. When you reached the staircase and descended into the main living area, the faint sound of movement caught your attention.

Jay stood near the kitchen island, tossing empty bottles into a garbage bag. He looked up when he heard you approach, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Morning,” he greeted, his tone light and teasing. “Sneaking out?”

You hesitated, your cheeks burning as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I’m just… heading out,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jay leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here, honestly. Heeseung seemed pretty determined last night, though.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you quickly waved him off. “It’s not what it looks like,” you said, although even you didn’t sound convincing.

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right. Whatever you say.” He didn’t push any further, thankfully, instead returning to his cleaning.

You hurried toward the door, slipping out before anyone else could see you. As soon as you were outside, the crisp morning air hit your face, and you let out a shaky breath.

What the hell just happened?

--

You ignored the buzzing of your phone as Heeseung’s name lit up the screen again and again. Calls, texts, and even voice messages you refused to listen to—all of them went unanswered. You couldn’t deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened.

Luckily, it was Sunday, and you had no responsibilities to worry about. After taking a long, scalding shower to clear your head, you threw on your comfiest pajamas and climbed back into bed.

You tried to distract yourself with movies, mindlessly scrolling through streaming apps until you settled on something you’d seen a dozen times before. A large bag of chips sat open next to you, along with a collection of candy wrappers and an empty soda can. It was the perfect lazy day setup, except for one problem—you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the movie, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung.

You groaned, shoving your face into a pillow in frustration. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? Heeseung was trouble, plain and simple. You’d known that from the start, and yet you let yourself get swept up in him anyway.

Your phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and for a moment, you considered throwing it across the room. But your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached for it, unlocking the screen to see yet another text from Heeseung.

Heeseung: I know you’re ignoring me, but can we talk? Please?

You sighed, locking your phone again and tossing it aside. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, but you weren’t ready to hear it.

Instead, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, determined to get through the rest of the day without letting him take over your thoughts again. But no matter how many movies you watched, or how much junk food you ate, the memory of him lingered like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be ignored.

So when Monday rolled around, you made it your mission to avoid Heeseung at all costs. You checked the cafe schedule first thing in the morning and made sure your shifts didn’t overlap with his, swapping one with a coworker to make sure you wouldn’t have to see him.

On campus, you were extra careful, keeping your head low and staying alert as you navigated between classes. You stuck to the edges of crowded hallways, dodging places you knew he might linger. Every time you rounded a corner, your stomach tensed, half-expecting to see him standing there, waiting for you.

It wasn’t easy. You’d catch glimpses of him now and then, whether it was through a classroom window or across the quad, but you always made sure to duck out of sight before he noticed you. You couldn’t risk talking to him—not yet.

By the time your shift at the cafe rolled around on Wednsday, you were already exhausted from the mental effort of dodging him. Walking through the door, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized it was just you and a coworker, Jisoo, working the evening shift.

But the relief didn’t last long. Midway through your shift, while you were wiping down the counters, the bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer. Without looking up, you called out your usual greeting.

“Welcome! How can I can help—”

The words died in your throat when you glanced up and saw Heeseung standing there, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

He was dressed casually, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hand through it a dozen times.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he took a step closer to the counter.

You froze, your rag still in your hand, unsure of what to do. Jisoo was busy stocking pastries in the display case and didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out a little shaky.

“I came to talk to you,” Heeseung replied, his tone calm but insistent. “You’ve been ignoring me, and I don’t like it.”

Your grip tightened on the rag, your mind racing for an excuse, a way out of this conversation. “I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “School, work... you know how it is.”

Heeseung didn’t budge. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, leaning on the counter slightly. “But I also know when someone’s avoiding me.”

You glanced nervously at Jisoo, who was still oblivious, then back at Heeseung. “This isn’t the time or place for this,” you hissed under your breath.

“Then when is?” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “Because I don’t think you’ll give me the chance if I don’t force it.”

The determination in his eyes made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But before you could respond, Jisoo turned around, finally noticing Heeseung.

“Hey, Heeseung!” she greeted cheerfully. “You’re not working today, are you?”

“No, just stopping by,” he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jisoo shrugged and went back to her task, leaving you alone with him once again.

“Please,” Heeseung said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You huffed, feeling cornered with no way out, and agreed to his request, deciding that five minutes would be better than dealing with him here in front of Jisoo. The tension in the air thickened as you both moved to the back of the cafe. Heeseung’s presence loomed behind you, his silence heavy as he followed you through the narrow hallway.

Once the door to the backroom shut, you leaned against the counter, trying to gather your thoughts, but Heeseung didn’t give you a chance to breathe.

“Why did you leave so early that night?” His voice was steady, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. “Why are you ignoring me now?”

You swallowed hard, pushing aside the thoughts of the night before. It was a mistake, you told yourself. A moment of weakness. You needed to stay firm.

