#I was on break and someone with a question was like “do you work here?” and like. bestie? I do not look like I work at a hardware store

[valkyriexo]

How they would act when they secretly like you | OT8

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff, Headcannon

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; I hope you enjoy <3

╰┈➤ Chan

Becomes extraaaa attentive. He’ll always check if you’re comfortable, safe, or need anything without making it too obvious. If you so much as sigh, he’s already asking you questions.

........But he sucks at making things not obvious so hes tripping over his words... and his feet.

He’s normally composed, but around you? He’s stuttering, dropping things, and somehow managing to trip over completely flat surfaces.

Pink is his new favorite color. Specifically, the pink of his cheeks whenever you compliment him or stand too close. He’ll try to play it off, but his ears betray him every time.

Finds ANY excuse to be around you. He suddenly needs help with things he’s perfectly capable of doing, like “Can you help me hold this?” (it’s literally a single sheet of paper). Or he just happens to show up at places he swears he didn’t know you’d be. “Oh, you’re here too? What a coincidence!” (It’s not.)

Gets protective in the softest way—He’ll casually drape his hoodie over your shoulders if you look cold, subtly push your drink closer if you haven’t sipped it in a while, or remind you to take breaks if he sees you working too hard. He’ll never make a big deal about it, just a casual “Here, take this.”

Deflects when someone else flirts with you—If someone tries to hit on you, Chan will laugh—but it’s that nervous, “Hah… okay, moving on” kind of laugh before he immediately finds a way to insert himself back into the conversation

╰┈➤ Minho

He is the embodyment of down bad

Acts like he doesn’t care, but he totally does—He’ll shrug and say, “Why are you telling me this?” when you share something with him… only for him to bring it up later because he definitely remembered. (“Didn’t you say you liked this? Just take it and don’t make it weird.”)

Teases you way more than anyone else—If he has a nickname for you, it’s probably something ridiculous (“Hey, clumsy,” even if you’re not). But the moment anyone else tries to tease you? His glare alone is enough to shut them up.

Finds ways to ‘annoy’ you just to get your attention—Takes your stuff and holds it above your head, pokes your side when you’re not paying attention, or randomly rests his arm on your shoulder just to see your reaction. But if you ignore him? He gets so huffy and pouty.

Notices every little thing about you—He’ll adjust the volume of the music to a level he knows you like, order your favorite drink without asking, or silently position things so you’re more comfortable. He won’t say anything about it—he just does it.

Secretly soft but only when you’re not looking—If you fall asleep next to him, he’ll make sure you’re comfortable and maybe even brush your hair out of your face… but the second you wake up, he’s back to pretending he doesn’t care. “You drool in your sleep. It’s disgusting.” (He was totally staring at you fondly five seconds ago.)

Gets suspiciously quiet when someone else flirts with you—He won’t say anything, but his energy shifts fast. Either he suddenly becomes very interested in his phone, or he’ll cut into the conversation with a deadpan “Wow. That’s original.” before dragging you away.

Will do something sweet for you but make it seem like it’s not a big deal—If you thank him for anything, he’ll wave it off with a “You’re so annoying. Just take it.” But he’ll be secretly waiting for your reaction out of the corner of his eye.

╰┈➤ Changbin

Acts like the most confident guy ever… until you actually pay attention to him. He’ll be flexing at the gym, showing off his rap skills, or cracking jokes....then you compliment him, and suddenly he’s stammering and looking anywhere but at you.

Starts working out even harder when you’re around. If you walk by while he’s lifting weights, he’ll suddenly go way harder than usual. Like he has to prove he’s strong. But if you call him out on it? “What? This? Pfft, this is nothing.” (He’s totally out of breath.)

Buys you snacks but pretends he just had extra.“Oh, I got two of these for no reason. You can have one, I guess.” (He literally went out of his way to buy your favorite one.)

Laughs way too loud at your jokes. Even if it’s not funny, even if it barely makes sense, he’s cracking up like you’re the world’s best comedian. (Get your own show)

Tries to be cool but blurts out embarrassing things. He’ll be trying to flirt, but somehow, it comes out all wrong. “You smell nice—I MEAN—I wasn’t sniffing you! Not like a dog or anything! I mean—oh my god.”

Gets competitive just for an excuse to be close to you. If there’s a game, he’s challenging you. If you win, he’s demanding a rematch. If you lose, he’ll tease you mercilessly. But if you pout, he’ll instantly go soft like “Okay, okay, you did good.”

If someone else flirts with you, suddenly he’s so funny. He’ll start cracking jokes, flexing his arms, or just randomly inserting himself into the conversation. Anything to make sure he’s the one you’re paying attention to.

╰┈➤ Hyunjin

Gets completely lost in his own world when looking at you. He thinks he’s being subtle, but nope—his soft gaze, little smile, and absolute lack of blinking give him away every time. If you catch him staring, he panics and immediately looks anywhere else “Oh, I was just… admiring the wallpaper.” (The wallpaper being a completely blank white wall.)

Randomly starts writing poetry or doodling in his notebook...and it somehow always ends up being about you. If you ask him about it, he’ll get all flustered and flip the page so fast he almost rips it.

Flirts without realizing it… until you flirt back. He’ll dramatically say, “You look breathtaking today,” like he’s in a historical romance drama. But if you respond with, “So do you,” his whole brain short-circuits, and he’s suddenly giggling into his sleeve.

Accidentally touches you all the time. Brushes hair out of your face, fixes your collar, tucks a loose strand behind your ear—then realizes what he’s doing and instantly pulls back like he just touched a hot stove. “Uh—I, um—there was lint!”

Gets dreamy and sentimental whenever you talk about things you love. You could be talking about your favorite food or a childhood memory, and he’s just sitting there, chin in his hand, completely enchanted.

If he sees you upset, he gets dramatic but in the softest way.“Who do I need to fight?” Then he’ll gently nudge your shoulder and mumble, “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

If someone else flirts with you, suddenly he’s the most poetic person alive. He’ll start saying things like, “A connection like ours… it’s rare, don’t you think?” while looking at you with the softest eyes. He’s not even being subtle at this point.

╰┈➤ Han

Acts totally normal—except he’s so not. He thinks he’s playing it cool, but suddenly, he’s laughing at the wrong part of a joke, tripping over absolutely nothing, or just blurting out words that make zero sense.

Finds literally any excuse to talk to you. Even if it’s the most random thing ever. “Hey, do you think squirrels have, like, best friends?” He just wants to hear your voice, even if the conversation makes no sense.

Rambles when he gets nervous. If he’s trying to impress you, he ends up going on a five-minute tangent about something completely unrelated. “Yeah, so anyway, that’s how I learned I’m slightly allergic to pineapples. Wait, what were we talking about again?”

Gives you his food, even when he doesn’t share with anyone else. Everyone knows Han doesn’t play when it comes to his food, but if you so much as glance at his plate, suddenly he’s sliding it over like, “Here, you can have some. But just a little. Actually, just take the whole thing.”

Writes lyrics that suspiciously sound like they’re about you. If you catch onto it, he’ll deny, deny, deny. “What? No, this isn’t about anyone! I just… wrote it. For fun. RANDOMLY.” (It’s absolutely about you.)

Sends you memes instead of flirting. If he likes you, expect a daily flood of funny videos, memes, and inside jokes. It’s his way of making sure you’re laughing even when he’s not around.

Gets lowkey jealous but plays it off. If someone else flirts with you, he’ll make a joke out of it, but you can hear the pout in his voice. “Wow. That was so funny. Almost as funny as ME.” Then he’ll immediately try to one-up them.

╰┈➤ Felix

Looks at you like you hung the stars. He thinks he’s being subtle, but his eyes absolutely light up whenever you walk into the room. If anyone points it out, he gets all shy and mumbles something like, “No, I was just—uh—nothing.” (It’s not nothing.)

Bakes extra just for you. He’ll claim he just happened to make too many cookies, but somehow, they’re always exactly your favorite. If you ever compliment his baking, he’ll get the softest smile and probably make an even bigger batch next time.

Gives you little gifts for no reason. Whether it’s a tiny trinket, a cute sticker, or a random plushie that reminded him of you, he’s always finding ways to show he’s thinking about you.

Sneaks in small, thoughtful gestures. If your phone battery is low, he offers his charger before you even ask. If it’s chilly, he casually drapes his hoodie over your shoulders. If you’re stressed, he just quietly sits beside you, offering warmth and comfort without saying a word.

Laughs at literally everything you say. Even if it’s not funny. Especially if it’s not funny. He just finds you so endearing that even your bad jokes are worth giggling over.

Stays up late just to talk to you. Even if he’s exhausted, if you text him, he’s responding immediately with a “Not tired at all! What’s up?” (He is definitely tired, but he’d rather hear your voice than sleep.)

Goes quiet when he’s flustered. Felix is naturally expressive, but if you catch him off guard—like by calling him cute or standing a little too close—he suddenly turns into a shy, blushing mess. His freckles practically glow from how red he gets.

If someone else flirts with you, he gets extra clingy. He won’t make a scene, but expect lots of lingering touches, pouty looks, and a soft, “You’re mine, right?” whispered just loud enough for you to hear. ( Great now were BOTH blushing)

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Teases you way more than anyone else. If Seungmin likes you, congratulations—you’re now his favorite target. He’ll tease you for everything, from the way you hold your chopsticks to your music taste. But if someone else tries to tease you? Suddenly, he’s not laughing anymore.

Pretends not to care but is lowkey always looking out for you. He’ll act like he doesn’t notice when you’re tired or stressed, but next thing you know, he’s casually sliding a drink your way, saying something like, “You look like a zombie. Drink this before you collapse.”

Finds excuses to be around you but plays it off like it’s your fault. If you’re in the room, he’s magically there too—but if anyone calls him out, he’ll deadpan, “I was here first.” (He absolutely was not.)

Mocks you but listens to everything you say. You could mention a random childhood story once, and months later, he’ll bring it up like it was yesterday. (“Didn’t you say your favorite candy was this? You better eat it. I didn’t get it for nothing.”)

Acts so unbothered but gets flustered when you flip the teasing on him. The moment you compliment him or call him cute, he freezes for a second before scoffing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” (He knows exactly what you’re talking about, and he is dying inside.)

Casually bullies you into taking care of yourself. If you skip a meal, he’s giving you that look before handing you a snack. “Eat before you get even more annoying.” If you’re overworking yourself, he’ll literally steal your stuff so you have to take a break.

If someone else flirts with you, he just silently glares. No whining, no obvious jealousy—just a blank stare that says “Are you serious right now?”

╰┈➤ Jeongin

Gets ridiculously shy around you but also lowkey enjoys teasing you. One second, he’s avoiding eye contact and blushing if you get too close; the next, he’s grinning and calling you a baby just to see you pout. “Aww, are you mad? So cute.” (He’s totally the one who’s flustered.)

Always “accidentally” ends up next to you. Whether it’s sitting beside you during group hangouts, walking next to you without realizing, or suddenly needing to be where you are—he somehow always finds his way to you.

Acts like he’s unaffected but gets SO nervous when you focus on him. You compliment his outfit? He suddenly forgets how to exist. You look at him too long? He’s playing with his sleeves, avoiding eye contact, and mumbling “Stop looking at me like that.”

Remembers the most random details about you. You could casually mention your favorite snack or how you love a certain brand of hand cream, and next thing you know, he’s gifting it to you “just because.”

Laughs at literally everything you do. Even if it’s not that funny, even if you just tripped over air—he’s dying laughing. But if you’re embarrassed, he’ll soften immediately, nudging you with a “It’s okay, I do dumb stuff all the time too.”

Gets adorably protective in small ways. He’ll hold doors open, walk on the side closest to the road, or casually hand you a jacket if it’s cold...like it’s second nature. If you thank him, he’ll just shrug, trying to act like his heart isn’t racing.

If someone else flirts with you, he just… stares. At first, he pretends not to care, but his ears are bright red. If it goes on too long, he’ll suddenly appear beside you like, “Let’s go.” No explanation. Just go.

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[hellsslibrary]

hi so ive been binging ur works lol I love that u write for blue lock and specifically the male reader !!! Sosoo I'd love to request a shidou x mean top male reader ? Like shidou keeps acting out so reader puts him in his place?

I do three things on purpose. I make you cut onions so I don't cry, I cling to you during horror movies because you get too focused, and I bend over in front of you during training because you're a dirty dog (real quotes from my husband as titles day one).

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : You two humiliating a non-existent guy for the size of his dick........ Basic Tuesday for any gays, I guess.

!!Warnings: tom!dom!male!reader, sub!bottom! Shidou, overstimulation, time before the first selection, so you fuck in a room full of other people at night..... So, humiliation of a guy for a dick actually (not in his face tho), sex on a futon, Shidou without hair gel (I heard that someone didn't like Shidou without gel and cried hyperbolically), he calls you 'cupcake' one time.

One hundred and seven times.

You've thought about killing him so many times. Strangle him. Take his head off. Castrate him. Burn him. Drown him... Anything, really. Why is this idiot even more annoying than usual? Who knows. Well, obviously not you.

Your eyes watched him praise a player again. Of course, this is not surprising for him, he is very respectful to good players, but now? Fuck, this is out of bounds.

You can see perfectly well how his hands stay on this guy for too long. And the way his eyes look at you from time to time. It's been repeated too many times today.

Does he want you to crack? But no. He's going to do it today. And it won't just crack, it will come apart at the seams.

The sound of the futon moving can be heard in an almost empty room as your body bends over his, while his face is buried in the pillow, trying not to moan too loudly. Not that he cares about it, but you do very much.

"I'm s-sorry, cu-cupcake, please—!" he exhales raggedly, clutching at the thin fabric, trying with all his might to stabilize himself and his body from your obviously not gentle thrusts, which seemed to knock his soul out of him piece by piece.

A rhetorical question escapes your lips, and an almost animal grin appears on your lips, seeing his condition. "Now we're just barking, right? You forgot how to bite pretty quickly."

Shidou just whimpers, feeling his body twitching from your thrusts inside his sloppy hole. His curls are disheveled on the bed, and some are stuck to his cheeks or neck from sweat. He just couldn't look into your eyes as usual, knowing full well that he would break even more... He dug his own grave after all.

"That guy couldn't have brought you to this state, you know? He definitely has a dick smaller than my little finger," you reason, lowering one of your hands from his waist lower, feeling the muscles of his stomach tighten as you slide over them, reaching his v-shaped line, and then his crotch. "Don't you agree?"

"Fuck, yes! Def-definitely, yes... Probably th-the same size as an a-ant," Ryusei giggles, swallowing his saliva, arching his back harder, which makes you hiss, feeling like he's become a little tighter.

Although his giggles immediately fade away when you grab his overexcited, spent cock. You immediately slap the hand that's trying to stop you, grabbing his length, making him choke on his own sob.

Tears began to form in his eyes, lingering on his blond eyelashes, and then trickling down his cheeks. He couldn't take another round! He wanted to, but probably couldn't. You're huge, you tease him, you fuck him, you humiliate someone for the size of his dick... Did I mention that you're huge? Anyway, it's fucking Hell! He's a fucking puddle under you, even though he wanted to stay under you like that, because that's actually what he wanted.

Maybe you'd be more gentle if your count of murder methods stopped at about sixty.

"Still fucking want me like this, huh? How many times did you cum?" you ask rhetorically, realizing that he won't answer, just smiling, and then slapping his ass, which makes him squeak, and you enjoy his sounds, because you can't see almost anything.

"Don't worry, I'll do it over and over again until you don't even have the thought of leaving me anymore, do you understand?" Ryusei nodded, and his cock jerked in your grip, forcing you to enter him up to the hilt, and then pull your dick out of him, which immediately turns around to look at you. "Or maybe I need to make it so that you can't stand at all without help..."

Shido pales almost immediately, sensing the sincerity in your voice, and then moans too loudly when you thrust into him again. Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing his face back into the pillows so that he doesn't wake anyone up and so that he stops making silly excuses about how he wants you to pull out your dick.

He looked like a black hole right now, honestly. So he'd better not pretend to be a clogged pipe right now.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Stargazing

Summary: Once the dust settles from the fall of the Red Room, Melina has questions that need answers. Who was better than her? Who created the Red Dust? Maybe these questions are better left unanswered.

Warning: mention of past abuse, mention of injuries, angst, heartbreak, angst with a happy ending, jealousy, guilt, a little Alexei hate (but sometimes that man deserves it), no y.n, reader is female but no description. disable reader?

Word Count: 3.8k

Note: Gonna be SO HONEST, this was a lot of fun to write.

It took an annoying amount of time for her leg to heal and for her to step foot into her lab. Although she was happy that her house was full, she needed this time alone to recharge. From the very beginning, it nagged her how the Red Dust was created to counteract something she had made. Someone bet her, and she couldn’t rest until she found out who.

Although the reason for her failure came with atonement, there was a lot that needed to be done to dissolve her sins. It had to be another Widow, someone who was aware of the work she was doing with Dreykov. That list was small, but none were capable of this level of sophistication and comfortable with complex science.

Sighing, she straightened her back and rolled the know out of her neck. Again, she looked through the microscope at the Red Dust. It was made of a complex chemical makeup. It was impressive. Then Melina saw it.

It was rare that some scientist left a calling card in their work. Like hackers, it was a way to claim responsibility in a subtle way. It had been years since she’d seen this signature. The Red Room told her that you were dead, and she believed them. It was the easier solution than breaking out of their conditioning. Besides, you were a distraction, a weakness, and the Red Room would kill you one way or the other. At least death on a mission was honorable. But they lied, and you were alive. Somewhere, you were alive and created a solution to stop Dreykov.

A knock on the door pulled Melina out of her spiraling thoughts. She put on her trained mask and locked up her emotions. “Come in,” she called out. When the door opened, she stood up straighter.

“Dinner is ready,” Yelena said. The blonde’s arms were crossed, and she did not enter the door’s threshold. “You have been in here for a long time. It would be good to take a break,” Melina had to suppress a smile. The relationship between her and Yelena was strained. It was improving, but Melina knew she had broken the girl’s trust.

“Thank you,” Melina responded. “I will be out shortly.” Yelena gave a curt nod and turned to leave the lab. She closed the door behind her. Melina took a step back from the table. There was no reason to go after you. All she needed to do was push you out of her mind. It was something she had done for years; how hard could it be?”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Impossible. Melina couldn’t push you out of her mind. This was why you were insurable in the Red Room. Even when Melina buried herself in her work, it seemed like you would worm your way into her thoughts. There was too much to do for you to be an annoying pest.

You were the devil on her shoulder from the moment you were paired together for training. In your mind, everything needed to be questioned. Every order given. Every assignment. You couldn’t fall in line with their conditioning. At first, Melina thought it was going to get you killed. Quickly, she learned that you were too good for them to kill you. So you suffered more bruises whenever you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“Shit,” Melina mumbled when her gun jammed for the second time. She took a few deep breaths, fixed it, and aimed at the target.

