#I realized how this sounds after typing it

[gyu-tori]

The Only Gift That Matters | Y.JW

A Birthday Special

Pairing: idol!jungwonx fem!reader Genre: FLUFF!!

Summary: After his final tour performance, Jungwon expects a simple celebration—until he walks in and finds you waiting for him. With the help of his meddling members, you’ve flown across the world to surprise him on his birthday, turning an ordinary night into one he’ll never forget.

Word Count: 6.4k

The deafening cheers of thousands of ENGENEs still echoed in Jungwon’s ears as he walked offstage, his heart hammering in his chest. The adrenaline of performing had yet to fully subside, leaving his body buzzing with energy despite the exhaustion creeping into his limbs. Sweat clung to his skin, the fabric of his stage outfit slightly damp from the hours of dancing and singing under the bright, flashing lights.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling deeply as he stepped into the backstage area, the distant sound of fans still chanting his name beyond the arena walls. The final show of the tour was over. Just like that.

Jungwon felt a strange mix of pride and relief settle in his chest. The months of rehearsals, traveling, and performing in different cities had been exhausting, but it was all worth it for the moments he got to share with the fans. Now, as the weight of the past few weeks settled on him, he realized just how drained he was.

The other members were already backstage, toweling off sweat and chugging water bottles as staff buzzed around them, congratulating them on another successful concert.

“Damn, that was crazy,” Jay muttered, shaking out his arms as he collapsed onto one of the couches. “The energy tonight was insane.”

Sunghoon nodded, still catching his breath. “I swear, they were even louder than last night.”

“Louder than every other stop, honestly,” Sunoo chimed in, giggling as he wiped his face with a towel. “My ears are still ringing.”

Jungwon smiled at their words, a sense of warmth spreading through him. He loved that no matter how exhausting things got, they could all share these moments together.

“You good, Won?” Heeseung’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention.

Jungwon blinked, realizing he had been standing still for a moment too long. “Yeah,” he nodded, offering a tired smile. “Just taking it all in.”

Ni-ki slung an arm over his shoulders with a grin. “You should. It’s your birthday, Hyung!”

Jungwon chuckled at the nickname. It had started as a joke because of his leader status, but over time, it had stuck. He shook his head playfully. “It’s just another day.”

The members collectively groaned.

“Bro, don’t say that,” Jake protested, nudging him. “It’s your birthday, AND you just finished performing for engenes. We have to celebrate.”

Jungwon laughed, shaking his head again, though he appreciated their enthusiasm. “We’ll see.”

Unknown to him, his members were all exchanging knowing glances. They were doing their best to act casual, but Jungwon was too exhausted to notice the small smirks, the barely concealed excitement in their eyes.

Something was definitely up. But for now, Jungwon was just grateful for a moment to breathe.

Earlier that day, long before Jungwon stepped off the concert stage drenched in sweat and glowing with the high of performing, you had landed in the city, excitement and nerves warring inside your chest.

You had spent weeks planning this trip, coordinating your schedule around his tour, booking flights, and making sure everything was set up perfectly. The hardest part, though, had been keeping it a secret.

Jungwon wasn’t the type to ask too many questions, but he always had a way of sensing when something was up. That’s what made this surprise so difficult to pull off—because if anyone knew you well enough to figure out when you were hiding something, it was him.

Luckily, you had an accomplice.

“Flight’s on time. You should be landing in the afternoon,” Heeseung had texted you the night before. “I’ll make sure Jungwon’s distracted.”

You had smiled at the message, grateful beyond words. Heeseung had been your lifeline in pulling this off.

And now, after hours of flying and navigating through airport crowds, you were finally here, standing in a quiet hallway backstage, hidden from view as the concert continued just beyond the walls.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, fingers tightening around the handle of your small carry-on bag. Even though you had traveled all this way, the nerves had only grown stronger.

What if he was too tired to enjoy the surprise? What if he was overwhelmed? What if—

“Stop overthinking,” Heeseung’s voice cut through your thoughts, his usual teasing lilt present as he approached you from around the corner.

You let out a breath, forcing a small laugh. “I can’t help it.”

He smirked. “You think Jungwon’s not gonna be the happiest man alive when he sees you? Please.”

The words made your heart warm, but the nerves remained. “I just want it to be perfect.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully, then reached for your bag. “Come on, let’s get you set up before he gets suspicious.”

You let him take it, following him as he led you through the backstage area with practiced ease. The energy in the venue was electric—staff members moving in and out of rooms, the faint sound of Jungwon’s voice echoing from the stage as he spoke to the fans.

The reality of just how close you were to him hit you hard.

A whole month had passed since you last saw Jungwon in person. Video calls and texts only did so much when all you really wanted was to be by his side, to feel the warmth of his presence, to hear his laughter without a screen separating you.

And now, in just a short while, he would be standing in front of you again.

Heeseung must have sensed your growing emotions because he nudged you lightly. “Hey, don’t cry yet. You still gotta make it through the surprise.”

You let out a watery chuckle, wiping at your eyes. “I’m not crying.”

“Not yet,” he corrected, grinning.

You shook your head at him, but you were grateful for his humor—it made everything feel a little easier.

Heeseung led you to one of the smaller backstage rooms, where a few staff members were already setting up the decorations. The other members had given their input earlier, making sure everything was just right.

A string of warm fairy lights hung around the room, casting a cozy glow. A table had been set up with a beautifully decorated cake, simple but elegant, with “Happy Birthday, Leader Won!” written in icing.

A large banner stretched across one wall, displaying the same message in bold, playful letters.

The sight made your heart swell. Jungwon wasn’t the type to demand grand celebrations, but that was exactly why you wanted to make sure he had one. He deserved to be showered with love, to be reminded of how much he meant to everyone around him.

“You guys really went all out,” you murmured, taking it all in.

Heeseung shrugged. “Of course. We have to make sure our leader feels special.”

You smiled, running your fingers lightly over the edge of the table. “He’s going to love this.”

Heeseung clapped his hands together. “Okay, so here’s the plan. Jungwon’s still out there, finishing up the concert. Once he comes backstage, he’ll head to the dressing room to cool down, right?”

You nodded, already knowing his post-concert routine.

Heeseung continued. “While he’s in there, we’ll gather everyone here, and when he walks in, we’ll hit him with the surprise. You’ll be hiding behind the curtain until I give you the signal.”

Your stomach flipped. “Got it.”

He gave you a once-over, then smirked. “You look nervous.”

“I am nervous,” you admitted with a small laugh.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, the moment he sees you, he won’t care about anything else.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, nodding. “I hope so.”

Heeseung grinned. “Oh, and by the way—you owe me for this. Big time.”

You laughed. “I’ll buy you dinner, okay?”

“Dinner and bubble tea.”

“Fine.”

Heeseung looked satisfied with that, then glanced at the clock. “Alright, we have about fifteen minutes before he comes offstage. You ready?”

You took a deep breath, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.

You stood behind the thick black curtain in the small backstage lounge, nerves bubbling under your skin as the final notes of the encore song faded. The sound of thousands of ENGENEs screaming filled the venue, their voices blending into a beautiful, deafening chorus.

Jungwon was still out there, soaking in the last moments of the tour with his members, saying his final thank-yous to the fans. He was probably bowing now, flashing that tired but grateful smile that you had seen so many times in videos and pictures. Only this time, you weren’t watching from a screen. You were here.

Heeseung had disappeared momentarily to check on the progress, leaving you alone in your hiding spot. Your hands trembled slightly as you smoothed down your outfit, making sure everything was perfect.

The thought of seeing Jungwon after a whole month had your heart racing. Would he cry? Would he be too overwhelmed? You knew how much he tried to hold back his emotions sometimes, especially when it came to himself. He always put others first, always prioritized his members, his fans, his work.

But tonight, tonight was about him.

A soft rustling sound snapped you out of your thoughts, and then Heeseung’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. “Showtime.”

You swallowed hard. “He’s coming?”

“Yup. He’s in the dressing room now, freshening up. We have about five minutes before he walks in.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. “Okay.”

The room outside was already set. The other members had gathered, all of them doing their best to act casual, but you could hear the suppressed excitement in their voices.

“Don’t act weird, guys,” Jake whispered. “He’ll know something’s up.”

“Dude, just stand normal,” Sunghoon replied.

“What does ‘stand normal’ even mean?” Jay shot back.

A soft whack sound followed. “Ow, Sunoo!”

“Shut up and just smile,” Sunoo hissed.

You pressed a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. It was almost funny how much effort they were putting into this. Jungwon would probably be too exhausted to even notice at first, but knowing how sharp he was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up on their energy.

Still, the setup was perfect.

The fairy lights gave the room a warm, inviting glow, casting soft shadows on the walls. The cake sat neatly on the table, an elegant white-frosted design with subtle gold accents. The words Happy Birthday, Captain! were written in neat cursive, surrounded by tiny edible stars. The members had insisted on keeping the decorations simple—nothing too over-the-top, but still meaningful.

And then there was the banner.

A large, hand-painted sign stretched across the back wall, filled with personal messages from the members. Little doodles of Jungwon’s favorite things were scattered across it—his favorite snacks, his beloved cat-shaped drawings, even a small, cartoon version of himself.

It was the kind of effort that showed just how much they loved him.

You smiled to yourself, already imagining the look on his face.

A sudden shuffle of footsteps in the hallway made your breath hitch.

“Oh, oh, he’s coming—”

“Positions, everyone!”

You quickly pressed yourself further into the corner, holding your breath. The curtain concealed you entirely, and from this angle, you had a perfect view of the entrance.

The door handle turned.

For a moment, silence filled the room, thick with anticipation. Then, the door swung open and the room fell into an instant hush.

Jungwon stepped inside, still towel-drying his damp hair, his oversized black t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame. His post-performance glow was evident—cheeks flushed, eyes slightly dazed from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

He blinked at the sight before him.

The members stood scattered around the room, trying way too hard to act normal. Jay was casually leaning against a table—except his elbow slipped, nearly knocking over a bottle of water. Sunghoon looked suspiciously stiff, like he had rehearsed his “natural” stance too many times. Ni-ki was covering his mouth, eyes already sparkling with suppressed laughter.

Jungwon frowned slightly. Something is up.

Then, his gaze landed on the fairy lights, the cake, and finally, the massive Happy Birthday, Leader Won! banner staring back at him.

Before he could process it, the members erupted into cheers.

“Surprise!”

Jungwon flinched at the sudden noise, nearly dropping his towel. “What the—” He looked around, squinting. “What’s going on?”

“You really thought we wouldn’t do anything for your birthday?” Jake smirked, stepping forward to throw an arm around Jungwon’s shoulders.

Jungwon scoffed. “I knew you guys were being weird today.”

“Define weird,” Sunghoon said innocently, shifting slightly to block the suitcase near the couch.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. “You were all too normal.”

“Bro, we’re always normal,” Jay deadpanned.

“I stand by it.”

The members cackled.

Heeseung, who had been standing off to the side with his arms crossed, finally spoke up. “Actually…” He smirked. “We have one more present for you.”

Jungwon groaned dramatically, rubbing his face. “Please tell me it’s not another embarrassing video montage—”

“Oh, it’s better.”

Before Jungwon could question it, Heeseung gave a small nod toward the curtain.

That was your cue.

You stepped out, heart hammering against your ribs as you finally locked eyes with Jungwon.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Jungwon’s entire body went rigid. His mouth parted slightly. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, twitched like his brain was struggling to send a signal. His chest rose and fell with an unsteady breath.

The members were watching eagerly, as if they were witnessing a dramatic K-drama finale.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Jungwon finally found his voice.

“…Wait.”

His voice cracked slightly.

Ni-ki snorted.

Jungwon’s gaze darted from your face to the suitcase near the couch, then back to you. His lips parted again, but all that came out was:

“HUH?”

The room erupted.

Sunoo doubled over, clutching his stomach. Jake fell onto the couch, wheezing. Ni-ki looked like he was about to pass out from laughing.

Jungwon, however, remained frozen.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you stepped closer. “Surprise.”

That was all it took.

Jungwon suddenly lunged.

He reached you in seconds, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that your feet nearly left the ground. A startled laugh escaped you as you stumbled backward slightly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“You—You’re really here?” His voice was muffled against your shoulder, trembling slightly.

You nodded against him, your heart swelling. “I’m here.”

Jungwon pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wide and glassy. “You… You really flew all this way? Just for me?”

You smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply, like he was still trying to process it. Behind him, the members were still enjoying the show.

Jake wiped away fake tears. “This is beautiful.”

“He’s in shock,” Sunghoon whispered.

“No thoughts. Head empty,” Ni-ki added.

Jungwon ignored them, his hands still gripping your arms as if grounding himself.

“You okay?” you asked, pressing a hand to his cheek.

He blinked slowly. “No. I think I’m malfunctioning.”

The members lost it again.

Sunoo wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. “We’ve lost our leader, everyone.”

Heeseung clapped Jungwon’s back. “A thank you would be nice.”

Jungwon finally tore his gaze away from you to glare at him. “Shut up.”

You giggled, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

Jungwon let out a small, breathless laugh, finally pulling you into another tight hug. “This is the best birthday ever.”

The members groaned loudly.

“Oh my god, he’s so whipped,” Jay muttered.

“Just now realizing that?” Sunghoon scoffed.

You laughed against Jungwon’s shoulder, feeling his grip tighten just a little more.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter how much they teased him, no matter how chaotic things got—this was exactly where you were meant to be.

—

Jungwon still hadn’t let go of you.

It had been a full minute since the initial shock wore off, but he kept his arms locked around you, his head resting against your shoulder like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Okay, we get it, you missed her,” Jay teased, breaking the silence.

Jungwon finally pulled back—just enough to turn and glare at him. “Shut up, Jay.”

Jay smirked. “You’re not even denying it.”

“Because it’s true,” Heeseung added with a knowing grin.

Jungwon sighed, shaking his head before turning back to you. His hands stayed on your arms, his touch warm and grounding. “How long are you staying?”

You smiled. “A few days.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good.” Then, quieter, just for you, he murmured, “I don’t want you to leave too soon.”

Your heart melted.

Before you could respond, Ni-ki clapped his hands together. “Alright, lovebirds, we do have a cake waiting.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically but finally—reluctantly—let you go. You laughed at the way he immediately reached for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours as he turned to face the rest of the group.

Jake grinned. “Alright, birthday boy, make a wish.”

Sunghoon nudged him. “You don’t need to. Your biggest wish literally just walked in.”

The members groaned at the cheesiness, but Jungwon?

He just smiled.

You swore his grip on your hand tightened slightly.

With a soft chuckle, he stepped forward to the table, staring at the cake. The warm fairy lights made the white frosting glow softly, and the words Happy Birthday, Captain! stood out in elegant cursive.

Jungwon exhaled deeply. “This is really nice, guys.”

Sunoo beamed. “Of course. You deserve it.”

Jungwon gave him a small, grateful smile before closing his eyes for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he blew out the candles.

The room erupted into cheers.

“Yay, our leader is another year older!” Ni-ki teased.

“Another year shorter,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath.

Jungwon turned to glare at him. “I heard that.”

Sunghoon just smirked. “Oops.”

Jake started cutting the cake while Jay grabbed plates. You watched as Jungwon let himself fully relax, laughing as his members playfully fought over who got the biggest slice.

Sunoo dramatically gasped. “Ni-ki, put that piece back, you gremlin!”

Ni-ki, holding an unfairly large slice, grinned. “Finders keepers.”

Sunghoon looked horrified. “That’s a quarter of the cake, you menace.”

Jungwon just laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine, just take another slice.”

“You’re too nice,” you teased, nudging him. “If that were me, I would’ve smacked it out of his hands.”

Jungwon turned to you with a grin. “Noted for future cake disputes.”

Heeseung passed you both plates, and as Jungwon took his first bite, a soft sigh of satisfaction left his lips. “Wow.” He looked up at the members. “This is really good.”

“Sunoo picked it,” Jay said, nodding.

Sunoo flipped his hair dramatically. “I do have excellent taste.”

Jungwon chuckled, turning back to you. “You should try it.”

He picked up a small forkful and, without thinking, held it up to your lips.

The entire room fell into scandalized silence.

Jake gasped. “Oh my god.”

Sunghoon looked personally attacked. “In front of my salad?”

Ni-ki fake gagged. “Not at the dinner table, guys.”

Jungwon froze.

His ears turned bright red.

You, however, decided to play along. Maintaining eye contact, you leaned in, taking the bite off his fork.

Jungwon’s jaw visibly clenched. His eyes darted to the members, all of whom were staring.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You didn’t even hesitate.”

Jungwon cleared his throat. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Ni-ki smirked. “Oh, it’s too late for that.”

Sunoo placed a hand over his heart. “I never thought I’d see the day our little leader would be out here doing—” He waved a hand dramatically. “—something so scandalous in front of us.”

Sunghoon sighed. “They grow up so fast.”

Jungwon groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I hate all of you.”

You giggled, leaning closer. “But you love me, right?”

Jungwon sighed dramatically before dropping his hand and looking at you. A soft smile played on his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah. I do.”

The members groaned in unison.

“Oh my god,” Jay muttered, stuffing cake into his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Ni-ki fake sniffled. “Our fearless leader has fallen.”

Jungwon just rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed your hand gently before turning back to his cake.

The celebration had finally started winding down.

The cake had been demolished (mostly by Ni-ki, who had somehow managed to sneak extra slices despite Sunoo’s watchful gaze). The members were still playfully bickering about who gave Jungwon the best present, and the room was filled with warmth and laughter.

But even with all the noise, Jungwon hadn’t let go of your hand.

Every few minutes, you’d feel his thumb brush over your skin absentmindedly, as if making sure you were still there. If he wasn’t holding your hand, his knee was pressed against yours, his body always leaning just slightly in your direction.

You didn’t mind one bit.

Eventually, the members started cleaning up, throwing away plates and clearing the table. Jungwon had been watching them work for a grand total of two minutes before Heeseung pointed at him.

“Not so fast, birthday boy. You’re helping.”

Jungwon groaned, leaning against you dramatically. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I be exempt from this?”

“Yeah, no,” Jay deadpanned, tossing him an empty cup. “If we suffer, you suffer.”

Jungwon sighed but stood up, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I’ll be right here.”

As he walked off to help, you watched him fondly. Even exhausted, he still tried to pull his weight, stacking plates and picking up napkins.

It wasn’t long before Heeseung shot you a knowing look from across the room. “You should steal him away for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

He waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. We got this. Go be disgusting somewhere else.”

You snorted, shaking your head before making your way toward Jungwon. He had just finished setting a stack of plates on the counter when you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back.

He stiffened for a split second before instantly relaxing, his hands moving to rest over yours.

“Come with me,” you murmured.

Jungwon turned his head slightly, curiosity in his eyes. “Where?”

You just smiled. “You’ll see.”

The members noticed, of course.

“Aww, look at them,” Ni-ki cooed.

Jake sighed dramatically. “I wish someone would whisk me away like that.”

Sunghoon smirked. “We could, but you’d just come back in five minutes crying about how much you miss us.”

Jake gasped. “That happened one time.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes but tugged you toward the hallway before they could tease either of you further.

The two of you ended up in a quieter part of the backstage area, away from the noise. The air felt different here—quieter, softer, more intimate.

Jungwon sighed as he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Finally. A moment of peace.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “Tired?”

He tilted his head in thought before shaking it. “Not anymore.”

His eyes softened as he reached for your hand again. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

You squeezed his fingers gently. “I wanted to be.”