“It was a mistake,” you finally said, your voice coming out a little softer than you meant. “One-time thing. It won’t happen again, Heeseung.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, and then another, until you were pressed up against the wall. You tried to breathe steadily, but your heart was racing now.

“Is that how you really feel?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes locked onto yours. “Do you really think it was a mistake?”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. You flinched for just a moment, but the warmth of his touch pulled you in, and you could feel his soft exhale against your mouth.

You tried to push him back, to remind yourself of the resolve you’d spent all day building, but his hands were on you, pulling you closer, and despite everything, you felt the tension in your body break. Slowly, hesitantly, you kissed him back.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself losing control of your thoughts, of everything you’d promised yourself just minutes ago. It was impossible to think straight when he was this close, his hands gentle but insistent, his lips insatiable.

Heeseung broke away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted for breath. “You don’t have to keep pretending,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do.”

You tried to argue back, to remind yourself that this was wrong, that it couldn’t happen again, but Heeseung wasn’t giving you a chance. His lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss, silencing any protest you might have had. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips again but then his attention dropped lower.

You couldn’t help but gasp when his lips brushed against your neck, gently revealing the marks from the night before. His fingers trailed up your skin as he pressed his lips against the sensitive spot on your collarbone. You felt a rush of heat flood through you, making it harder to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel.

His lips moved with purpose, leaving a trail of fresh hickeys on your skin, each one more darker than the last. You gripped his shirt, the fabric twisting beneath your fingers as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was slipping away.

"How could this be a mistake when it feels this good?" Heeseung murmured between each kiss, his voice husky. "You don’t have to lie to yourself. I know you want this just as much as I do."

With every word, every kiss, your resolve weakened, until you couldn’t remember why you wanted to fight this in the first place. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive. You wanted him, and there was no denying it anymore.

“This isn’t just a one-time thing, not for me,” he murmured as he kissed his way back up to your lips. "I’m what you need," he said quietly, his eyes locked onto yours with an almost pleading look. "I’ll give you what you need—what you’ve been craving, even if you don’t realize it yet."

You opened your mouth to argue back, to remind him that you weren’t looking for this, but your words caught in your throat as he suddenly knelt down in front of you.

You gasped, the shift in position catching you off guard. His hands moved quickly to grip your waist, his touch firm yet gentle, as he looked up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.

"I’m not asking for anything from you," he whispered, his voice laced with a quiet desperation. "I just want to be what you need. Please, don’t push me away. Let me give you what I know you want."

He leaned in closer, just enough to close the distance between you, but he didn’t move further. Instead, he let his head rest gently against your legs, his hands still holding you steady, waiting for your response.

His voice softened. "I’ll be patient. But please… don’t push me away again."

He was begging you, and the intensity of his words seemed to shake the very ground beneath you.

"I can be good for you," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "No one else will make you feel like I can. No one else understands you the way I do. I promise, I’ll treat you right, I’ll give you everything you need. Just let me."

You could feel his hands tighten ever so slightly on your waist, his desperation evident. "I’ll make you happy. I know I can."

His words were persuasive, yet you remained uncertain. Was this what you really needed? What you really wanted?

Heeseung must have seen the conflict in your eyes because he softened even more, lowering his voice as if speaking to your heart. "I’m not trying to force you into anything. I just want you to know that I care about you… more than anyone else could. Please, just trust me."

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, trying to process his words. His eyes searched yours, full of hope, waiting for you to say something, anything.

Eventually you let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of the decision settling on your shoulders. After a moment of silence, you met Heeseung's gaze. "Alright," you murmured, your voice almost a whisper. "I’ll give you a chance."

Heeseung's eyes lit up instantly, the tension in his body melting away as a smile broke out across his face. Without warning, he stood up, his hands reaching to cup your face gently as he leaned in. His lips pressed against your forehead first, then, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips. Each kiss was quick but filled with so much happiness and relief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"I’m what you need," he mumbled against your skin.

What you need.

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[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 6)

It was getting colder, the days shorter, the nights longer... which meant, you were now stuck with John and Simon buying clothes.

You all ate relatively quickly before that, considering you barely munched in a small burger and fries before giving all the rest to Simon, and soon enough, you were all in a children's clothing store.

You insisted that you didn't really need many clothes, maybe just a jacket, since you didn't have one, and going out without a jacket in this temperature is pratically a death sentence for a human.

So, at first, you did agree to buying clothes, they did seem worried too, so you figured, why not?

But at this point, as you watched them get way more than you first imagined, you were starting to panick a bit.

"I-I really don't need that many, r-really...!"

"There's no way we are letting you out when it's getting close to snowing without proper winter clothing." John huffs slightly, his voice sounding rough this way. "I know how delicate humans are to the weather, you need gloves, thick socks, beanies, warm jackets, pantyhoses..." He lists casually, not even looking your direction as he goes through the toddler's section of the clothing store.