3 shots. All missed the bullseye.

Melina slammed the weapon down. This was getting ridiculous. It was absurd how easily you infected her mind. Melina wasn’t even sure if you were alive. For all she knew, Dreykov could have discovered you were behind the Red Dust and sent Widows to finish the job.

It was the ‘What ifs’ that were destroying her focus. You were a parasite—an infection. But Gods above, Melina missed you. The news of your death broke her, made it easier for Dreykov and the others to slitter their way into her ear. Your death provided a vacuum that the Red Room could exploit. If there was a possibility that you were alive - Melina had to take it. You weren’t going to leave her again.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It was a lot easier to find you than expected. All Melina had to do was look and follow the clues to a small farm in Colorado. Clues that you left, which meant you wanted to be found. That bothered Melina. If you faked your death, why make it so easy to find your location? The list of questions was growing longer and longer. You had to invite her in before she could ask any of them.

Colorado was lovely in the spring. It was in the mid-60s, which allowed Melina to roll down the windows of the rental car. The air smelt different. It was not the first time Melina traveled to the States, but it was the first time under her free will. A weight that always seemed to linger was gone.

Some nights, Melina could feel their hands on her - controlling and abusive. Those nights, she missed the feeling of your hands.

Melina shook the thought away when your house appeared on the horizon. From her research, you lived alone. The closest neighbor was 10 miles down the road. It was just you, your animals, and miles of open air.

The air smelt differently here. It smelt like freedom—freedom that you had for so long. The smell began to burn in Melina’s stomach. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, but it was all Melina could feel.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Melina wasn’t sure how long she sat in the driveway—long enough for the engine to run cold, and the chickens that walked in the front yard were comfortable with the strong vehicle. Your house was simple—a small one-story with two bedrooms, one bath, and a wrapped-around porch. The two rocking chairs rocked when the breeze blew through. She could hear the wind chimes and the sound of cows and sheep.

Why was she stalling? She was a Black Widow and Dreykov’s head scientist. To some, she was the Iron Maiden. Her name alone could send grown men running. Melina never got afraid. But you were different. While others feared her, you saw her as a challenge—a puzzle to solve and dissect.

Finally, she gave in. The answers she wanted weren’t found in her rental car. She took the two steps to the porch, and before she could knock, the door swung open. “Well,” you smiled. “Look at what the dog dragged in.”

Your American accent surprised her. You spoke like you were from this country and not born and raised in Russia. Melina scuffed. “I believe the phrase is ‘what the cat dragged in.’” Your smile never faltered.

“You have not seen what my dogs can do,” your native accent laced every word. “What do you want, Melina?” She hated how you said her name, which sent a shiver down her spine. It was infuriating how much power you still had over her. “Have you been sent to kill me?” You asked when she stayed silent. “Add more red to your ledger.”

“No.” She answered. “The Red Room is gone. Dreykov is dead.” You hummed and turned your back to her, venturing back into your home. Melina took it as a silent invitation to join you. She followed and gently closed the door behind her. Melina allowed herself to look at you without you so close and your eyes on her. The last time she saw you, you were 25; that was 30 years ago. Still, you looked the same. She tried not to draw attention to the prosthetic and the cane you used to walk around.

“Sit,” you ordered to her. “You have had a long travel day.” Melina wouldn’t question how you knew, but she sat down anyway. It was a long day, and she was getting too old for this. You grabbed a bottle of vodka from the fridge and two shot glasses. Wordlessly, you filled both up and handed one to her. “Why are you here?” You asked again. Once you down your shot, Melina looked at you again. Now you looked tired as if all the fight had left you.

“The Red Dust you created found its way to my daughters,” you raised your eyebrows to your hairline but kept quiet. “I looked at the chemical formula and saw your signature.” You smirked and filled the shot glasses again.

“So he is dead?” Melina nodded, humming slightly as she took the second shot. “Are you sure? It is very easy to fake your death.”

“Speaking from experience,” Melina huffed. You shrugged. Your second shot stayed filled as you reopened the fridge. Slowly, you took ingredients out of it - hamburger meat, an onion, green pepper, and a carton of eggs.

“Out with it, Melina,” you sighed and reached for a metal bowl. “Say everything else you came here to say.” You were always so blunt and straight to the point. A part of Melina envied you because of it. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check. She came here for answers. She could leave and never see you again when all her questions were answered.

“Did you know the very thing you created counteracted my work?” She asked. You huffed out a laugh. She watched your shoulders shake as you began to cut up the vegetables.

“Of course I did,” you answered. You were the only one smart enough to create what Dreykov wanted,” it felt like a backhanded compliment. Oksana was the first to find me. She told me of his plan, and I had to help. I had to stop him.” You were always the hero type, the martyr. “Is that all?” You glanced over your shoulder.

No. That wasn’t all. She wanted to scream at you. Grab you by the shoulder and demand all the answers to every question burning on her tongue. Maybe she would hit or kick you. Or kiss you stupidly.

How did you fake your death?

What have you been doing?

Why didn’t you ask for my help when creating the Red Dust?

“Why did you not come back for me when you escaped?” Your body tensed. The silence lasted longer than expected. One second turned to two, then three, then four. Finally, your body relaxed as your mind came up with the answer.

“Would you have come with me?” You cleaned your hands and faced her. “If I survived my injuries,” you motioned to your leg. “And I managed to sneak back into the Red Room. Would you have come with me?”

Honestly, Melina wasn’t sure. Part of her inside her screamed no. She would have stayed in the Red Room where it was ‘safe.’ At least she wouldn’t be haunted down. But the idealist, the side you saved and the Red Room wanted to break, wanted you to save her. Melina frowned. A thousand ‘what ifs’ ran through her head as she took your shot.

“I guess we will never know.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You were surprised that Melina accepted your invitation to stay the night. She said she would leave first thing in the morning. It has to be a long day for her. Of course, you knew the Red Room was gone, and the man responsible was dead. You weren’t expecting Melina to be involved in all of this - that was surprising.

Even with your ex here, you had a farm to maintain. After dinner, you fed your animals, and once it was night, you safely locked them away and got ready for bed. Your quest room was already set up. It was prepared for Windows that needed to lay low.

Your teeth were brushed, your face washed, your prosthetic was off, and you lay in bed. You were exhausted. Today’s emotions were causing turmoil throughout your body. Still, you couldn’t fall asleep. Every time you closed your eyes, moments from your past flashed through your mind.

The most common scene was when the building fell on top of you, and you were trapped under the rubble. The Widow that was assigned as your partner and your target was killed. You were on a time limit till the Red Room sent a team to assess the damages. So you made a choice - run. Run from the only life you knew and leave Melina behind. No matter how much you loved Melina, you couldn’t live under the Red Room’s control anymore.

You managed to free your leg and crawl out of the rubble. Your leg was broken and severely burned from the fire. In your pain-flagged haze, you got yourself to a doctor who took pity on you. Without the equipment at the hospital, he had to amputate your leg. It took months to recover. By then, the Red Room announced your death.

Life without the Red Room was difficult, but you managed. Finally, you settled down in the States and got a job. You saved up to buy a farm. As time passed, you thought you had escaped them and could leave that part of your life. Then Oksana found you and told you rumors of Dreykov’s plan. A group was trying to stop him, and Oksana wanted your help. It seemed easy to join them.

Sighing, you placed your leg on the ground and stood up. All these years, your balance has improved, and the strength of your right leg has increased. Still, you need crutches for long periods without your prosthetic. You preferred forearm crutches to the ones that went under your arm.

As you left your room, you saw your porch light on. Smiling, you put on a jacket and joined Melina outside. Your sudden appearance didn’t faze the Black Widow. Your Great Pyrenees, Lady, was lying by her feet. You sat in the empty rocking chair and placed your crutches against the wall. “Couldn’t sleep either.” Melina chuckled and crossed her right leg over her left.

“Something like that,” she mumbled. You leaned back in the chair and looked around the property. Your favorite part of your home was the stars you could see. You were far enough from the city to avoid any light pollution. Most nights, you sat in the rocking chair and stargazed. Hoping Melina was free and looking up at the same stars.

“You said,” you broke the silence. “You had daughters. They are Widows then.” Melina gave you a slight nod. You expected that was all she was going to provide you with. It was all you deserved. All you wanted was for her to trust you again. Sighing, she looked up at the sky.

“The Red Room needed an American family to steal from SHIELD. That was where they got the information to deconstruct the human brain and create a blueprint for mind control. It was a front for HYDRA,” you nodded that you understood. It had to be connected to the Winter Solider program. “I was married to Shostakov-”

“The Red Guardian?” You cut her off. “You were married to that buffoon of a man.” You saw a small smile, but she quickly covered it up.

“He is not that bad,” you scuffed and shook your head. That man was an idiot. You couldn’t picture them together. Gods, you were jealous of Alexei. It hit you like a freight train that he got to call Melina his wife and have a family. “To complete the look, two younger Widows were assigned as our daughters.”

“You still see them as your daughters?” You questioned. Melina’s jaw clenched. It took her a moment for her to relax the muscle.

“I was their mother for 3 years. Of course I do, but-” she folded her hands on her lap. “I have a lot to atone for.” That was the name of the game. How many good deeds could undo all the blood spilled? You whistled softly. Lady stood up, stretched, and rested her head on your lap. You ran your fingers through her fur.

It was rather silly being jealous of the minds of animals. Everything was simple. No guilt clouded their judgment—no heartbreak when they hurt someone they love. You whistled again, and Lady went back to protect the animals. Melina watched the dog leave and returned to look at the stars. “I am sorry,” you spoke. Her body shook as she let out a staggering breath. “I wanted to come back for you. There wasn’t a day I wasn’t thinking about you, moye serdtse (my heart).”

“I thought you were dead,” her tone was bitter, but you deserved it. She took a chance with you. She gave you her heart, and you broke it. “When they announced it, it broke me. Life lost all meaning.” Your heart shattered.

“Melina-”

“I can not do this,” she said suddenly. She jogged down your steps.

“Wait,” your balance was a little off when you stood up so quickly and grabbed your crutches. “Melina, please.” Surprisingly, she slowed down and allowed you to catch up. “I never wanted to hurt you. Loving you was the brightest spot in that fucking hell hole.”

“Love is for children.” You scuffed and took a few shaky steps forward to close the distance.

“No,” you shook your head. “That is what they told us to brainwash us to be loyal to them. What we had was not childish. It was beautiful, pure, and everything they hated.”

There were so many stolen moments before training or before bed. The feeling of her lips and hands on your skin pushed every nightmare away. Falling in love with Melina was so perilous, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. “You are free from them, my love,” you smiled. “You can fall in love, dance, and sing all without their claws in you.” You dropped one of the crutches to the ground. Her eyes followed the movement of your hand. She allowed you to place it on her cheek. “I missed you so much,” you whispered. Suddenly, her hands were on your waist, and she pushed up against her car. You gasped at the sudden movement and were even more surprised when her lips were on yours.

The kiss was messy, frantic, and desperate. Her grip on your waist was tight as if she was afraid you’d disappear. You knew you’d have bruises, but you loved it. It was going to be a reminder that this was happening. The other crutch fell, and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her close.

Gods, you missed her like this. It was the only time she let her walls down and allowed herself to fall. She was selfish. She took what she wanted, and you were happy to give it to her. It reminded you of quick and dirty make-out sessions hidden from guards. But you were no longer there. You were free to take your time with her. If she wanted you still. You moved your hand down her chest and felt the pounding of her heart. Gently, you pushed her back. Your lips were barely touching, and you felt the warmth of her breath. “Slow baby,” you whispered. “I want to take my time with you.” With her so close, you felt her body tense. “Or we don’t do anything. The choice is yours.”

That was the beautiful thing about freedom—the ability to choose. Carefully, she tilted your chin up and gently kissed you. She was never good with words and vulnerability, but it was easier for her to show it. The kiss caused your heart to flip. Melina ended it and rested her head on your shoulder. You hugged her tightly, hummed, and swayed back and forth.

You stared up at the stars above you. You wasted all this time, but she was right here now. When you were around her, you came alive. Time seemed to stand still. It made you feel like this could last forever. You and her were stargazing, intertwining souls. “Come on, baby,” you kissed the side of her head. “Let’s go instead.” She let you go with a huff and bent down to pick up your crutches. “Thank you.”

You walked back into your house side by side. She followed you to your bedroom without a word. Melina waited by the side of the bed while you got settled under the covers. “Get in Melina. Stop overthinking it.” The Widow climbed under the covers and laid down, stiff as a board. Chuckling, you turned on your side to look at her. “Are you still leaving tomorrow?” Melina sighed and turned her head to face you.

“I do not know,” she answered. “I am working on freeing the rest of the Widows under Dreykov’s control and exposing them to the Red Dust,” you hummed. We could use your help, " you smiled.

“I can not leave my animals,” you said. “But I will do what I can from here. What do you need?”

“More of the red dust,” she answered. “There are so many young girls under his control.” It was unfortunate how vase his operation was.

“Yes,” you said, using the back of your hand to rub her cheek. “And you will save all of them.” Before you could pull your hand back, she held it against her cheek. “I am not going anywhere, baby. I am here.”

“I lost you once. I can not lose you again.” You smiled sadly and moved closer to her.

“Close your eyes,” they remained open. She was so stubborn. It was a characteristic you loved about her. “You trust me once. Please trust me again.” She hesitated. You could see the internal conflict race through her mind. You cupped her face in your hands. With a shaky breath, she closed her eyes. “My love, my light,” you whispered. “From the moment you pinned me to the mat in our first training, you have my heart. I am here for as long as you want me.”

Finally, you kissed her. You forced her to slow down every time she tried to rush through it. You knew what she was doing, rushing through the feeling so she couldn’t sit in it. You wanted her to feel all of this. “You are infuriating,” Melina mumbled.

“Yes, I am,” you laughed. “But that is why you like me.” You gave her a quick kiss and tried to get her to rest her head on your chest. Like always, Melina surprised you. She guided your head to rest against her. It seemed easy to relax against her. You liked hearing and feeling her heartbeat.

Sighing, you closed your eyes. Finally, your whole world was right; it was where she belonged.

[shadowmor]

Mc is not fluent in Japanese part 2

Idea/summary: The Mc/Reader is foreign and knows just enough Japanese to express basics ideas (almost A2 level).

Part 1

-> Hotarubi & Sinostra house

✋️Obviously, this is not canon. Just a scenario idea

Kusanagi Haku

He already had some doubts about you being from outside Japan before interacting, but he quickly confirmed it.

"No, I'm not taking you to a clinic. Yes, to Darkwick, do you know it?"

But instead of seeing you searching on a search engine, he noticed that you typed the institution's name (incorrectly) into an online dictionary. Oh.

"No, Darkwick is an academy."

"Ah."

Before saying goodbye when you were taken to talk to the teachers, he briefly asked what your native language was. – You only understood the reason behind the question when he greeted you in your native language the first time you entered the Hotarubi house.

He studied some greetings (lazily) in case he saw you. If being cursed was already horrible, imagine not being able to express yourself the way you want?

Even if it wasn't much, Haku thought that by learning your language, you would feel less lonely and scared.

Besides, he noticed that his pick-up lines go in one of your ears and out the other since you don’t seem to understand unless it's in a literal sense.

"..."

"..."

"You didn't get it, did you?"

"I just didn’t understand the comparison between me and spring."

"Of course..."

Don’t be surprised if he throws a pick-up line at you in your native language —somehow, he sounds quite fluent in that aspect. (Maybe the color change on your cheeks and ears when you hear it is part of his motivation to practice more.)

Overall, Haku is a great teacher. Extremely patient with your mistakes and playfully teasing in a way that doesn’t make you feel mocked.

Oh? Speaking to me in such a casual tone... are you implying that we are actually closer than I imagined?"

Haku hates working more than necessary, let alone studying. But well, he won’t say no to a study date with you.

That is, until he realizes that you two weren’t the only ones in this study session. He looked at you strangely as you brought the Frostheim newbies.

"Maybe I misunderstood, MC. Wasn’t it just the two of us?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not really." It was.

He also learned to say your name correctly on the first try, just like Tohma.

Haku seems to know a mix of languages, from the most well-known to those he selected out of personal interest (yours made it onto the list).

Subaru Kagami

Although I sometimes doubt that Subaru's external personality is completely genuine, I'll write assuming it is.

At first, he didn’t realize you were a foreigner. Like Alan, he vaguely thought you just weren’t good with words. – For a moment, he felt identified.

But doubts arose when you two started communicating directly. A few pronunciation mistakes here and there, confusing text messages, and the fact that Haku always greeted you in another language made him suspect.

"Hm."

"What’s wrong, Subaru?"

"If I'm wrong, please don't take it personally, maybe I misunderstood. MC, are you from another country?"

"Yes"

Subaru quickly joined the study group, even though he firmly stated that he wouldn’t be very helpful, but demonstrated the complete opposite.

He is a great teacher, simple and direct in explaining grammatical sentence structures or the meaning behind some kanji simbols.

Studying with him is always nice because, in the end, fresh tea and some cookies are ready for your break.

He rarely corrects you outside of study hours, and when he does, he always seems reluctant or annoyed with himself.

If he’s with you and someone misunderstands you, he’ll try to clarify the situation.

Subaru already wanted to study your language to get closer to you and make you feel more comfortable, but what really pushed him was hearing you murmur in your native tongue —he found the intonation so beautiful.

Certainly, it would be a shame if you couldn’t speak in such an expressive way.

Like Alan (again), he prefers learning directly, but to avoid being a bother, he also studies through other resources. – Haku brought some textbooks he found in the library.

He only mispronounced your name twice.

Zenji Kotodama

The best of the best 🙌

He thought it was just a peculiar way of your speaking, but he admires that you went to another country despite not being fluent.

Although his songs may seem a bit confusing, they actually help you correct your pronunciation because he enunciates each syllable slowly.

He sometimes follows you around the academy to keep you away from trouble caused by your lack of comprehension.

"No, no, no, gal! This young man understood something else! Repeat after me so he doesn’t get confused."

He asked you to sing in your native language—he found it nice and tried to imitate it. (It sounded more like phonetic gibberish.)

Now you've been admitted to work with Haku in managing Zenji’s posts!

Congratulations, you're now responsible for adding subtitles to his video-songs in your language. The more people who understand and appreciate the meaning of his words, the better the world will be, right? He needs to touch more hearts.

Zenji is better at explaining the meanings of symbols than strict grammar, but he's still good.

"Oh, my dear. It’s not this, it’s this here. Write it again."