Jungwon studied you for a long moment, then—slowly—he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. The gesture was so sweet, so tender, that your breath hitched.

His gaze flickered up, watching your reaction. When he saw your expression, he grinned. “What? I’m not allowed to be romantic?”

You laughed softly. “You are romantic. Just usually in a really awkward, flustered way.”

Jungwon groaned. “You just had to ruin my smooth moment, huh?”

You giggled, reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “Sorry, sorry. You were very smooth. Super charming.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, leaning into your touch. “Better.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, soaking in the silence. It felt surreal—to be here with him after so long, with no screen between you, no time zone difference, no calls cutting in and out. Just him.

Jungwon sighed contently. “This is the best birthday ever.”

You tilted your head. “Because of the concert?”

He shook his head immediately. “No.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Because you’re here.”

Your heart swelled.

“You’re really sappy today,” you teased, though your voice was soft.

Jungwon chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Take it while you can.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

Jungwon’s eyes softened as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for making it perfect.”

And for the first time that night, no one interrupted.

After a long night of performing, celebrating, and being relentlessly teased by his members, Jungwon was finally free.

The two of you had slipped out of the venue while the others were still cleaning up, leaving behind the chaos and noise for the quiet comfort of the van. The moment you slid into the backseat, Jungwon immediately followed, settling in beside you.

The city lights flickered outside as the car pulled onto the road, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. The energy from the concert still lingered in the air, but exhaustion was creeping in, making everything feel a little hazy.

Jungwon let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the seat. “I can finally breathe.”

You giggled. “Are you saying your own birthday party was suffocating?”

He turned his head toward you, eyes heavy with fatigue but filled with warmth. “Not the party. Just them.”

From the front seat, Heeseung—who had offered to ride with you two—cleared his throat. “I can hear you, by the way.”

Jungwon groaned, closing his eyes. “I know. That’s why I said it.”

Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh. “This is how you treat your beloved hyung? After I singlehandedly orchestrated your entire surprise?”

You grinned. “To be fair, he does have a point, Won.”

Jungwon opened one eye, narrowing it at you. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

You shrugged. “He’s my partner-in-crime. I have to give him some credit.”

Heeseung smirked. “Exactly. Someone appreciates my hard work.”

Jungwon let out a dramatic sigh before turning back to you. “Fine. Thank you, Heeseung-hyung. You’re the best hyung in the world. I’m eternally grateful.”

His tone was so robotic that Heeseung actually gagged. “Okay, never mind. I take back everything. You’re ungrateful.”

You burst into laughter as Jungwon smirked in victory.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, the van rocking gently as it cruised through the city. You glanced at Jungwon, noticing how his body had started to relax completely, his head resting against the seat. His eyes blinked slower, his grip on your hand loosening just slightly.

“You’re exhausted,” you murmured.

Jungwon hummed sleepily. “Mhm.”

You ran your fingers gently through his damp hair, feeling him melt into your touch. “You should sleep.”

“Not yet,” he mumbled, blinking up at you with a lazy smile. “Wanna spend every second with you tonight.”

Your heart clenched at the softness in his voice.

“Jungwon,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

He hummed again, eyes half-lidded.

“You’ll still have me tomorrow,” you promised. “And the day after that.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Good.”

Heeseung, who had been minding his business, suddenly spoke. “I am still here, by the way.”

Jungwon groaned. “Hyung, please.”

Heeseung snorted. “Nah, it’s fine. I love being a third wheel. Really. It’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled as Jungwon shot him a glare, but the moment was short-lived—because not even Heeseung’s teasing could stop Jungwon’s body from shutting down.

Within minutes, his head slowly tilted to the side, resting against your shoulder.

You glanced down, only to find him fully asleep, his breathing deep and steady.

Your heart softened.

Carefully, you adjusted yourself so he could be more comfortable, wrapping an arm around him. He instinctively nuzzled closer, his fingers loosely curling around the fabric of your sleeve.

Heeseung peeked at the rearview mirror and smirked. “Wow. Out cold.”

You smiled, running your fingers through Jungwon’s hair again. “He worked hard today.”

Heeseung nodded. “Yeah… but also, he’s just really whipped.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I know.”

The car continued rolling through the city, the lights casting soft glows across Jungwon’s peaceful face.

And in that moment, you realized something.

For all the teasing, for all the chaos, for all the exhaustion—this was perfect.

Jungwon had his fans. His members. His music.

And now, he had you, too.

And that was all that mattered.

By the time the van pulled up to the hotel entrance, Jungwon was completely out.

His head was still resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your collarbone, his body pressed comfortably against yours. Every few minutes, his fingers would twitch slightly—like he was still subconsciously holding onto you even in sleep.

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Won, we’re here.”

Nothing.

Heeseung leaned over from the front seat, peering at Jungwon’s sleeping form. He raised an eyebrow. “Is he even breathing?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Heeseung. He’s just exhausted.”

“Hmm.” Heeseung poked Jungwon’s arm. “Hey, birthday boy. Wake up.”

Jungwon didn’t even stir.

You giggled. “Heeseung, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

“Watch and learn.” Heeseung cleared his throat and said, in a serious voice, “Jungwon-ah, staff said we need to redo the encore performance. Get up.”

Jungwon immediately twitched.

You and Heeseung watched in real-time as his eyes fluttered open, his body tensing slightly—until he finally registered his surroundings.

Then, he groaned and buried his face back into your shoulder. “Hyung, I hate you.”

Heeseung burst out laughing. “Hey, at least now you’re awake.”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath that was definitely not PG-rated, but it only made Heeseung laugh harder.

You giggled, rubbing Jungwon’s back soothingly. “Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jungwon finally sat up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His hair was slightly messy from sleeping on you, and his voice was adorably raspy when he mumbled, “Carry me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung snorted. “Yeah, no. You’re on your own, dude.”

Jungwon pouted but ultimately sighed in defeat, dragging himself out of the van. The moment you both stepped into the hotel lobby, the warm air hit your skin, the dim lighting making everything feel cozier.

The staff greeted Jungwon quietly, congratulating him on his performance before directing you both to his room. Heeseung, finally finished with his babysitting duties, stretched his arms. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m out. Try not to be too disgusting.”

Jungwon yawned, waving him off. “Goodnight, hyung.”

You grinned. “Thanks for everything, Heeseung.”

Heeseung winked before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Jungwon standing outside his hotel room.

Jungwon sighed, fumbling with the key card. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the bed.”

You smirked. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but I also don’t want to waste time with you,” he murmured, finally pushing the door open.

Your heart softened at his words.

The hotel room was spacious, modern, and filled with warm lighting. A massive king-sized bed took up most of the space, the blankets neatly arranged. Jungwon immediately kicked off his shoes, stretching his arms with a groan before flopping onto the bed face-first.

You laughed. “That tired, huh?”

His voice was muffled against the pillow. “I can’t move.”

You shook your head fondly, setting your bag down before sitting beside him on the mattress. “Want me to get you some water?”

He turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open. “Just lay with me.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. “Bossy.”

Still, you didn’t argue. You kicked off your shoes, shifting onto the bed beside him. The moment you did, Jungwon instinctively rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

His warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest—it was all so him.

Your fingers gently played with the strands of his hair. “You did amazing today.”

Jungwon hummed sleepily. “Mmm.”

“I mean it,” you whispered. “I watched the whole performance. You were incredible.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his voice quieter now. “It’s always easier when I know you’re watching.”

Your heart clenched at his words.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, watching as his lips curled into a tiny, sleepy smile.

“Happy birthday, love,” you murmured.

Jungwon let out a deep breath, his body completely relaxing against yours.

And just like that, he fell asleep in your arms.

Jungwon slept soundly for a while, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion. His arms remained wrapped around you, his breathing slow and steady, his face completely at peace.

You didn’t mind one bit.

You stayed there with him, running your fingers through his hair, tracing soft patterns on his back. He looked so soft like this—so young, so free from the pressures of being a leader, a performer, an idol. Right now, he was just Jungwon. Your Jungwon.

Eventually, he stirred, letting out a soft hum as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at you, dazed and sleepy, before a slow, lazy smile spread across his lips.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice raspy.

You smiled back. “Hey, birthday boy.”

He groaned, burying his face into your neck. “I’m still not used to hearing that.”

You giggled, rubbing his back. “Well, get used to it. I’m not done celebrating you yet.”

Jungwon lifted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his half-lidded eyes. “What do you mean?”

You reached over to your bag, grabbing the small, neatly wrapped box you had been waiting to give him.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

You handed it to him, watching as he carefully unwrapped it, his fingers gentle as ever. When he finally opened the box, his breath hitched.

Inside was a simple silver bracelet, sleek and minimalistic—just his style. But what made it special was the small engraving on the inside.

My home, my heart—always yours.

Jungwon stared at it for a long moment, his fingers tracing over the words. His lips parted slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You bit your lip. “Do you like it?”

Silence.

Then, Jungwon inhaled sharply, closing the box with a snap before you could see his face.

“Jungwon?”

Still no response.

Then, to your absolute horror, he turned away from you, shoulders hunched, hands covering his face.

Oh god.

He was crying.

Your heart stopped. “Wait—love, are you okay?”

A muffled, strangled sound came from behind his hands.

Oh no. Oh no, you broke him.

You sat up quickly, placing a hand on his back. “Jungwon, I—”

“Give me a second,” he croaked.

You blinked. “What?”

“I just—” He sucked in a breath, shoulders shaking slightly. “I need a second.”

You pursed your lips, biting back a smile. “Are you crying right now?”

“No.” His voice cracked.

You giggled, rubbing circles on his back. “You are crying.”

Jungwon finally turned to you, eyes red and glassy, cheeks flushed. “I am not crying.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

You stared.

He stared back.

“…Shut up,” he muttered.

You burst out laughing, and that was officially the last straw for Jungwon. With a groan, he flopped back onto the bed, throwing a pillow over his face.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. “I hate you.”

You were still giggling as you pried the pillow away. “You love me.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically, but his lips curled into a soft smile. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

Your heart swelled as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his forehead. “Then keep it on forever, okay?”

Jungwon sat up slightly, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist. He stared at it for a long moment before turning to you, his expression completely soft.

“I will.”

And somehow, you knew he meant it.

Jungwon was still staring at the bracelet on his wrist, turning it slightly under the warm hotel room lights. His fingers traced the engraving again, as if memorizing the feel of it.

You watched him with a soft smile, resting your chin on your palm. “You’re still thinking about it, huh?”

He blinked up at you, lips slightly parted before he nodded. “Yeah.”

Your fingers reached out to gently take his hand, brushing your thumb over the bracelet. “You really like it?”

Jungwon huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I love it.” Then, quieter, he murmured, “I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You knew he loved you—he had shown it in so many ways, in his small gestures, his thoughtful words, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world. But hearing him say it so plainly, so softly, with the weight of today still lingering in the air, made warmth bloom in your chest.

You leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips. It was slow, unhurried—like the both of you had all the time in the world. Jungwon sighed into the kiss, his fingers curling around your wrist, grounding himself in you.

When you finally pulled away, he was gazing at you with sleep-heavy eyes, his expression completely open and vulnerable.

You nudged his nose playfully. “Sleep, birthday boy.”

Jungwon groaned but obediently flopped back onto the bed, pulling you down with him. His arms wrapped around your waist, his body molding perfectly against yours.

You laughed softly. “Comfortable?”

He let out a content sigh, nuzzling into your neck. “Mhm.”

The steady sound of his breathing filled the room, and you felt his body fully relax against yours. His fingers were still loosely intertwined with yours, his grip soft but steady—like even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go.

You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, whispering, “Sweet dreams, birthday boy.”

And just like that, Jungwon drifted off, the softest smile still lingering on his lips.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: I MADE IT ON TIME TO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE YANG JUNGWON! He's been killing my heart so much recently~ He needs to give me a break or I'll start dropping on my knees for him. ALSO!! First enhypen fic so I hope you guys enjoy hehe~ This was very rushed so lmk if there are any errors or mistakes!!

Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @imlonelydontsendhelp @ode2soob

[empress-ghoul]

You’ve gotten good at getting a sense for these sorts of things. A feeling in your chest, a twist in your gut, a sixth sense, if you will. You think you’d prefer your sixth sense to be seeing ghosts, rather than sensing when creepy men are going to approach you.

You just wanted a drink. It had been a long fucking day at work and you just wanted a drink without worrying about actually talking to people. That was why you sat at the end of the bar.

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home. Your sixth sense had told you that going into the bar was a bad idea. At least then this guy wouldn’t be talking to you.

He was attractive at least, but you couldn’t be in less of a mood and he was practically sitting on top of you.

“Rough day?” he asked.

Your eye nearly twitched. “Something like that.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I can tell.”

And he was rude. Cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a glare, your lip curling slightly into a snarl. “Yeah,” you mimic. “You don’t look too hot either, asshole.”

Cash is handed to the bartender and you reach for your bag. He beats you to it, gripping the strap in an iron hold. Indignation rises. Part of you wants to wrestle it back, but the other part knows you’d just end up embarrassing yourself.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” he begins. “I’m Johnny—“

“I’m not interested. Bag. Now.”

You hold your hand out, but something tells you he’s not the type to listen.

That feeling is confirmed when he laughs. Yet another cherry on top.

“How about this; I buy you a drink and you get your bag back after?”

There’s a beat of silence where you nearly laugh. Was he serious? You’re about to ask him when he’s suddenly ordering for you and holding your bag in his lap.

You had to bargain with your tired mind, telling yourself that you were getting a free drink out of this. Frustrated, yet resigned, you sit back down.

He grins at you and your sixth sense prickles the back of your neck.

Johnny was good at talking and part of you almost felt bad. He seemed lonely. You were certain only a lonely, mildly insane person would steal a purse and buy the purse owner a drink just to have someone to talk to.

But you were lonely too. Only a lonely, mildly insane person would let him buy more drinks after getting their purse back.

You barely noticed the hand on your thigh. By the time you did, he was right in your face.

“Bonnie thing, aren’t you?” he purred.

That’s how you ended up getting tugged back to his apartment. He kept an arm around your waist and your bag in his hand the entire walk. Right outside the door, when his hand was on the doorknob, you realized how bad of an idea this was.

One night stands weren’t exactly your thing, especially not on a weeknight. You had a little bit of dignity, after all.

Plus, your sixth sense practically vibrated in your chest to tell you to turn and run. But suddenly the door was open and he was pushing you inside.

The door shut and locked behind you both, and suddenly you were standing in front of a wall of a man. Your throat tightened when you felt Johnny’s arms around your waist, trapping you in place.

“What’d you think, LT?” Johnny asked, squeezing you tighter.

He sounded so eager, so hopefully.

You stared up at the man in front of you. He looked…bored? Almost uninterested. Similar to a wolf who caught a meal too easily.

Despite being tipsy on the walk from the bar to here, you were suddenly stone cold sober and frozen in place.

A massive hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head up. A calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to scream. Only tremble as Johnny rubbed a stubbly cheek against your soft one.

“This the one you told me ‘bout?” the enormous man asked.

Something hard pressed against the fat of your ass as Johnny smiled. “Yeah, the one from the train,” he preened, clearly proud of himself. “Can we keep her?”

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home.

[kizzmexoxo]

Trust Me, He’ll Never Know

Genre. Boyfriend’s best friend P.sh x reader

Warnings. CHEATING(don’t do this irl!), infidelity, overstimulation, pussy eating, virginity loss, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, noncon, dubcon, public, in a bathroom, mentions of drugs, a bit of voyuerism, making out

WC. 3k+

a/n. Don’t take this fic seriously! Don’t like, don’t read. MDNI. Separate fiction and reality. (lmk if I missed smthn!)

You loved your boyfriend, Jake. He asked you out to be his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. It was so romantic.

So tell me why right now you’re getting the best head in your life by his best friend, Park Sunghoon, in the middle of Halloween night.

During your first year of college, people, especially men, already had an eye for you. You weren’t that popular in your old school so being praised was very new to you.

College was scary, you thought, but it became easier along the way since you had made new friends. You even gained a boyfriend.

He was the very popular and the kindest boy you knew, too kind. You remembered how you had same classes together and how you caught him staring at you in class.

He reached out for you first asking to be partners in an activity. From then on, you guys eventually had gotten closer as you talked to each other more and more.

Before long, you had met his friends in a party Jake invited you in. You had to admit, his friends were very attractive. Jay, Heeseung, Jungwon, and..Sunghoon, who Jake claimed to be his bestest friend. They all greeted you with a smile claiming that they already known or heard of you. Is it because Jake talks about you a lot? You secretly chuckle at the thought.

Him and his friend group separated by then. The party was going great but it wasn’t really your type of place you turn up at. You try to look for Jake, a red cup in his hand, already mingling and having fun with other groups of people you don’t recognize. You didn’t want to disturb him. Although you were a bit bothered that he invited you to a party and left you there alone. You doubt the friends you had even attended.

You accepted your situation and decided to find a room to get you relaxed since the loud noises were bothering you a bit.

You left the area you were awkwardly standing at and went up the stairs that led to a hallway with many rooms. You try twisting the door knobs the to the doors you’ve tried to enter in but it’s either locked or someone doing drugs in. You even accidentally entered to a woman giving a man head. They immediately told you to leave in an angry tone and you quickly ran and closed the door out.

You breathed out to process what you’ve seen. That was disgusting. Though you saw something unexpected.

There was another door at the end of the hallway and you hoped no one was in there. You fairly just wanted to rest for awhile.

As you stepped near the door, you sighed because you knew that the room was already occupied due to the creaking inside. The innocent you did not know what those sounds was though.

You further realized the door had a tiny opening. You don’t know why but the curiosity got the best of you as you peeked through the crook of the door. Your jaw slightly dropped.

You saw Sunghoon. His hips thrusting, really fast as the girl you don’t know moans out his name. You stood there shocked.

You didn’t realize it but you were admiring him. His groans to every thrust, his sweat dripping from his temple to his sharp jaw, his swollen lip from him biting it repeatedly.

You snapped out of it when his head turned to the side to see you peeking. You got caught off guard and couldn’t move. You immediately left after you saw him smirking at you.

That was the last encounter you had with Jake’s best friend.

A month or so after talking, you came to a conclusion that maybe Jake like you and you liked him. After some time, Jake did ask you out and you agreed to be his girlfriend.

It all happened in Valentine’s Day when he asked you to come follow him after a movie you watched with him and his friends. It was in a parking lot when he opened up his trunk to reveal a banner saying ‘I like you. Be my girlfriend?’ written.

Of course, you said yes. Jake gave you a hug and so did you. You then realize his friends were behind you, cheering for you both and recording this special moment.

You turn around and shyly chuckle. You did catch the eyes of Sunghoon. He looked expressionless but he did show a tiny smile. But you didn’t care, you turn to Jake, your now and first boyfriend. You were happy.

It has now been months since being with Jake. You had always come over to his apartment to spend time with your boyfriend. You played games, cuddled, kissed, made out.. but never had sex yet.

You weren’t ready.

Jake is a man. He has needs, desires, but you just couldn’t give that to him. He understood it at first. But as soon as time passes by, you noticed how he became irritated by it.

He didn’t show it, but you can feel it. Whenever your make out sessions would go too far and stop him, he’d sigh and nod, but not because he understood, but because he’s disappointed.

There had been ups and downs in your relationship but that’s normal, you thought. Although this problem has been going on for awhile. Since this was your first relationship, you try to bring it up but he brushes it off saying he understands or he doesn’t care. So, you stopped bringing it up.