You could only feel yourself being gently bounced on Simon's arms as he tries to reason with you.

"We do have a few clothes from our kids' younger years. But it's not that many, and we don't have socks, or gloves, or beanies, this small anymore."

You frown a bit in nervousness, not sure about all this, but there's little you could do against the stubborness of a dragon.

"Okay, this should be enough." John smiles, taking the bag of clothing to the cash register.

You sigh a little, tiredly leaning against Simon. You got used to him carrying you around, considering he has been doing this for a few hours without tiring at all.

And you also got used to the stares people threw your way... and the coos and aww's too....

But at this point, you were tired. So freaking tired. You weren't one to usually go out, like, ever. So, here you were, drooping slightly against Simon, your breathing getting slower.

"I know, I know, we're going back after this." Simon murmured close to your ear, adjusting your position on his arms so you could lean more against his chest and shoulder, a heavy, giant hand rubbing against your small back.

"Mhm... why... why didn't... the others come too...?" You mumble softly, not managing to contain yout curiosity any longer as you watched John pay for the clothes a few feet away.

"Johnny and Kyle are making last minute adjustments to the house." Simon answers simply, even tho you clearly had a confused expression on your face now.

"Adjustments....?"

"Just some simple stuff. Do you remember how you had to use a car seat to get here due to your height? We got the car seat before, but we still had to do some repairs around the house to be a better fit to your size."

"T-That's... Ah... o-okay..." You nod quietly, not knowing what to say to that.

Tho, you were pretty curious to know what kind of adjustments they did around the house.

"Ready to go?" John asks as he comes back close to you.

"Yeah. The kid's tired." Simon nods easily, already starting to make his way back to the parking lot, John right behind him.

"Of course they are. Let's hurry home then."

After waking up, strapped to the car seat as you felt the car come to a stop, John gently unbuckled you and set your feet on the ground, pushing you softly so you could go into the direction of the entrance, where both Johnny and Kyle were already waiting for you.

"Wee lass, come 'ere!!" Johnny smiles excitedly, only to scoop you up from the ground as soon as you got close enough.

It seems he couldn't hold his instincts in any longer. But... that's okay, considering you were in Simon's arms just some time ago.

Johnny immediatly started to nuzzle into you, taking you inside the house as his tail wagged behind him easily.

"Do ya wanna play with me, pup?" He asks, soft, but excited at the same time.

"They're tired, Johnny." Simon says as goes inside, giving a kiss to Kyle as they pass by eachother, John coming right behind with the things they bought. "Put them to nap a lil'."

Johnny pouts a little, ears pressing down and tail stopping.

"I really wanted to play with the pup..." He almost whines, holding you closer to him.

He felt so damn warm...

"Tav, remember when we had the babies for the first time?" Kyle comments, a soft smile on his face. "Imagine it's like that once again. No playing yet."

"Aye, aye." He sighs, and you try to contain a blush at how they talked about you like you weren't even there. "Time to sleep, yeah, pup? Maybe a bit of cuddles?" The hand that wasn't holding you against him goes to your wrist as he gently pushed his hand under your sweater sleeve, frowning a bit as he felt that you were indeed a bit cold. "Yeah, cuddles, pup. Warm yah right up, yeah?"

He was murmuring softly like he was deep in his instincts, that damn babyish talk coming out once again as the werewolf walked easily all the way back to your room and went inside, closing the door behind him, not bothering to turn on the lights.

"Need warm clothes now, saw that John got you some, very good..." He mumbled like he wasn't even talking to you, affected by his protective instincts. "Gloves, and a wool beanie, wee pup... all bundled up, and warm... let's get warm, yeah? Let's lay down, here..."

And he took you straight to the middle of the room, where the nest carved into the ground was. He didn't even hesitate as he simply threw himself onto the soft blankets and pillows, laying against them confortably and immedaitly putting you against his warm side, tucked between his chest and arm, pulling a blanket to tuck you in gently.

You could barely process what was happening, but you let him, actually feeling... confortable. It was warm, he was warm, and the weird nest thing was definetly soft. And you were tired... so tired, you spend a long time out of the house...

It wasn't a surprise that you fell asleep quickly against him, swearing that you could hear some kind of weird noise and fell some kind of weird vibration by your side. Do werewolves purr?

Well, you could always search later. Right now, you were busy napping against the big and warm werewolf, who thrilled and cooed happily at you.

Part 5 / Part 7

[dedalvs]

My brother and I absolutely cackled after that Aemond and Aegon Valyrian exchange!

I wanted to ask (and I'm terrible at conlangs, so forgive me) what grammar/syntax Aegon is stumbling over here and how to properly say what he intended to? Any why is he making thise mistakes (simply lacking the vocabulary, or rules of the language he hasn’t grasped)?