He pronounces your name in an overly dramatic way

He doesn’t mind if you speak to him casually (even if it’s by mistake).

When he accompanies you to the library, you just need to point at a symbol, and he will express what it means. (Maybe his metaphors confuse you, but he will try to be clearer if he notices your confusion.)

---------------------‐----------------------------------------------

Taiga Hoshibami

You almost got grazed by a bullet when you spoke informally to him upon entering the casino for the first time.

Interacting with Taiga is a bit unsettling —one moment, he's laughing at your funny way of speaking, and the next, he’s pressing a gun to your forehead, ordering you to speak properly.

He doesn’t correct you; he genuinely enjoys watching you mess up. Sometimes, he pretends not to understand just to see you desperately trying to replace the word you used.

You might end up being subconsciously registered in his mind as the girl who speaks funny. (Not a good thing. If your Japanese improves, he might pull out his gun again in your next conversation. Better be known as the kitten.)

He might start pointing at objects, waiting (forcing) you to say their names with your flawed pronunciation.

No, he still doesn’t remember your name. If he already struggles to remember the honor student’s title, imagine a foreign name.

Like Subaru, he heard you murmuring in your native language and immediately asked you to speak like that while using your thighs as a pillow. But don’t try saying anything funny—Taiga is extremely sharp to know when someone is making fun of him.

If someone mocks the way you speak while he's around and still remembers who you are, someone’s going to need medical attention. It should only be funny for him.

Taiga seems to know other languages; he might know yours, but I highly doubt he’ll speak it with you—unless he has a real reason to threaten you.

Romeo Lucci

The audacity you have to speak to him so casually using his first name.

Romeo likely knows other languages, being a noble businessman that he is.

He knew you were foreign at first glance and pronounces your name correctly after hearing it once.

You were truly an annoying thing—not just because of your writing mistakes in the reports, but also because even after he explained abbreviations, you still seemed confuse.

"You are such a WOE!!"

"..." Just from your expression, he knew you didn’t understand.

"Waste Of Effort!!"

Yet, there was that same blank look—how the hell did you not get it, even when he patiently explained?

If he knows your language, he might make a slight effort to communicate about necessary matters using it — like Kaito’s routine or about a mission

His corrections always come through frustrated sighs or yelling.

Yet, he somehow always returns your reports corrected, helping you understand what symbols you got wrong.

Ritsu Shinjo

He possibly knows other idioms —a lawyer must be aware of their client’s needs in any circumstance! How would he defend someone without understanding what they’re saying?

He still has your audio response to his question about you being a foreigner (why).

If he has time, he will join your study group. However, he already corrects you in any communication you two have.

Ritsu corrects you directly, pointing out the mistake and the solution. He doesn’t really care about how he’s explaining things or whether you feel embarrassed—similar to Jin in that aspect. Why are you embarrassed? He’s helping you.

As his business partner, your communication must be clear, objective, and efficient.

So, if he doesn’t know your language, he will find ways to learn it. You found it amusing that, just because you’re his associate, he spends nights studying your language. (And he doesn’t understand why that surprised you.)

Despite his "lawyer-like" demeanor, Ritsu is very helpful. He gathers books for you, ranging from basic to advanced Japanese.

He mispronounced your name a few times (maybe three in total).

.

.

.

Sorry, maybe i did wrote too much. Please forgive me for any grammar mistakes TT

[hyuny-bunny]

seasons // series

part v

summary: when the real threat of losing you to someone else becomes reality, what will minho do?

warnings: mentions of sex, female masturbation

part iv • masterlist

Seeing him sit outside your door, almost as disheveled as you was the last thing you expected. He was wearing those godforsaken grey sweats again with a t shirt and flannel. The way his eyes raked up your body taking in your appearance made you feel small, seeing he was already dissecting every inch of you to figure out where exactly you had been.

"You weren't answering your phone... I figured if I sat out here you'd come out eventually..." He trails off, the question about where you were hangs off his tongue.

There's a brief pause as you hold his gaze trying to decide if you should answer with an explanation or another question. Silence follows as you move to your apartment door, opening it for both of you to step inside. If he wanted answers, he would have to work for it.

"... where.... where were you?" He said looking at you still trying to decipher what's happening at this very moment.

"I... I stayed the night with a guy I met last night."

The tension was thick as you swallowed, meeting his gaze. His face remained stoic, any hint of disapproval or disgust or anger was undetectable. He just nodded once as if to say he understood that was enough to answer his question.

"I'm sorry.. for not calling or texting to let you know I was fine... I'm also sorry for exploding on you yesterday. I know you didn't mean to be hurtful."

He nods softly looking down before speaking up.

"I'm really sorry for what I said... I just want you to be safe.. and happy most of all... Since, you seem fine, I'll head home."

He turns his back to you heading for the door.

"Minho.." He stops in his tracks looking up at you, keeping that stoic face. "You don't have to go... so soon..."

He sighs before walking over to you, he brings you in for a small hug before patting your shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

It's all he gives you as he walks out leaving you standing in the middle of your apartment, somehow feeling guilty. His lack of a reaction felt jilting.

-

Minho went straight home, changing into gym clothes. He grabbed his bag, heading straight to the place he knew he could get out his frustrations in a safe way.

Throwing punch after punch into the body bag that swings from the ceiling. It isn't until Chan intervenes that he stops, the older warning him he needs to stop before he breaks his hand. Out of breath and sweaty, he reluctantly sits on the nearby bench where Chan watches as he takes off the glove revealing a very irritated hand, skin littered with popped blood vessels that would turn into bruises soon.

"What's up with you?" Chan knew him all too well, he could always tell the difference between Minho coming to work out to get a work out in versus the beaten down version of Minho that sat in front of him.

"She... She went out yesterday and this morning when I went by her apartment, she was coming back from staying the night at someone's place...."

Chan was fully aware of the longstanding feelings Minho had for you. He had known for years. Watching him get into a few relationships hoping to fill the void of not being able to have you as a romantic partner. Or whenever you got into a relationship and Minho would sulk like a battered cat. Chan sighs as he looks ahead.

"Okay, let me ask you this, why is it any different now then when she was dating someone?"

Minho can't meet his gaze.

"You know her better then anyone else, it was a fling, a one night stand that probably meant nothing-"

"She never stays the night." Minho's voice cuts him off.

"What?"

"She never stays the night, she always gone home after. So she either she liked it enough... or liked him enough... to stay until the morning."

"That doesn't mean anything, she could've been too tired to go home or.." Chan stops himself realizing whatever rational explanation he gave him wouldn't console his pouty friend.

"I just want her to see me... see me as someone who can be there to take care of her... Someone who could actually love her the way she deserves..." Minho trails off looking down.

"You can't keep sulking like this every time there's a slight chance that she either gets a boyfriend, which I am not implying that this is what this is, or starts to find interest in someone else... Either fess up or live with this reality."

Minho stares at his hands as bruises bloom over his knuckles. He huffs before standing up heading to the showers.

-

You stir the sauce around in the pot as the smell of sage & butter waft through the place. You can't help how easily you find Minho's scent pushing through even as you cook, it was almost nauseating. You place a headphone in your as you continue talking to Hyunjin on the phone. He was busy tonight and well... your body needed time to recover.

"I have a question and you can't make fun of me or laugh," You say as you take a clean spoon tasting the sauce before moving to put your gnocchi into the pan with the sauce."

"Okay, what's your question?" He asks hearing you stir the pasta around through phone, he imagines what you're wearing as you cook.

"When you asked me about the last time I had sex..." You say hesitantly waiting for him to laugh.

"Yeah, what about it?" He says matter of factly as he recalls the event.

"How... How did you know that I hadn't... in a while? Is that some sort of Alpha instinct that's kept secret?"

He stifles his laugh at the 2nd question not wanting to break the promise he agreed to.

"No, not necessarily... It's the same as when you kiss someone who's never kissed anyone before. You just kinda... feel it?"

"Are you say I was bad in bed?" You ask teasingly.

"God, no! It's just... I could sense... it had been a while and... I never thought of myself as someone who was stellar at sex but at minimum I know how to pleasure my partner," he pauses for a moment before continuing, "So with you, I thought you were either just really sensitive or... it had been a while... so when I asked it wasn't because I knew but just needed to reaffirm my initial... assumption."

"I don't know if I should feel offended or not.." You joke trying to come off as reassuring him that you were prodding for answers.

He didn't come off as some typical macho Alpha who thought of himself as a sex god but it was reassuring to know he knew himself well enough to be able to pleasure his partners.

The two of you continued to talk as you had your dinner with a small glass of wine to unwind a bit.

"I should probably let you go, have to prepare for my stuff for my classes tomorrow." You say with a sigh feeling a bit warm from the wine that made your cheeks tinge with a warmth that felt like the sun beaming down on you.

"When can I see you again?" He asks with a stupid grin that you can hear through the phone.

"Hmm... How about Friday night?" You ask in a flirty voice.

"Killing me here, I don't think I can wait that long..."

"First week back is always a bit chaotic so you'll just have to survive!" You tease as you stretch from your seat at the dinner table. He laughs warmly before reluctantly agreeing.

After letting him go from the call you clean up the mess from your dinner packing it away for a lunch for you and Minho tomorrow, an olive branch lunch that's packed with the a blueberry muffin you made for the morning. Food and gift giving was a mutual language between the two of you, that often meant gifting each other lunch or sweets.

You finally make your way to bed staring up at the ceiling as you try to get comfortable. You scroll through instagram for a bit swiping through peoples stories before you're forced to do a double- no, triple take at Chan's story. Chan was a friend of Minho and Jisung that you hung around often when you had group outings or house parties for 3Racha's demo releases. You had grown a bit closer to him with every time you saw him, he was another Alpha who had an understanding for your frustrations for other alphas of the male population.

The video was Minho boxing, repeatedly hitting a body bag... wearing was quite possibly the sluttiest thing a man could wear to the gym. It was a black compression shirt that the gave the perfect outline of his tits pecs in the shirt. There were very few occasions you had seen true anger or frustration from Minho, but it was obvious he was heated as he took repeated swings to the body bag that swung from the ceiling with the force of every hit.

Would it be wrong to admit how incredibly turned on it made you to see every muscle in his arms engaged making his pec's move and his stature seem so much bigger?

Either way it didn't stop you from you from watching it over and over until you felt the familar wetness pool in your underwear. Forcing you to reach beneath the fabric as you turned over rubbing your clit while imagine what it'd be like for him to fuck you with same aggression he took out on that body bag. Even as you orgasmed you couldn't help choking out his name in a whimper muffled by the pillow.

-

The next morning Minho came by to pick you up, driving you both to campus as you had worked out your schedules to work out so that you two would either start at the same time and likely end your days at the same time. He waited down stairs outside of his jeep waiting for you to come out, he always parked and stepped out to be the one to open your car door.

He watched you emerge with your shoulder brown satchel bag on and a bag of what looked like food. His eyes took in the way your hair perfect fell around your face, the perfectly slouched light wash of jeans and white buttoned blouse.

"Good Morning, Min, ready to deal with the nightmare of parking on the first day back?" You ask teasingly as you walk up to his side. He gives you a soft smirk rolling his eyes as he opens the door for you letting you climb in to the car waiting for you to settle before closing it and getting into the driver seat.

He wore his typical, light wash of jeans with an oversized grey hoodie that always looked so much cozier on him then anything else. It was typical for him as he didn't always want to wear sweats despite being a dancer needing the free flow of the material.

"The only thing I'm looking forward to is finally being able to choose good songs for the choreographies this year." He says as he starts the car.

Minho had recently stepped up into the role as captian of their dance crew this year. He was nominated by the last captain and most of his juniors, surpassing some of the seniors in which it would've been their last year to lead as captain. He had been the youngest member to get the position in the last 10 years.

"Oh that's right! What time are you supposed to meet today?" You ask as you open the bag of food you had brought.

"3:30pm, I'll be going over the rules and expectations then getting the new dancers settled in. I'm a bit nervous about getting them to see me as a leader of the group now.." He grips the steering wheel a bit tensely.

"It'll come with time but I'm sure you got it. And if they don't, then they're free to go else where if they don't like it." You say offering him words of encouragement. He glances over giving you a soft smile thanking you.

The car is filled with chatter and laughter, an easy feeling, a stark contrast to what yesterday felt like. A mutual unspoken understanding between the two of you to move forward. He finds parking in a building near your class as, before getting out you hand him the lunch you made him.

"Here, your lunch and a blueberry muffin of apology..." You say a bit quieter than you meant.

"Apology? For what?" He tilts his head taking the food staring at you with those endearing brown eyes.

"I don't know.. I just felt guilty about how worried I made you..." You say looking at him a bit solemnly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, I was an asshole... However, I still will be devouring this muffin with or without an unnecessary apology." He says gleefully as he takes a bite moaning dramatically as the taste hits his mouth, making you laugh as he makes a mess of himself.

He couldn't help but feel simultaneously guilty and warm at the idea that you felt so bad that you needed to bake him a muffin for him to feel remedied. His dramatic eating of the muffin made the unease you felt from the day before lighter.

The two of you walked towards the english building, light chatting as he threw an arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him. Minho enjoyed the feel of you close against him knowing once you pulled away, the scent would be all over him for the rest of the day. The sweet smell of dark cherries and almond bitters that made him feel like he just walked into a bakery. He kisses the top of your head before parting ways, it was something he did often but this time it made your heart do a flip.

Moving through your classes with much ease, it's around 4pm you finish the last. You walk through the campus, taking in the breeze that blows through the shaded areas as the sun sits still high in the sky. You find the arts building, sitting on an empty bench with a book as you decided to wait for Minho to finish his dance class. You glanced through the window looking to see Minho at the head of the class leading, he looked like he was starting to go through the choreo he had made a few weeks ago to start the class on. You can see Felix's blonde hair bobbing around making you laugh as you see his half ponytail flopping around with every move.

Your laughing is cut short as you gasp for air seeing Hyunjin's reflection in the mirror dancing beside Minho. His body moving fluidly as he follows Minho's instructions, you duck down beneath the window contemplating on running away. It's too late for decision to be made as Jisung begins to approach about to yell your name in typical Jisung fashion. Abandoning your belongings on the bench as he begins to pass approach the open door that leads directly into the dance room, as you approach Jisung at a desperate speed to clamp your hand over his mouth, it's too late as he utters the first letters forcing you turn just in time to become in line of sight of Minho and Hyunjin who glance in your direction. They both wave with a smile on their face before the realization hits that their eyes are on the same person.

part vi

[scarletwinterxx]

breaking the ice - chwe vernon scenario

scrolled through tiktok too much now i'm simping over vernon🫠

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold air inside the ice rink nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You weren’t much of a sports fan, but when your cousin, Chan, practically begged you to come watch his game, you couldn’t say no.

"It's gonna be fun! Just come once, and if you hate it, I won't ask again," he had insisted over the phone.

And that's how you found yourself in the bleachers, watching a group of guys in bulky gear chase a puck across the ice. You weren’t clueless—you knew the basic rules—but you weren’t about to start screaming at referees like some of the other fans. You were here for one reason: Chan.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and honestly more interesting than you expected. You followed your cousin’s movements as he skated past an opponent and passed the puck to a teammate. The crowd roared when the puck was slapped straight into the goal.

You clapped, smiling as Chan pumped his fist in the air. That’s my cousin, you thought proudly.

Then, your eyes drifted to the player who had taken the shot. Number 16. He skated back toward Chan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment before the two joined the rest of the team.

You squinted.

The name on the back of his jersey read "Chwe"

You weren’t sure why, but something about him stood out. He wasn’t showy like some of the other players who thrived on the crowd’s attention. He barely reacted after scoring, just gave a small nod before skating off.

"Who’s number 16?" you asked the girl sitting beside you, who had been squealing nonstop.

She gawked at you. "You don’t know Chwe Vernon?!"

You blinked. "Should I?"

She looked at you like you had just committed a crime. "He's literally one of the best players on the team! And super famous! His family's Korean-American, and he's been playing since he was a kid. How do you not know him?"

You shrugged. "I don’t really follow hockey."

The girl sighed dramatically. "You’re missing out. He’s, like, effortlessly cool and insanely good."

You turned back to the rink, watching as Vernon—Chwe Vernon, apparently—glided across the ice. Effortlessly cool, huh? You weren’t convinced.

After the game, you waited for Chan outside the locker rooms. The hallway was filled with people—some reporters, some fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the players.

When the team finally emerged, Chan spotted you instantly. "Hey!" He grinned, walking over. His hair was damp from the shower, and he still had a towel draped around his neck. "So? Did I impress you?"

"You did great," you said, ruffling his hair, making him groan. "Proud cousin moment."

"Good. I need you to come to more games for good luck."

"Don't push it," you teased.

Before he could respond, someone else walked past you—number 16. Vernon.

Chan called out to him. "Hyung!"

Vernon turned his head slightly, slowing his pace. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were. He had this laid-back, unreadable expression, like nothing ever surprised him.

Chan gestured toward you. "This is my cousin, the one I told you about."

You arched a brow. "You talked about me?"

Chan ignored you. "This is Vernon."

Vernon gave you a short nod. "Hey."

That was it. Just one word. No handshake, no smile.

You crossed your arms. "Wow, you’re a real talker, huh?"

Chan coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

Vernon just blinked. "Not really."

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn't. This guy was something else.

"Well, okay" you said your name, breaking the silence. "Since we’re introducing ourselves and all."

He nodded again. "Cool."

You squinted at him. "Do you always talk in one-word sentences?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question. "Depends."

You exhaled sharply, turning to Chan. "I’m leaving. This guy’s impossible."

Chan laughed. "That’s just how he is."

You gave Vernon one last glance. He wasn’t unfriendly, just... different. Quiet. Detached.

And yet, something about him made you curious.

A few days later, Chan texted you.

Chan: Come to our next game. You: Why? Chan: Because I bet Vernon you wouldn’t come. You: …You bet on me? Chan: Yeah. He said you wouldn’t bother. I said you would. You: What do I get if I show up? Chan: The satisfaction of proving Vernon wrong. You: Tempting. Chan: Also, if I win, Vernon has to buy me dinner. So do it for me.

You sighed, staring at the text. You weren’t the type to back down from a challenge. Contemplating for only a few moments before shooting Chan one last message saying you'd go.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d get a reaction out of Vernon this time.

The next game rolled around quicker than expected. You hadn’t initially planned to attend, but the thought of proving Vernon wrong was too tempting.

So there you were, sitting in the bleachers again, this time with a smirk on your face as you spotted number 16 skating onto the ice.

Chan was the first to notice you. From where he stood, he shot you a triumphant grin, raising his fist in victory. You lifted your hand in a mock salute, acknowledging the win.