It was Halloween season. Fun time to dress up and party. Jake’s friend, Jay, initiated the Halloween party. You don’t hate parties but you’d rather not attend. Knowing your boyfriend, Jake, would, you gave in and went with him.

Hearing it was a costume party, you wanted to have a couple costume with Jake, dressing up as peanut butter and jelly.

Jake disagreed, saying it was too corny. Of course, you laughed it off. He chose a cop and prisoner costume instead. You had no choice but to agree to avoid disappointing him.

You were the cop, the costume was a bit too tight that it aligned your curves pretty well. It’s shorts barely covering ass cheeks that you have to pull the material down some more. You had a fake baton and a cop hat to fit the police aesthetic. While Jake simply wore an orange jumpsuit with buttons unbuttoned half way until his waist, revealing his white tank top underneath. He looked happy with the costumes he suggested. So you.. are happy.

Jake and you arrived Jay’s large modern house. It wasn’t a mansion but it was pretty big. Cars surrounding it, colorful lights everywhere and the sound of muffled music blasted out loud. This was your first Halloween party, but you didn’t know it would be this intense.

You and Jake entered and Jake was greeted with many people. He was popular after all. Though everyone knew he had a girlfriend, that was you, girls would still look at him the same way, like they had hearts on their eyes. You can’t blame them, he is very handsome. You didn’t mind it since you knew that he was yours. He chose you.

It’s been hours since the party started. Music blasting out loud, people partying, dancing, drinking. It was suffocating. You had been following Jake all night as well. Him laughing and having fun while you’re just there at the side, like a puppy following her owner.

You even had 4 shots, to stand the loud noises. Though that didn’t help. You gently tug Jake’s cloth from his arm. He turned around to you, panting from all the dancing and laughing.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Jake still half smiling from all the fun time his having.

“I don’t feel good. Can we leave?”

“Already?” His smile faded bit by bit.

You couldn’t stand him being sad by missing out a party he was having fun at so you give him a forced smile.

“Just kidding! I’m probably just tired from all the shots. I’ll go to the restroom.”

He smiled again. He looks so adorable. He gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, don’t take so long!”

You nodded and left him there.

After minutes, that felt like hours, you couldn’t find the bathroom. You panicked. You wanted to pee so fucking bad. You walked up the stairs, and due to squeezing your thighs to hold you pee, you accidentally trip and fell to a man’s chest. He caught you by holding both of your elbows with both your arms placed on his chest.

You shivered on the weird feeling between your thighs as you whined. “Fuck, I’m sorry-“ you looked up to see Sunghoon, in a pilot costume, already staring at your disheveled look.

“S-Sunghoon!”

“Hey” he smirked.

“Do you know where the restroom is?” You looked at him with a pleading look.

“I do”

“Where? I need to go!”

Instead of taking you there, he looks down to your costume. Clearly checking you out.

“Sunghoon! I really need to go.” You say hitting his chest gently.

That snapped him out of his trance and chuckled. “Can you even walk? I don’t think you can make it.”

“I could if you would just shut up! Take me now!” You say in the verge of wetting yourself. Fuck this is so humiliating.

He chuckles one more time before dragging you down the hallway and lead you to the bathroom. You finally got to go and sighed with relief.

As you opened the bathroom door to walk out, he was standing my the side with his arms crossed. He tilted his head to meet your eyes.

“Thanks..” You mutter, looking away. It was silent for awhile.

Before you look back at him, he suddenly pushed you inside the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He leans his back onto the door and gave out a loud sigh with his eyes roaming all over your body. “Fuck..” he groaned softly.

You gulped and blushed. You felt like you were naked just from his gaze.

“W-what..?”

“You look uncomfortable in that costume.” He says so nonchalantly.

“Why do you care.” You mumble, slightly looking away.

You could hear his steps, walking towards you.

“I ask myself that too.” He was in front of you, so close.

You softly gasp as you felt his cold, large hands on the side of your face, turning your head to meet his eyes. Soon you did, you can see his darkened eyes underneath that pilot hat. But a hint of something soft within them.

“Sunghoon..”

“Keep saying my name like that.” He steps even closer. Now your lower back hitting the bathroom counter.

“Stop it.” You say in a stern voice.

“Stop what?”

“This. You.”

He places his free hand on your other side, now trapping you. “I don’t want to.” He says in a very low tone, almost possessive.

“I have a boyfriend. Your best friend.”

He sighs, your lips feeling his minty breath. He didn’t say anything but leaned closer, his goal to smash his lips into yours. Is he really going to risk his friendship over you?

You stopped him by placing both your hands into his chest. “Really.. stop.” You shakily sigh from the sensation.

“Shit. You little..” He drops his hand from your palm to place it on your other side to the counter and let his head fall to the crook of your neck. He sniffs your scent, letting out a little moan as he breaths out.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He grinds his bulge to your clothed cunt.

“S-Sunghoon. No..!”

He ignores your plea, continuing to grind himself in you. Even if you were both clothed, you can still how hard and large his bulge is. Fuck he was huge. You would never let Jake do this. So why.. why are you letting Sunghoon-

He suddenly bites into your neck, replacing the sharp pain with his drool. Licking it up to your ear. His tongue reaching to your earlobe, gently biting it before his tongue enters your ear salivating it all over.

You gasp and whimper at the tickling and pleasuring sensation. You should stop him.. now. Do it now, your mind tells you to. But your body won’t move.

“Hoon.. please..” you whimper. That was his last straw.

He pulled his tongue out of your ear and grabbed your thighs to push them up the bathroom counter, resulting you to sit on top of it as he held your thighs open. Your heart beats faster, seeing the sight of him kneeling down with his hands still resting on your lower thighs, spreading it open just for him.

Your thoughts of Jake faded slowly, bit by bit, while he starts to unbuckle your belt and drag your shorts down. Your soaked underwear was now exposed for him to see.

Sunghoon licks his lips before his face digs into your clothed cunt. Sniffing it before he licks the wet slick in your underwear. You gasp and whined at the sensation.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

With no warning, he rips your white underwear.

“H-hoon!!” You softly yell at him.

“Need your pussy so bad.” He says before digging his mouth in your wet cunt.

“F-fuck..!” You quietly moaned.

You had started to moan from his tongue swirling inside your tight hole while his nose pokes your clit. He didn’t take long to move up to your clit and started sucking like his life depended on it. You tasted so good to him.

You could already feel your orgasm coming.

“H-hoonie.. I feel weird..!”

Gosh. He loves that nickname you made up for him on the spot.

“You’re just feeling good.” He says in between sucking your clit.

Finally you reached your orgasm, which made you moan out, your thighs squeezing his head as he continued to suck.

“Fuck, Hoonie, stop please!” He was overstimulating you. He continued to suck on your clit even faster and harder.. it felt so good. More than good.

“Squirt on my face, baby..” he moaned in your wet clit while he continues to slurp and suck. His mouth making lewd noises.

At long at last, you moaned out loud, hearing yourself squirt juices out of your pussy.

You leaned your head back onto the hard surface behind you, panting from just getting the best and first head ever.

You saw Sunghoon stand up from his knees, licking his mouth. His face was covered with your juices. He looked like he wanted more.

“E-enough..” you continue to pant.

He smirks down at you and trapped you into the counter again with both his hands. “We’re not close to finishing yet, baby.”

He unbuckles his belt, his pants dropping down to reveal only his boxers with a bulge in between it. Should you tell him you were a virgin? You should have. You could have. But you didn’t.

Instead you froze, your legs still opened, inviting him to enter.

He took his boxers off and disclosed his large dick. You can see his veins pulsing around it, needing release.

He positioned it onto your core, rubbing it between your folds to retrieve your wet slick to mix it with his precum.

You whimper feeling his dick between your folds.

“Hoon.. we really can’t do this. Jake..”

“Don’t worry about him. Trust me, he’ll never know.”

With those words that did not seem reliable at all, you squeal at the sharp pain you feel when his tip slowly entered inside you.

“H-Hoon! No please! Take it out!”

“Shh..” he grabs the back of your neck and pulled you in to give you a gentle kiss. Suddenly pushing his whole dick inside of you, causing you to squeal loudly in pain onto his lips. He shut you out immediately by smashing his lips onto yours roughly. His teeth biting your lower lip that made you slightly open your lips, his tongue in a rush to enter your mouth.

Meanwhile, his dick pulling out of your walls, just to slide it back with full force.

You moan out loud as he continues to eat your face out while he pounds into your tight cunt.

He pulls away from you, “So tight.” He groans, slightly leaning his head back, his pace starting to become faster.

“N-no.. hoonie!! Please pull it out..” Your hands stay on his shoulders from trying to push him away but to no avail since he wouldn’t budge.

His pace quickens and pounds into your wet and tight cunt with no care in the world. He looks at you with a dark and lust in his eyes.

“Why can’t it just be me..” he groans, his mouth hung open from the feeling of your tight pussy clenching onto his hard dick. “I saw you first.” He grunts, every hard thrust he made, hitting your g spot.

You moan when you felt his tip hitting your cervix. “I’ll treat you better.” His hips were now on full force, fucking you so hard, your back hitting the hard surface behind you. His head back to the crook of your neck, panting into your skin. The pain slowly turned to pleasure. You felt so wet inside, especially his dick dragging your walls up and down.

With the only energy you had left, you mumble his name, “Hoon..” that made sunghoon’s hair in his arms rise and close to his orgasm.

“Say my name like that. Come on.” He groans.

“Hoon.. Hoonie..”

He gave you a hard thrust one last time while pace slows down. His orgasm releases inside of you. You could feel how warm it is.. how wet he made you feel inside.

You both panted, he slowly pulls out his dick from inside your pussy as his cum leaks out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He gave you one more kiss, that was passionate, on the lips.

You stared back into his eyes, now showing softness instead of lust. You return his kiss, a kiss that was risky. A kiss that was not supposed to happen. But what do you do now. Sunghoon was all you could think of.

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon taking care of a child with medical issues when her bio dad is a deadbeat (✿◡‿◡)

I can just imagine Simon would be so good with a little girl who has type 1 diabetes. (There's a little bit of explaining of different medical terms so you're not left hanging) BUT TRUST ME HE WOULD BE SO GOOD FOR THE BOTH OF YOU

You had gotten pregnant with your little girl, Annabeth (Beth for short), a year after being married to Ethan. He seemed ready to be a dad, but once he found out Beth has diabetes, he cares for her less and less. He went to classes with you two, learned how to calculate her bolus (amount of insulin needed at meals) and basal (baseline amount of insulin for the day), but never did them properly. She'd end up with high blood sugars all day, sometimes getting ketones (breakdown of muscle in an attempt to breakdown sugar when there's no insulin) because he wouldn't give her the right amount of insulin. She'd puke and cry from how bad she felt, and he still wouldn't take care of her properly.

It would cause you to have to come home in the middle of work to give her the insulin he wouldn't, or if she got ketones, take her to the ER. You'd constantly get into arguments that would end with him going to the pub, and you crying. He wouldn't change, no matter how many times you explained that she could die from improper inulin dosage.

Other times, he'd give her too much, and her blood sugar would drop so low she could barely drink her juice. He'd call you, saying she's barely able to move, she's sweaty and the color from her face is drained, that she's crying, and he doesn't fucking know what to do.

The divorce ended with you having full custody, you allowing small visitations that are supervised. You can't trust he will take care of her how she needs.

NOW

When you start dating Simon, you explain to him why you got divorced, and how important your baby's health is. Even more so that she's so fragile. He assures you he's nothing like your ex-husband and would go strictly by your instruction if you allow him to be a part of her life.

The first few times he was around Beth, he payed close attention to how you took care of her. One time, at the park, Beth played a bit too hard, and her blood sugar dropped. You had 2 juices with you, but she went through those so fast. Once her blood sugar went back up, she played too hard again. Without telling you, he had already brought a few juices in his car. That was the first time he took care of her.

The second time was then you had asked him to pick up her prescriptions from the pharmacy. He waited for her insulin, but they only gave one vial. He explained to them that she uses two a month and that she needs the other one. They said that was all that was ready, so he waited 2 hours until the other one was ready.

What made up your mind was when you were called into work under an emergency, and you had no one to take care of Beth. You hadn't slept well the night before so when Simon offered to watch her, you hadn't thought to explain her dosage formula to him. It wasn't until the end of your shift that you realized and sped home (definitely going over the speed limit). Rushing through the door, you were greeted with the sight of Beth laying on Simon's chest, sound asleep. How was she not sick from no insulin?

"You told me her basal, so I gave her tha'"

oh

"What about the food she ate? Did she eat? What insulin did you give her?" You asked, extremely confused.

"I looked up no carb to low carb foods so I wouldn't have to worry about tha'. She had a cheese stick with some almonds and a lil bit of mashed blueberries with cinnamon mixed in, wasn't very hungry though so she didn't really finish it" he says softly, petting her hair, "told you I'd take care of her, mama"

oh

He really wasn't like her dad.

So, it wasn't really unreasonable when after she was put to bed, you pushed him to your bedroom and took care of him too.

(All of the information in this is coming from me, a type 1 diabetic. Everyone's diabetes is a little different, so this is based off of how mine affects me)

[hoe4hotchner]

maybe some aaron angst with an s/o that's insecure about her discomfort with physical intimacy

Fault Lines | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: angst, hurt/comfort?ish, insecurity, self-doubt, and discomfort with physical intimacy, spiralling, feelings of inadequacy.

The apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the floor lamp casting shadows across the walls.

You sat on the couch, knees pulled to your chest beneath a throw blanket that felt more like armor than comfort. The air felt heavier than usual, pressing down on your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

It had been such a small thing. Aaron had reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as you sat beside him. But that simple act had sent you spiraling.

Did he want more? Did he expect more? The thought clawed at your mind, sending panic flaring through your veins. You could feel the pressure building, your chest tightening as your thoughts spiraled deeper.

He’s been so patient. Too patient. What if he’s tired of waiting? What if this was his way of testing the waters, trying to see if you were ready to give him more? You weren’t sure you could. No, you knew you couldn’t.

The weight of your inadequacy crashed over you like a wave, pulling you under. He deserved better. He deserved someone who didn't freeze every time he reached out. Someone who wasn't too broken to love him the way he deserved. He deserved more.

The couch felt impossibly small, the walls too close, and most of all — he was too close. The thought of his disappointment—of failing him—was like a knife to your chest.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until Aaron’s voice broke through your haze.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said gently glancing up from the newspaper in his hands, his tone was laced with concern but somehow it sounded like an accusation in your ears.

You blinked, his words pulling you out of the swirling storm in your head, though the remnants of it still clung to you. Your gaze darted to him, and you immediately regretted it. He looked worried. Of course, he did. Aaron wasn’t the type to miss things like this. He was a profiler after all.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice so small it barely carried through the space between you. You turned your eyes away, casting them to the ground, unable to face the kindness you knew was there. “I don’t mean to be like this.”

“Like what?” he asked softly, the question gentle but you knew he was trying to coax the answer out of you.

“Like… broken.” The word made bile rise in your throat, bitter and toxic. “You’re so patient with me, and I—I can’t even—” Your voice broke, your insecurity pressing down harder. You squeezed your eyes shut, a tear slipping free despite your best efforts. “It’s not fair to you.”

Aaron didn’t respond right away, and the silence stretched just long enough for the panic to start creeping back in.

He’s going to agree. He’s going to realize I’m right, and he’s going to leave—

“You’re not broken,” he said firmly, cutting through the noise in your head. His voice was steady, grounding even, and you could feel his eyes on you even though you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them.

“You don’t understand,” you whispered, your words trembling. “It’s not just that I can’t—I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. And you shouldn’t have to wait for me to figure that out. You deserve someone who can—who will—” Your breath hitched, and you buried your face in your hands. “Someone better.”

Aaron shifted slightly, his movements careful, trying his best not to touch you. He didn’t reach for your hand like earlier, and he didn’t close the distance. He just stayed where he was, despite wanting to pull you into his embrace, to push your head into the crook of his neck as he cooed sweet nothings into your ear.

“I don’t love you because of what you think you should be able to give me,” he said, his voice low and even. “I love you because of who you are.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the air from your lungs. You shook your head, the shame and doubt too deeply rooted to let go so easily.

“But what if that’s not enough?” you whispered, becoming even quieter.

“It is,” he said simply, as if it were the most undeniable truth in the world. It was to him. “You are enough. And if you need time, or space, or anything else to feel comfortable, I will give you that. This isn’t something we need to fix—it’s something we navigate together.”

Tears blurred your vision as his words settled over you like a warm blanket. You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But the voice in your head was louder, sharper, telling you that you weren’t worth this.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

“I know,” Aaron said softly, his tone almost breaking. “And it’s okay to be scared. But you’re not doing this alone. I’m here, no matter how long it takes. No matter what you feel comfortable with or not, I will be here.”

You finally looked at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But there was none—just the intensity of his love and adoration for you, unshaken by your fears.

It didn’t erase the ache in your chest or the weight of your insecurities. But it made them feel a little less suffocating.

Aaron didn’t push for more. He stayed exactly where he was, steady and patient, waiting for you to come to him when you were ready.

And for now, that was enough.

[fairestwriting]

Hello 👋 could I please request headcanons for leona's fem s/o defending him everytime one of the other characters start making backhanded comments to his face (if you've seen some of the vignettes you'll know what I mean) she doesn't reveal things like he's depressed or anything (tho he is) she just tells them it's shitty of them calling him lazy/selfish constantly without even knowing him personally

[Everyone treats leona like crap and I take personal offense to it >:( ]

You know i make fun of him on a regular basis. but theres a line thats gotta be drawn when it comes to leona bullying. cause damn this guy needs a real Break he cant even have issues in peace

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Before you got closer to him, there’s a fair chance the comments didn’t even stand out to you at all. It always felt a little unfair, yes, but not in a way that was particularly shocking, they were all just rude comments like any other. Back when you weren’t quite friends yet, and maybe even at the start of your friendship, you might have interjected with a simple ”hey, he’s not that bad” or "you don’t need to be rude about it”. It was just a gesture of basic politeness then, something the people around you seemed to lack.

But obviously, your perception of those interactions, and the way you see Leona’s situation itself, soon went through a rather radical change. Possibly even before you two started dating, or even before he “told you too much” — His own words, mumbled dismissively but bitterly, the day he came back after spending a weekend with his family and then proceeded to complain for a little longer than usual — As he warmed up to you, you started to notice things about him more. You started to see the spark of actual passion he has in his eyes during his club activities, the level of detail he gets into when analyzing things, the precise way he moved his chess pieces when you two played...

Above all, though, you started to notice how he often looked actually tired when he took part in any of the “slacking” he’s so infamous for. Learning the littlest bit more about his family life just worked as the final piece of the puzzle you’d been putting together without even noticing — And then, other people’s “rudeness” started to sound like something much more cruel. It didn’t help that he never seemed to react to it whenever he overheard others gossiping, or whenever you told him about the things you heard. “Why doesn’t he care?” The thought would echo in your mind for ages, trying to understand him through the tiny slivers of vulnerability he didn’t mean to show.

Now, as his girlfriend, you feel you just can’t let people say whatever they want, and you feel it more strongly than you ever have. ”Why don’t you mind your own business instead of talking about someone you don’t really know?” You snap back on instinct when one of your classmates, who was in Savanaclaw, comments on how lazy their dorm leader is. Their mouth closes instantly, regardless if you’ve made your relationship public or not — You realize that, on top of all the negative treatment Leona got, it was also extremely rare for others to defend him in any way at all. Enough that even a response that simple elicits shock from others.