Let's take a look at it. This is what he said:

Nyke koston... Bēvilus... Sētegon bīlīvāzmi?

The subtitles say this:

"I can... Have to... Make a war?"

Prior to this Aemond is, essentially, showing off. He knows that Aegon has simply not put any time into studying Valyrian (or studying anything). At this stage, Valyrian is no longer spoken by the family on a day-to-day basis—especially as Alicent probably never learned it at all (or if she did, only in a few scattered lessons here and there; not to actually use). In order for either of the boys to gain any kind of fluency in the language, they have to study constantly and find ways to use it. There's simply no daily need for the language—and plenty of reasons not to use it, as very, very few people they'll encounter on a daily basis speak the language.

Now, if we were talking about two random people in Westeros, this wouldn't mean anything. But these are the children of Viserys Targaryen, himself a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror. They brought their family line and their culture with them to Westeros—and, of course, their language. If someone like Alicent Hightower doesn't speak High Valyrian it means nothing. If a Targaryen doesn't speak High Valyrian, though… See, they're supposed to be able to speak Valyrian. Failing to do so carries with it a sense of shame that isn't present for a random person who doesn't speak Valyrian. Aemond knows this. Aegon is annoying him, so he goes poking at that wound.

Aemond could have fed him a short line with an obvious answer to help Aegon out, but instead he threw a whole mess of Valyrian at him. The longer it goes on, the more lost Aegon gets, desperately trying to catch up and figure out what was just said and thereby missing what is being said at that instant. From the whole speech, Aegon probably only figured out that he was being asked a question, and it was something having to do with planning.

So, back to what he says. The beginning student of a language is quite adept at doing a single verb in a present tense sentence. In a discussion like this, though, you're typically saying things like "I think that" or "We should" or "I suggest" or "Perhaps we might", etc. All that stuff that we need to offer opinions, make suggestions, hedge, etc. Much more than simple narration.

Aegon is attempting to do this without a sufficient command of the language. He knows some vocabulary, he knows some grammar, but he simply did not put in the work to actually speak this language. Thus, he has to overcome a lot of Common Tongue (i.e. English) interference.

There are many differences between Valyrian and English, but the biggest one by far is the major word order. In English, the verbs come before the rest of the junk; in Valyrian, they come at the end. And this is how things get all messed up.

In English, you start the sentence saying things like "I think" or "We should" or "It seems". In Valyrian, those things come at the end. If you start with the Valyrian equivalent of "I think", you will quickly realize (presuming you know enough of the grammar) that you're sunk, because once you've said it, the sentence should be done. Thus you get Aegon's false starts.

Starting at the beginning, Aegon says Nyke koston, which is kind of like saying, "I could". But there's nowhere to go. This is how a sentence ends. For example, if he wanted to say, "I could fly to Harrenhal", he would say Harenhalot sōvegon koston—literally "To Harrenhal fly I could". If you're thinking English-ly, you're essentially thinking backwards, and if you simply translate what you're thinking, you'll immediately have nowhere to go. You'll have to take a pause and think about how to get started again. And that's exactly what happens here.

Now, leaving aside that Valyrian is a pro-drop language and starting it off with nyke "I" is unnecessary and makes you look like a beginner, koston isn't bad (I mean, if used sentence-finally). Once he realizes he can't start there, though, he loses confidence. It's those old High Valyrian lessons all over again, and some maester suggesting he hasn't studied. That self-doubt makes his facility with Valyrian worse. This means his chances of recovery are severely hampered.

But onward he presses, and he decides to say "We have to" or "I have to". Now, the problem here is in Valyrian that requires the verb bēvilagon. This verb isn't used in the usual way. Literally it means "to lie on". If you wanted to say "We must mobilize our dragons", you'd say Īlvī zaldrīzī mazannagon ��lo bēvilza. That's literally "Our dragons to mobilize us it lies upon". The one who must do something is placed in the genitive and put directly before the verb. If you start with the verb, well, you missed your chance to say who it is that must be doing something—let alone what they must do. Another false start.

It's also worth noting that he says bēvilus as opposed to bēvilza. Let's ignore that it's the aorist and focus on the fact that it's the subjunctive (just like koston). You use the subjunctive with your main verb when you're hedging—when you're suggesting. Not when you're commanding. Kind of an odd thing to say "We must do this" with the subjunctive. Kind of like saying "Maybe we might considering having to do this".

At this point, his confidence has completely evaporated. Everybody's staring at him like he has no idea what he's talking about; Aemond's eating it up. He knows he's cooked. He's got to say something, though, so he says sētegon which isn't even conjugated. It means "to make" or "to create", which might make sense in English (e.g. "to make war"), but doesn't make sense in Valyrian (a bit like saying "to construct a war" or even "to bake a war") and then tries to pronounce vīlībāzmi "war" (wrong case/number, wrong order) and fails, saying bīlīvāzmi, which means nothing (also he wanted vīlībāzme. Vīlībāzmi is "wars").