Vernon, on the other hand, took a bit longer to spot you. When he did, you could swear there was a brief flicker of surprise in his usually impassive expression. His eyes met yours for a split second before he coolly looked away. No reaction, no acknowledgment—just Vernon being Vernon.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it? Fine.

The game started, and as expected, it was intense. You found yourself getting more invested than last time, especially when Chan assisted in another goal. But what caught your attention the most was Vernon. He was ridiculously fast on the ice, his movements so fluid and effortless that it was almost unfair to the opposing team.

By the time the final buzzer rang, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even you found yourself clapping.

Chan was practically bouncing when he ran over to you after the game. “Ha! Told you! I knew you’d come.”

You smirked. “Enjoy your free dinner.”

Before Chan could respond, Vernon walked up behind him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and he looked as composed as ever despite just finishing a game.

“You actually showed up,” he said, voice neutral.

“I did.” You crossed your arms. “Surprised?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not gonna admit you were wrong?”

He blinked, considering. “Nope.”

Chan burst out laughing. “He’d rather die than say that.”

You turned back to Vernon. “Well, I did come. So now you owe Chan dinner. Hope you have deep pockets.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”

You weren’t sure why, but the idea of Vernon being slightly inconvenienced by this bet made you a little too satisfied.

Chan clapped a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Since I’m getting a free meal, you should come too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, you’re the reason I won the bet. Might as well let you enjoy the victory too.”

You glanced at Vernon, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded. “Up to you.”

You weren’t sure if he genuinely didn’t care or if he was just going along with it because Chan said so. Either way, you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You ended up at a small Korean barbecue place not too far from the rink. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled amazing. Vernon, true to his word, paid without complaint, though you noticed he didn’t exactly look thrilled about it. You didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

As the food started cooking, Chan filled the silence with his usual chatter. You had always liked how easygoing he was, able to carry conversations without effort.

“So,” Chan said, turning to Vernon. “What do you think of my cousin?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of question is that?”

Chan grinned mischievously. “I just wanna know. Vernon’s not really a people person, so I’m curious.”

You turned your gaze to Vernon, expecting some deadpan answer like “She’s fine” or “She exists.”

Instead, he looked directly at you and said, “She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering his words. “Most people try too hard. You don’t.”

You blinked. That was… surprisingly insightful.

Chan nodded approvingly. “That’s a compliment, by the way. Vernon doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

You studied Vernon for a moment. He was still as unreadable as ever, but now you were intrigued. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dinner continued with casual conversation, mostly dominated by Chan. Vernon remained quiet but occasionally chimed in with a dry comment that made you laugh more than expected.

By the end of the night, you realized something strange.

You didn’t dislike him.

In fact, you kind of wanted to see what it would take to get a real reaction out of him.

A week later, you got an unexpected text from Chan.

Chan: You’re not gonna believe this. You: What? Chan: Vernon just asked if you were coming to the next game. You: …You’re lying. Chan: I’m dead serious. He just asked me out of nowhere.

You stared at your phone, processing.

Vernon? Asking about you?

Interesting.

You: Tell him to ask me himself. Chan: LMAO you’re evil.

A few minutes later, another text came in.

Unknown Number: Are you coming? - Vernon

You smirked. So he finally cracked.

This was going to be fun.

Sitting at your desk, you stretched your arms, feeling the exhaustion settle into your bones. The clock on your laptop read 11:47 PM, and you still weren’t done with the reports your supervisor had asked for last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You hadn’t expected your internship to be this demanding, but then again, you had never been the type to slack off. If you were going to do something, you were going to do it well.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Vernon: Heard you were busy.

You blinked. Of all people, he was texting you? You smirked, quickly typing back.

You: Look at you, sending full sentences. I’m impressed.

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Vernon: I can type. You: Could’ve fooled me.

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Was it bad that you found this amusing?

You weren’t expecting another text, but then—

Vernon: …You gonna come next time?

Your eyebrows raised slightly. So he did notice you weren’t there.

You debated your response, then decided to push his buttons a little.

You: Why? Did you miss me?

This time, the reply didn’t come immediately. You wondered if you had caught him off guard.

Finally, after a minute—

Vernon: Maybe.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You: …Huh. Didn’t expect that. Vernon: Yeah. Me neither.

That made you pause.

You had been joking before, but now… was he actually admitting something?

You stared at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. No way. This is Vernon. He doesn’t just say things like that.

You decided to test the waters.

You: Careful, Chwe. Almost sounded like you like having me around.

This time, his reply came quicker.

Vernon: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You: Good night, hockey boy. Vernon: Night.

Setting your phone down, you exhaled. That was unexpected.

And oddly… kind of nice.

A few days passed, and you found yourself back to your usual routine—internship, assignments, barely enough time to breathe.

You hadn’t planned on going to the next hockey game either, but then Chan called. "Please," he whined over the phone. "Vernon’s been weird since you didn’t come last time."

You frowned. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know! Just… quiet."

You snorted. "Vernon’s always quiet."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different. Like he’s thinking about something."

That made you pause.

"Are you telling me you think Vernon missed me?" you teased.

Chan groaned. "I’m saying something’s up with him, and I think you should come see for yourself."

You hesitated. You really didn’t have the time, but… now you were curious.

"Fine," you said, "but if I show up and he acts the same, you owe me coffee."

Chan laughed. "Deal."

When you stepped into the ice rink the following evening, the familiar chill made you shiver. You spotted the team warming up, Chan already waving at you from the ice.

Your eyes flickered to Vernon.

He was stretching near the goal, looking as calm and composed as ever. But when he turned his head and spotted you in the stands, something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t dramatic—just a small pause, a barely-there flicker of acknowledgment.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away.

You smirked.

Yeah. He definitely noticed.

As the game started, you found yourself watching him more closely. He was fast, efficient, never wasted movement. But every now and then, when there was a break in play, you swore he glanced in your direction.

By the time the game ended, you were already preparing a sarcastic remark for when you saw him.

Chan met you outside the locker room first. "Told you he was acting weird."

You shrugged. "He looks the same to me."

"Trust me," Chan said, "for Vernon, that was basically a full-blown confession."

Before you could respond, Vernon appeared in the hallway. His damp hair fell over his forehead, his usual quiet presence making him seem effortlessly cool.

"You’re here," he said, stopping in front of you.

You crossed your arms. "You sound surprised."

He met your gaze. "A little."

You tilted your head. "Miss me?"

Vernon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always ask that."

"And you never give me an answer."

He paused, then—

"Maybe."

You blinked. Well that was new. Before you could say anything, he walked past you, heading toward the exit. But as he did, he spoke just loud enough for you to hear

"See you next game."

You stared after him, lips slowly curling into a smile.

Another game day.

The rink buzzed with energy as another game night rolled in. The usual excitement from the crowd filled the air, fans from both teams eager to see their favorites go head-to-head.

Vernon adjusted his helmet as he skated onto the ice, his mind focused—until Chan nudged him.

“Look,” Chan said, nodding toward the stands.

Vernon followed his gaze, and there you were.

His brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t expecting you. Usually, you’d give Chan a heads-up if you were coming.

“Guess she had time after all,” Chan muttered, but there was something in his tone—something suspicious.

Before Vernon could ask, his eyes flickered to the opposing team warming up. That’s when he saw it. You weren’t just watching the game. You were standing near the barrier, laughing. With him.

Lee Seokmin.

Forward for the rival team. Loud, energetic, and way too familiar with you.

Vernon’s grip on his stick tightened slightly as he watched Seokmin grin at you, leaning against the boards like this was some casual meet-up and not a competitive match.

Chan turned to Vernon, eyes wide. “Did I miss something, or do they know each other?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon said flatly, but now he really wanted to.

After warm-ups, the team headed back to the locker room. Vernon kept quiet, but Chan wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, shoving his helmet into his bag. “What is going on? Why is my cousin talking to Seokmin?”

Joshua, another teammate, overheard and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, your cousin? She knows Seokmin?”

“I don’t know!” Chan said, exasperated. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Vernon untied his skates, processing. He wasn’t sure why this bugged him, but it did. You weren’t the type to be friendly just for the sake of it—so if you were joking around with Seokmin, there had to be history there.

And for some reason, that annoyed him.

After the game, which ended in a close win for Vernon’s team, you were waiting outside the locker room.

Chan wasted no time. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

You blinked. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the rink. “Why were you laughing it up with Seokmin before the game?”

You gave him a look. “Because we’re friends?”

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when?”

You sighed, already predicting this reaction. “We used to date. A long time ago. Now we’re just friends.”

Chan’s jaw dropped. Vernon, standing next to him, simply blinked.

“…You dated him?” Chan asked, as if the words didn’t make sense together.

“For, like, five months. It wasn’t that serious.”

Vernon finally spoke. “Why’d you break up?”

You turned to him, surprised he even asked. “We were better off as friends.”

Vernon’s expression didn’t change, but he held your gaze for a beat longer than usual.

Chan, still recovering, groaned. “I feel betrayed.”

You laughed. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Seokmin’s voice interrupted. “Are we talking about me?”

You turned to see Seokmin approaching, still in his team jacket, his ever-present grin in place.

Chan groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

Seokmin laughed, nudging you. “Did you tell them how you used to cheer for my team?”

You smirked. “I left that part out.”

Chan looked like he was about to collapse. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Vernon, still quiet, glanced between you and Seokmin before saying, “So you’re just friends now?”

You nodded. “Yeah”

He doesn't say anything after that but you could tell there was definitely a reason. And you weren’t going to let it go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chan was still staring at you like you had just confessed to some deep, dark secret.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you and Seokmin—”

“Dated?” Seokmin finished helpfully, grinning. “Yeah, man. Keep up.”

Chan dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead. “How did I not know this? How did no one tell me?”

You shrugged. “We broke up before you even joined the team, and it wasn’t that serious. Plus, you were busy with your own stuff.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “I feel like I should have felt it or something. Like a disturbance in the Force.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Vernon was watching the entire conversation with his usual unreadable expression, but something about his posture was different. He was listening.

Seokmin clapped a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just slow.”

Chan smacked his hand away. “I’m not slow, I just—ugh! This is so weird!”

You smirked. “Why? Because you hate the idea of me dating anyone or because it’s Seokmin?”

“…Both.” Chan groaned. “This is, like, finding out your best friend and your worst enemy were secretly besties behind your back.”

Seokmin gasped. “Worst enemy? I thought we were friends!”

“You’re my rival, not my friend,” Chan shot back.

Seokmin patted his shoulder. “Rival is just another word for friend who won’t admit it.”

You stifled a laugh as Chan let out another dramatic groan. But while Chan was too busy overreacting, Vernon was still quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, hockey boy?”

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, he hesitated. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said, “Just surprised. That’s all.”

Seokmin grinned. “Vernon, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Vernon blinked at him. “Why would I be?”

Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

For a fraction of a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something in Vernon’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Something in between?

But, as always, he kept it cool. “Not jealous.”

“Sure,” Seokmin said, clearly not convinced.

You smirked, deciding to push Vernon a little. “I was a great girlfriend.”

Vernon’s eyes flicked to yours again, this time holding your gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice unreadable.

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Seokmin looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Interesting.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

Seokmin grinned. “I think your cousin has a new favorite hockey player.”

Chan groaned for the fourth time. “I hate everything about tonight.”

You just laughed. But the thing was—Seokmin might not have been entirely wrong.

The night air was crisp as you stepped into the parking lot with Chan and Vernon. The game had ended, and while the rivalry on the ice had been intense, the real battle had been you versus Chan’s endless questions about Seokmin.

Vernon had offered to drive both of you home, claiming it was “on the way,” but you were starting to suspect he just wanted to witness the soap opera unfolding in real time.

Chan, still in full interrogation mode, walked beside you. “Okay, but seriously—how did it even start?”

You sighed, exasperated. “I already told you, Chan. We dated, we broke up, we’re friends now. That’s it.”

Chan scoffed. “That’s not it! I need details. Like, who made the first move?”

Seokmin’s grinning face flashed in your mind. “He did.”

Chan gasped dramatically. “Seokmin made the first move?! What did he do, trip over his own skates and land in your lap?”

You laughed. “No, idiot. He was actually really sweet.”

Vernon unlocked the car and got in without a word, letting Chan get it all out of his system before the drive even started.

As soon as you all settled inside, Chan still wasn’t done.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued from the passenger seat, twisting around to face you. “You, my very strong, very independent cousin, voluntarily dated a hockey player?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Chan. I, a normal human being, dated another normal human being. Groundbreaking.”

Chan shook his head, like this was the biggest scandal of the century. “You always said you’d never date an athlete.”

“Right,” you deadpanned. “Which is why I’m never dating a hockey player again.”

Vernon, silent up until now, suddenly coughed beside Chan. Both you and Chan turned to him.

Vernon kept his eyes on the road, shifting gears like nothing happened.

Chan squinted. “You good?”

Vernon nodded, completely unfazed. “Yeah. Just dry air.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Chan threw his hands up. “Okay, now I really need to know what went down.”

You sighed dramatically. “Do you really want to hear about my tragic love story, or do you want Vernon to get us home in one piece?”

Chan hesitated before reluctantly turning back around. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

From the driver’s seat, Vernon finally spoke again—his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “I bet it isn’t.”

Something about the way he said it made you glance at him again. Maybe it was just your imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, Vernon was thinking about how you might not keep that promise after all.

The hum of the engine filled the car as Vernon smoothly maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. You sat in the backseat, arms crossed, while Chan sat in the passenger seat, still digesting your revelation about Seokmin.

"Okay," Chan started again, shifting to look at you, "so you’re telling me you went from hating the idea of dating an athlete to actually dating one?"

You groaned. "Chan—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I just need to understand the timeline. When did this betrayal happen?"

Vernon let out a short breath, which you swore sounded like a laugh, though his face remained unreadable.

"You make it sound like I committed a crime," you said, rolling your eyes. "It was, like, a year and a half ago."

Chan gasped. "A year and a half ago?! That recently? And I’m just finding out now?"

"Look, it wasn’t a big deal," you said. "We went on a few dates, had fun, realized we were better as friends, and that was that."

Vernon, still focused on the road, finally spoke. "You broke up with him?"

You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His voice was as calm as ever, but something about the way he asked made you curious.

"Technically, yeah," you admitted.

Chan groaned again. "Of course you broke up with him. You probably made him think it was his idea, too." Seokmin had been a little blindsided, but you weren’t about to admit that.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you said, smirking.

Chan turned back to Vernon. "See? This is why I tell people not to mess with my cousin. She’s too powerful."

Vernon finally looked at you through the mirror, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured, "I can see that."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Chan, oblivious, continued his rant. "But seriously, what did he do that made you swear off hockey players forever? Did he forget your anniversary? Get too competitive?"

You shrugged. "Nah. I just don’t want to deal with the whole team rivalries, constant traveling, always being second to the sport thing. Hockey players are a lot of work."

Vernon coughed again.

Chan turned to him, frowning. "Dude, do you need water?"

Vernon cleared his throat. "I’m fine."

You smirked. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

Vernon glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Just listening."

"Hmm." You leaned back. "Well, anyway, I learned my lesson. I’m sticking to normal people now."

Chan snorted. "Normal people?"

"Yeah. You know—guys with normal schedules, normal jobs, no risk of getting concussed every other week."

Vernon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel.

Chan laughed. "I give it two months before you go back on that."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," Chan said, smirking, "you like the chaos too much. Admit it, you love being involved in hockey drama. You thrive on it."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me! I am very peaceful."

Vernon finally spoke again, his tone deadpan. "Sure."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you siding with Chan?"

"I mean," Vernon said, shrugging, "you are sitting in a hockey player’s car, after attending a hockey game, while arguing about hockey."

Chan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, he’s got a point."

You huffed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I tolerate the chaos. But that doesn’t mean I’ll date another hockey player."

Vernon didn’t say anything but when you glanced at him through the mirror again, he had the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

The rest of the ride was quieter. Chan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally making dramatic sighs about his “betrayal,” while Vernon drove smoothly through the streets.

At one point, you rested your chin on your hand, watching the buildings blur past. Despite the chaos of the evening, there was something… nice about being in Vernon’s car. He was steady, dependable. Even with Chan’s endless commentary, he never seemed irritated. Just patient.

When Vernon finally pulled up to Chan’s place, your cousin unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed dramatically. "Alright, I guess I’ll forgive you. For now."

You smirked. "Gee, thanks."

Chan opened the door but paused, glancing between you and Vernon. Then, with a knowing smirk, he said, "You two have fun."

Before you could question him, he hopped out and disappeared inside.

You scoffed. "What was that about?"

Vernon hummed. "Not sure."

But he definitely looked like he knew. with Chan gone, the car suddenly felt… quieter.

Vernon shifted slightly, one hand resting on the gear shift. "Where to?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Your place," he said simply. "Where is it?"

"Oh." You gave him the directions, and he nodded, smoothly pulling back onto the road. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. Just… different.

"So," Vernon finally said, glancing at you through the mirror, "never dating a hockey player again?"

You smirked. "That’s the plan."

"Hmm." He didn’t sound convinced.

You tilted your head. "Why? You don’t think I can do it?"

Vernon let out a small breath—almost a chuckle. "I just think… you might change your mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He slowed to a stop at a red light, then turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes.

"Just a feeling," he said simply.

You held his gaze, searching for something—anything—in his expression. But, as always, Vernon was unreadable. Calm. Completely in control.

Yet, for some reason, your heart did a weird little flip.

You scoffed, looking away. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m done with hockey boys."

Vernon tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Mm."

The light turned green, and he pulled forward. And though he didn’t say anything else, the ghost of a smirk lingered on his lips.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors yet. Instead, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel and turned his head slightly toward you.

"You sure about that?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He kept his gaze on you, calm and unreadable. "About being done with hockey players."

You scoffed. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Vernon hummed, like he wasn’t convinced.

Your eyes narrowed. "Why? You think I’m lying?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. "I think people say things they don’t mean all the time."

You frowned. "Well, I do mean it."

Vernon tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then, after a moment, he said, "Wanna bet?"

Your brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back, resting his arm on the car door. "Bet me that you won’t date another hockey player."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "What are we, twelve?"

Vernon just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. What’s at stake?"

His lips curled slightly—barely noticeable, but there. "Winner gets whatever they want."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Like… money?"

Vernon shook his head. "Nope."

"Then what?"

He exhaled through his nose, thinking for a second before saying, "Bragging rights."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," Vernon confirmed.

You squinted at him. "You’re really so confident that I’ll cave and date another hockey player?"

Vernon didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Something about his unwavering confidence made you cross your arms. "Okay, fine. It’s a bet. I will never date another hockey player again."

Vernon nodded. "Cool." Then, finally, he reached over and unlocked the doors.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. What happens if I win?"

His lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you get to rub it in my face."