”You know, it’s crazy to see you hanging out with Leona like that. I never thought I'd see anyone get so excited to spend time with him.” You hear some other day, while spending time in Savanaclaw’s common area, sat right next to Leona, and it just makes your blood boil. He’s just half-glaring at your particularly cocky acquaintance, sighing like he’s heard it a million times before, which you know he probably has. ”Hey, make sure you don’t get too influenced, we don’t need another person who just sleeps all day—”

”Yeah, you’re right. This type of person can be such a pain. I’m so glad I don’t know anyone who’s, you know, actually like that.” You say through grit teeth, just barely holding back aggression, and in the corner of your vision, the subtle flash of surprise in Leona’s face only encourages you to continue. ”Imagine if like, the Magift team had this sort of player in it… the club would be done for.”

They stare at you with wide eyes, having very much picked up on the aggression. The entire room is silent, you refuse to break eye contact, arms firmly crossed. ”Well, I mean…” The student stammers, but then, Leona himself speaks up for once. ”Did you not get her message? You need me to tell you to shut up instead?” He snaps, and they frantically shake their head, eyes fixed on the ground. You feel pride swelling in your chest, almost unable to hold back your smile.

”You know, Herbivore, if I needed a bodyguard I’d already have one.” He tells you later, in that same day. His tone has that snarky edge that feels like his default, but it’s much less pronounced than usual. You can even see a sort of softness in his eyes while he tries to play it cool. But needing and deserving are two different things, you think. As interactions like these repeat, with you defending him every time, you hope your message fully gets through to him, one day.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[promptedwordsmith]

Might I HUMBLY request Xavier x reader where he’s all pouty because you’ve been busy with work and ignoring him and you accidentally raise your voice at him because he keeps trying to speak to you but ur busy and he starts crying. Yup. I’d like to order that meal please I live for crybaby Xavier 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Hi! I love this I put my spin on crying Xavier because he is my no.1 pookie and he seems to me like the type that cries whe he annoyed or feels wronged (because I do)

Xavier sat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the back of your head as if he could will you to turn around and finally look at him. He had been patient—remarkably patient, in his opinion—but after hours of watching you hunched over your computer, completely ignoring his presence, his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

He had tried everything to get your attention. At first, he’d settled for subtle tactics: stretching exaggeratedly, sighing loudly, shifting on the couch in a way that made the leather creak just enough to be noticeable. When that failed, he moved on to more obvious methods, like standing behind you, resting his chin on your head, and wrapping his arms around your shoulders in what should have been a distraction too sweet to ignore.

But you hadn’t even flinched.

So now, he was pouting.

Xavier would never admit to pouting, of course, but that was exactly what he was doing. His lower lip was slightly pushed out, his silver brows were drawn together in a frown, and he was sinking lower and lower into the couch, his entire body exuding sulky displeasure.

How long had it been now? Two hours? Three? He was certain it had been at least half the day.

His fingers drummed against his knee. Maybe he should just grab your laptop and toss it across the room. That would get your attention. Or maybe he should act like he was in grave distress—clutch his chest, groan dramatically, collapse onto the floor. Surely that would get you to look at him.

Instead, he settled for the next best thing.

With all the grace and stealth he possessed, Xavier slid off the couch, crawling onto the floor until he was sitting directly beside your chair. His head tilted up as he stared at you, waiting for even the smallest reaction.

Nothing.

He scowled. "Are you planning to stare at that screen all night?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, not even sparing him a glance.

His frown deepened. "You do realize I’m here, right?"

Another vague noise of acknowledgment.

Xavier narrowed his eyes. He had been ignored before, sure, but this was just unfair.

And now, he had made it his mission to break your focus.

Xavier, determined as ever, let out a small sigh before lifting his hand. His Evol hummed to life, and the glow of your laptop screen flickered, dimming until it was barely visible. Then, with a subtle flick of his fingers, the display distorted, the text shifting and swirling like ink in water.

You let out a frustrated groan. "Xavier!"

He blinked up at you innocently. "Yes?"

"Please! I need to get this report done. I'm not getting behind on work because you want attention!"

In your frustration, you snapped the laptop shut with more force than intended before throwing it open again, fingers immediately resuming their frantic typing. Your words were sharp, harsher than you meant, but at that moment, all you could focus on was meeting your deadline.

You didn’t notice the way Xavier's eyes widened slightly, the way his usual playful demeanor stiffened ever so slightly. You didn’t notice how he stared at you, as if seeing something he hadn’t expected.

What you did notice was the quiet click of the door.

Not a slam, not an angry exit—just a calm, deliberate departure. The sound, barely loud enough to be distracting under normal circumstances, echoed in your mind like a deafening crack.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard.

Oh.

You exhaled, a sharp pang of guilt settling in your chest as the weight of your own words replayed in your mind. You hadn’t meant to snap. You hadn’t meant to push him away.

But you had.

Xavier was never demanding. He was persistent, sure, but never unreasonable. And now, instead of arguing or pouting, he had simply… left.

You swallowed, glancing toward the door.

Would he come back if you waited? Maybe he just needed air. Maybe you were overreacting.

But then you thought of his expression before he left—the quiet hurt hidden beneath the usual calm.

With a sigh, you pushed your chair back, standing up. Work could wait. Xavier, however, shouldn’t have to.

You hesitated outside Xavier’s apartment, the weight of the cookie container in your hands suddenly feeling heavier than it should. The trip up here had felt longer than usual, your own guilt dragging your steps.

You took a breath. Just apologise.

Slipping inside, you expected to see him sprawled out dramatically on the couch, maybe with a pillow over his face, sulking like a cat deprived of attention. Instead, what you found made your stomach twist.

Xavier was sitting on the couch, his body angled toward the window, bathed in the cold glow of the city lights. The usual warmth he carried was nowhere to be found. He was still, too still.

You stepped closer, keeping your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, okay, I get it. I was a little harsh, but you were being insufferable—"

You stopped.

Even in the dim lighting, you could see the quiet tears slipping down his cheeks. He wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t making a sound, but the sight was somehow worse. He looked like he wasn’t even aware he was crying, like his emotions had bled through before he could stop them.

Your breath caught in your throat. "Xavier…"

You surged forward instinctively, placing the cookies on the table with a soft clatter before cupping his cheeks in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t lean into the touch like he usually would.

Instead, he turned his face slightly, firmly ignoring you.

The rejection, soft as it was, stung.

"Xavier," you tried again, thumbs brushing over the damp trails left by his tears. "Talk to me."

Nothing.

His jaw tensed under your touch, and his hands, usually so quick to grab onto you, remained clenched in his lap. The Xavier you knew, the one who teased and pouted and wormed his way into every aspect of your life, felt so distant now.

You swallowed. "I didn’t mean to snap at you," you whispered, your voice softer now, less desperate, more honest. "I was frustrated, not with you—well, okay, maybe a little with you—but mostly with myself."

His shoulders twitched, barely a reaction, but enough for you to see you were getting through.

You took a breath, shifting so you were kneeling between his legs, forcing him to either look at you or go on stubbornly ignoring your presence.

"You can be a pain, you know?" You smiled a little, trying to coax something, anything, out of him. "But you’re my pain, and I was an idiot for pushing you away like that."

Still, silence.

Then, finally, a breath.

"You always do that." His voice was quiet, rough in a way you weren’t used to. "Always throw yourself into things and forget that someone’s waiting for you to look up."

You blinked.

Xavier exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if he was annoyed with himself. "I don’t even know why I…" He trailed off, hands finally moving—but not to hold you. Instead, he wiped at his own face as if frustrated that he had let himself cry in front of you at all.

You felt your chest ache.

There was something heavier in his words, something unspoken. A kind of familiar grief that didn’t make sense in the context of one small fight.

But that was a question for another time.

Right now, you just wanted him to know he mattered.

So you leaned in, pressing your forehead gently against his. "I’ll look up more," you promised, closing your eyes. "I’ll pay attention. I swear, Xavier."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, his hands finally reached for you.

Not playful, not teasing—just holding on.

Like he was afraid of something.

Like he was afraid of losing you.

Xavier didn’t speak right away. He just held onto you, his hands gripping your arms, thumbs brushing over your skin as if reassuring himself that you were really there. His forehead was still pressed against yours, warm and steady, but there was a hesitance in the way he held you—like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away again.

You weren’t going to.

Slowly, he exhaled, finally shifting back just enough to look at you properly. His blue eyes were still damp, still heavy with something unsaid, but there was a quiet resolution there now. He lifted your hands from where they rested against his chest, cradling them carefully between his own.

Then, with a gentleness that made your breath catch, he brought them to his lips.

His lips brushed over your knuckles, lingering in a way that made your heart ache. "I need you to be serious about this," he murmured, voice low, but firm. "Not just saying it to make me feel better."

You swallowed, guilt tightening in your throat.

"I mean it," he continued, pressing another soft kiss to your fingers. "I want to spend time with you, and if you’re too busy, then fine—just let me help. If it’s your report, I’ll help you with it. If you’re stuck, I’ll be there." He squeezed your hands gently, his expression open, unguarded in a way you weren’t used to. "I just want to be with you. However I can."

Your heart clenched.

You’d been so focused on your work, so lost in the constant cycle of getting things done, that you hadn’t even considered how Xavier might feel about it. He didn’t just want attention—he wanted to be with you. He wanted to be a part of your world, not just something on the outside waiting for a moment of your time.

You lifted your hands, cupping his face once more, smoothing your thumbs over his cheekbones. This time, when he leaned into your touch, there was no resistance.

"I promise," you whispered.

Then, before he could say anything else, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was sweet, slow—not rushed or desperate, but full of warmth. A promise sealed with something softer than words. Xavier made a quiet sound against your lips, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled back, he exhaled, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You sure you won’t need me to break your screen again?"

You laughed, pressing your forehead to his. "No breaking my laptop. But…" You smiled. "I wouldn’t mind your help next time."

His smirk softened into something fonder, something real.

"Good," he murmured, pulling you in again. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

And this time, you believed him.

[gatorbites-imagines]

scott summers x male reader where Scott gets hit with someones love mutation ( basically like a love potion type of situation ) and Scott " falls in love" with male reader, but scoot acts the same as he always does, because he is already in love with male reader.

Scott Summers x mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers mildly based on Atom Smasher, at least power-wise. Still tired from working all week, but it is what it is. I eat up Scott being awkward, I hc him as autistic if anyone cares. Cuz I love Scott, and Scott is me.

You were on X-men, with a mutation that let you change your size. Like ant-man, but cooler, if anyone asked you. You didn’t need a suit to change your size, so in your mind you were the original.

How long you had been an x-men doesn’t matter much, just enough time for Scott to fall in love with you, but not long enough that you could read between all his actions.

Which isn’t very obvious to anyone but the teams telepaths, who can hear his thoughts because of different mind bonds they share. Or the ones who have been on the team long enough to notice he’s giving you favorable treatment.

To you it isn’t obvious, as Scott doesn’t let it show too much. favorable treatment from Scott is things like him pulling you into the danger room to spar more, or him secretly stocking up on your favorite snacks.

Scott would stick closer to you than most, but again, to you it just comes across as the leader sticking closer to the new guy. At least, in the beginning when you are the new guy. After that, you two have kind of a strategy when it comes to fighting from all the training, which makes you believe its that.

Scott was always a bit tense or flighty, in your opinion. But everything moved so slow or fast when you changed size, so maybe it was just that. being the leader of the x-men also meant he had to have a lot of weight on his shoulders, right?

It definitely wasn’t because your suit would rip and tear a lot back when you first joined the team, before Hank and you found the right formula for a suit that would shrink and grow with you.

At least you never flashed anybody, as much as Scott would silently in his mind wish you did. Which just ended up with him getting a lot of ribbing from Jean and whoever else could hear his thoughts.

When Scott was hit with the enemy mutants’ powers, no one really realized for a while.

You had been as big as a skyscraper at that point, fighting against a sentinel of all things. Why mutants would side with them, you never understood. But that’s life. This also just meant you didn’t see Scott get hit.

It was only after you guys got back to the mansion, or krakoa, depending on where and when this takes place, and other members of the team were getting treated. Hank was mostly shocked you hadn’t gotten hit, since you were so damn big and easy to hit.

The only difference in Scott was that he was hovering more than usual, hell, he even let his fingers brush against the back of your hand for like a split second but that was it.

Other than that, he’s the exact same, giving out orders and helping where he’s needed. Though, he does keep an eye on you more than usual, which isn’t that obvious with his visor and everything anyways.

Maybe Jean is out of commission for a while, so it’s Charles that realizes Scott was hit, so it takes a while.

And its only realized when Scotts thoughts spiral more than usual when it comes to you, sounding borderline obsessed and possessive. It’s when flickers of thoughts about using his optic blast on Remy when he’s doing his usual flirting that it starts setting off alarm bells.

Scott would deny anything being wrong with him, since he doesn’t feel different. Which, in the end, just outs him and his feelings to you which leaves you stunned for a while.

You end up having to sit with him and hold his hand to make him stop resisting treatment, since he’s way too focused and flustered about holding your hand.

Maybe your powers act up a bit from having these feelings put on display, because yeah, your team leader is such a damn smokeshow and he’s charming in his own way. But you never thought hed actually like you of all people.

It’s pretty awkward in the medical wing for a couple of moments, with Scott wanting to jump into the ocean at how embarrassed he feels. It doesn’t help when you grow a couple of sizes when you realize all the times you two have been grinding on each other during spars, and the table breaks right under you.

Being thrown to the floor at least makes Scott laugh. Enough for him to roll over and pull your mask off, because it’s not fair only you get to see how flustered he is, right? (it’s also because he wants to see if you are disgusted by him, but sssshhh, don’t tell anybody)

When he sees how flustered you are about it, how you keep worrying your lip and looking away it makes his heart flutter.

Scott has always been good at reading people, it comes with the job. But realizing other people like him has never been his strong suit, so he’s never really thought about it.

In the end you two kiss, even if it’s pretty clumsy and a bit weird with you being at least 8 feet tall, but you make it work. Good thing Scott doesn’t mind the size difference.

It takes a moment for you to shrink back to normal size, and you two just spend some time sitting on the floor feeling flustered and talking about it. Scott likes order in his things, so of course hed want to get this right too.

You two are not surviving leaving the medical wing for long though, especially when the rest of the team sees the smashed table. Everyone knows the real reason, but there’s so much teasing about “what were yall doing in there, huh?”

But you guys survive, even if Scott does get huffy and blushy about it. you get back at the teasing by putting the items of the teammates in places they cant reach.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 26

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: I'm sorry for the delay. Unfortunately life gets in the way of these things!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21 • Part 22 • Part 23 • Part 24 • Part 25

• ··········· • ············ •

Thanks to whatever gods were now in charge of watching your endeavors, you made your way quickly and easily through the aqueduct. A mix of Viktor’s knowledge of the place and your ability to unlock doors and create distractions meant you didn’t need to go through the rocky riverbed.

Once on the other side of the river, you both made your way silently toward the main city, and when you arrived back at the park, the sun was already low on the horizon.

Viktor paused next to the small bench you had met by that morning, scratching the back of his neck and biting on his cheek, and you frowned.

“Spit it.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow when he looked up at you, but then his gaze drifted away.

“I have a…suggestion to give you, but I’m afraid of what you might think of me after.”

Your frown got deeper as his cheeks got redder.

“Go on.” 

“My apartment is closer to the aqueduct than the penthouse, so…” He cleared his throat. “I think it would be beneficial…and far less exhausting… if…youspendthenightatmyhouse.”

The last part of the sentence came out as fast as the hex claw laser. You got 'spend' and 'house'…ah…

…

“You don’t have to; it is completely up to you, and even if you say yes and then change your mind, you can go! And the walls are really paper-thin, so if you are worried that I do anything to you… I mean you do have magic and I'm not exactly the strongest man in Piltover…once…Jayce gently pushed me away from an experiment, and I toppled over… Embarrassing, really… Why am I telling you this?”

You blinked a couple of times. At first I'm shocked that he had actually asked you to spend time at his place, especially after the day you both had. And then at his comically dramatic rant, a smile appeared on your face as he kept going.

“Alright, sounds like a good plan.”

“Besides, your mother isn’t here yet, and you’d be alone and…wait, what?” He finally stopped to look at you.

“It’s a good idea. We’ll be able to squeeze a few more hours of sleep in and do some planning.”

Viktor started to nod slowly at first and then enthusiastically. His face opened up with a nervous but bright smile.

“You want to go get takeout at Voltaire’s? I’m sure I can convince him to get you some tart…” He announced as he passed you by, waiting for you to follow him.

“No need.” He adjusted his cane, and you could have sworn he had a little more pep in his step. “Jayce came over the other day; his mother usually makes him bring me food. I fear she thinks I can’t feed myself.”

“Eh…pastries and dessert don’t count as a balanced meal plan, Vik.” You joked, and he gave an ‘I don’t care’ type shrug. “I’m just happy you're eating.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You shifted your backpack’s straps, realizing what you had blurted out.

“Well, work…”

“I can eat and work! That is why I have two hands…” He made a gesture of screwing a bolt and grabbing something to eat.

“Wow…efficient.” He made an agreeing sound with his throat, and you laughed.

“Keep doing it! As much as people would kill for those cheekbones, gaunt wouldn’t look good on you.” You winked at him and laughed when he touched the reddening apple of his cheeks. 

Viktor joined your amusement as you both walked towards the Artist Quarters on your way to Engineering Street. 

The small apartment Viktor had inhabited was, in fact, closer to the aqueduct, between the riverbed and the Academy. Most of the people working in the Academy had housing there. Mostly because the rents were low for them and proximity. It was a step up from dorms, but not really an upgrade in luxury.

And while Engineering Street was quiet throughout the day and night, you’d even say a bit boring, the Artist Quarters were a lively and colorful place, becoming more energetic at night.

The buildings were smaller, with a maximum of 3 floors, but bright with small shops on the floor levels. Bakeries, art shops, music stores. The cobblestone streets were filled with chalk drawings on the ground, and the streetlights had string lights hanging in between them. 

The colors seemed to become brighter in these streets with the number of flowers and small trees and the strewn artists painting on the streets or people drinking and eating on the restaurant’s patio.

You passed by an art supply shop, and someone inside shouted Viktor’s name and waved at him. Viktor did the same, warmly greeting the elderly man storing a display of watercolors on a shelf, and you became curious.

“Mr. Felton sells me the pencils and chalks the council hates so much.” Viktor explained when he saw your expression.

“Have you ever tried drawing?”

“Oh no! Jayce is the artist of the two of us. He’s in charge of doing the initial designs and sketches…I’m good with a ruler, though!”

You were chuckling at his pride and confidence when he suddenly veered right and started to fish something out of his satchel. He took out a key and shoved it into the intricate front door to a beautiful blue-tiled building.

When he noticed you weren’t following him, he turned back and mentioned for you to come.

Viktor, head scientist and co-creator of Hextech, did not live on Engineering Street… Viktor, the color-coding aficionado, lived in the Artists Quarters. And you knew, in your heart of hearts…in the depths of your soul…there was nothing that made more sense than this.

His never-stopping mind didn’t need the monotony of the academy-assigned living quarters. It needs the bustle and the bustle and the colors of this place. You wondered if anything would have been different if the other Viktor had had this thought.

…

The building was beautiful outside and in.