Long story short, he doesn't present himself very well—and we didn't even talk about his general pronunciation or intonation. It's kind of a great big mess in only five words. A true disaster.

But if there were no expectation that he should be able to speak Valyrian, none of this would matter! If there were no shame associated with him specifically not being able to speak Valyrian no one would expect it of him, and this challenge would mean as little as someone challenging him to speak the Old Tongue or Asshai'i. It'd be meaningless.

In short, this small portion of this scene is about being a heritage speaker of a language. It's the exact nightmare scenario all heritage speakers fear: To be put on stage and made to perform despite being unequal to the task while simultaneously feeling that they should be equal to it.

It'd be so cool if it was okay to be kind of good with a language—if that level of mastery was acceptable. In the real world, anyway.

[togeppys]

jack of all trades ;

tsukishima kei x reader

reader is tsukki’s gf and wants to find something he’s not naturally talented at <3

Your boyfriend was annoying. 

He wasn’t annoying in the way that he spoke, or annoying in the way that he treated those around him— he was annoyingly above average. He was a jack of all trades, and it was infuriating. 

You originally thought that he had a natural gift for volleyball. He never seemed to devote much time to the sport, but he was a natural on the court, only getting better with practice and passion. It was only when you began going on dates that you started to realize that he was able to do anything he tried with ease. 

On your trip to an arcade, he watched you struggle to complete a game, only to land third place on the leaderboard when he attempted it himself. When you dragged him to a pottery class, the bowl that you had fashioned for yourself turned out lopsided with many kinks, while the mug that he made was simple but beautiful and now held a permanent place in your kitchen cabinet. 

When you first caught on, you started to treat it like a game– there had to be something that he couldn’t do. He thought you were making something out of nothing; he had no significant interest in most things that you made him try, so to make you happy he would downplay his abilities. You could tell when he was doing it though, and continued to watch for the moment when you finally found something he really couldn’t do. 

You began to curate the most random itineraries for outings that you possibly could, just for the chance of catching him off guard. Bowling, painting, basketball, beginners guitar– with a little practise he could grasp anything you threw at him. 

When the day finally came where you discovered his weakness, you never expected his kryptonite would be something so… mundane. 

Ice skating. 

You were nearing the point of giving up on the experiment, dragging him to go ice skating on a completely unrelated endeavour. After the holiday season the air was cold, perfect for ice skating, and you just wanted a day to spend with your boyfriend drinking hot drinks and visiting the local rink just like you did as a child. You didn’t expect for Tsukishima Kei, who was above-average at everything he tried, to be the worst ice skater you had witnessed in your life. 

You had grown up skating casually, taking lessons as a child and visiting the outdoor rink with your friends from time to time. Subconsciously, you assumed he had done the same, or at least would figure it out quickly as he did with all other things. When he first stumbled with his transfer onto the ice, gripping your arm for balance, you brushed it off as the initial beginner hurdle he needed to get over, thinking he would be smooth sailing within half an hour. When he fell for the first time, you helped him up with a laugh, helping him brush the snow off of his coat as you gave him pointers on how to focus his centre of gravity. He held your hand as he made small kicks across the ice, and you continued to think nothing of it. 

Only an hour in, did you begin to realize that he was not improving. The second he let go of you for support, he would collapse onto the ice, and while you held onto him, he was easily the slowest one on the rink. 

“Kei, honey.” you paused, trying to stifle the laughs and taunts that were about to escape you. 

He turned his head to look at you, slowing to a stop, seemingly as he couldn’t do both at the same time. 

You continued your thought, a smile creeping onto your face. “You do realize that there are two year olds passing us right now, right?” 

Surely enough, as you said it, a toddler stumbled past the two of you. Not very gracefully and sliding across the ice on his stomach shortly after, but there was no doubt that the child out-paced you both. You could see Tsukki’s cheeks turning slightly red as he let out a small laugh himself. 

“This is harder than I expected,” he commented, arm still linked with yours as he stepped out with his right foot. 

You tried to give him more pointers to seem supportive, but inside you felt smug– there was finally something that he wasn’t good at and this was your moment to gloat. “Rather than just stepping forward, kick your foot back like you’re pushing yourself forward. Like this.” You let go of his arm to try and demonstrate the different approach, kicking off with one foot as you instructed. When you turned back to join the tall boy again, he had somehow already found himself sprawled across the ice, his face void of any visible emotion. 

You skated back towards him, taking a moment to look down at him with a smile very clearly plastered across your face. Holding your hand out to offer him help standing up again, you couldn’t help the string of smug comments that came out as you heaved him up. 