You smirked. "Oh, I will."

Vernon just shrugged, like he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That irritated you even more.

"Goodnight, hockey boy," you said, reaching for the door handle.

Vernon’s response was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. "Goodnight," he murmured. Then, as you stepped out, he added, "See you around."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Like he already knew how this was going to end.

Like he was just waiting.

The bet was stupid.

You knew it was stupid the second you agreed to it, and yet… it bothered you. Not because you thought you’d lose—because you wouldn’t. There was no way you’d fall for another hockey player.

No, what bothered you was Vernon’s confidence. The way he’d looked at you, calm and collected, like he already knew how this would play out. Like he wasn’t guessing, but rather waiting.

And that? That was infuriating.

So you did the only logical thing.

You ignored it.

For an entire week, you threw yourself into work, into your internship, into anything that would keep you too busy to think about Vernon or his stupid, smug little bet.

And it worked. Kind of.

When you arrived at the rink, you told yourself you were not looking for him.

You weren’t scanning the ice, weren’t checking the players warming up, weren’t—

Oh.

There he was.

Vernon stood near the bench, adjusting his gloves, looking annoyingly good in his gear. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other guys, but he had this effortless kind of presence—calm, confident, and completely unbothered.

Which only made you more bothered.

You turned back to Chan. "I hate you for bringing me here."

Chan grinned. "Love you too, cousin."

A whistle blew, signaling the players to line up, and as Vernon skated past, he glanced toward the stands. His eyes found yours immediately.

And then—he smirked. Like he knew you’d be here.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately turned to Chan. "I take it back. I really hate you."

Chan just laughed. "No, you don’t."

The game started, and you did your best to focus. But it was hard when you were hyper-aware of one player in particular and every time you told yourself you were imagining things, that Vernon wasn’t paying any special attention to you.

He’d prove you wrong.

A glance before a faceoff. A lingering look after a goal. A subtle smirk every time he skated near your side of the rink.

And the worst part?

You knew he was doing it on purpose.

By the time the game ended, you were fully prepared to never attend another one again.

You tried to ignore Vernon.

You really did.

But ignoring Vernon was impossible when he wasn’t ignoring you.

Every game you attended, he’d look for you. Every time he saw you, there was a smirk, a glance, a knowing look that said I’m still winning.

And the worst part?

You caught yourself looking for him too.

It was small things at first—wondering if he’d be at the team hangouts, noticing when he was not at practice, catching yourself staring a second too long during games.

You were slipping.

And you hated it.

You were officially avoiding Vernon.

It wasn’t obvious avoidance. You weren’t hiding behind corners or diving into bushes when you saw him. No, you were subtle.

You stopped showing up to games as often. You made excuses whenever Chan invited you to team hangouts. You even started leaving early when you knew Vernon might be around.

And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because Vernon wasn’t stupid.

And unfortunately for you, he was patient.

He wasn’t mad you were avoiding him. He wasn’t giving up.

He was just waiting. Waiting for you to stop fighting yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself have something good. And somehow that was worse because you could handle anger.

But patience?

Patience made you want to give in.

It happened at a café. You were minding your own business, fully immersed in your laptop, when suddenly a chair scraped against the floor in front of you.

You looked up and there he was.

Vernon.

Sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. "What—"

"You’re avoiding me," he said.

You scoffed. "No, I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "Sure."

You clenched your jaw. "I am."

Vernon took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered. "You were at every game before. Then, suddenly, you’re not. Feels personal."

"It’s not," you lied.

"Right."

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. "Is this why you sat here? To call me out?"

"Partly," Vernon admitted.

"And the other part?"

He tilted his head. "I missed you."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

Vernon shrugged. "It was more fun when you were around."

You stared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Nope."

"Vernon."

"Hm?"

"You’re being weird."

He smirked. "Or maybe you just don’t know how to deal with me being serious."

Your stomach flipped. Okay. This was dangerous territory. He was right and your brain can't process the situation, you're so used to his one word remarks and nonchalance. But this feels like something your heart isn't prepared for.

You forced a laugh. "Nice try, but I’m not falling for it."

Vernon leaned back, watching you closely. "You sure?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes."

"Okay," he said easily.

After a while he did leave you alone, even though he wanted to stay and banter with you some more because these days it seems that his main source of entertainment is to get under your skin. Coach called for a meeting. After a quick goodbye you find yourself alone again.

Later that day though, Chan came to your apartment. The moment you saw Chan, you regretted telling him anything.

Because instead of sympathy, he just grinned.

"You’re doomed."

You glared at him. "I am not."

"Vernon likes you."

You crossed your arms. "He does not."

"Okay, and you like him."

"Chan."

"You’re in denial."

You groaned. "Can you be normal for once?"

Chan ignored you. "You realize Vernon is going to win, right?"

"He isn’t."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You threw a pillow at him.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were at another game (against your better judgment), sitting next to Chan, when the unthinkable happened... Vernon scored.

And you.... you cheered. Loudly. Enthusiastically.

And worst of all?

Vernon heard.

He turned immediately, locking eyes with you from across the rink.

Vernon, still looking at you, winked.

You were still recovering from what happened during the game. The team had won, meaning the energy in the rink was electric. Fans cheered, players celebrated, and you?

You were debating leaving immediately before Vernon found you. But before you could execute your escape Chan grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You’re not running away."

You scowled. "I’m not running. I just have things to do."

"Like avoiding Vernon?"

"Exactly."

Chan shook his head, dragging you toward the locker rooms. "Nope. You’re gonna face your feelings like an adult."

"I am an adult. And my adult decision is denial."

"That’s not how it works."

"It’s worked for me so far."

Chan ignored you, you hear the pushing open of the locker room door before Chan screams "Hey, Vernon! Your biggest fan is here."

You smacked Chan’s arm. "I hate you."

"Hey."

Vernon.

Standing right there, fresh out of the shower, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from the game and he's looking directly at you.

Chan grinned. "I’ll leave you two alone."

You turned sharply. "You traitor—"

But he was already gone. You were going to kill him. You thought but first you had to deal with Vernon.

"Good game."

Vernon smirked. "I could tell. You were very excited when I scored."

You rolled your eyes. "It was an automatic reaction."

"Right."

"It’s called sportsmanship."

"Uh-huh."

You exhaled sharply. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"A little," he admitted.

You crossed your arms. "If you’re expecting me to confess I like you, it’s not happening."

Vernon hummed. "You just did, though."

Your jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You said, ‘if you’re expecting me to confess I like you,’ which implies there’s something to confess."

You blinked. "I hate you."

Vernon grinned. "No, you don’t."

You clenched your fists. "This is a nightmare."

Vernon tilted his head. "So… when are you taking me on a date?"

You nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You lost the bet, right?"

"I did not lose the bet!"

You were completely and utterly screwed.

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him because, a few days later, he showed up outside the building where you were doing your internship. You nearly dropped your bag when you spotted him standing near the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, marching up to him.

Vernon looked amused. "Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

"You."

You stared at him. "Why?"

Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets, looking far too casual. "Because you’re avoiding me."

"I am not avoiding you."

"You are."

You groaned. "Why do you do this?"

Vernon tilted his head. "Because it’s fun."

"For who?"

He smirked. "Me." You were going to lose your mind. You were seriously debating throwing your very heavy tote bag at him and his smug face.

Vernon glanced past you into the building. "So, this is where you spend all your time now?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "Because I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "So busy you don’t have time for a date?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Vernon shrugged. "A date. With me."

You blinked at him. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

You stared. "You do remember the bet, right?"

"Yep."

"And that I refuse to date another hockey player?"

Vernon nodded. "Still waiting on that to work out for you."

You exhaled sharply. "I’m not dating you."

"Yet," Vernon added.

"Ever."

"We’ll see."

"STOP SAYING THAT" you all but scream at him, the way he's looking at you right now is making you want to pull all your hair out.

Vernon smirked, taking a step closer. "Admit it. You like me."

You scowled. "I will never admit that."

Vernon hummed. "Okay."

Too calm.

Too smug.

You knew he didn’t believe you and somehow, that was infinitely worse. You had spent days trying to push down the realization that you might actually—God forbid—like Vernon. And somehow, in those same days, he got worse.

Not in an annoying way.

No.

Vernon had started being… sweet. Not the obvious kind. Not the cheesy, over-the-top, grand gestures kind. But Vernon’s kind.

Small things.

Subtle things.

Things that made you notice how well he knew you. Like how he always made sure you had a seat at the games, whether you said you were coming or not. Or how he started bringing you coffee without asking, without a word just sliding it in front of you at the rink like it was normal.

Or how, when you stayed late at your internship, your phone would buzz with a single text:

Vernon: Don’t walk home alone. I’ll pick you up.

(And when you argued, he’d just show up anyway.)

It was infuriating.

Because it was working.

And somehow, you were losing the bet in real time.

It happened after a late game.

You weren’t supposed to go. You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t go and yet you find yourself sitting at the bleachers again waiting for the game to finish.

You blamed Chan. (And also yourself.)

You stayed after, waiting for Chan, when suddenly a hoodie dropped over your head. You startled, pulling it off. "What the—"

You turned and Vernon was there. He looked at you, completely unaffected. "It’s cold."

You blinked. "I—what—"

"Just wear it."

You hesitated, staring down at it.

It was his hoodie.

Still warm. Still smelling like him.

And for some reason you put it on. You didn't put up a fight, didn't say another snarky remark. You just put it on. Vernon nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall next to you.

Neither of you spoke. For the first time, it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t banter.

It was just—quiet.

"You know," Vernon said suddenly, "I like you."

Your breath caught.

You turned to him. "What?"

Vernon exhaled, tilting his head to look at you. "I like you."

Just like that. No hesitation. No we’ll see. No denial.

Just the truth.

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes now. You put your hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, toying with your fingers as you look at anywhere but him.

"You’re just saying that because you want to win."

Vernon shook his head. "I already won."

You stared at him. "You did not—"

"You’re wearing my hoodie."

You opened your mouth then closed it.

Because damn it—he was right.

And the worst part? For the first time you didn’t want to fight it.

After that, it's like everything was normal again. For Vernon, not for you. You had not recovered from Vernon’s confession. Mostly because he didn’t bring it up again. No teasing. No rubbing it in.

He just—let it sit which somehow made it worse because now, you were the one thinking about it.

About him.

About how easy it would be to just… give in.

And then one night, after another late shift, you walked outside and found him waiting leaning against his car. Hands in his pockets.

Like it was normal.

You sighed. "Vernon—"

"I know," he said. "You didn’t ask me to come."

You stared at him. "Then why did you?"

Vernon shrugged. "Because I knew you’d be tired."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed. "You really like me, huh?" you say, voice barely a whisper but he heard you. He heard you loud and clear.

"Yeah."

You like Vernon.

You like Vernon not just in a haha, he’s annoying but funny way. Not just in a he’s hot but I’d never admit it way but in a real, terrifying, no-going-back way and the realization hit you so hard that you had to physically sit down.

Chan, ever the menace, noticed immediately. "Oh no. It happened, didn’t it?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Chan cackled. "I knew it."

"You are not allowed to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? I’m telling everyone."

You shot him a glare. "Chan—" "Kidding. Relax. Your secret’s safe."

You exhaled. "Good."

Chan smirked. "But, uh… you might want to tell Vernon soon."

You blinked. "Why?" Chan pointed behind you.

And when you turned Vernon was standing there and he's looking right at you.

You froze. Vernon didn’t.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. "So."

Meanwhile Chan slowly walks backwards to escape the scene and leaving you to your devices.

You swallowed. "So?"

"You like me." he smirks. The man had the audacity to smirk and it sends something right through you. Either you want to run away from or run away with, you're not so sure.

You let out a sharp breath. "Don’t start."

Vernon hummed. "You do, though."

You ran a hand through your hair. "Vernon—"

"It’s okay," he said. "I already knew."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?" you look at him wide eyed

Vernon shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to admit it."

You stared at him. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "And you like me anyway."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "This is the worst day of my life."

Vernon chuckled. "Is it?"

You hesitated because no it wasn’t.

It was actually… kind of nice.

Finally letting yourself feel it.

Finally stopping the fight.

Finally looking at him and knowing he had been waiting for you all along.

You sighed. "Fine." Vernon raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

You crossed your arms. "Fine. I like you. Happy now?"

Vernon just smiled.

"Yeah."

And then he walks closer to you, only a step away. Close enough you can smell his shower gel and fabric softener but far enough to give you space if you needed it.

Then he laced his fingers through yours. He did it like it was normal. Like he had been waiting to do it this whole time.

You stared down at your hand in his. Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

And suddenly you felt stupid.

Because what now? what, he got what he wanted? You admitted it. You said it. He won. Was he going to smirk, say told you so, and just… walk away?

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms. "What now?"

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean?"

You scowled. "What now? You’re happy? You win?"

Vernon tilted his head, confused. "Win what?"

You huffed. "The bet. The whole stupid game you’ve been playing. Congratulations. You made me fall for you. Now you can go back to your cool, mysterious, hockey star life and leave me alone."

Vernon frowned. "What?"

You threw your hands up. "I mean, that’s how this goes, right? You chase me, I resist, I finally give in, and then boom—you’re over it."

You scoffed. "See? Silence. I knew it. I knew—"

"I’m not leaving."

You froze.

Vernon’s gaze was steady, unreadable, but there was something serious in his tone.

You swallowed. "What?"

"I’m not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. Where do you think I'm going?" he asks, confused

You hesitated. "Why not?"

Vernon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I like you. Like, actually like you. This wasn’t just some game for me."

"It wasn’t?" you mumble

"No."

You shifted on your feet. "Are you sure?"

Vernon laughed a quiet, breathy sound, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking. Then he reached out—gently, carefully—and hooked his pinky around yours. And somehow, that tiny, stupid action made your chest feel like it was about to explode.

Vernon looked at you. "I’m sure."

And just like that—

You didn’t know how to fight him anymore.

After that night, Vernon didn’t change.

He didn’t start being overly sweet. He didn’t suddenly turn into a rom-com boyfriend who sent you flowers and love notes.

No.

He was just him.

Still showing up.

Still waiting outside your internship, still tossing his jacket over your shoulders, still holding your hand in that quiet, casual way that made you wonder how you had gone this long without it.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

You were finally starting to trust it. To trust him because he wasn’t going anywhere and for once you didn’t want him to. The moment you realized you weren’t fighting this anymore—weren’t fighting him—a strange kind of calm settled over you.

Vernon was still holding your hand. Still standing close. Still watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to catch up.

It should have been a big moment. A grand, cinematic, fireworks-in-the-background kind of thing.

But instead—

"OH MY GOD."

You and Vernon both jumped, heads snapping up just in time to see Chan standing there, eyes wide, mouth open.

Your idiot cousin pointed an accusing finger at your intertwined hands.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

You blinked. "What is what?"

"THAT!" Chan gestured wildly. "You! Him! HANDS!"

Vernon blinked at him, unfazed. "Yeah, we have hands."

"OH MY GOD."

You groaned, trying to yank your hand away out of pure instinct only for Vernon to tighten his grip. Subtle. Calm. Like he was telling you, No. Don’t let go just because he’s here.

You hesitated. Then…

You didn’t let go.

Chan screamed.

"I need a moment," Chan announced, dramatically collapsing onto a bench like he had just received life-altering news.

You rolled your eyes. "Chan, it’s not that serious."

"NOT THAT SERIOUS?" Chan clutched his chest. "You—you and Vernon—I mean—when—HOW?"

Vernon just stuffed his free hand in his pocket, watching Chan with his usual unreadable expression. "You good?"

"No," Chan wheezed.

You sighed. "You’re being dramatic."

Chan sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Oh? I’m being dramatic? Says the girl who SWORE she would NEVER date another hockey player?"

Your face burned. "I—okay, yeah, I might’ve said that, but—"

"SO WHAT IS THIS THEN?" Chan gestured wildly at you and Vernon.

You opened your mouth—then closed it because what was this?

Vernon didn’t let you think for long. "We’re dating," he said simply.

You choked. "Vernon!"

Chan’s jaw dropped. "YOU ARE?!"

Vernon turned to you, unfazed. "We’re not?"

You floundered. "I mean—I—are we?"

Vernon shrugged. "You like me. I like you. We hold hands now. Feels like dating."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because… that was it? That easy?

Chan looked between the two of you, unimpressed. "This is the weirdest way I’ve ever seen two people start dating."

You groaned. "I hate both of you."

Vernon smirked. "You like me, though."

You scowled. "Don’t push it."

Chan stood up, rubbing his temples. "I need time to process this."

You crossed your arms. "It’s not that deep."

Chan snorted. "Not that deep? Please. The entire team is gonna freak when they find out."

Your stomach dropped.

"The team?"

"Oh yeah," Chan smirked. "Good luck keeping this quiet."

Vernon didn’t seem fazed at all. But you?

You were doomed.

Chan had seen a lot of things in his life.

He had seen Vernon score impossible goals in the last seconds of a game. He had seen you single-handedly shut down an entire group of guys trying to hit on you at a party. He had seen Seungkwan lose his mind when they ran out of his favorite snacks at the dorms.

But this?

This was a new level of shocking.

He had come over to your place after practice, expecting a normal night of hanging out. Maybe some bickering, maybe some teasing—nothing out of the ordinary.

What he did not expect was to walk into the kitchen and see Vernon standing behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone.

And even more shocking?

You were letting him.

You. The queen of personal space. The same person who once smacked Chan for putting his feet on your couch.

But now?

You were just standing there, completely unbothered, letting Vernon be all up in your space like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Chan froze. "WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

You barely glanced up. "Hey, Chan."

"No." He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What is this?"

Vernon blinked lazily. "A kitchen."

"VERNON."

"What?" Vernon was so calm it was infuriating.

Chan sputtered. "You’re—you’re literally all over her, and she’s letting you?"

Vernon hummed. "Yeah."

"YEAH?"

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at Chan. "Why are you acting like this is a crime?"

"Because YOU used to YELL at me for even TOUCHING YOUR SHOULDER!"

You shrugged. "You’re not Vernon."

"EXACTLY!"

Chan ran a hand down his face, groaning dramatically. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I need a second."

Vernon just looked at him, completely unfazed.

"You’re acting like I’m holding her hostage," Vernon said, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I need—I need to sit down."

You rolled your eyes. "Drama queen."

"No, YOU DON’T GET IT," Chan huffed. "I spent YEARS watching you destroy men for breathing near you, and NOW YOU’RE JUST LETTING VERNON CUDDLE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?"

Vernon smirked. "Would you rather I kiss your cousin in the kitchen?"

Chan stared at him, deadpan. "I will throw you in a snowbank."