On the outside, the light blue tiled walls were decorated with white columns and stone windows. There were three floors, with the two higher ones having a small veranda on them, just big enough to have two chairs on them. The ivy that crept up on the walls broke the symmetric façade of the building, clinging to the columns and tiles like veiny tendrils of bright green. What really got your attention at first was the front door, a white wood double door with intricate carvings and colorful glass panes, finished with a beautifully curved glass canopy.

The inside of the building was just as wonderful, with pastel brown painted walls and various little plants scattered on corners; the well-used wooden floors gave the inside a cozy feeling. In the middle back of the foyer was an old, small elevator that Viktor quickly made his way to, only stopping at the metal mailboxes to see if anything had been left to him. Nothing.

When you got to the elevator, you noticed Viktor’s hand tapping on the handle of his crutch. He was biting his cheek and slightly frowning, breathing in and out deeply at points.

“Are you alright?” You asked, leaning against the cage of the elevator.

“Mmm?” You nodded to his fingers on the handle, and he stopped, clutching the handle tighter. “Sorry…I--”

“Remember when you said I could change my mind and go? The same applies to you. I can just go.” You made sure your tone wasn’t disappointed or angry or any unintentional emotion that would make him feel bad when there was absolutely nothing to feel bad about. You’d respect his decision the same way you know he’d respect yours.

“No…” he quickly interjected. “I…this is not because I don’t want you here. It is because I do. I’m afraid I may do something that will scare you off…”

“I don’t scare easily.” You want to add, ‘I once spit in the face of a god,’ but then he would start asking questions. So you just touched his hand and smiled. 

The elevator stopped with a mechanical groan, and Viktor nodded, more to himself than to you, and walked out to the second-floor foyer. He opened the door and walked inside with you close behind. However, you couldn’t make it past the door frame without gasping wide-eyed while your mind blanked.

Something about butterflies and wings came to mind, though.

The inside of his apartment was the exact same floor plan as the other dimension. A small kitchenette to the left with a window on top of the sink, and the rest was open space. The glass and wood door to the balcony was on a diagonal corner in front of the main door; next to it was a small arrangement of windows with curved lines going through them, giving them a delicate design. There was a room to the side, which you guessed was the bedroom, and another room at the end of the open space, the bathroom. It wasn’t cramped, but it was small.

You knew this floor plan like the back of your hand; you could close your eyes and go from here to the bathroom without bumping into the wall.

What changed, though, made the entire home feel different. The decorations and the colors. The lived-in details of the furniture.

The walls had been painted a deep forest green, instead of the neutral gray of the other dimension. There were decorations on the walls, diplomas, and schematics displayed proudly. The wooden floors were shiny and covered with rugs here and there.

The small table that served as a divider between the kitchen and the living space had a napkin holder and a wooden straw table mat. There were pans on top of the fridge and plates on the dish rack. There were two mugs on the sink, one of them with ‘man of progress printed on it. 

It contrasted with the table that only served to hold books, boxes, and schematics. On the other timeline, glasses and plates were stored so as not to catch dust from not being used.

The living room had three bookcases filled with trinkets, books, vinyl records, and their player. 

The books weren’t just academic, like the other apartment’s shelves, but also biographies and fantasy, architecture, and philosophy.

You could see the collector's edition of your mother’s saga neatly tucked into a shelf with small ceramic figures of the main characters in front of them. 

There were photos of him, Jayce, Sky, and even your mom and Willah. Noticeably he didn’t look particularly comfortable in any of them, but it was a stark difference from the single photo of Jayce and Viktor at the inauguration of the hexgate and the framed newspaper clipping of the hex crystal discovery. 

The couch was a light dusty pink color with decorative pillows and two folded blankets on the back of it. It was a sharp difference from the leather-bound couch with blankets thrown about and his bed pillow shoved into a corner.

Behind a clothed divider, a desk and some scientific material were completely thrown around, but the mess was enclosed there. Near a big window, you saw the single-seat, twin version of the couch your mother sent to the lab. Tucked in a nook surrounded by plants and books. 

There were shoes on the shoe rack and coats on the coat hanger. There was an open book with a cover-up on the end table near the couch. There were tea stains on the dinner table. There was a life being lived here.

As you walked around the home, with Viktor trailing in front of you explaining and adding commentary to the million new things you were finding in the familiar house, you found yourself wondering why the Viktor you knew from before couldn’t have been gifted this…why was this Viktor standing in front of you smiling and being a generally happy human while his cosmic twin coughed himself to death? It made you sad and happy and angry and relieved.

“Are you alright?” Viktor tapped your shoulder, something he had now started to use to catch your attention instead of grabbing you.

You took a deep breath and mentioned the couch, silently asking permission to sit. Quickly he nodded and grabbed some pillows to make space for you. 

When you fell onto the leathery furniture, he took the place next to you, looking concerned.

“V…I…need to--”

“Meow”

Your speech was interrupted by a long, muffled meow by the front door, accompanied by small scratches on the wood.

“Oh…No, no… I’m sorry…Give me a moment…” Viktor gave an apologetic smile and got up, while you looked on intrigued by this.

He walked towards the bathroom door and opened it and then went back to the front door and did the same. The blackest of black cats intertwined itself on Viktor's legs, giving out small greeting squeaks and purrs.

“Go. Go on. Yes, I know.” Viktor said, smiling softly at the cat, talking back to them as if he could understand. 

The scientist softly nudged the cat with his foot, making the furry critter understand the big human wanted to move.

The cat finally acknowledged you and walked slowly towards where you sat, sitting gracefully in front of you and staring. Their blue eyes looked at you, and you swore that if all of the lights in Piltover were to turn off, the cat's eyes would be the only thing beaming.

“You have a cat.” You stated more than asked.

“Eehhh…Technically, the building has a cat. She just heard me first.” He limped back towards the couch and sat down.

“What's her name?” 

“Noir…Nono for short.” 

The cat leaped to the couch and smelled the hand you gave her. After a while, she deemed you worthy of her time and pushed her head into her hand, while Viktor stroked her body.

“Nono.” You called, and she looked at you. You presented her with your name, and she meowed.

When she was sick of the attention, she jumped down and walked to the bathroom, where you heard the telltale signs of her munching on her food.

“What were you saying?”

Viktor’s face was the definition of relaxed, the concern from before being replaced with a soft gaze and smile. 

Was the need to come clean to him about his cosmic twin attempting to end the world worth him losing his peace? Would the information you were about to vomit change what he has so carefully built?

“I…think I just need to eat.” You gave him a bright smile, and he laughed quietly.

“Very well.” He got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen counter, and you followed him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You already were, the familiar floor plan making you feel at home. You sat at the dinner table watching him open his fridge and take out some glass containers with food and place them in the oven to heat up. 

Viktor sat on a chair next to you and slowly took off his leg brace, sighing in release.

“If you want to, you can shower. I can go ask Madame Theroux, my neighbor, if she can let me borrow one of her kid's old clothes… I think she might have something that fits you.” 

“Oh no…That’s too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense.” He got up and grabbed a discarded cane that was hooked on the divider and walked towards his bedroom. 

After a while, he came out holding two fluffy towels and handed them to you. “She probably already heard I have company; might as well come clean sooner than later; otherwise she’ll be knocking on my door to snoop.”

“Sounds like a charm.” You grabbed the towels.

“She is actually. She’s very protective of us…the people in the building.” He smiled and mentioned the bathroom door. “If you could just leave the door ajar so Nono can come in and out…otherwise she will throw a tantrum.”

The black cat, now curled up on the couch, meowed at hearing her name. You nodded and walked to the bathroom while Viktor made his way to his neighbor's door.

“Oh…you can use whatever you need from there.” He opened the door and paused again. “There’s a robe on the back of the door if you need it.”

The door clicked shut, and you looked at Nono, who looked up at you and blinked slowly.

The bathroom was big, and while in the other dimension, it was just a well, normal bathroom; this one had been enhanced to help Viktor with his disability.

There were grab rails next to the slightly raised toilet and in the shower nook. All of the towel racks were sturdy enough to assist if he needed.

The floor had several thin anti-slip rugs, and the shower also had one that looked like wood. 

There was also a stool inside the shower that you assumed he would use when needed.

You and Viktor in your timeline had once talked about this, making his house accessible for when he needed it, but his answer had been dismissive. A shrug and an ‘I spend more time in the lab anyway.’ Maybe you should have insisted; maybe you should have been more enthused about making it easier for him. Maybe if you had, he would have seen you in a better light after he had gotten the news.

It frustrated you that ‘maybes’ were all you had now. Even if you went back to your dimension, those things would still be in a maybe and if pile.

You heard the door close and started your shower quickly. You heard a knock on the door.

“There is a chair outside the door, in arm's reach for you to take. Madame Theroux said she threw in some undergarments…I didn’t check.” 

“Thank you.” 

You finished the shower and grabbed the clothes. Some red cotton checkered bottoms, a matching shirt, a white undershirt, and undergarments. It looked cozy, and it did fit you perfectly. This brought up the question of how Viktor had described you to the neighbor for her to get accurate measurements.

Walking out of the bathroom intent on joking about it with him, you stopped when you saw him haul a blanket and what you assume was a pillow to the couch.

“Oh. You are done.” He smiled, grabbed some clothes from the back of the couch, and walked towards you. “I think the food will be done soon. I am going to take a shower too, and then we eat, yes?”

You were still looking at the pillow and the sheet that was already tucked into the sofa. 

“This for me?” You blurted it out before he passed you, and he shook his head.

“No. You’re my guest. You sleep on the bed.” He sounded proud of himself. “May I?”

Viktor pointed to the door of the bathroom, and you noticed you had been blocking his path. You took a step forward, and he smiled, walked inside, and pushed the door almost closed.

The ruffling of clothes snapped you out of your stupor, and you walked towards the kitchen, throwing daggers at the couch.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd @jazzypop-op @jojo-at-heart @deceivethedreamer

[itsnesss]

𝐏.𝐒. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬; minho moon ( series ) O2

pairing ; minho moon x female!reader

content ; fluff, romantic tension, angst, personal conflicts, rivalry, enemies to lovers

summary ; you never imagined your life would change so much with a simple exchange. in canada, everything was predictable, but when the chance to study in seoul came, you took it. you met minho. a tall, serious guy with a cold attitude who made you feel even more out of place. from the very beginning, you hated each other. every encounter was filled with disdainful looks and harsh words. your first meeting was so uncomfortable that all you wanted was to escape his indifference. but as time went on, you realized that minho wasn’t just an obstacle—he was the beginning of something unexpected. what started with hatred and a simple fall led to a connection that made you feel more alive than ever

status ; ongoing !!

— navigation ; OO1. OO2.

TWO ; P.S. People Often Judge

You walk towards the dormitory with a slight sense of frustration. There were no available rooms for you after talking to the director. When you arrive, the girls are already settled.

"Hey, Kitty," you say, trying to sound calm. "How are we going to organize ourselves for sleeping?"

Kitty, with a somewhat uncomfortable smile, looks up.

"Well, Yuri and Julianna decided to share a bed. So, you’ll sleep with me. At least you won’t have to sleep on the couch, right?" Kitty laughs, but there’s something in her tone that makes you think she’s not entirely comfortable with the situation.

You nod, relieved that you won’t have to sleep on the couch, but you can’t help but feel awkward.

That night, when everyone settles in to sleep, you move closer to Kitty.

"Kitty, has anything weird been going on with the girls?" you ask, bluntly.

Kitty looks at you, a little surprised by the question. She doesn’t know how to respond, but when she sees your expression, she knows you want to talk.

"A bit. I feel like there’s something uncomfortable, especially with Yuri and Julianna. They’re always... sticking together. It’s weird."

You nod, feeling a slight melancholy in your gaze.

"I try to keep myself busy so I’m not the third wheel." Kitty sighs. "But the truth is, I like Yuri, and I didn’t know how to tell her. I wrote a letter. But when I got here, she was already back with Julianna. It was a blow for me." Kitty laughs bitterly.

You look at her in silence. You didn’t expect such a personal revelation from Kitty, and it makes you feel a deeper connection to her. Kitty, always so extroverted, seems to be struggling with something much deeper.

"Wow, Kitty, I didn’t know…" you say, genuinely surprised.

Kitty smiles with a mix of sadness and gratitude.

"It’s not something I talk about much, but... well, thanks for listening." Kitty shifts a bit in bed, trying to get comfortable.

You nod, knowing that you understand more than she thinks. Despite the tension of the past hours, you feel closer to Kitty now.

The next day starts like any other, until you walk into the room where Mr. Moon’s project is going to take place. Kitty, as always, is with you, talking about anything to pass the time. However, before entering the room, you stop when you hear a conversation that makes you feel more distant than ever.

"I don’t like Stella that much," Minho says, with a casual attitude that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Kitty, surprised, asks with a teasing smile:

"Really? Doesn’t she appeal to you at all?"

Minho doesn’t beat around the bush:

"No, she doesn’t appeal to me. I saw her at the event, and there’s no chemistry. I don’t know, she’s just not my type." Minho shrugs indifferently. "What about you, though? How do you feel about Y/N?"

Your chest tightens when you hear your name. You can’t help it. The pain starts seeping into your chest.

Kitty responds with a nervous laugh:

"Well, yeah, Y/N is a good girl. I don’t understand why you’re asking, Minho."

Minho, with his usual tone, grimaces.

"I don’t know, I feel like something’s off about her. She doesn’t really convince me."

You freeze. It’s like you’ve been hit in the stomach. That’s the confirmation of something you already suspected. Minho doesn’t see you in a good light, and the discomfort you feel seems to be mutual. Without letting anyone see you, you turn away, your heart full of disappointment, and quickly walk off.

You walk briskly down the hall, not looking back. Minho’s words hit you like a wave, a cold pain slowly filtering into your chest. You don’t understand why he said it, why he made those assumptions about you when he doesn’t even know you well. What right did Minho have to say something like that? You think, your hands gripping the edges of your jacket as if you could erase the feeling of rejection that’s settled in your body.

At first, you try to ignore your own feelings, telling yourself it’s just a conversation without importance, something fleeting. But Minho’s words keep echoing in your head. He made assumptions without knowing you, and not only that, but he tried to sow doubt in Kitty. Why did he think he had the right to judge you?

The idea of going to the cafeteria seems like a useful distraction, so you head there to get something hot to drink.

When you arrive, you head to the coffee machine, hoping the smell of the brew can calm your anxiety. You take your drink in silence, watching as the other students chat and laugh, unaware of what’s going on in your head. You don’t want to think about Minho, but it’s impossible not to. The words he said about you, his assumptions about your life, all of it hurts.

With your drink in hand, you head to the Art Expression room. You don’t feel like socializing, but at least there you can focus on something different for a while. When you enter the classroom, you see Kitty, who is already sitting.

"Hi, Kitty," you say, dropping your backpack on the table before sitting down.

"Hey, Y/N! How’s it going?" Kitty responds, looking at you out of the corner of her eye but not pressing too much.

You sigh, preferring to leave the topic from the morning behind. But just as you’re about to say something else, Minho walks in. His presence fills the room immediately, as it always does. You tense up, and a thought quickly crosses your mind:

"It can’t be…"

Minho walks straight to his seat without even looking at you, but you already know it will be impossible to avoid any kind of interaction. The tension between you two has been in the air since the morning, and you feel it.

As if he hadn’t noticed the heavy atmosphere, Minho casts a mocking glance at you before speaking.

"Wow, what a coincidence. Seriously, can’t you sit somewhere else?" he says, looking at your seat with a mixture of annoyance and sarcasm.

Kitty, seeing the tension beginning to rise, quickly intervenes.

"Come on, guys. Can you stop fighting for five minutes? It’s not that serious," Kitty says, rolling her eyes and placing her hand in the center of the table, as if she’s some sort of mediator.

The atmosphere in the classroom becomes tense for a moment, but soon the door opens with force, interrupting the conversation. All the students turn to look at the entrance. The man who appears is tall, with a firm and elegant posture. It’s none other than Mr. Moon, Minho’s father, who is also the teacher in charge of the class. A murmur of surprise spreads across the room.

"Good morning, students," Mr. Moon greets in an authoritative voice. "Today we’re going to do something different. This isn’t just any class."

You and the rest of the students pay attention. What could he have in mind?

"Today we’ll determine who among you will earn a spot in the Advanced Voice program. We’ll also decide who we’ll cut off the mic as judges."

A feeling of excitement and nervousness fills the room. Some students seem excited, others tense. You, though somewhat surprised, can’t deny that the idea of participating in such an important event gives you a mix of anxiety and adrenaline.

"Each of you will present your performance, and I will be scoring. I’ve prepared a sheet with options for notes, so make sure you’re ready. Remember, it’s not just about talent; it’s about the connection you manage to convey. Trust your instincts," Mr. Moon adds.

You try to calm your nerves. You look at your sheet, quickly writing down some notes, before looking at the rest of the class. Minho, of course, seems completely confident, while Kitty can’t help but look at you with curiosity.

Finally, Mr. Moon begins to listen to each of the students. The room fills with singing, some more confident than others. You watch carefully, noticing how Minho, despite his arrogance, has a presence that draws attention. However, it’s not the only thing that stands out that morning.

At the end of the exercise, Mr. Moon begins announcing the results. Dae is the first to receive praise. Mr. Moon looks at him and says firmly:

"Dae has received unanimous approval. Well done!"

The class breaks into applause, and you can’t help but feel relieved for Dae, though your mind is preoccupied with what’s coming next.

Mr. Moon continues with the ratings until it’s Stella’s turn.

"Stella, I’m afraid I can’t accept your performance. Only one person voted for you... and that was the only one who agreed that your presentation had something to offer," Mr. Moon says with a neutral tone.

Stella stands in silence for a moment, looking at the other students before speaking.

"I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings," she says softly, referring to Minhee, who is in the same row.

Minho, who has been silent, can’t help but intervene.

"He’s hurtful to let someone with no talent think they have what it takes," Minho says with a cold look, making it clear that he doesn’t plan to soften his words.

You feel the anger starting to build inside you.

"And what do you know about what it takes?" you respond quickly, not thinking too much about your words. "Maybe the problem is that you think too highly of yourself to judge others without seeing what they really have."

Mr. Moon watches the interaction between the two before speaking again.

"Minho is right, in part. Sometimes the truth hurts, but it’s better to know it. We can’t let false talent take over something this important."

Annoyed but unwilling to let it go, you just looked at Minho one last time. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but something told you that your teacher’s words wouldn’t be the last word in the internal battle you felt toward him.

After a long and exhausting day, you finally returned to your dorm. The living room was empty; your roommates had gone to a gay club. A mix of relief and loneliness filled your chest. You had the whole place to yourself, with no interruptions. You decided to take advantage of the quiet to do homework and disconnect from everything that had happened.

Sitting at your desk, surrounded by books and papers, you slowly worked through your assignments while thinking about what had happened with Minho that morning. You felt exhausted, as if you were incapable of understanding everything that was going on. Despite trying to focus on your studies, your mind kept returning to him—the boy who had turned your life into chaos in such a short time.

When you finished your homework, you collapsed onto your bed, deciding to take a break. You grabbed a bowl of ice cream from the fridge and turned on the TV, looking for a romantic movie to help you forget, even for a little while, the tension you felt. You couldn't allow Minho to keep occupying so much space in your mind.