“I could get you one of those skating aids that they give little kids. Although, you might be a bit too tall for one… I can stack two on top of each other, that will be more your speed– your height. Your speed is far less than 1 kilometre per hour.” You giggled, knowing that you were being slightly unfair. He remained composed every time he bested you at some task, but you let the thought go. This was your moment for mockery. 

As he finally held his balance, you skated a circle around him. 

“Oh glorious day– I can say that I’ve lived to see the day where THE jack of all trades, Kei Tsukishima has been bested by an activity. Ice skating of all things too.” 

“Unlike you, I never saw a need to aimlessly glide around in circles on the ice as a child.” 

You looked up at him, his mocking glare leading you to respond with nothing but a “Tsk.” 

“Okay, if I can’t get far skating like this, why don’t you show me how real skaters do it,” he laughed, urging you forward to go off without him. 

You gave him a puzzled look. “Why would I do that? We’re supposed to be skating together.”

He shook his head, gesturing for you to go ahead. 

“At least one of us should make the most of the money we’re spending renting these skates. Maybe I’ll learn better from watching you skate without pretending you’re teaching a small child. I’ll be onto the Olympics after one watch.” 

You gave him a small smile, before shrugging and going ahead at a much faster speed. You glided away with ease, skating two quick laps around the ice. The boy couldn’t help but smile as he watched your hair flow in the air behind you and the peace that seemed to overcome you as you skated. 

When you met back up with him, he requested that you try some tricks you hadn’t attempted since childhood, loud laughs escaping him as it was your turn to go sprawling across the ice after trying to do a full spin. After half an hour of more skating, you decided to call it a day and return your skates. 

As you finally decided to head off the ice and grab some hot chocolate with your boyfriend, you found yourself glowing with the excitement of your self-declared victory. You could finally stop trying to catch Tsukki off guard with a challenging date, and go back to simply enjoying your time together. You had to admit, you were a little sad that your trials had come to an end. 

So preoccupied with the many emotions running through your head, you didn’t seem to notice that while you had your back turned when getting off the ice, the “bad at skating” Kei Tsukishima kicked off easily with his left foot, making his way to the edge of the skating rink right behind you, a loving smile on his face as he looked down at your celebrations. He loved more than anything to see you happy, so despite the aches he would be having the next day from falling repeatedly, he would consider this date a success. 

He grabbed your hand as you walked from the rink towards the café, holding you grounded since you seemed like you were going to bounce away from pure happiness. While you remained overjoyed that skating was now number one on the list of skills that your boyfriend could not excel at in one go, Kei Tsukishima on the other hand, was adding a new skill to the list of trades he could accomplish with ease:

Acting. 

[gallusrostromegalus]

hi i see that you have much smart dog experience. i may have accidentally purchased such a dog. she's only 10 weeks, and ive had her 1, and she's already outmatched every puzzle feeder i got or have made. to the point that she is morosely disappointed when her food comes in an actual food bowl. do you know where i can find like. "heres 100 enrichment toys you can make out of free trash so your dog stops eating fucking rocks for enrichment" lists. i only have so many paper towel tubes XD

Herschel now just disassembles puzzle feeders, so I've been focusing on "Toys that, even if he already knows how to operate them, will still take TIME for him to collect the treat from" to give him something to fuss with.

Herschel eats all his meals out of a Kong Wobbler, because he will otherwise eat so fast he will literally inhale and choke on his kibble and I do not need him developing pneumonia from aspiration. Even though it's a "Simple" toy it slows him down and he does have to think a bit to tip it in the most efficient manner possible. Kong's "Flipz", "Gyro" and "Rewards Wally" are also really good "dog needs to think/carefully manipulate the toy for food" toys that act as both mental stimulation and exercise and "give human a break for up to twelve minutes" toys.

I highly reccomend KONG as a brand- they're local to Denver and have an impeccable saftey record and all of the toys I have gotten from them have held up extremely well vs. the ravages of three entirely too smart and strong-jawed dogs at once.

Some more thoughts:

If she's not prone to shredding rubber, the kind of treat toys she has to chew are also good stimulation.

If you don't want to give her That Many treats, my vet said that dogs can have as many green beans as they want. Just make sure that the beans haven't had salt added to them- canned usually does, but frozen green beans usually don't, but always check the label.

You can make nearly any toy last longer, or make a cheap long-puzzle by freezing the treats so they take longer to eat AND provides hydration. Herschel's most favorite treat of all time is literally a wad of sliced green beans in a dixie cup, filled with water and frozen. Just peel off the cup and hand him the chunk of ice and he's good for up to half an hour and more chill afterwards.

You can also freeze lick mats

If your girl is like Charlie and doesn't like greenbeans, you can also try freezing paper cups of: Canned pumpkin, apple slices in water, putting some ice cubes in the bottom of the cup, a gob of peanut butter in the middle and then fill it with water to make a peanutbutter filled ice cube.