Vernon just shrugged, unbothered, and looped his arm around your waist again. And when you didn’t move away—didn’t fight it, didn’t act like it was a big deal—Chan lost his mind.

"I CAN’T BE HERE."

And with that, your cousin stormed out of the kitchen.

You laughed, shaking your head. "He’ll be fine."

Vernon just smirked, squeezing your waist slightly before pulling away.

"Yeah," he said. "But this is fun."

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

The first time Vernon kissed you, it wasn’t in some dramatic, romantic moment. It wasn’t after a big fight or some emotional confession.

It was a regular night. The two of you had just finished getting dinner, and he had walked you to your door like he always did.

No pressure. No expectations. Just… Vernon being Vernon.

And as you turned to say goodnight, he just looked at you for a second—head tilted, hands in his pockets, gaze steady as ever.

Then, so casually it almost felt like an afterthought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

No rush. No hesitation. Just… easy.

And instead of pulling away, instead of overthinking it you kissed him back.

Because, for once in your life you weren’t scared. You weren’t running. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And Vernon?

He had been waiting for you to figure that out all along.

The apartment was quiet.

Dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, the kind that made everything feel warm and safe. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, within the walls of your shared space, it was just you and Vernon.

And Vernon was clingy.

Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Not in the way some people whined for attention or made a big show of it.

No—Vernon’s clinginess was quiet, subtle, and completely inescapable.

Like now.

You had barely shifted an inch when his arm—already wrapped snugly around your waist—tightened.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, raspy from sleep.

You sighed. "I wasn’t going anywhere."

"Good."

His hold on you relaxed slightly, but he didn’t let go. He never did. Vernon wasn’t the type to smother you with affection in public, but in private?

He was relentless.

He had to feel you. Had to know you were there. Had to keep you close, even in sleep which explained why your legs were tangled together, his arm was curled around your stomach, and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You shivered and, of course, Vernon noticed. He let out a quiet hum, nuzzling even closer.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Without a word, he pulled the blanket higher, tucked it around you both, and pressed himself closer.

"Better?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Vernon sighed, his lips barely grazing your shoulder. Silence settled between you. The comfortable kind. The kind where you didn’t need to say anything because just being there was enough.

But then you felt it. The way his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. Soft. Thoughtless. Completely natural.

It was so Vernon.

Always the same quiet gestures. Always the same small ways of showing affection. You reached down, lacing your fingers through his.

Vernon stilled for a second, then—without a word—he intertwined them properly, squeezing once before relaxing again.

And for a while, that was it.

Just the sound of your breathing. Just the warmth of him against you. Just the steady, slow rhythm of two people who fit together perfectly.

But then Vernon spoke.

"…You’re my favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slightly, catching the sleepy, almost shy expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow. "Favorite what?"

"Just…" His voice was a little hoarse, a little soft, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. "My favorite everything."

Your breath caught.

Vernon never said things like this. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he didn’t need to.

He showed it instead.

Through the way he waited for you after your internship, even if it meant sitting outside for an hour. Through the way he always pulled you closer in his sleep, like he was scared you’d disappear. Through the way he remembered the smallest things, like how you hated sleeping with socks on or how you always curled up a certain way when you were tired.

He didn’t have to say it.

But he did anyway.

Because you needed to hear it.

You swallowed, heart too full, too warm, too much.

"You’re such a sap," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just a little.

Vernon smirked, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You like it."

You huffed. "Maybe."

He chuckled. Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head forward, pressed a lazy kiss against your jaw, and mumbled—

"Go to sleep."

And just like that—

You did.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Nicotine

Requested: no

A/N: loosely based on the song Nicotine by Chef'Special. They're a Dutch band and I highly suggest you give them a listen.

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: 800

Warning(s): none

The streets of Newark hummed with the late-night lull of a city still half-awake. Neon lights flickered against the wet pavement, reflecting a hazy glow onto the pavement. Nico Hischier pulled his hood tighter over his head, trying to disappear into the quiet hum of passing cars. He wasn’t supposed to be here—not outside her flat, not checking his phone for any trace of her name, not feeling this gnawing ache in his chest that no game, no victory, could ever erase.

He wasn’t supposed to miss her like this.

The text glared back at him from his screen, the words hanging in the air like smoke. He hadn’t hit send, not yet. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe she had already moved on, tucked herself into someone else’s world, someone who didn’t leave her questioning her place in his life.

The thought of her with someone else made his stomach twist. She had always wanted more, something he struggled to give her. Not because he didn’t love her—God, he loved her—but because his life was a whirlwind of airports and ice rinks, of waking up in different time zones and trying to keep the Devils’ crest above his own needs. She had understood for a while. Then she hadn’t.

Now she was gone.

Nico ran a hand through his hair, exhaling into the cold night air. He should go home. Shouldn’t keep standing under her window like some desperate cliché. But his feet stayed planted on the cracked pavement, memories flashing like snapshots in his mind. The way she used to trace the veins on his hands when he was too exhausted to speak. The way she smelled—like vanilla and something uniquely hers, something he wanted to drown in.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The nights spent curled up in his flat, her fingers absently playing with the hem of his hoodie, her voice soft as she asked him about the next game. The way she looked at him after a loss, like she knew exactly how much it weighed on him. She had been his solace, his escape from the chaos. And now, without her, the silence was unbearable.

He had tried to shake her, tried to fill the void with gruelling practices and mindless distractions. He spent extra hours at the rink, forced himself into team outings, even entertained the idea of dating again. But nothing worked. She was under his skin, in his veins, a constant hum in the back of his mind. Love wasn’t supposed to feel like withdrawal, but she had become a habit he couldn’t break, a craving that refused to fade.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard again. Maybe this time he’d say what he never could before. Maybe she’d listen. Maybe she’d tell him she missed him too. Or maybe she’d tell him what he already feared—that she was happy, that he was a chapter she had closed.

The thought made his throat tighten, but he pressed send before he could think too much.

The moment the message was delivered, he regretted it. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of it all. He couldn’t take it back. All he could do was wait.

Minutes felt like hours. He paced the pavement, glancing up at her window, half-expecting the light to flicker on, for her to appear, to tell him she felt the same. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the city, the faint echo of laughter from a nearby bar, and the dull ache in his chest.

Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she had seen his name on her screen and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe she was lying in bed with someone else, too wrapped up in new love to care about the past.

His chest tightened at the thought, and he forced himself to turn away, his feet moving before his mind could catch up. He needed to let go. He needed to walk away before this crushed him completely. But as he reached the end of the street, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Heart pounding, he pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen. One message. Her name. His breath caught in his throat as he opened it.

"Nico... why now?"

He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he typed his reply. Because he couldn’t do this anymore. Because the thought of her with someone else drove him insane. Because no matter how hard he tried, she was the only thing he ever truly wanted.

But he didn’t type any of that. Instead, he settled on the only truth he could manage.

"Because I still need you."

[floralscented]

Hii! I really love your stanford!dean drabbles, soooo may I request a stanford dean fic with a shy!reader?? (kinda like nerd x jock dynamic) in which dean is trying to pursue reader but reader isn't sure if he really means it bc of his personality (mostly bc he is really flirty) and all with a bit of angst but also a lot fluff ofc (sorry if it's a bit cliche I'm a whore for this trope😭😭😭)

Btw hbd!!!!💝💝💝

thank u for the happy bday omfg 😭 it's still two months away unfortunately. LMAOFIDKDJ BUT I AM PUTTING THIS IN MY BACK POCKET TO REMEMBER THAT DAY !!!

anyways ahem let me lock in.

it's not that dean didn't have game, it seemed to be that dean had too much game. you didn't like when he leaned against the doorframe you were in, posing in that way that girls liked; ankles crossed, arms crossed, head tilted down to look at you. you didn't like the arm stretch pose over the top of the doorframe either. if he wasn't so attuned to how your face lit up in a blush when he was around, he would have been convinced that you just hated doors or something.

but no, you could talk to your friends just fine, it was just─ him. which is a hard pill to swallow in of itself, but some truths just couldn't be changed.

he'd make effort too, you know. really, desperately, lay it on thick to play the nice guy, the boy next door you seemed to want. it was hard, since that was the role he'd worked so damn hard to break out of, but he'd do it. there was something about the chase that had him coming back to you, even though the game wasn't nearly as fun for you.

dean didn't think, really, was the main point. didn't think about how intense this must have been for you, didn't think about the possibility of you just ─ not liking him back? didn't think at all.

he's outside your dorm to walk you to class. a habit for him, and an irritation for you. you never could get yourself to argue with him about it, though, the words always lodged in your throat. how did you, politely, tell a football guy to get fucked? he'd take it some other way. you knew football guys, and specifically, knew this one.

dean snatches your backpack from your arms before you can shrug it on, carrying it in front of him like a little purse. maybe, you kept him around for that, too. schoolbooks were heavy, okay?

but it's the little twitch in his mouth that seems to break you. "can you just... find someone else already?" you've come to know that smile as his only preliminary warning before he says something that burns your cheeks red and almost makes you believe that this pursuit is genuine, and not just to get in your pants.

dangerous smile. those dimples could just about make anyone's panties drop ─ you'd know, you were a self proclaimed part of that statistic.

dean actually looks taken aback, slowing his steps, and you'd almost feel relieved if you didn't feel so sick that you'd hurt his feelings. and, he had your backpack, so now it was awkward. now you'd have to snatch it back before you could scramble away.

"find someone else?"

in his head, he was breaking down your walls. slowly, but surely. and here was this painstaking reminder that every wall he broke was just replaced by another.

you stare at him for a long few seconds, the halls of your building thankfully empty, except for the two of you and every question hanging in the balance.

"i don't want someone else, sweet girl," he says, his face contorted in a wince like he actually was hurt by the suggestion at all. you recoil, too, but you don't back down. quiet as hell but a viper when you had to be. backed into this conversational corner, you had to be. "hell, you think i've been chasin' you around this whole damn campus because i'm waitin' to get bored of it and start somewhere else?"

he acts like it's an unreasonable suggestion. boys like him didn't go for the girls in the bleachers. boys like him liked short skirts and pom poms. at least, that's what the movies taught you. what was he going to do next, take off your glasses and tell you that you really were beautiful, who would have guessed?

when you don't answer, dean seems to shrink back a little. he shrugs his shoulders to adjust his backpack on his back, and yours that, at some point in these ticking minutes, he had slipped on his front. "believe me, honey, this is torturous for me, too."

"torturous?" you shake your head, internally wincing at how, of all of what he said, that was the thing you latched onto. "so go find─"

"someone else. i heard you the first time." dean shakes his head, clicking his tongue after another strenuous break of silence. "it's torturous," he says slower now, like you're the one who needs to be talked in gentle words to, not him, who's seen more concussions than he's seen his family, "because you are a breath away, and yet you are so damned determined to keep that breath between us. because you seem so weary, and strung up, like at any moment, i'm gonna pull the rug away and tell you that this was some joke, and you're gonna fall on your ass and feel awful."

well. it's not like he was wrong. but now the embarrassment is worn so prominently in the pink of your face, and those awful feelings he brought up are right there, if only because you'd been so convinced that he was a terrible guy without having any sort of evidence to back it up.

dean takes a step forward, not like approaching a wounded animal but rather like he's approaching a feral beast determined to snap at his fingers. "all i want," he breathes, shaking his head, palms up in some miniscule effort of surrender, "is to buy you a coffee."

"coffee," you echo back to him. you can't help it. you glance at his double backpack situation and you have to press your mouth together to keep from laughing. maybe dean wasn't lying about this, or everything else. would someone really willingly make themselves look so silly just to keep up a ruse?

dean nods. "coffee," he says, and he notices, of course he notices, that dazzling smile of yours. he's a strong man, but he can be made into something so weak with nothing but a pair of lips and glimmering eyes. "coffee yes?"

"you have class in ten minutes."

a shrug. two backpacks lift and fall. "conveniently, i've forgotten for the next forty five minutes about that class. whoops."

you have to look away. his eyes are so earnest and he is so surprisingly silly when he's not spouting cheesy pickup lines and doing stupid poses in doorframes that you almost cannot handle to face the full onslaught of his expression. again, he asks, "coffee yes?"

you huff out a laugh. what did you have to lose, really? you'd been planning to drown in classwork for a while at the library. coffee would definitely be needed to survive that.

with an exaggerated sigh, you manage to stutter out a, "coffee yes," if only so you could see that smile on his mouth again. you were weak, too, in that regard.

and so you got coffee with the football boy, and again the next day, and suddenly it wasn't such a scary thought to hold the football boy's hand.

[racoon3lizabeth]

Art critics at work: part two

part 1 | part 2

summary: remus dislikes a lot of things. not just the teachers lounge but the cafeteria as well. But what he didn’t know is that someone else is using his secret place to eat.

notes: this was sort of rushed and not as well written as the first part. I’ve been having a lot of writers block so that’s why. but next part will be longer and much more well written! buuuuuut I hope you like it either way!!

remus lupin x fem!reader

Eating lunch at school should be illegal if you ask Remus. At least as a teacher. Not only does he sneak into the art classroom to print papers, which he had completely forgotten to do when he stumbled upon the new teacher, he also tries to sneak away during lunch to eat in peace. Hence as to why he always brings his own lunch.

Sirius and him usually eat together. Sometimes outside on the benches or in Remus' classroom. But that’s why Wednesdays are the worst. Their lunch breaks are normally at the same time but unfortunately not in the middle of the week. So he’ll have to eat alone because there’s no chance he’s eating in the cafeteria.

With his salad in hand he walked out the front door, turning right to continue down the path which leads down to three couples of tables. The wooden tables are all rectangular with two bench seats. Lightened up by the yellow spring sun.

It’s still in that early phase of spring where the sun shines the brightest but offers the least of warmth. Not even his dark brown leather jacket and red scarf could save him from the chill air.

Remus is once again too caught up with his own thoughts. If he hadn’t been repeating the lessons he’ll be holding later today in his head he would’ve been able to stop before you saw him.

“Remus?”

The professor looks up from the ground at the sound of your voice, only a few metres from the benches, stopping in his pace when he sees you. “Hi,” his lips curled into a quizzical smile. “What are you doing here?” He questions. Even though it’s obvious due to the sandwich in your right hand.

You regard him with a nervous twinkle in your eye. You’ve only talked once, about a week ago and you’ve only seen him in the hallways since then and once during a meeting. Always sending each other subtle glances as you walk past each other.

But you haven’t truly spoken and the mere thought of sparking another conversation sends a chill down your spine.

“Eating lunch,” you explain, raising your shoulders in a half shrug. “I’m too nervous to talk to the other teachers.” You add, letting out an anxious chuckle. Taking a bite out of your sandwich.

Remus takes your words as an invitation to sit down with you, which it also was. It’s not like he’s any more confident than you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of having a conversation. But he hasn’t got anywhere else to sit. There’s two other tables but he obviously can’t just ignore you and choose to sit at another table.

That’s like experiencing the teenage drama that’s happening around them everyday.

He could also go back to his classroom and eat his lunch in peace. But he needs some fresh air. The stuffy air in his classroom can get a bit too much sometimes, even if he tries opening a window. There’s always someone who complains about the cold or noises from outside since a few of his students always stayed behind.

He settles down in front of you, placing his salad on top of the table. “Most of them are alright,” the cold wind blowing through his curls. “Sirius is nice.” he remarked. Observing her with a gentle gaze as he opens the plastic lid to his food.

Your eyes flick back and forth over his face, studying him as you raise one of your eyebrows. “Who’s Sirius?” You inquire, voice not over a whisper, embarrassed by the fact that you don’t know who he is.

Remus pauses in mid action, fork just above his lips. “Mr Black?” Tilting his head to the side. “Music teacher?” He questions, lowering his hand to rest on the table.

Your mouth forms a small O shape as the realisation dawns upon you. You had actually seen Sirius talk with Remus multiple times. Perhaps you had just been too busy peering at the handsome history teacher to notice Mr Black. “Right,” you snicker. “Yeah I know who that is.”

The history teacher starts to eat as you talk. Having a hard time concentrating when you’re just sitting there in front of him looking effortlessly radiant. “He’s one of my best friends,” he elaborates when he finishes chewing. “I’ve known him and two other blokes since we were eleven.”

“Really?” You raise a curious eyebrow. “How come?”

“We went to school together.” He explains simply. It actually wasn’t more complicated than that at all. They all met when they were eleven and very mischievous. Though he doesn’t have to tell you about the number of pranks he pulled through his youth. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, on the first date. Or maybe that’s more of a third date thing?

His heart rate goes from normal to abnormally fast at the thought. Immediately regretting his stupid daydreaming. He barely even knows you.

“That’s nice,” you responded, your beautiful voice causing him to snap back to reality. “Weird coincidence that your friend Sirius also works here.” You comment, lips twitching into a small smile. Taking another bite of your sandwich, the cold breeze makes its way into your thin jacket, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Remus quickly finished his salad, placing his cutlery inside of the box before he closed the lid on top. Chewing on his lower lip as a grin spreads on his face. “Not really,” your eyes meeting for a few seconds before Remus peers down at the table. Crossing one leg over the other. “I worked here first and then my mate Sirius needed a job.” Remus recalled.

You manage to nod slowly as you observe him. His chocolate coloured eyes turn more hazel as the sun shines down on them. A small, almost unnoticeable scar stretching from his right eyebrow down the slope of his nose. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, not that you’re complaining, but you can see his pretty face much clearer.

“Are you going to that teacher parent meeting tomorrow night?” You questioned, changing the subject since the small dusting of freckles on his nose had made you completely forget what you talked about in the first place.

Remus drums his fingers against the edge of the table, your piercing although kind gaze making him restless. “Yeah,” he confirms. Running a hand through his hair. “Are you?” Not knowing if you’re aware that those meetings are pretty much mandatory since you just started working at the school.

“Yeah,” you echo, finally finished with your lunch. “So I’ll see you there?” You ask, eyes lightening up just by the thought of it.

Remus clears his throat, folding his hands in his lap. “Yes.” He replies, tugging at his scarf that suddenly felt extremely tight. The cold wind didn’t feel so cold anymore. His hands had even started to grow clammy due to how fast his heart thumped inside of his chest. “I’ll save you a seat.” He adds, chuckling nervously as he realises what he just uttered. Why on earth does he always tend to make a fool out of himself?

Your entire face reddens, turning crimson as a flush creeps up your neck. “Great.” You only mutter, not really trusting your voice at the moment.

“Great.” He repeats, voice cracking slightly.

Based on your reaction it wasn’t that out of place for him to say. Maybe just a little.