It was late, and your roommates still hadn’t returned, so you enjoyed the peacefulness of the room. However, something bothered you: Stella had gone out with Minho. What did he see in Stella? You didn’t understand. You couldn’t deny that you felt a little jealous, though you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself. What was Minho doing with a girl like Stella? It was hard to comprehend.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your phone vibrated. It was your sister. You decided to answer, hoping for some comfort in the call.

"Y/N? How’s everything going?" she asked in a calm voice.

"Hey, sis," you replied, relieved to hear her. "I’ve had a weird day. I’m here, doing homework, eating ice cream, and watching a movie… I don’t know, I’m just a little confused."

"Why?" she asked, noticing the tension in your voice.

You took a deep breath and told her everything you had been going through.

"I understand how you feel," your sister responded. "But remember, you can’t control what people do. You have to focus on yourself. That’s why you went all the way to Korea."

You weren’t sure if you felt better after the call, but at least you had a different perspective. You decided to go outside for a bit, get some fresh air, and clear your mind.

As you left your room and walked down the hallway, you ran into Minho. He was standing there as if he had been waiting to see you at that moment. You looked at him and, without being able to help it, frowned.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to control your tone, but your frustration was already evident.

As you walked toward the building’s corner, you heard footsteps. You looked up, and to your surprise, you came face to face with Minho.

"Seriously?" you said, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to deal with him again, but there he was.

Minho looked at you with a cynical smile, almost as if he had been expecting this to happen.

"What’s wrong, Y/N? Were you hoping I wouldn’t find you here?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Without thinking twice, you immediately responded, showing all your disdain.

"And what do you want now, Minho? Keep making annoying comments and thinking you can tell me what to do?" You were fed up. There was no way you were going to tolerate more of his jokes and condescending attitude.

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly unaffected. His expression was full of arrogance.

"I’m just here to remind you that you’re not as special as you think, Y/N. Sometimes, you need to come down from that cloud you live on. You think you can control everything, but you can’t."

You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your composure. You stepped up to him quickly and gave him a shove, not caring what he thought.

"You know what? I’m so done with you, Minho. You’re full of assumptions, opinions I didn’t even ask for. Do you really think you have the right to talk to me like that? To make me feel like I’m beneath you?" your voice was tense and fierce.

Minho, unfazed by your shove, didn’t move an inch. He stood there, watching you with a mix of irritation and arrogance.

"You have a lot to learn, Y/N. Maybe not everyone is here to please you, did you know that?" he said, stepping closer, his voice laced with disdain.

You glared at him, your eyes burning with anger. You couldn’t believe you were standing there, letting him act like he had control of the situation.

"You know what?" you challenged, your tone sharp. "Enough. Do you still think you’re better than me just because you have some talent and people adore you? Well, don’t be mistaken, Minho—I have my own strengths, and I don’t need your approval."

Minho smirked, unfazed.

"I never said you needed my approval. I’m just making it clear that not everything revolves around you."

Without wanting to hear more, you turned around and walked quickly back to your dorm, leaving Minho behind. There was nothing else to discuss. Every word he said only fueled your hatred toward him. And you weren’t going to stop.

With your heart racing and your stomach in knots, you slammed the door shut as you entered your room, searching for the peace you so desperately needed. Why did Minho have to be like this? What did he want from you? The only thing you knew for sure was that the more you saw him, the more you hated him.

The day of the relay race competition arrived, and the atmosphere was filled with tension. Students lined up on the track, eager to prove their skills, but something was off. Q wasn’t among the runners.

"Where’s Q?" Kitty asked, her voice full of concern as she scanned the empty field. Dae and you looked around too, frowning.

"I don’t know…" Dae replied, glancing around as if expecting him to appear at any moment. "Where is he?!"

You sighed and crossed your arms, looking at the clock that marked the start time of the competition. Something wasn’t right. Q would never miss such an important race. Suddenly, an idea flashed through your mind, like a spark igniting a warning light.

"What if… Jin made him disappear so he couldn’t compete?" you murmured, causing Kitty to react with shock and anger.

"That would make total sense… He was at the bar with him all night, and Jin would totally do something like that, wouldn’t he?" Kitty said, eyeing the competition organizers.

"We can’t let it start, not without Q," Dae said, looking at you with concern. You nodded, already starting to plan a way to interfere.

"We need to act fast," you say with determination, feeling adrenaline rush through your body. Kitty gives you a quick glance before turning toward the track, her mind clearly working at full speed.

"You know what? I have an idea," she suddenly says, her tone filled with excitement. Before you can ask, you see her striding confidently toward a table where an organizer had left a microphone unattended.

Your eyes widen as she grabs it without hesitation and brings it to her mouth.

"Come on, everyone! Let’s cheer for the runners!" she exclaims with exaggerated enthusiasm.

But the silence that follows is deafening. Only a few murmurs ripple through the crowd, and though the discomfort is obvious, Kitty remains unfazed. Instead, she starts jumping, waving her arms as if that alone could ignite energy in the spectators.

"Come on, guys! Get excited, join in!" she insists, but all she gets in return are laughter and a few boos. The organizers, now visibly annoyed, approach her, signaling for her to leave the track.

"No, I’m not leaving!" she shouts, gripping the microphone stubbornly.

You take a deep breath, feeling desperation creeping in. They can't just kick her out, not after everything you've tried.

"I can’t believe I’m about to do this…" you mutter, closing your eyes for a second before moving toward her.

Without giving anyone time to react, you dramatically collapse to the ground.

The impact isn't too strong, but you force yourself to stay still. Instantly, the murmurs grow louder. You hear gasps, whispers of concern spreading through the crowd.

"What’s happening?" someone asks.

You sense Kitty’s presence close by.

"Help! Someone, please!" she shouts, her voice perfectly mimicking panic.

Rushed footsteps approach. You’d recognize that walk anywhere. Before you can react, Minho kneels beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/L/N, are you okay?" he asks, his voice carrying a mix of concern and amusement.

For a moment, you hesitate. Is he actually worried, or is he just enjoying watching you in this situation?

You crack one eye open slightly and murmur in a tired voice, "I’m trying to create a distraction, idiot."

The way he rolls his eyes and frowns almost makes you laugh, but you hold it in. He steps back, crossing his arms, though he doesn’t leave entirely.

Just as you start wondering if the plan is actually working, an eruption of cheers and applause sweeps through the crowd. Q comes sprinting onto the track, his figure instantly recognizable.

You spring to your feet, abandoning all pretense, and a triumphant smile spreads across your face as the students begin chanting his name.

"Q! Q! Q!"

You did it. Q is on the track. The race is about to begin.

But your joy fades quickly as the competition starts. Jin, with his usual confidence, surges ahead effortlessly, and even though Q gives it his all, it’s not enough. Jin crosses the finish line first, raising the trophy with his signature smug grin.

Your jaw tightens. After all that effort… Jin is still the winner.

"That was painful to watch," Dae comments with a nervous laugh beside you.

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation.

"At least we tried," Kitty says, giving you a knowing smile.

You nod slowly, because even though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, at least you did everything you could. And deep down, you know this isn’t over yet.

tags ; @snowyblossomsx @awhrin @rkivesfilm @dangelnleif

[nabi-unveiled]

With each rewatch of When It Rains, It Pours, I had become increasingly uncomfortable. A question had begun to plague me.

How did I miss it?

It's no secret that I've been in the "don't trust Fujisawa" camp for a while. But I felt bad for him during the early episodes. After all, it really is a nightmare situation for him too. Why did it take me until my THIRD watch of ep4 to fully convince myself of Fujisawa's nature?

Missing sounds? Not a surprise.

But COMPLETELY missing something that's literally GLARING at me? Not even having it on my radar? That's unusual.

I always have multiple theories and numerous potential scenarios running in my head. It's not like I was watching this series casually.

And make no mistake - the man's been glaring since episode 1. It wasn't constant, but the glaring is not a new development.

Even Fujisawa's words have never been subtle.

So how did I miss it? Why did it take me so long?

I realized the answer yesterday, and I don't like it.

I missed the signs, because I was trained to miss them.

I see these dynamics all the time in my community. And when you see something all the time, you begin to notice it less.

Being uncomfortable with sex?

Growing up ensconced in purity culture means I know A LOT of people with very complex relationships with sex.

Some want it but would NEVER dare talk about it.

Some see it as something shameful.

Some see it as something to be feared.

It's what happens when you're constantly told libido is a swamp.

So this...

I didn't see it as a problem beyond them wanting different things. Either Fujisawa was ace or had issues with sex. He had been open about it with Sei, and he was doing the best he could.

This is fine as long as both parties are content. But Fujisawa is controlling and manipulative. Note the "bars" in the picture above.

Matching your partner's preferences?

I was taught catering to my partner's commands was an expectation. It was required to be a "good" partner. So this....

At one point WAS me. And even if I don't obey the rules anymore, I still see this type of "consideration" in most relationships around me.

IT'S NOT HEALTHY.

Consideration should not mean self-sacrifice.

At one point I thought, "Well, it's Sei's choice."

And that's true. But I know better than to fall for that logic.

It ignores his trauma.

It ignores his low self-esteem.

It ignores his fear of being left alone.

It ignores the difficulty of leaving those you care about and the life you know.

It ignores the manipulation.

Because this type of statement? It's tricky. It can be completely innocuous. But it can also be controlling, and a lot of that comes down to the power dynamics of the relationship.

Fujisawa holds the power here. He HAS been controlling and trying to manipulate Sei. I questioned last week what the purpose was of the editor if Fujisawa wasn't having an affair. However, it became clear when watching for the sizzle. Sei says he will go to the party and Fujisawa IMMEDIATELY says "I'll introduce you to my editor."

The unspoken words are if you don't go to the party. Mentioning the editor was a manipulation tactic. A subtle one, but it was there.

I give Sei credit. He went to the party. He kept emailing Hagiwara. He pushes back on occasion. He doesn't always follow commands.

But well.... damn.

I thought I could at least recognize when my raising was influencing interpretations. I thought I had worked through those issues.

So thanks When it Rains for reminding me not to forget my ID.

I sure as hell don't plan on getting trapped in that room again.

Break out Sei. It's not easy, but BREAK OUT.

There's a beautiful world waiting.

[yesimwriting]

Phantom Lurking

A/n This is a story set in the bestie reader verse that I briefly mentioned in an ask, but there's no specific context needed outside of the fact that reader and louis are extremely close best friends

Warnings: nothing too crazy (especially when compared to the source material) but there's mentions/implications of someone putting something in reader's drink but, within the fic, reader is never actually in danger of being physically hurt, reader feeling sick/anxious, Armand being emotionally manipulative as a way of expressing affection

Summary: After an argument with Louis, you decide to go out with an old friend. Once you're home again, you're forced to deal with two realizations. The first is that you feel a lot worse than you should, and the second is that Armand isn't the worst at being helpful when he wants to be.

----

The world feels flat, like one of the three dimensions you're used to being able to perceive has slipped into nonexistence. You frown, letting the thought inch its way up your spine.

You blink. Once and then twice, as if the familiarity of the gesture will be enough to remind you of what you were doing--of the reason for the phone in your hand.

"Woah," the voice is sharp enough in its happiness to jab at your stomach. You lift your head, ignoring the rigidness of the movement as you look to the source of the sound. Grace--your friend, Grace. A part of you is almost complacent enough to be eased by the realization that she's here. "You look so sad."

You can feel your eyebrows draw together. Do you? And then, as your fingers tighten around your cell phone, a second thought latches itself onto the first: Are you?

"Don't worry," she says, voice so chipper it almost stings. "He'll be over it tomorrow."

Right. On instinct, you let your head fall downwards. You unlock your phone, eyes narrowing at the screen's brightness as you open your messages. No new ones. Just the last texts you managed to send to Louis before you started feeling too nauseous to type: Not feeling. Okkay.

The lack of response presses itself into your lungs, making it impossible to breathe right. Louis was upset , but you can't imagine him ever being mad enough to not text you back. "But Louis answers."

Grace watches you for a second, her head tilting curiously at your phrasing. "Maybe he's sleeping." When the suggestion doesn't seem to sway you, she places a hand on your bare shoulder. Your mind is aware enough to acknowledge the intentions behind the contact, but her skin is so warm and sweaty against yours it's nearly nauseating. "It's late."

Louis keeps different hours than the general population, but that's not something you can fault her for not knowing. Besides, maybe it is so late that the night is morphing into morning. It wouldn't be the first time you and Grace lost an entire night to partying, and it would explain why you feel so incredibly out of it.

And...if Louis was really upset, he might have gone to bed early. He mentioned once that sometimes vampires enclose themselves in their coffins to avoid dealing with discomfort. It sounds deeply dramatic to you, but it's possible he's doing something similar.

You exhale, nodding so slowly the motion feels like more of a caricature of a human response than anything else. She laughs, the sound full in its certainty. Your stomach doesn't know how to digest her easiness.

"You'll feel better tomorrow." Grace's hand pulls itself away from your arm. "Okay--keys." When all you do is stare at her, she sighs. "First, I have to stop you from going home with that weird guy you met while waiting for the bathroom..." She trails off as she reaches for your purse. "And now you don't even remember where you are."

Hm. Grace's chastising gives you something to focus on. You blink, lifting your gaze as you glance around the building. The pale walls and warm lighting are familiar...this is your apartment building. How did you get to your apartment building?

Grace rifles through your purse, the contents of your bag clinking together as she searches through it. After a second, she seems to find what she's looking for. She turns away from you and towards the door.

"Okay," she hums triumphantly, "We're in."

You take the words as a sign to step forward. Your thoughts don't align with your movements. The delay is enough to make you stumble, your foot missing the base of your heel.

Grace is next to you in a second, her hands latching onto your arms to keep you stable. "How much did you drink?" The question lacks her earlier amusement.

You're not sure you're meant to respond, but you think about it anyway. It didn't feel like that much...but you don't exactly remember every moment, every drink--and you were mad at Louis.

She watches you for a second, her eyes wide and much too focused. "Are you okay?" It's a question your mind refuses to dwell on. Of course you're okay. "Like--okay to be left alone."

"Mhm," the answer feels hollow, "Yeah." Grace continues to stare, her lips pressed together in a way that conveys her uncertainty. "I'm just gonna go to sleep."

She studies you for another beat, and then sighs, "Okay--but straight to bed. And no more texting." Easy enough to follow. Grace lets go of you slowly. "And maybe try to drink some water--and--and try to sleep on your side."

You nod blankly, your hands reaching for the door in front of you. "Water, side, no texting."

Grace sighs as she walks forward. "And call me in the morning, okay?"

You squeeze the side of the door in an attempt to feel more stable. Tomorrow morning feels so far...so impossible. "Okay. Yeah."

She turns her head to look at you one last time before continuing down the hall. You step into your apartment before shutting the door behind you.

The darkness of your apartment immediately pushes itself to the front of your mind, blending into your unease in a way that's dizzying. You exhale, letting your weight rest against the door. You shut your eyes, inhaling as you force yourself to focus on the concrete. The ground beneath your feet is steady, the wood against your back is stable.

"You turned off your location."

The tension that takes over your body is so sharp, so heavy it briefly leaves you paralyzed. You open your eyes, pushing yourself further against the door.

Wait. The voice. You know that voice. The recognition doesn't ease you until a familiar figure pulls itself away from the shadows enshrouding your living room in darkness.

"Oh my god," you manage a second too late, the words devoid of the necessary bite needed to turn the phrase into a warning. "I thought you were a serial killer."

Armand doesn't care about your reaction. He just continues walking towards you with slow, even steps. Your mind is too foggy for his theatrics. "What..." Your questions feel too inadequate for you to make them mean anything. "Is Louis--is he okay?"

He stills at that, but it doesn't really matter. He's close enough now that the darkness isn't obscuring his features. For a moment, you think the question might have softened his expression. "Now you can find it in yourself to worry about him? After the way you spoke to him?"

Of course Louis told him. The haziness clinging to your thoughts has turned everything into sludge. Your lips part, some barely coherent defense-apology hybrid attempting to crawl its way up your throat. All you can manage is a slurred, "He was--dramatic, and I--" You push a hand against the door in an attempt to make yourself stand on your own. "I'm sorry." You're not sure why you're apologizing. It's not like Louis can hear it.

Armand continues forward. You don't think about where he might be going until you feel his hand on your arm. He's a lot less careful than Grace was, but something about the feel of his skin against yours is also a lot less overwhelming. If anything, the coolness of his touch is almost alievating.

"I don't--" You're not sure there's much point in explaining anything. Not when the only thing tethering you to consciousness is your nausea. You can't remember ever feeling so separate from yourself. "I don't feel good. If you're gonna lecture me, do it tomorrow."

Tomorrow. It feels more like a concept than a date. Things would be so much better if you could just fade out of existence until then.

Armand pulls you away from the door. Your limbs are too stiff to protest. His eyebrows draw together, and something behind his expression shifts. "I'm not here to lecture you."

"Then why are you here?"

His thumb moves out of place, brushing against your skin soothingly. "After your argument--Louis came back to me, he told me about what you said, how you treated him, and then he went to bed. Hours later, you sent him a message saying you didn't feel well..." He squeezes your arm a little tighter. "And you turned off your location."

It had been an extremely petty move, but in the moment, a few drinks in, it had felt so reasonable. If Louis was going to see you as fragile, you'd have to show him that you felt no interest in being looked after. "I was mad."

"And now you're experiencing natural consequence." His hold on you morphs into something that borders on uncomfortable, his nails pressing into your skin. "Do you know what people see when they look at you?" You can't do anything but stare at him. "You refuse to acknowledge your vulnerability, and then you stumble home like this."

Okay--you're drunk, but not--not horrible. You’re standing (mostly), and you haven't said anything weird to him. "You're not clueless." The words almost feel like a compliment. "How much did you have to drink?" You don't have an answer. "You don't know? Because I've seen you with Louis, and even when alcohol makes you sick, it's never like this."

Your limbs seem to grow heavier at the implication of his words. Did someone drug you? There was that one guy that hung around you and Grace a little too long, but he never got you a drink.

"Maybe you'll learn to appreciate Louis's warnings instead of running off with the first girl that offers you something simple."

Louis--when he learns about what happened, when he learns that you tried to call him...and that he wasn't there. "Don't tell him."

He angles his head towards you. "You're asking me to keep a secret from my companion for you?"

Ugh. "No." You didn't mean it that way, or at the very least, you didn't want to mean it that way. You can't make sense of things for yourself let alone for another person. "I don't know." Your head is starting to ache. "I just don't--I don't want him to feel bad."

Armand lets go of you slowly, his fingertips brushing against your arm as he straightens. "We'll worry about him tomorrow." There's a certainty there that leaves no room for argument.

The thought of delaying your worry doesn't feel as simple as he's making it out to be, but you can't find the words or energy to disagree. You're not sure what you'd be arguing for, anyway.

He turns with no warning, walking down the hall like this is his apartment. His decisiveness might have bothered you if it didn't make things feel a little easier. Even with Armand serving as a guiding force, your mind seems to buffer. It takes you a second to think to act on the desire to follow him.

It shouldn't be surprising that Armand seems so comfortable moving through your apartment. He's nowhere near as familiar with this space as Louis, but you find it hard to imagine Armand uncomfortable anywhere.

He finds your room. A more coherent version of yourself would have had the energy to worry about the last minute outfits you rejected and didn't have time to put away sitting on your desk chair.

The familiarity of your bedroom is enough to get you to move forward. You approach your bed, half-sitting-half-stumbling onto the mattress. You're not given the chance to settle before your muscles slump out of place. It's an unraveling of tension that offers you no peace.