If your girl is REALLY like charlie who has figured out how to use labor negotiation and strike tactics for better treats: boiled chicken chunks frozen in some of the water you boiled them in.

Walkies are as much mental stimulation as they are physical exercise. Take her out and let her sniff to her heart's content.

Also Puppies in particular need like, SO MUCH exercise.

Let her participate in activities with you. Herschel and charlie sit in the kitchen and I narrate cooking dinner to them, which seems to interest them, even if I don't have spare veggie ends to give them. I also frequently bring them along in the car if I'm running errands when it's cold enough to do that, so they have something new to look at, and get to participate. I also am more likely to stop at a new park and give myself some exercise and mental stimulation.

Training her to do tasks is GREAT Smart Dog enrichment- esp if she's a herding or heeler, they LOVE being helpful. I taught the dogs they get a small treat if they come in from the yard without me having to go chase them down, which saved me a lot of hassle, and now I'm working on teaching herschel to pick things up off the floor for me if I drop them and alert for chickpeas, which my housemate is allergic to.

A lot of dogs like cat-type toys. Tie a stick or some fleece to some paracord and drag or flycast it around for her to chase/play tug with when she catches it. Toys that bounce unexpectedly were also a huge hit. or just wave the string around the cat and the corgi both like that.

If you live in farm country or know other people with pets, you can grab something with the scent of another animal on it and bring it home for her to smell. Charlie and Herschel spent the better part of three days investigating the wad of horse undercoat I brought home and put in the spare wobbler for them to smell.

[absolutely-esme]

What do you mean he's not eldritch?

What if all of the members of the Bat Family other than Tim Drake were secretly eldritch abominations?

They all work very hard at pretending to be human, and they've even gotten pretty good at passing. They can even mostly avoid the uncanny valley when in their civilian identities. There was a heck of a learning curve, but they've gotten things figured out for the most part.

Enter: Tim Drake

Weird, poorly socialized, probably autistic Tim Drake

The Bats think they've encountered a fellow eldritch being in disguise, and one that seems like he could use some help blending in. Naturally, they're quick to welcome him into their fold. Jason is delighted to take his turn at being a big brother mentor.

It takes a comedically long time for anyone to realize something's up because there is an absurd amount of overlap between stuff you need to know for masking and stuff you need to know to pass as human.

Meanwhile, Tim is amazed that the Bats have apparently decided he's cool enough to hang out with. It's like something out of his daydreams. They even have good advice for him on problems he hadn't known how to ask about. They are so patient and understanding about it, too. They never get annoyed with him for not already knowing. They also seem to be okay with the bits of weirdness he can't change.

Just weird kid Tim getting bundled into an incredibly helpful and supportive found family of eldritch entities. They're all going to get a good grade in human-ing, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

...

I imagine the Bats are various different kinds of eldritch abominations because they're still adopted. They look wildly different when not in human form.

Bruce is a mass of... shadows? Smoke? Something dark and formless that shifts and flows in different ways depending on his mood.

Dick kind of looks like a pile of owls that is also somehow a single body.

Barbara is a spiral galaxy with stars that are also eyes somehow?

Jason is a solid-looking mass of muscle with six strong legs, a thick coat of shaggy hair, a mouth that opens much further along his body than it seems like it should, and even more teeth than you'd expect a mouth that size to have.

Stephanie Brown is kind of like an incredibly dense storm system with purple glitter.

Cassandra is a silhouette through which undiscovered nebulae can be seen. What she is a silhouette of depends on her mood.

Tim, they have only ever seen in his meticulously well-crafted human form. He's really good at that part even if he needed some help with the behavioral bits.

Damian is half human. Talia saw a mass of living darkness trying really hard to pretend to be a man and decided she was into that.

...

Dick: So, eye contact is actually pretty simple once you have the formula figured out. You need to cycle between looking at the other person and looking at something else at the appropriate frequency. If you look at them too much it will come across as staring. If you look away for too long they'll think you're not paying attention to them. You'll need to experiment to figure out the appropriate frequency.

Tim: *frets*

Jason: You don't have to look straight at their eyes, just in the general direction of their face.

Tim: Oh! I can do that!

...

I think Eldritch Bruce having history with the league of assassins in a markedly less inentional way than Canon would be funny. Like, you'd think an encounter between an eldritch abomination and a cult would be deliberate on someone's part, but no.

Bruce was still young and unskilled at differentiating between normal and abnormal human behavior.