—————————————————————————————————

tags: @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @lettertovera @allformoony @ladyaida

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone: Chapter 4

Angy Damian is so much fun to draw. He does not appreciate his family booking a birthday party at the off brand chuck e cheese that is The Fun Zone

Danny had seen some chaotic birthday parties in his time at The Fun Zone, but this one took the cake—and he wasn’t even exaggerating. The group that had just walked in seemed like a random collection of mismatched personalities: a cocky black haired guy, a towering dad-type who was trying way too hard to be casual, a snarky girl in a leather jacket, a small scowling kid who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and—oh no, it was Tim again.

Danny adjusted his uniform and sighed, plastering on his best customer service smile. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Are you here for laser tag, mini-golf, or just to add to my growing migraine?”

A man with stark black hair stepped forward, grinning like he owned the place. “We’re here for a birthday party!”

Danny blinked. “You booked it in advance, right?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the guy said, brushing off the question with a wave. “It’s all taken care of.”

The scowling kid, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, crossed his arms. “Grayson, this is beneath me. I don’t need a childish party.”

“Oh, come on, Dami,” the guy—apparently named Grayson—said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “You’re going to love it. Laser tag, mini-golf, go-karts—it’s got everything!”

Damian swatted his hand away with a growl. “I said, stop calling me that.”

The girl in the leather jacket smirked. “Yeah, but the kid here’s turning twelve. We’re here to make sure he has the time of his life, whether he likes it or not.”

Danny gave her a skeptical look. “You sure he doesn’t prefer, like, a book club or chess tournament? He looks like he’d rather set this place on fire than play mini-golf.”

“I would,” Damian said flatly.

“Don’t listen to him,” Dick said, leaning on the counter. “We’re doing this. Can you, uh, set us up with the works?”

Danny sighed, grabbing a clipboard. “Fine. I’ll need the birthday kid’s name. And don’t tell me it’s Grumpy McFrownsalot.”

Dick laughed. “It’s Damian.”

Danny jotted the name down and handed him a stack of wristbands. “Great. Have fun, don’t break anything, and if you end up in a go-kart race, try not to ram into each other. You break it, you buy it.”

Dick beamed. “Thanks, man.”

An hour in, Danny regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.

Damian, the birthday kid, was terrifying. He played laser tag like he was training for actual war, and he refused to use the pre-loaded names on the scoreboard, insisting his codename be changed to Death’s Shadow. He also managed to hack into the system to change everyone else’s names to things like Grayson the Fool and Drake the Useless.

The girl—Steph, he’d heard someone call her—was running commentary on everything, laughing every time Damian destroyed someone in laser tag. “Dami’s ruthless! Look at that kill count!”

Tim, predictably, was trying to strategize, calling out team plays like this was some kind of black-ops mission. “Jason, cover the left flank! Dick, stop running in circles!”

Danny’s ears perked up at that. “Wait. Jason?” he muttered to himself, glancing over toward the go-karts.

Sure enough, Red Hood—his boss—was standing next to the track in civilian clothes, looking like he wanted to commit murder. He’d been dragged along under protest, and now he was stuck watching Dick and Tim throw Damian a party in what was technically his turf.

Danny sidled over, slapping on a grin. “Hey, boss. Didn’t know you did birthday parties.”

Jason scowled. “Don’t start with me, Fenton.”

Danny chuckled. “I mean, it’s kind of adorable. You’ve got the whole supportive older brother vibe going on.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his temples. “They’re doing this to piss me off. Dick knows this is my place.”

“Your boss’s place,” Danny corrected. To try to keep Hood's true identity safe from his supposed siblings? friends? Hell if Danny knows at this point. “And hey, the kid seems to be having fun. That’s worth something, right?”

They both glanced over to see Damian obliterating another group of kids in mini-golf, his precision terrifyingly perfect. Dick was cheering him on, and Steph was doubled over laughing at the chaos.

Jason sighed. “This is hell.”

By the end of the party, the Fun Zone looked like a war zone. Damian had won every single activity with brutal efficiency, leaving no survivors in laser tag, mini-golf, or go-karts. Dick had somehow convinced Danny to bring out the giant birthday sundae, which Damian reluctantly poked at while glaring at everyone like they’d personally insulted his honor.

As they were leaving, Dick clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Thanks for putting up with us. You’re a champ.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said, yawning. “Just make sure you tip me enough to cover therapy.”

Dick laughed, handing him a suspiciously generous wad of cash. “Consider it done.”

As the door chimed shut behind them, Jason walked over, shaking his head. “If you tell anyone about this, you’re fired.”

Danny smirked. “Sure thing, boss. But you owe me hazard pay.”

[glade-constellation]

This might just be a very niche problem I have, but if I don’t say anything about it it’s going to keep bothering me.

Please stop calling the Astrals a cult.

This post is not directed at any singular person, it’s something I’ve seen since the Astrals were first introduced. I know a lot of people throw the word cult around, so I tried to ignore it, but I also think people need a reminder as to want a cult actually is.

A cult, by definition, is “a religion regarded as unorthodox or spurious”. Basically, a religion based on weird or false information. Some definitions go even broader. What people tend to forget about is that cults have specific characteristics that classify them as cults.

First, cults typically display authoritarianism. There is typically one person in the group regarded as the leader, and they are treated with the highest of respect. Anything preserved as disrespectful towards this person is highly frowned upon, and can lead to harsh punishments. The leader can never be questioned and is never wrong about anything they say. There is no accountability to their actions.

You could say the Astrals portray this with Taurus and Leo, but that’s simply not true. They are very loud about their opinions, but they do not set the rules and they are not the leaders. They are simply the enforcers, just as Virgo is the judge. They simply play a role, they aren’t an authoritative leader. Plus, Gemini said some pretty disrespectful things about both and were allowed to have their opinion. Cults do not allow this behavior.

Which leads into the next point. Cults are very particular about behavior. They are isolationist by nature. They follow a very strict set of beliefs and rituals that must be upheld, or you will be shunned. Breaking them can also result in harsh punishment.

This one I can understand. The Astrals are very strict on rules and behaviors. Breaking them can result in death. Once again, you have to look at this in the right context. Astrals aren’t human. Both characters from the show and Reed himself have explained this. They cannot be held to human standards when they aren’t human. They have to have these rules, because one mess up isn’t just an oops situation. It could level worlds, kill entire universes. Lunar permanently disabled Earth, and has accidentally hurt others before with it. His punishment was completely fair considering what was at stake. I’m not agreeing with how they handled his training by any means, but you have to remember what was at risk.

There are other characteristics that just have nothing to do with the Astrals. The zodiac lore humans came up with pretty obviously aren’t real in TSAMS universe, they don’t have any “sacred text” to follow. They are enforcing cosmic rules to keep the balance of nature, not one set person. They work as a group, no single member has more power than the other. There is no abuse or exploitation of members because they aren’t a religion.

You want to call something a cult? Just look at our Dark Star group. Most are over here praising Cetus as some great higher being. They do everything in his name. The only reasons others are allowed to stay is because they’re spreading the DSP, and even then they’re aren’t really considered members so much as underlings. There are levels to their group. The higher you are, the closer you’re considered to Cetus. Anything else, they just kill. It’s about performance, not genuine belief. (There are cases like Rez where there is belief and then they just become deadly, because they believe everyone not in their group truly deserves their fate.) That is a cult. That is a religion built on false pretenses.

Context is key. Yes, Lunar wasn’t really treated with the best respect. There were things the Astrals could have done differently. Thing is, you cannot hold a non-human being to human standards. Plus, the last time they allowed someone to be an Astral, it backfired on them to the extreme (Cetus). When you have that much power, you have to enforce boundaries for yourself so you don’t accidentally kill a world. Lunar wasn’t blameless. He put himself in this situation the moment he even considered using DSP. The Astrals are not the only ones to blame for Lunar’s current predicament. If anything, the DS group are the ones to blame, not the Astrals. Cults will do that. They will exploit your weaknesses to draw you in and then keep you there. The only reason Rez wanted Lunar to join them was because Lunar had power Rez could use for himself. They dug at Lunar’s fear of uselessness and desperation for control of his life. Lunar is a victim, just not of the Astrals.

Cults are a real thing, they aren’t just a tool used in fiction. Real people are affected by them. Please stop throwing things like that around carelessly when you don’t know the true definition. It takes away from their true weight. Victims of cults are told they’re over exaggerating and telling lies. Turning real world problems into simple fictional tropes have real effects on real victims.

[chiikawatrio]

7 Days of Valentines Event - Day 1

Pairing ; Yan!Detective X Framed!Reader

Synopsis ; Someone had accused you of killing your boyfriend for revenge, and no one believes you. The only one who seems to know the truth is your ex, who turns out to be a detective. He agreed to help you figure out who had killed your boyfriend and framed you for it. He just wants something back in return.

Word count ; 1.8k

7 Days of Valentines Event Masterlist

You had been busy the whole day and were unaware of the new murder that had become the talk of the town. Meetings and paperwork kept you working consistently and rarely got a break. Being a new low-level employee meant your superiors would lay all the tedious work on you. It was tiring, but you had to do it if you wanted to get a stupid promotion. You were never able to check your phone like you did in your old retail job, so you never saw the news and articles that had come out about your boyfriend murder. You’ve only caught wind of the situation from two ladies in the cafe your boss ordered you to buy coffee for the whole team from.

“Revengeful Girlfriend Kills Cheater Boyfriend” is what the two old ladies standing behind you in line were talking about. 

“Can you believe it? Killing someone over another girl? She must be insane.” one of the ladies asked.

“It didn’t even seem like he was going to leave her anyway. He rejected the flowers and chocolate she gave him.” the other replied harshly. Hm. That kind of situation seems familiar. You had suspicions of your boyfriend doing that a few days earlier, but of course, you realize it’s not that serious. Realizing it was something your ex-boyfriend would do also helped you ground yourself. That argument would only be a small thing in your relationship. After being lost in your thoughts, you notice that the two ladies had stopped their gossip. What happened? You turn and notice them both staring right through your soul, and like they had seen a ghost. 

“I-i-it’s you. The girl..” one of them pointed at you.

“Huh…what do you mean?” 

“The one..the girl, on the news. The killer.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking abou-” before you could finish a familiar body steps in front of you. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but you are wrong. I am actually a detective working on the case.” He shows the two of them his badge and quickly snatches you away before they can question you any further. He didn’t want them to fully realize that it was, in fact, you on the news. You didn’t even get to buy the coffee, you're running out of time and your boss will be disappointed… But you have to focus on the matter at hand, what the hell is he doing here?

“Um, what are you doing, you bum?” you said sternly. I mean, what does he think, that he’s saving you? You didn’t know the true gravity of the situation, but at the moment, he really seems like a jack-ass. You were trying to figure out what those people were talking about! Did you really look like a murder… And what kind of a damn crazy story were they talking about before? It sounds like bullshit.

“Hello? Come on, not even a thanks before you berate me?” he waves his hand in front of your face. 

“Ha, thanks for what? What even was the problem with them asking me those questions?”

“Um, have you been living under a rock recently? You’ve been accused of a murder. It’s okay though, I know you didn’t do it!” he says way too casually. The only thing going through your mind was “You’ve been accused of a murder.” There was no way. Why would you even do something like that? Who would you even murder? Then it hits you. “Revengeful Girlfriend Kills Cheater Boyfriend” that's what the people you just ran from were talking about. If the story was true, did that mean…your boyfriend was dead? 

“M-me..? Murder..my boyfriend? Are you serious?” you say to him as you quickly pull out your phone to try to make sense of what these people were telling you. During your search, you found that everything they said was true. It was like your face has been plastered everywhere on the internet. Luckily, your name has not come out yet, so people have only seen a blurry picture of someone who looks eerily similar to you. Of course those ladies thought you were the murder!

“Gosh, you’re so helpless aren’t you? I can help you. I bet I’m the only one who thinks you didn’t do it. I know the facts and have seen the video, no way it was you!” he chuckles. You also notice that you had an influx of notifications from your friends from your social media apps. They were all sending pictures of articles or the news videos of the same person. They all thought the person all over the news was you. He was right.

“W-what am I supposed to do? It’s over…”

“Come with me.”

“What..?” you replied. Why would you, you were probably gonna be locked up soon.

“I’ll protect you, and I can help you find who framed you. I wasn’t lying when I said I was on the case, y’know.” he says as he grabs you and forces you to follow him. You resisted at first, but the hard truth that there was no other choice stopped you and you followed with no complaints. You both went to his car and arrived at a recognizable house. He brought you back to the place you once so desperately wanted to escape. You wanted to leave, but where would you go? Who knows, maybe the cops are waiting for you at the front door of your house. He stepped out of the car, and so did you. He continued and opened the door, everything looked the same except for the things that were there when you were with him. 

“I know you probably don’t want to do this, but you might have to stay with me for a while.” he mentions as he gestures for you to come inside. 

“You can stay here while I find out who did it or they might eventually close the case if nothing new happens.”

You have been staying with him for a few months now and never got to leave. “What if someone finds you and I’m not there like at the cafe? Hm?” is what he told you anytime you tried to finally get out of his shithole place. He would get irritated if you ever mentioned leaving or at least going out for a walk. It wasn’t that bad anyway, he has an important job so he’s out of the house most of the day so you get time to yourself. 

He told you that the police were still looking for you, even though he told them it was definitely not you. He also said that he could not get any new information about who could’ve possibly done this and that it seems like you’re going to stay with him for a very, very long time. 

Of course, if you stayed locked up all day, you were bound to get bored. There was one room you never go to see the inside of during your relationship. He had told you it was his office. But he always got agitated when you tried to ask about it, you didn’t understand, if it was just his office why couldn’t you come in? It seemed like he trusted you with everything else anyway. Maybe it was a confidentiality thing. You didn’t really give a damn about if he got mad if you went in there, so you planned a day where you would break in. 

You actually didn’t plan it that thoroughly, he worked everyday! There would be so many opportunities for you to go, you just had to feel like doing it. He always stayed at his job during the times he was supposed to, so you weren’t too worried either about him coming in during the act. It had just been like any regular morning and as soon as he left, you went to his office. You could easily break into the room because it has the locks you can just turn with a quarter, but he was always there to make sure you didn’t go in. 

When the door opened, it truly did look like an office. You inspected the trophies and articles lined up against his wall. All rewards from the good work he has done for the community. Next you took a seat down his desk. You noticed an old picture of the two of you that he kept from a long time ago and other memorabilia. Ignoring his obsessive behavior, you took a look at the drawers attached to it. You opened them one by one and they all contained files, before you could read through them you heard the familiar sound of the door being opened. What the hell is he doing here so damn early?! You rush out of the room not noticing one of the drawers being left slightly ajar. Everything had been left perfectly except for that one bit, how could you be so careless? You return back to your bedroom and pretend that everything was the same. 

“Hey, I got the rest of the day off, can you believe it?” he states as he walks into your room. 

“Aha…yes, that’s nice.” you say sheepishly. You were laying on your bed and he continued to walk in and sat down beside you. 

“Since I have the rest of the day off, do you want to go do something outside? I can give you some company.”

“What? Are you serious?” 

“Yes, I am!” he laughs because of the shock taking over your face. You told him you wanted to go on a walk and he agreed. It had just turned noon and you went on a walk at the park near his house. Not many people were at the park often, so he wasn’t worried about anyone recognizing you. You both stayed silent throughout the whole trail, he didn’t seem to mind it though. 

When the both of you returned, he told you that he was going to do some work even if he was told not to. He ushered you to somewhere else in the house as he went inside his office. As he was sure you had gone completely elsewhere, he opened his computer to see the picture of you earlier, in the very same room he was in now. He had received a notification on his phone the moment you opened the door, how else would he arrive exactly when you were snooping around? Of course he had to set cameras up, knowing how nosey you are. Although, he was proud that it took you a couple months before you started poke around his office. It was good he came on time, or else you would’ve seen what had truly happened to your boyfriend. He should’ve punished you for coming in without permission, but he really couldn’t. 

And maybe if he did, you would figure out how long ago your case had been closed.

Thank you if you read the whole thing!! To be honest, I'm really insecure about my writing, so I don't really proofread.. it makes me want to die 💔 Sorry if anything doesn't make sense or if there are any mistakes. ;-;

Also sorry if it does not go into a lot of detail or seems rushed, I've been busy with school work...

-Hachiware

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[soft-serve-soymilk]

help I’ve started listening to my chemical romance 😭

[depresseddepot]

oughhhghh where is that "don't trust anything you think abt your life past 9pm" post when you need it

[tonycries]

Your (Super)Man - N.K.

Synopsis. He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He’s…just Nanami Kento from the journalism department. But you have a feeling that Nanami’s hiding a super big secret - and not just the one down there.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, Clark Kent! Nanami, SUPERMAN AU, aphrodísiacs, coworkers-to-Iovers, he is a GENTLEMAN, slight víoIence, Itadori cameo, saving people, píning, manhandIing, he is BIG, cervíx kíssing, making it fit, pússydrúnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), BRÉEDING, creampíes, cúmplay, spítting, Nanami’s POWERS, matíng presses, face-sítting, buIges, BREAKING THE BED, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CLARK KENT(O) NANAMI SAVE MEEEE

“There’s just something about him, Shoko.”

“Right…”

You’re flicking a quick roll of your eyes as your coworker continues stealing drowsy sips of her early morning coffee. Well, her fifth of the morning. Grumbling out, “I swear- There’s just something about him that feels so…” Eyes drifting - as they much seemed to do these days - to the man in question. “-different.”

And, listen, Shoko would whole-heartedly prefer the tittering office gossip with you over working on her weeks-late article any day of the week. 

But times like this, she really had no idea whether the two of you were staring - undoubtedly creepily - at the same Nanami Kento. 

That stoic, mild-mannered hire who’d just been freshly accepted into your journalism sector. Tall, seemingly powerful - yet, he acted anything but. A gentle giant with the suspicious patience of a saint even against the worst of editors - honestly, she’s musing, just who was this guy?

“Hm…” Fingers digging into her achy temples as if trying to will away the memory of her upcoming deadlines. And this. “Maybe you just need to get laid. A proper, genuine good f-”

“Shoko.”

And she’s cracking her first laugh of the day, ducking underneath her computer screen with a sigh as Yaga passes by dangerously close. “Well, you were thinking about it. Harlot.”

You’re sighing, too - though for a much different reason, she imagines. 

Gaze narrowing as you finally rip them away from the blond-haired man dwarfing the corporate cubicle opposite the two of you. Bumbling and fixing the glasses on his face for the nth time this hour. “W-well it doesn’t help that he’s hot.”

Shoko’s mere milliseconds away from opening her sharp mouth once more - and you’re mere milliseconds away from wincing at what was surely to fall from them. Before- 

A call of your name.

Ah, saved by the bell - or, your managing editor, more like. Though, you weren’t sure if you’d consider it “saving” when Yaga’s holding out a crisp stack of documents your way. Brows furrowed underneath his sunglasses, he gruffs out, “They finally cleared the pitch for your article on that flower. You’re good to go.”