Dread pools in your stomach. You blink, screwing your eyes shut before forcing them open again in an attempt to fight against the drowsiness blurring your vision. It's too sudden, too heavy.

"You can't fall asleep like that." The words are gentle enough to reach you through your panic.

You want to tell him that you can't be falling asleep, that falling asleep doesn't hold this kind of weight. Instead of struggling to piece your thoughts into something intelligible, you lift your head slightly and mumble a flat, "I'm not."

Armand's back is to you, his attention focused on your dresser. When he turns to face you again, he's holding a familiar piece of fabric. One of the oversized T-shirts you sleep in.

It takes much more focus than it should for you to press your elbows into your bedding. The edges of your vision grow spotty as you stand. You're managing, but everything about your positioning feels circumstantial, like the slightest shift could push you into unconsciousness.

He hands you your shirt. You squeeze the fabric between your fingers. Before you can think to do anything else, Armand's hand finds your wrist. You still at the contact. He moves towards you with slow, deliberate steps.

Armand stops directly behind you. He sets his palm against your shoulder, his thumb smoothing patterns against your shoulder. His other hand settles against your upper back. Something about the contact makes it a little easier to breathe.

You're just getting used to his proximity making things feel easier when he pulls his palm away from you. Before you can overthink the shift, you realize what he's doing. The zipper of your dress has been tugged out of its place.

Armand's slow to release you, his fingertips dragging against your skin as he steps away from you. He walks forward until he's in front of you again, his attention firmly focused on the wall. It takes you a moment to realize that this is him offering you privacy.

You pull the T-shirt over your head with a tact that feels similar to that of a toddler dressing themselves for the first time. You adjust the shirt's hem before pulling the straps of your dress off of your shoulders and down your arms. The material pools at your feet. You step out of the puddle of sequined fabric.

You tilt your head downwards, frowning at the discarded dress. You need to pick it up.

"Sit." The instruction is presented with a directness that leaves no room for resistance, and yet all you can bring yourself to do is blink at him. He turns to face you again. "The last thing you need is proximity to the ground."

His voice is implying a level of irritation you can't handle right now, so you step away from the dress and move to sit on your bed. Armand walks forward. He bends down, picking up the dress before approaching your desk. He lays the dress over the back of your desk chair neatly.

He approaches your bed again, this time sitting down next to you. The return of his proximity is strangely easing. When he doesn't say anything else, you give in to the need to break the silence, "Thanks."

Armand nods once in acknowledgement of the sentiment. "Lie down." The thought immediately digs at you. If you lay down, if you lose consciousness, you'll be letting go of the little control you still have. Anything could happen to you, and--and you'd be so alone.

When you don't move, Armand straightens, his arm extending towards you. His hand finds your shoulder. "I can stay..." The offer feels fragile, like the slightest mistake on your end could force it to crumble into dust. "But only if you listen to me." He turns his hand over as you let his words sink in. He drags his knuckles against your arm patiently. "Are you going to listen to me?"

You nod, if for no other reason than to keep him here. If your acceptance means anything to him, his expression gives no indication of it. "Lie down."

You give in with a sigh, pushing your bedding back as best as you can from your position on the bed. You move beneath your sheets before relaxing against a pillow. After a second, Armand begins to shift. You're not sure what he's doing until he's lying down next to you. The return of his proximity is unexpected, but not unwelcome.

He adjusts your comforter just enough to expose your forearm. Before you can think about the change, he begins to trace patterns against your inner arm. The gesture is oddly grounding...and considerate...which, even in your current state, you can tell is odd.

"Can I ask you something?"

He continues to drag his fingertips against your skin. "A lack of permission has never stopped you before."

A fair point. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He tilts his head slightly as he considers the question. "Am I usually cruel to you?"

That's not exactly the difference. Armand is never particularly cruel to you. He's never made you feel like you're in physical danger, which means a lot when considering what he is. You've never even had much of a reason to fear arguing with him. However, you can't recall him ever being so understanding.

"No," you find yourself hoping he can feel how much you mean the answer. "But you're usually less patient."

His hand briefly stills against your arm. "I prefer a fair fight."

The sentiment roots itself in your chest, leaving your skin a little warmer than it was a moment again. "We can have one tomorrow."

"I don't doubt it," he says, voice much flatter than before.

Hm. The comment isn't exactly aggressive, but it implies an annoyance that doesn't suit his actions. Something uneasy wedges itself between your lungs and ribs. "Are you mad at me?"

You turn your head as best as you can, staring at him with an openness that a more sober version of yourself would have never allowed. "Mad at you, the darling sun?"

You sigh, letting your eyes fall shut. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything," his defense, though already weak, is further softened by the easiness of his tone. "I'm only recognizing what you are."

Opening your eyes, you turn your head to face him again. "What am I?"

He's quiet for a moment before angling his head towards you. It's a subtle shift, but something about it seems to amplify his proximity. Armand's eyes look a little softer than you remember them being, his irises closer to a brown-tinged ember than their usual amber hue. Maybe it's the limited lighting.

"Worthwhile suffering."

The answer feels much too soft to be considered an insult. You're not sure what to think of it. "You're very dramatic."

His hand stills against your arm. "I'm dramatic, when you're the one that turned off your location."

You don't have a decent response. Even as a teenager, you knew better than to completely turn off your location without letting anyone know where you were going during a night out. You're lucky that Grace was there and aware enough to get you back home, but things could have gone so much worse.

The thought of how incredibly stupid you've been burrows itself into your stomach, adding a sharpness to the underlying nausea you've almost been able to forget. Knowing that you're wrong and Armand's right isn't helping things, either.

And Louis--your Louis. Who cares if sometimes he worries so much it makes you feel like burden? At least he cares about you.

"I was mean to Louis."

Armand's hand stills against your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that somehow feels both reassuring and resentful. "He'll let it pass."

You let out a self deprecating sigh. There's no reason to believe that Louis won't forgive you, but that doesn't make things okay. "He shouldn't."

"Don't be a martyr." His dismissal isn't enough to diminish your angst. You frown, shifting away from him so that you can lie flat on your back. He's quick to counter your resistance, adjusting his position so that he's sitting up a lot more than you are. He's practically leaning over you, and all you can think to do is stare.

"He loves you," Armand's voice is a lot quieter than you thought it'd be, "There isn't a single thing you could do that he wouldn't forgive."

His certainty is enough for both of you. After a second of blankness, you find it in yourself to nod. The gesture is stiff and uneasy, but it seems to be enough for him. He relaxes slowly, moving to rest his head against your ribs.

His closeness is more of a surprise than it should be. You and Louis have fallen asleep like this more times than you can count. The shock takes a moment to subside, but once it does, you realize that you're... not uncomfortable.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you move a hand to rest against his upper back. Neither of you move.

"You should go to sleep," he whispers after what could be a long or short stretch of silence, "You'll be yourself in the morning."

The suggestion is a lot less overwhelming now. Maybe it's because you feel a lot more concrete now. You shut your eyes, but before you can try to find rest, you remember where you are and who you're with.

"Wait," you mumble, "The window--" You're not managing the urgency you feel. While your room isn't exactly flooded with light in the morning, the sun does reach your bed in the mornings if you don't remember to fully shut your curtains.

"The curtains are fine." Armand shifts slightly, his hand settling against the arm not bent against his back. "Rest."

You close your eyes again, this time finding it in yourself to relax fully.

----

@joong-of-gold this is the fic i mentioned having in my drafts a little while ago!!

[ohburgee]

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

yandere!racer x fem!reader

tw: soft yandere themes, obsession, violence, swear an: this story is inspired by cars, yeah the kid's movie idk why I made that in my mind but what if a yandere car racer and you are his lover. I'm typing this while watching the movie.

"I really dreamed about your life" you heard your best friend say as he did his makeup, he is gay and you supported him.

"Like how you handle the popularity of your lover and the high fame he holds" he added and he turned around to face you.

"You are lucky as fuck" he said and you looked at him and he chuckled while he slowly put the face powder on his cheek.

You heard your phone ring and you took it and saw your boyfriend's name and you answered it.

"Hello there," you said softly and you heard chuckles "There's my biggest supporter," he said proudly and you noticed your best friend looking at you winking.

"I have an event invitation for tomorrow and I want you to be my accompany," he asked and you smiled as you read your book, "I'll always say yes" you replied and you heard his goofy happiness and you chuckled.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said sounding happy "Okay I'll see you tomorrow my love" you replied "See you too my love," he said and you said it too, and hung up the call.

And you look at your best friend and you both laugh and enjoy your time.

...

You waited for your boyfriend to pick you up and a car stopped in front of you and it was your boyfriend, he got out of the car and walked towards you.

"Let's go," he said and he offered his hand and you took it and let you inside the car he closed the door for you, walked towards the driver seat, and started the engine.

A small talk while driving then after a minute you both arrived at the event and got out of the car, he held your arms to his as you two walked inside the large house where the event happening.

As you went inside many few people greeted you both and as you both passed some rich people and known guests when you stopped to see your boyfriend's team chief and the manager he was sponsored with.

When your boyfriend is having his time talking with them while you look around you are not used to this but you just want to support your boyfriend's career when you walk to get some drinks, one of your boyfriend's enemies or driver from other teams goes to you.

"Hey hello there pretty lady, looks like you're having fun alone," he said as he told the bartender to get him a drink as you sipped on yours. "You should not make yourself feel lonely" he added as he got his drink and drank it and you turned to face him.

"Let's have a small talk," he said and you looked around to see your boyfriend still talking with his team chief and you decided to have some talk and a bit of entertainment.

...

After an hour of talking you got to enjoy talking with this guy you met and you laughed at the guy's jokes.

Your boyfriend is done talking with his team chief when he turns around to see you happy talking with a guy and he realizes that it is his enemy.

He grips his hand with anger and jealousy, he watches you laughing with that guy whose he fighting in racing.

He quickly walks towards you snatches you behind him and looks at the man you talk.

"Oh is in it the top winner racer," the guy said as he sounded mocking your boyfriend and he gritted his teeth, before he could punch the guy you stopped him and held his arm.

"Hey stop it, not here" you whisper as you look at both of them your boyfriend stops himself and the guy laughs you take your boyfriend away from him, and you both get out of the house.

While walking he stopped you and you turned around to face him, "Why did you talk to him you know who he is" as he grabbed your arm "It's just a friend even he is your enemy in racing he is still a friend" you told him and he feels more angry and jealous as you told that to him.

"I shouldn't brought you here, you should have stayed at home," he said you felt humiliated and you took his hand from your arm, "Is that jealousy in you huh, am I not allowed to talk to anyone," you said as you raise your voice at him.

"Yeah you're right I shouldn't go with you," you said and walked away he tried to follow you but he stopped and felt ashamed and speechless.

You walked away and texted your best friend to pick you up when you're eyes suddenly caught that the guy you talking to earlier is with a woman on the street which made you shocked when he slid his hand to her butt, disgusting.

You want to yell at the guy being disgusting when a car stops in front of you and sees your best friend roll down the window and you open the door and get inside.

"Girl, what happened where's your boyfriend?" He asked and you felt pain in your mind "Just don't talk about him for a while please" you ask nicely and he nodded and respected your words as he drove off.

...

It's been 1 week when you both not talking and he tried to talk to you but you didn't answer his messages or calls and when he visited your house you were not there and to your best friend, your best friend said that you are not here but you are actually there not wanting to face him.

And now he is on his big day, his racing day as he prepares himself his team chief asks if he is okay he notices your boyfriend's mood but your boyfriend pretending that he is okay and ready for this race.

As the race started your boyfriend sped up his car as he passed by other racers when he spotted the guy who made him jealous, the one who made your relationship in misunderstanding right now.

He acts like that to you just to protect you and let you away from the guy because he knows the guy's personality.

But it turned into fighting both of you and he started to overthink that if he didn't stop you and let you talk with that guy, you might be friends with it, and worse if that guy did something to you, the more worst is he might steal you from him.

His anger boiled up when he couldn't stop thinking about those things and he sped up his car, he wanted this guy to taste the pain, he wanted him to suffer, he wanted him gone.

He sped his car through the guy's car and bumped his car into the guy's as he continued speeding and he wanted his car to hit on the barrier.

"She is mine, no one else but mine"

When there's a curved road he speeds up and lets the guy's car lose its balance and strongly hit the barrier creating the car's front scattered and damaged.

You're boyfriend also hit behind the barrier and everything happened...

You get called by your boyfriend's chief that your boyfriend is on accident and you immediately get out of your house and drive to where hospital he is.

When you arrived at the hospital you saw the chief waiting for you and you quickly walked toward him.

"Where is he? Is he okay? Tell me?" You started to panic as you keep asking if you're boyfriend is alright.

"It's fine he is just on bit worse wound but he is fine he didn't really hit," the chief said and you felt relief when you saw him walking as the nurse guided him you ran towards him and the nurse told you that he is fine and just need to rest at home.

"Are you alright?" you asked and he looked at you and smiled "I'm fine just a scratch of the wound" he said and you didn't feel good enough, you were worried sick "Stop that, you know I'm very really worried about you I swear I can't take seeing you in this situation?" you said and he looked at you feel cared as you really still care for him.

As you two walk through the hospital you see the guy you talk to on the hospital bed, "Wait did you two get hit?" you ask your boyfriend to turn to see the guy he looks not happy but feels good seeing that guy in pain.

"I was out of my balance and my break got damaged and we both hit the barrier" he paused to more like he really got into an accident, but in reality, he did on purpose and he told his team chief that pretend that he loses break and balance. "He got more injury than me," he said and you nodded your head well he bit deserved it when you saw that guy, how disgusting he is.

You look at your boyfriend, feel a bit pain from his voice, and hug him to give him comfort.

When your boyfriend looks at the guy unconscious as he forms a smile behind he doesn't expect you to come back to him like this but he wants you to come back and it is just satisfying to see that man's in pain but also you coming back to him.

"I'm sorry I won't be like that" you heard your boyfriend say and you caressed his hair and kissed his forehead, "I forgive you," you said and he hugged you back not wanting to let you go.

"Mine forever" he whisper softly.

n: I just opened my laptop just to finish this while I was preparing for my class today :'>

[soukokuforthesoul]

dazai and atsushi working late because they got caught up in something earlier, and dazai slumps back on his chair, tired. atsushi turns to him, resisting the urge to laugh because he completely understands.

"we're almost done, dazai-san. we can leave in a bit," he assures him, and dazai grumbles under his breath but goes back to his laptop.

amidst the typing, and the sound of something being printed in the room over, a thought occurs to atsushi, and he looks up, towards the man beside him. he wonders where he would be if dazai hadn't picked him up that day. after a moment, dazai notices his gaze and, resting his chin in his palm, smiles inquiringly at him.

"something wrong, atsushi-kun?" he asks, likely hoping it'll get him out of work. (even if, looking at his screen, he only really has a little left to do).

"ah, no," atsushi says quickly, embarrassed. "i just wanted— well, i was thinking. uhm, i wanted to say thank you, dazai-san."

"eh?" dazai arches and eyebrow, leaning back on his chair to study atsushi. "for what? i'm not going to do your work."

"no, no—i already finished!" atsushi shakes his head, his smile shy as he angles his expression from dazai's point of view. "i meant—thank you for everything you've done for me. for taking me in. and for, well, just... letting me live. i realize i never properly thanked you. i hope i can repay you one day."

it's almost like he walked into this—atsushi realizes—because the perfect opportunity stands for dazai to make him finish work up for him. but instead of taking the unintended bait, dazai pauses. he stares at atsushi long enough for him to turn back around, catching dazai's gaze.

dazai's face is unreadable, and though that's not unusual, it feels different. as if even dazai can't interpret his own emotions. but then dazai smiles—a wide smile, that holds something bittersweet in it—and he dips his head down, chuckling. "atsushi-kun, i believe you're too kind for this world," he murmurs, and then adds, "or, for me, really. i should thank you for existing."

before atsushi can ask what that means, dazai returns to his laptop, satisfied to see the files have been uploaded, then closes it and stands, stretching. he offers a hand to atsushi, who takes it, pushing his chair in and closing his own laptop.

"we're done here, right? let's go get something to eat before heading home," dazai offers. he grins, pulling out a wad of money from his coat pocket. "kunikida-kun's treat."

atsushi eyes him, although he's smiling too—he can't help it. "did you steal that?"

dazai winks, and leads atsushi out the building, turning off the light behind them. the money is spent, but atsushi insists they keep some food for kunikida, to which dazai reluctantly gives in to. the night is lost in conversation, but dazai is lost in his mind—stuck on the way atsushi's gratitude had been so genuine. atsushi keeps him busy, his smiles and laughter chasing away dazai's doubts that he doesn't deserve it.

thank you ... for letting me live

how strange of an appreciation, because dazai has always found freedom in death. and even stranger that dazai wonders if that is how atsushi makes him feel. atsushi lets him live.

[causeimcrayzeebee]

*clicks pen*

Guess Tamba’s parents are going on the “Tetro Opps” List too.

oh for SURE. i loved permafrost so much…. using this ask as an excuse to yap about that episode sorry for blabbing anon 🙏

the way that tamba talks about her parents is so heart wrenching. she goes to, not really defend them but, paint their actions as something okay. the kind of defense where she realizes the situation is messed up but telling someone it straight up like that makes it sound as bad as it is. she holds her parents in high regard after all, and she doesn’t want to paint them badly. yanagi knows better though and understands immediately that her parents have been incredibly shitty. policing diet and weight is something many young athletes go through and they absolutely shouldn’t, it’s insane that that kind of parenting is glossed over by a lot of people. i did gymnastics when i was young and i just could not see myself doing it with all the lofty expectations, esp since i was older and heavier than many of the girls doing it, and honestly I feel for a lot of those girls who were clearly pushed into it. im grateful my parents never forced me into it.

not to throw in some big words but i feel like i have to for this, as i think a lot of tamba’s involvement with gymnastics also ties to misogyny and fatphobia by her parents, as well as the competitive nature of gymnastics. her parents are such sticklers on her about her appearance and her weight, doing something as bad as counting calories all for the belief that she had to maintain the body type for gymnastics. them saying no to tamba doing soccer was made because they didn’t think she had the body for soccer, driving her life based on how she looked. tambas parents were so controlling and really conditioned her (literally n figuratively) so now she projects these ideas onto others, like wada and his eating habits. she hasn’t been allowed to be herself, on her own. (this also makes me wonder what her parents think about her being a lesbian, if they even know. maybe she didn’t actually send that love letter bc of them? or just on her own volition? who knows…)

i really love the way tetro highlights the difference in yanagi and tambas athletic journey. yanagi found the love for skating from the darkness of his abusive household, while tamba was forced into gymnastics by her own family. yanagi grew a love for the sport, tamba dreaded it; no matter how much she said she loves it, she really just keeps doing it for her parents approval.

i am so normal about yanagi telling tamba to reach out (AND HAMA TO WATARI IN BUG FAMILY UGAHSHSH), genuinely it’s super sweet and a great moment between two people who get each other. this chapter has been heartbreaking but also really fucking sweet at the same time, im like dreading the bda…

[scoops-aboy86]

Your mission,if you choose to accept it:

Steddie prompt: Steve and Eddie are separate blind dates. Horrible blind dates. They decide to ditch their dates and go on a date together ❤️

I’m not sure I delivered on both dates being entirely horrible—Steve’s is mostly okay, just, not as good as it would have been with his secret crush who just happens to be on a date in the same restaurant. Anyway, here’s this! 4183 words. Sorry it’s been sitting in my ask box since July!