[alphajocklover]

InstaJock: Going Viral

**Hey! This is my entry for @occamstfs Viral Transformation Challenge. Congrats on getting 2,000 followers, and thank you for beta reading this and helping me edit it. I hope I can get to 2,000 followers myself one day! For those who are new to my stories, this does connect to the plot established in my blog, but the concept is simple enough you should be able to follow along even if you don't usually read my stuff! I hope you all enjoy!**

When I talk about the InstaJock App Phenomenon – which I seem to do a lot. What is this, the 17th InstaJock related post? I need to diversify more – I usually talk about the transformation aspects and not the app itself. That’s partially because the transformation is the most interesting and hottest part, but it’s also because I haven’t been able to take a good look at the app. Even with all the protective spells and equipment I have, I can’t use a phone with InstaJock on it for very long without getting an urge to set up an account. 

Until now.

With some help from the devilishly handsome (and literally devilish) Nick, I’ve been able to get my hands on some better equipment and better explore the app. I was able to spend a couple hours on it before I needed to quit, and actually got some very interesting information, mainly about how the app works post-transformation. I had always assumed that once a user got transformed into a jock, they’d ignore the app from then on unless they wanted to change someone. I was very, very wrong, not just about that but about the purpose of the app itself. It’s not just for making people into jocks: it’s for finding the best ones.

The app generally works like any other social media app, with its members posting about their interests. It’s set up is a lot like Instagram, where pictures and videos are the main format used for posting, but what really makes it different from other social media apps is the content. You can probably guess what an app full of buff cocky jocks looks like, but I’ll confirm it for you: the app is a thirst trap paradise.

The entire app is stuffed with half naked –  and sometimes fully naked – photos of buff jocks, ones of all different kinds. If you can think up a jock related stereotype, they have a full hashtag dedicated to it. Just buff jocks playing sports, flexing and making out with other hot people, for as far. I know that doesn’t sound too different from normal social media apps, as most have a healthy NSFW side, but the posts have more in common then just showing jocks. Each and every post, every one that I saw, mentioned a Master. Some were talking about how they were getting pumped up at the gym for Master, some were talking about how they loved being jocks and were so glad Master had found them, and some were literally begging for Master to notice them, often wantonly describing how they’d debase themselves and be the sluttiest jock ever, all for him. Everyone on the app would post at least once a day about this mysterious Master. It doesn’t seem to matter if the jock is a dom, a sub, a top, a bottom, in a relationship, single, gay or even straight, all of them wanted this mysterious unnamed master – so much so they seemed to completely change personalities whenever he is mentioned. It seems instaJock has an additional side effect I didn’t know about till now: complete and utter devotion to their Master.

It took me a while, and some covert interviewing of a number of jocks in their DMs, but I think I figured out what's happening. The Jocks aren’t just posting for fun, they’re competing with each other. InstaJock isn’t really a social media app, it’s a sort of ranking app. Every day the jocks log on, post a picture of themselves with a caption somehow related to their Master, and leave likes on some of the other posts, usually the ones they find hot. If a jock’s post gets enough likes though, they get what every jock wants, what all of them are trying to get. They get to Go Viral.

Going Viral on IntsaJock isn’t like going viral on a regular app. It essentially means you’ve gotten enough likes, been reposted enough times, and have become popular enough on the site… that Master has noticed you. That's what the social media part of the app is really for. It’s just a way for Master’s jocks to organize themselves so only the hottest ones show up on his feed. If he really likes you, he’ll do more than just look too. Soon that Jock will disappear from his regular life, never to be seen again, whisked away to become a part of Master’s personal harem. This entire time the app has been about one thing: creating lovestruck sex slaves for the man who created InstaJock.

Like most actual social media apps, InstaJock jumps from one thing to another, and what's viral is always changing. But there are two tags that are always trending on InstaJock. The first, and most popular, is #JockMaster, which is only ever used by this mysterious Master when he makes a post. I’ve seen his account. He never shows his face on it, but from what little of his body that makes it into the photos, he’s… enchanting. As much as I hate to admit it, seeing just a bit of that creep almost made me drool. He usually only posts a couple times a week, as opposed to the jock who posts daily, but everything he posts goes viral on the app in moments. I’ll admit, there's something about his posts that is just… hypnotic. I almost set up an account after seeing one myself, and probably would have if Nick wasn’t there to stop me.

The other tag that's always trending is… more interesting, at least to me. It’s #MastersBoyfriend. It’s another tag used only by Master, and one he uses whenever he posts a picture of one particular member of his harem. 

Whenever he posts pictures… of my Uncle John.

I finally know who took my Uncle. I know who this Master is. I suspected it was him for a while, but now I’m sure. The man who made InstaJock and the man who turned my Uncle into a slutty buff himbo are one in the same. I finally have proof.

So now what?

**The identity of the person behind InstaJock AND the person behind my Uncle's transformation and kidnapping has finally been revealed! Been working up to this for a long time, and I'm glad to keep this story moving forward! Hope you liked it as much as I do! Thank you to @occamstfs once again for being absolutely awesome and inspiring!**