~

Steve walks into the restaurant and immediately perks up upon seeing a familiar curly head of hair by the hostess stand. “Eds, man, what are you doing here?”

As soon as he says it, he experiences a mental vertigo—Robin had sent him to this address to meet “a friend” of hers for a date, something to get him out of his usual social rut and test run his recently realized bisexuality like he keeps talking about but never actually pulling the trigger on. But… she would have told him if it was a friend they both knew, right? Surely, if she set him up with Eddie, she’d tell him… right?

Turning, Eddie blinks and then grins at him, oblivious to Steve’s sudden mental tailspin. “Stevie, it’s been forever!” He walks over, as always with a slight limp even after all the physical therapy, and a faded scar still pulling at one side of his smile. Claps Steve on the shoulder, hand warm and giving one quick squeeze before letting go. 

And the thing is, it has been several weeks. A whole month, at least. Steve blames his schedule… and refuses to acknowledge that he’s felt too self-conscious to seek Eddie out now that he’s realized some, uh, things. Like how Eddie’s smile makes his stomach swoop and not just a weird coincidence every time they hang out. So he’s a little surprised to see that Eddie has put on some weight since they’d last hung out. Not that it looks bad on him, far from it, it’s just that Eddie had always laughed over how he could eat whatever and it never showed, something about trailer park rations and a metabolism that moved even faster than his silver tongue. 

Now it shows. The rounded cheeks make his dimples pop even more when he smiles, and Steve has never seen a more grabable waist in his life. Love handles; who knew?

“Ronnie has sent me on a mission,” Eddie continues, sounding serious but with an amused twinkle in his eye that Steve hangs on like a planet circling a star. “I’m to entertain a friend of hers with my masculine wiles for the evening. Pray tell, have you seen any tall dark and handsomes roving about with a rainbow pin on his lapel?”

Something in Steve sinks all the way down to the soles of his shoes. So Eddie is here on a blind date too, but not with him. Of course not with him, it’s not like he’s told Robin who the catalyst for his realization was. (And she’d said something about it being a friend from her Shakespeare class anyway; Eddie isn’t a college kind of guy.) It’s not like he could ever be Eddie’s type, completely devoid of leather and chains and metal band memorabilia, and way too reppy. Too much of a jock, the type of guy who made Eddie’s terrible high school experience even worse—was that kind of guy for a little bit, between the popularity of being captain of various sports teams getting to his head and a whole mess of adolescent bullshit that had taken him a while to wade through. 

Steve is long over all that now, but it left a stain on him that people like Eddie can probably still sense. Wouldn’t be fair to up and ask him to overlook it, just because Steve went and caught feelings.  

So nothing is going to happen between them, not ever, and that’s his new thing to wade through. Someday he’ll make it out the other side and be a better person for it, and still have Eddie as a friend. That’s… just how it’s going to have to be.

Still, there’s a scratch in his voice when he replies, “Sorry, haven’t seen anyone like that.” Not a lie, because he hadn’t been looking for it and probably wouldn’t notice otherwise. Steve coughs, clears his throat a little. “Robin’s set me up with someone too. I’m supposed to be looking for a ridiculously long striped scarf. Like, thirteen feet long, I think she said? Which seems weirdly specific, but…”

The twinkle in Eddie’s eyes intensifies. “A Doctor Who scarf, eh? Good for you, expanding your horizons to include more nerds. I’ll help you look, can’t be too hard to spot a girl sporting that.”

“Um,” Steve says, face flushing. Right. Eddie… doesn’t have any way of knowing that Steve’s blind date is supposed to be a guy, because the only person in their friend group that he’s come out to so far is Robin.  

He’s saved from having to put it into words by a tap on his shoulder, and it’s a young man with wavy black hair that falls just past his shoulders and square-ish glasses. The scarf around his neck is a morse code of greens and yellows and reds and purples and warm grays, looped multiple times so both ends don’t drag on the floor. 

“Hi, um, Steve? Robin said to look for a red sweater and ‘the tallest hair known to man and Farrah Fawcett’...”

Steve glances at Eddie, whose jaw has dropped approximately to China, then back. “Yeah, of course she did. That’s me.” He wiggles his fingers in a little wave. “Jacob, right?”

The guy nods enthusiastically, blushing. “Yeah!” And then he peers around to look at Eddie. 

“Oh, this is my friend Eddie, we just ran into each other,” Steve explains. “He’s on a blind date too! Uh, with someone else, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Eddie parrots back, a little wide-eyed but clearly pulling himself together from the brink of shock, because he’s good at thinking on his feet like that. (Better than Steve anyway, blurting out Eddie’s business as if Robin might have set all three of them up at once without happening to mention it. Jesus Christ.) “And of course it would be weird to suggest making it a double date, seeing as how it’s blind all around, that would just give Stevie and me here an unfair advantage, ha! Anyway, I think it looks like my table is ready now, so I’ll just—yeah.”

The hostess is approaching with two menus in hand and doesn’t seem thrown off by the way Eddie speed walks to head her off, so maybe it’s just that. Steve follows their progress through the dining area with his eyes for a beat too long, a faint crease forming between his brows because that was abrupt, a little weird even for Eddie. 

But then he turns back to Jacob, his actual date. Brings out the ol’ Harrington charm, because he’s good at this—or used to be, with girls. Maybe it’s not so different with guys after all, because Jacob smiles back with a bashful little duck of his head. 

They end up at the bar while waiting for a table of their own, and the first sour note of the evening comes when Jacob turns out to be a bit of a wine snob. 

“I mean, how hard is it to know something about a bottle besides what’s printed on the label?” he’s saying, nose still upturned at the now distant bartender who’s sticking pretty pointedly to the other end of the bar. “Anything beyond the varietal at least, anyone can tell that just by reading.”

Steve winces internally, trying very hard not to think of his mother’s delicate sneer over the rim of a wine glass right now. It’s not like Robin, who doesn’t drink much, would know or even have much opportunity to screen for this sort of thing. He can get past it, without letting it dominate the first impression, really  

“I, uh, think this place is better known for its cocktails than the wine list,” he says, an attempt at neutrality. “Anyway, what were you saying about that math guy, um… Boris? With the library?”

Jacob brightens immediately. “Jorge Luis Borges, yes—”

A waiter interrupts to lead them to a table, and Steve finishes off his Cosmo before leaving the glass and a covert tip at the bar. The thread of earlier conversation is lost again—Steve hadn’t really gotten much out of it anyway, beyond the vague sense of a labyrinthine universe made entirely of library rooms which, kind of boring maybe, but still better than the universe full of sentient vines and eyeless creatures with too many teeth. 

They look over their menus and place their orders. Steve just gets another cocktail to go with his entree, and while Jacob fusses over wine pairings again he finds his eyes drifting around the room, trying to find… 

Eddie, chatting away with some guy that Steve is only able to see the back of at this angle. He seems in good enough spirits after that weird departure, and happily not stood up or anything, but.

There’s a moment where his gaze flickers just enough to catch Steve looking straight at him, and Eddie visibly stumbles over whatever he’d been saying. It’s too far away to hear and Steve can’t read lips worth a damn—despite the slight loss of hearing in his left ear after that bullshit with the Russians that one summer, no matter what Dustin had assured him at the time about his other senses compensating for it or something. Steve takes a deep breath and returns his attention to his own date, feeling guilty for whatever awkward word pile-up he’d inadvertently caused. 

“So what do you do?” Jacob asks with a smile. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned it yet.”

It’s maybe the second sour note, realizing that he hasn’t represented himself very well so far in the first half hour of their date, but Steve’s just distracted enough worrying about Eddie to not fully register it. 

~

By the time dessert lands on the table—chocolate cheesecake with raspberry coulis and two forks, one of Steve’s signature Moves™—he’s almost managed to put Eddie out of his mind. There were a few hiccups here and there, but from the looks Jacob is giving him over the shared dessert it seems pretty certain that they’re going home together after this. Steve is even looking forward to it, because a few hurried handjobs in club bathrooms is one thing but this feels like a Big Deal, a true comparison of his past dating history and what it would feel like to be with a man. 

He lives for this part, the tingle of anticipation in every shared look and knock of their feet under the table, all smiles and bitten lips and something electric in the air. 

And then Steve’s eyes land on Eddie again, as they have every now and then throughout the night. It’s like he can’t help himself, attention flitting back occasionally like a moth seeking light, as if just the fleeting reminder of Eddie’s glow is enough to keep him steady— Only this time, something’s wrong. The chair across from Eddie is empty and he’s slumped forward, elbow on the table as he glumly pulls an abandoned plate of apple pie ala mode closer to him, alongside two empty, stacked plates that must have been his own. 

The shock of seeing Eddie apparently abandoned throws Steve for a loop. Had something happened? Maybe the guy had been called away for an emergency, like a relative falling off a ladder or his apartment catching on fire. Maybe he was a doctor and had gotten a page from the hospital. Or does Eddie seem sadder, more defeated than that?

“I, um,” Steve finds himself saying when Jacob asks if he’d like to come back to his place. “I just remembered, I’ve actually got kind of an early day tomorrow? Some other time though, for sure, I’d love to. Just, tonight is, you know… no bueno…”

What the fuck. He’d taken the required years of Spanish classes for the credit to graduate high school, and this is, for some godawful reason, the first time since then that he’s ever even attempted to whip any of it out. 

This is definitely going to be a tally in the You Suck column, he knows, as Jacob’s expression shutters in disappointment. He’ll still tell Robin about it himself, though, since she’ll probably find out eventually anyway, but damn. Why did he say that?

And why, after the bill has been settled and his date has left the restaurant alone and probably feeling led on, does he stand and slowly make his way over to Eddie’s table?

Steve arrives and stands there stupidly for a second, because Eddie doesn’t look up from the last bites of his pilfered dessert. “Uh… hey. Mind if I sit?”

Eddie just shrugs listlessly, and that’s so wrong. He’s always such a vibrant guy, movement never ceasing and energy always thrumming beneath his skin, even when it’s the nervous kind. So Steve sits, but it’s with a sinking feeling that he can’t put his finger on. 

Or maybe it’s guilt, again, but he can’t really think of anything he’s done. It’s not like he drove Eddie’s date away. He’d only distracted Eddie the one time, as far as he’s aware, and that shouldn’t have been enough to disrupt the evening on its own. 

“If you’re going to ask, just go ahead,” Eddie mutters around a mouthful. 

Steve only hesitates another second or two, because maybe that means Eddie wants to talk about it. “Did your date have to leave early?”

A thin, very un-Eddie-like smile appears on Eddie’s face. “You could say that, Steve. You could say that… He, actually, made a comment about how I probably didn’t need dessert after two appetizers and one of the bigger entrees, and when I told him so what if I like my food and he could fuck off with that kind of attitude, he, uh. Took me up on that. Stuck me with the check too, so, you know, fuck it.” He jams the last bite into his mouth and adds around ice cream-soaked pastry, “I’m taking his leftovers home too. Fucking asshole.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s dating 101 not to comment on how much your date does or doesn’t eat—at least, it always had been with girls. Maybe there’s some sort of gay memo that he, as a bisexual, has never received, but damn. 

“He’s an idiot,” he tells Eddie with absolute certainty. “That’s such bullshit, talking to you like that. If he were still here I’d kick his ass for you, man. I mean it.”

Eddie doesn’t look up at him, trying to scrape the last of the melted ice cream up with his fork. “Oh come on, who’re you kidding. He’s right, Steve. I ate two appetizers and an entire pizza all by myself, no to-go box. And three desserts. And I’m planning on finishing off his leftovers as soon as I get home, pity-party style, because I’ve just blown the first date I’ve bothered to go on in a month. I mean, look at me!”

Finally, Eddie makes eye contact with him, but it’s a dull and self-pitying look that makes Steve want to gather him up in a hug until he feels better. He hasn’t seen Eddie look like that since the summer of ‘86, after the bat-attack induced coma had worn off and someone (Steve) had had to tell him that his uncle had moved away while, in the aftermath of the ‘earthquake,’ the general public had briefly assumed Eddie was dead. 

(That, at least, had turned out all right. Steve had personally driven him all the way out and knocked on Wayne Munson’s new door while Eddie had still been physically weak and too pessimistic to do it himself. The reunion had involved an undignified amount of tears—but Steve had ended up drawn into some of the hugs too, and Wayne had clapped him gruffly on the back and called him a good man after Eddie explained who had carried him out of hell, and, really, some of that runner-nosed sniffling had been his.)

Now, if possible, Eddie looks even more resigned. When he looks back down at the scattering of empty plates before him, Steve notices the gentle swell beneath his jaw, the start of a double chin. 

“Nobody wants the fat guy. Tonight’s made that crystal fucking clear.”

“Bullshit.”

It takes a second for Steve to realize that he’s the one who said that. His mouth working faster than his brain again—hur hur, dumb ol’ Steve, what else would anyone expect when he’s known more for his hair and his past than anything else. 

But, fuck it, he really means it. So he continues, “I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night, man. I just turned down my first real time in bed with a guy because… because you looked so upset over here, alone, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Which, you’re obviously not, because that’s a fucked up thing to say about yourself. About no one wanting you,” he adds quickly, when Eddie’s mouth opens to rebut. 

It’s enough that Eddie hesitates, licks his lips, pauses for a drink of what’s left in his glass and clears his throat. “You… You never even told me you like guys. You’re…?”

“Bisexual,” Steve fills in. He looks down at his hands where they rest stupidly in his lap. 

“Right. Are we… not close enough for you to tell me that?”

The suggestion stabs right through his heart, and shit, there’s no escaping the moment of truth coming up, is there? Steve wishes he had his own drink to clear out the sudden dryness in his mouth, but there’s nothing on this side of the table that Eddie’s date probably hasn’t put his mouth on first, and. Ew.

“I was… nervous,” Steve says carefully, wringing his hands out of sight beneath the table. “We are that close, but I, or—too close, maybe? I didn’t want you to, like, see. How I… feel about you, so… So I backed off a little.”

“A little?” Eddie repeats, incredulous. “We used to hang out every day, man. But this is the first time I’ve seen you in, what, a whole damn month?”

Steve is still staring down at his hands, at the little smudge of sky blue in the corner of his thumbnail he’d missed when cleaning up after the last time Robin had done his nails. 

“I thought I did something to push you away. I thought you’d seen right through me, how I feel about y-you.” It’s terrible, the way Eddie’s voice cracks over some of those words. “I put on twenty fucking pounds because I’ve been so stressed out.”

“It doesn’t look bad,” Steve blurts out. His face is so hot, he could probably cook a whole new dinner for them. Christ, but the idea that the new weight is there because of him is doing something really unexpected for him… Sending little jolts of possessiveness through his heart with each beat. 

How I feel about you, Eddie had said. How I feel about you. 

How I feel. 

About you. 

He’d give Eddie anything, everything, if he lets him. 

Eddie scoffs, and Steve can’t help the way his head snaps up. 

“No, I, I’m serious,” he stammers. “You want me to get you anything else? I’ll do it, Eds. I—I fucked up, must’ve if you could possibly think I don’t want you around. I stayed away because I felt transparent as hell, every time I looked at you, and I figured there was no way I’d be your type, because I’m not exactly—”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts. “Did you spend the whole night looking over here and not even notice that my date was wearing a polo shirt and had the second most fantastic head of hair I’ve ever seen on a man? That he has certified muscles from working out at the gym, just like you do? Ronnie knows my type, man, and it is you. Everyone else is just a cheap imitation at best!”

“… Oh,” Steve says dumbly. Because he hadn’t noticed that; he had only been looking at Eddie. And then he considers for a moment. “I… don’t even think I bothered to get Jacob’s number. He was… okay, but not, um. Not you.”

He wills Eddie to hear the rest of it, the parts he’s still kind of terrified to say out loud, worried that it would be too much, like he’s always been. Nothing compared to you, he can’t say yet. Couldn’t even hold a candle. Never stood a chance in the long run, really, from the moment we both ended up at this same restaurant. 

There’s a pause, during which Eddie’s waiter turns up with the check, a large box already tucked into a plastic bag, and a puzzled look at Steve. 

Eddie hands over his credit card and shoos the waiter away without even looking, something like hope dawning bright in his expression. “Do you, um. Want to get out of here, Stevie?”

Steve beans at him, giddy. “Sure. If you’re still hungry I know an ice cream place we could walk to from here.”

The look Eddie gives him is one part shrewd, twelve parts delighted. “You might be more of a freak than I realized. Which is a compliment, by the way.”

“I know,” Steve replies with a wink. He can’t quite believe this is happening, but it’s happening—and he honestly can’t think of a better compliment than being called freak by Eddie Munson while that twinkle is there in his eyes. Steve’s a sucker for that twinkle, and the dimpled smile he gets in response. 

~

They do end up going on that stroll for ice cream. Steve lets Eddie’s eyes be what he thinks is bigger than his stomach, then cheers him on as Eddie does actually manage to finish the entire banana split with minimal assistance. He kisses the chocolate sauce from Eddie’s lips in a dark spot outside the parlor, touching the new love handles that he’d noticed before and noticing, too, the way Eddie’s tight jeans are squeezing his softness into two separate rolls. 

“Let me?” he murmurs, and at Eddie’s eager nod he lets his fingers travel beneath the oversized shirt that hides his straining waistband. With a little sucking in, it’s just possible to get the button undone—Eddie moans prettily against his mouth at the release, his full belly rounding out into a smooth dome under Steve’s soothing hands. The shirt is still long enough to cover the fact that his jeans end up completely unzipped, the open flaps stretching wide as Steve helps him resettle in them to be more comfortable, with his belly hanging out and over. 

Steve doesn’t know what twenty extra pounds looks like, exactly; he has no idea if that’s an accurate number or an approximation. But Eddie feels big in a way that makes his pulse speed up, same as when he drops his hands a little lower and feels Eddie’s cock react to his touch through the denim, growing thick and heavy there too. 

It doesn’t even feel strange, going from friends to fervently making out in a darkened alcove. Going from there to Steve’s car, which he helps Eddie into because his full stomach gets in the way and bending over forces out these endearing little hiccupy burps, helps crank the seat back to make it more comfortable for him. Going back to Steve’s place because Robin is out at her girlfriend’s for the night and Eddie rooms with all three of his bandmates. 

Going to bed, where they see all of each other for the first time. The contrast of Steve’s scars on his lean sides and the way they pucker and stretch over Eddie’s recent gains—Steve kisses every inch of them, because it’s Eddie, tears in his eyes from how much he’s wanted this. Years out from all the trauma of it but still wearing matching reminders that will forever bind them together, make them feel whole, together, in a way no one else could ever really quite reach. 

They finish the leftovers in bed together, as a post-sex snack. Eddie can barely keep his eyes open, can’t take his hands away from his packed-full belly, but still whimpers for Steve to press more little tidbits between his lips and sucks sweetly on each fingertip before letting go. Breaths that sound more like moans, getting Steve just a little riled up again despite the fact that he’s tired too. Snickering together over long-shared jokes from their years of friendship and new little things to tease each other over from tonight. Savory-sweet kisses shared in their drowsy cocoon of blankets, Steve pressed against Eddie’s plush back and providing slow and steady belly rubs that make his new boyfriend (boyfriend!!) curl his toes with happy, satisfied sighs. 

Tomorrow, they’ll each tell their best friends that it was the best blind date night ever, even though they’ll never talk to the guys they were set up with ever again. Tonight, they fall asleep in a cozy universe built for two, soft and warm and hearts full to bursting. 

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