“O-oh, that’s great. Thank you.” Plastering on a simpering smile on your face, you���re hastily clasping those papers. “I’ll get started on the interviews right away.”

Articles on flower shops weren’t quite the adrenaline-thumping journalism you’d expected to work on when you first joined this company. Initially concocting fantasies about interviewing your city’s nefarious villains or perhaps even…Superman .

But ah, those were just dreams. And it seems that someone here had to report on things like mysterious flower shipments to local florists - which just-so-happened to be you.

You’re pulled out of your pitiful little reverie by another echo of your name. Turning back to Yaga, brows raised. “Yes?”

“And take Nanami with you.”

Oh.

Oh. 

“Ah, sorry you’re paired up with me, Nanami.” You’d be chuckling much, much later when you’d gathered your files and your wits to be stuffed inside an elevator with your coworker. “I’d imagine something like this probably wouldn’t have been your ideal first taste of real journalism.”

Eyes straying anywhere but where you could spy the way the suit buttons over his chest looked like they were about to pop! Nanami was unfairly attractive, even when he was slouched and nervously struggling to meet your eyes with his honeypool ones.

Always known around the rest of the company to be so timid - but you get the feeling that he was being extra jumpy around you.

He’s shaking his head - golden strands of hair curtaining his handsome face. “Please don’t worry. I’m only grateful that you’re taking me with you, I-I promise to try my best not to be a burden, ma’am.”

“Aw, no need to call me that. We’re the same age, after all.” Subtly, you’re mashing the button for the ground floor a few more times. Suddenly reminded of how dizzyingly tiny this space was. How much of it he was occupying. “And I can’t promise that I won’t be a burden, either.”

You’d meant it as a joke - you really did. But after seeing the way that Nanami’s forehead crinkles with a furrow, you almost wish you could take back those words. 

“Anyone would be lucky to have you as a partner.” He’s mumbling - such earnestness dripping from his rich baritone that you can feel your eyes widening a fraction. And Nanami sees it, too. 

“Oh?”

“I mean-” Fingers fumbling to push up his thick-rimmed glasses, he’s tightening his yellow speckled tie almost as if he wished to choke away that burning flush creeping up from the back of his drooped neck and blossoming at the tips of his ears. “Just- just that you’re one of the most c-competent journalists in our company and I’m only honored to be learning from the best and- o-oh, it seems we’re here.” 

It’s a wonder that Nanami noticed - it’s a wonder that you noticed once those metallic doors parted like a curtain to reveal the bustling lobby. Finally here.

He’s holding out the curved end of one big, strong arm, bent at the elbow to show off the straining stretch of his flexing biceps. And you can’t help but ogle. “M-may I?”

It takes you copious seconds of staring at the thoroughly outlined bulge of his sculpted arm for you to finally snap to your senses. And a few more to finally realize what he was asking. 

Something warm and mushy pools in your stomach. Fuck.

Tentatively wrapping your hands around the rock-hard mounds of flesh so that Nanami - ever-the-gentleman - could tenderly escort you out, as if this was a ballroom and not your workplace. 

And you can’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t mind tedious interviews if it went anything like this. 

.

.

.

“So, there’s no sender address?”

“Nope.”

“No date?” 

“Nada.”

“And no postage?” 

“Tch, I wish!”

You’re tapping your trusty pen against the parchment of the notepad, gears wracking in your thoroughly overworked brain. “Mr. Itadori, is there a possibility that this might be a prank?”

Wasuke Itadori shakes his head with a grunt, weathered fingers brushing over the aggressively violet petals of a flower you think looked too bizarre to even be pulled out of your very dreams. He’s tapping the stiff flower once. Twice. 

And you’re gasping when a tiny puff of shimmering pink billows out like a heady cloud. Perfumed. Hypnotizing. A musky vanilla that makes you draw in further, and reminds you of- Eyes peeking over at an aloof Nanami…him. 

“See? Smells jus’ like my wife’s cheap citrus perfume. N’ unless she’s haunting me from beyond the grave as she said she would, it seems too elaborate of a prank ta me. It’s obviously livin’, but I can’t find any information on this flower for the life of me.” The older man crosses his arms, scowling, “Ya have no idea how many times I’ve had ta stop my stupid grandson from trying to eat this thing.”

Humming, you’re jotting down a few notes - fingers tremoring ever-so-slightly at Nanami’s burning gaze right beside you. “Have there been any strange effects on the other flora since you’ve acquired this special flower?”

“Nah, nothing at all- that’s the thing, s’like it’s alien or something. Just showed up at my door one day n’ I dunno what it is.” He’s grouching - and you have to agree. That is strange. 

You’d never heard of any other florist’s receiving this type of strange…gift? 

But you can’t voice anything more before a voice sounds from outside the see-through door, and the man before you clicks his tongue. “Ah! Dammit, that reminds me- my flower vendor’s here already. Excuse me while I step outside, you can throw the lil’ gremlin in with the marigolds if he bothers ya too much.”

You’re holding back a chuckle - honestly, this was nothing like you expected, you think you would have enjoyed this interview regardless. 

Wasuke was a doting grandpa - as much as he may deny it. And his tiny, pink-haired menace of a grandson was positively bouncing off the walls at having official journalists enter the cozy flower shop. Dangling midair off of a closely-observing Nanami’s shoulders with two chubby arms wrapped around the other’s neck.

Though, you certainly weren’t complaining at the sight.

“Hey- pretty lady- mister Nananamin-” Yuji’s squeaking into his ear. “Are you two married?” 

You’re sure that if Wasuke was within earshot he’d have grabbed the child by the scruff of his neck. But, alas, Nanami was beared with none of that mercy. 

Teasing, “Hmm, would you like to answer this, Nanami?”

“No- I mean yes! N-no, this lovely lady and I are not married.” He’s huffing out a low bout of laughter, massive palms barely even having to try to pick up Yuji’s wiggling body. And you can’t stop the way your heart lurches when he’s softly cradling the younger boy in one arm - fuck, you really need to get yourself together.

“Why not?”

And perhaps for the first time since you’ve known him, Nanami Kento looked truly and utterly stunned. Hazel eyes pleading your way, mouth opening and closing a few desperate times. “Well…”

But Yuji only plows on with the oblivious confidence that only comes with being freshly five. “Then, since you’re erm- what was that word Megumi said? Uh- d-divowced, can I marry her?”

Ah.

Giggling behind your palm, you’re almost on the verge of saving your poor coworker. Almost. 

That is, before it happens. 

CRASH!

You can’t hear anything, you can’t feel anything, you can’t see anything - other than a bright, blood red. Fuck- 

“N-Nanami? Yuji?” Your voice is shrill - cracking, and you’re unsure if the way you grimace is because of how utterly pathetic you sound or because of the complete devastation in front of you. “Wh-what…”

Shit. 

Heaps upon heaps of concrete and wrecked pieces of building pile upon what was once the Itadori family flower shop. Flowerpots knocked over, the ceiling crumbling, bright morning sunlight filtering from above to illuminate a thick blanket of swirling dust. 

As if a whirlwind had wrecked it through and caught up you right in the middle of it - purposefully. 

Shit shit shit-

Gasping, heaving to try and scramble your thoughts into one big coherent one - but then instantly regretting it when your entire body wracks with painful coughs. You’re so confused - head churning with exactly what’s happening right now - that you barely even register the large hand soothing over your back.

Your ears ring with a sharp keen, eyes bleary and tinging with black - it hurts. And you’re pressing a hand to your forehead with a hiss. Unbalanced voice on the edges of shattering into a zillion pieces, “What happened- wh-where-”

“Shhh shh shh, you’re going to be alright, darling.”

What? 

Your head snaps up - it’s then that you notice it.

Finally. 

Body tucked safely behind the overarching counter of the flower shop, far from where the sudden impact of something would have hit you. You’re crouched against all the wood and debris that dug uncomfortably into your legs. Your hands tremble - but not just with fear, no, with the tearful cries of a curled-up Yuji snuggling thankfully safely into your body.

All in the arms of…Nanami?

But, wait, no- it was as if it wasn’t him at all. 

Because gone were those heavy glasses framing his pretty face, and you’re blinking your lethargic lids urgently to drink in the stern, serious features they’d left behind. Brows furrowed, plump lips pulled tightly when he’s clenching his jaw, muscles flexing as he’s holding you two tighter - as if subconsciously. 

There was something different about him, something…magnetic, like a flip had just switched on. And you’re definitely blaming the way your head was swimming - but you can’t help but think he looked so hot.

Fuck - now’s not the time.

Soft locks of blond were windswept to slick back, that snug coat of his tattered onto the floor to display an emblazoned logo that you wouldn’t be able to mistake even if you tried. 

“You’re…” you breathe, and it’s a wonder that the syllables come out coherent at all. Jaw falling slack at the glimpses of that familiar skin-tight red and blue suit you’ve seen smeared across every magazine, every news column, and every show these days. “...Superman.”

And it takes a second. Two. 

Until Nanami’s long lashes flutter with a little pant of laughter, a singular thick finger straightening into a shush-ing gesture when he’s smiling down warmly at a sniffling Yuji, “This’ll be our little secret, right?”

“Y-yes!” The little boy hiccups, plump palms scrambling to cover his mouth. And you think you could spy a tiny smile rising through his short fingers. Though it wavers, “Mister Nananamin- I mean- Mister Superman, my grandpa is still outside…”

He’s nodding, “I’ll keep you all safe-” Before turning to you with eyes so scorching that you can feel yourself inch in closer against the stiff fabric of his supersuit. “-all of you.” 

“Ahhh~ touching touching. Didn’t think I’d run into dear ol’ Superman here.” A high, eerie voice rings over the thundering blood pumping to your head, and you’re burying even deeper into Nanami’s sculpted side. “But ah, not to worry, Man of Steel, m’jus’ here to pick up a little lost package of my friend’s so…”

Nanami’s stiffening underneath your touch, and with a slow nod he’s getting up from your little hiding place. 

And if looks could kill - which you knew Superman could do - then the greyish, patched man in front of you wouldn’t have been waltzing in through the utterly destroyed door already. As if he owned the place. Owned all of you. 

“Mahito, we’ve spoken before.” Nanami’s voice was hardened with a growl in a way you’ve never heard. Fuming. “Leave now and no one gets hurt.”

There’s a metallic click! resonating across what was left of the four walls of this shop, as if he was loading some type of gun. But not as you’ve ever known one. 

And Nanami’s eyes narrow with a thick coating of tension when Mahito’s fingers curl around that flower - the exact one you’d come here to interview about in the first place. Plucking it neatly from the vase before crushing the waxy petals between his fingers. 

“You sure ya wanna talk to me like that when you’ve got civilians here, Superman?” Voice airy, delighted. As if he wasn’t currently loading an opening in that specialized gun with the gooey insides of that flower. Before pointing it - right at the bullseye where you were scoured away. “Especially with sweetcheeks here? Don’t think I don’t know how soft ya are for-”

Nanami stretches into an attack-ready position. “So you’re after the innocents again.”

“Ah- no, actually.” Mahito snickers. Snickers. “I’m after you.”

BANG!

It all happens so fast that you’re not even sure if everything’s part of your imagination - whether this is all still a dream. 

Because in the bat of an eye, Mahito has the slightly-glowing barrel of the gun pointed your way. Bursting the counter into nothing but a few shockwaves and shards of plastic. 

And in the bat of much less, Nanami’s shielding you with his entire body, sculptured front glissading against your back, beefy arms curled snugly around your waist. Head tucked over yours to make sure every inch of you is protected, Yuji placed gently at his side. 

Your bleary vision clouds with a familiar fog of pink - dazzling and addictive with that same musky perfume. Was- wasn’t this what Wasuke had shown you earlier?

“Shit! Wh-what the fuck is this?!” You’re hearing off in the distance - or perhaps it was right beside you, you didn’t even know at this point. “That damn Hanami- this isn’t the poison-”

He’s letting off a shiver, before gritting out. One arm holding out to you just as it had in the elevator, the memory hits you with pang. “Y-you two need to get to safety. Now. May I?”

If it weren’t for the hours of droning meetings faced with Nanami, the weeks of trying to get him to speak with you - months of memorizing every syllable that dripped from his pretty lips, then you wouldn’t even have noticed. But you did. 

“W-wait-.” Your throat scratches and struggles to get the words out, matching the shakes in his own tone. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

But the only answer you get is a soft, mysterious smile. And the repeated hum - as if you weren’t wrangling yourself around to peek at where he was undoubtedly hit. “No need to worry about me, my love- ah. My first and foremost priority is you two-”

“But you’re hurt.” you’re crying out, gasping when Mahito’s eyes lock with yours. And he leers, knobbly fingers fussing to reset that weapon once more. 

“I know.” Stray tresses of golden flaxen stick to Nanami’s sweat-glimmered forehead like an impromptu crown, and you don’t know how he has it in himself to smile down at you. Cradling Yuji in one arm, and you in the other as if the two of you were easily weightless - you can only gape at the adorable dimple digging into the left corner of his mouth. “Now, hold on tight.”

You do - and you can only blink before your savior is flying. 

Now, you’d always marvelled at the sheer heights that Superman reached on those live newscasts. Wondering just how euphoric it must be to soar through the air, free from every care in the world - well, as much as you could be when the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, at least.

But this? This was heaven.

Wind whipping your face like an icy mask, Yuji’s high peels of laughter tinkling in your ears. You can’t do anything but watch and watch as the demolished flower shop grows smaller. A speck. 

“Oh- oh my god.” You’re whispering thorough scrunched eyes, nails clawing deeply into the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoid.

And if it hurt, then Nanami didn’t give a single sign. Instead, he’s laughing - quiet, and as delicate at the cottony clouds passing you by. “S’alright, s’alright. Super- Ken’s here. N’ m’not gonna drop you.” You’re cutting through the air so fast - staggeringly - but right now, when Nanami’s boring his eyes into yours, it felt like time itself had stumbled to a stop. He’s pulling you even closer to his powerful body, “I’d never let ya go, darling.”

Yet, when the view of your cozy Metropolis apartment comes into view - you almost whine at the fact that he has to. 

“Don’t you worry about a thing now.” Nanami’s ruffling Yuji’s windblown mop of pink hair - even more tousled with the wind. “I’ll be going, and I’ll keep both you and your grandpa safe.”

And looking at him right now - velvety crimson cape flowing at the wind seeping in through your open window, one arm bulging with muscles as he leans readily against the frame - you wonder how you could’ve ever thought that anyone other than him could be Superman.

“Come back safe.” You’re choking out, hands clasped. “W-we’re still not done with our article…”

“Mhm, you better hold me to that, ma’am.” 

And with that, Superman - Nanami - was zipping through the air at a mach speed that made you realize he was intentionally slowing it down for both you and Yuji on your way here. 

Fingers quivering, it takes you what feels like practically forever to turn your television on - precisely onto a live newstream of how Superman had entered the site of a villain attack. Ready to save. To be a hero. 

Eyes locked mindlessly on the tiny blimp of red and blue onscreen, you cuddle a fidgety Yuji on the bouncy cushions of your sofa. For your jittery nerves just as much as his. “Your husband is so cool, lady- he’s Superman! Oh- whoops, shhhh! Tha’s a secret though…”

“Yeah…” you’re breathing out. “Yeah, he is cool, isn’t he?”

.

.

.

Forty-five saved, three buildings wrecked, and one injured. 

One injured - him.

Though, Nanami wouldn’t quite count himself with any civilians injured or…worse. He never quite does. 

But, oh, it was so hard not to when the first thing he’s peeling back that hazy layer of fatigue in his eyes is you - you, you, you. In all your glorious self, big, pearlescent tears spilling down your pretty cheeks and splattering in tiny puddles onto his bare chest. 

His bare, bandaged chest. 

And for a second, powers set aside, Nanami thinks he might just have died and reached heaven. How fitting that the angels looked like you. 

Voice hoarse as he’s muttering his first few words, “Are- are you alright?”

“-stupid. Asking about m-me when you’re the one hurt. Didn’t even-” Your sobs garble out into words, and you’re half-heartedly hitting your fist against the unbandaged part of Nanami’s skin. “Don’t you ever do that again- you had me- so worried.”

Ah, he’d won the fight - and he finally felt like it.

Silently, he makes quick work abandoning those delicate bandages of yours - a strange part of him almost hurt to unravel your work like this. To unravel nothing but silken, unblemished skin after hours of healing abilities.

Though, Nanami gives all the credit to your care, anyway.

Warm fingers cup your head to nuzzle your clammy face against the crook of his neck. Practically draped over your bed and onto his body now, and you could feel his burning skin, smell those musky pheromones of his. “Got it got it, I won’t be scaring you like that again.”

“Th-the neighbors were so worried when you just showed up all injured n’ half-fainting at my window, y’know? I had to bribe them to be quiet with a few of the flowers that Yuji’s grandpa left.” You’re muttering, more to fill the strangely thickening silence than anything. 

“Ah, tell- tell Mr. Itadori that I will have his shop reconstructed by the end of this week.” He’s whispering, voice so strained that you had to crane your head to hear him - close. “Was Yuji doing alright?”

“Mhm, never been better, apparently. He just left with his grandpa, and they invited us over for dinner before…” Brows furrowing, words withering away on your tongue at the agonized knit in his brow. There was something…different. “Are- are you really okay, Kento?”

Nanami doesn’t comment about that use of his first name - nor does he embarrassingly babble out how it might just be his new favorite song now. 

He can’t.

Because Nanami was panting - groaning. Pearly whites clenched so hard that you think you could hear them creak. 

There was a strange simmering flush creeping up his body, staining it such a delicious strawberry pink that made your mouth water- or maybe that was just the emanating clouds of vanilla musk saturating your lungs. Clinging onto Nanami’s body like a dripping second skin-

“I…” he’s gulping, half-lidded eyes shifting away from yours like he couldn’t even bear to look at you right now. Didn’t know what he would do. “-my apologies. But what that fucker- ah- excuse my language. What Mahito hit me with seems to not have been a poison, as I had thought. Rather, now that it’s finally spread through my body, I feel it’s something else entirely… ” 

“What is it- does it hurt?”

“It seems to be…” Gesturing wildly with his hands, careful not to jostle you. “-an aphrodisiac…of sorts.”

You’re letting your lips part, “Oh. Wait- ‘of sorts?’”

And ah, there was the timid Kento you knew. He could never lie to you. “It- itseemstoonlyaffectthoseinlove- B-but my healing abilities are working and-” Nanami’s sitting up faster than you could blink. Words running a mile-a-minute, “-and I shall leave in case you feel uncomfortable with me here-”

“Why would you leave?” It’s slipping between your lips before you can register. Still mulling over those previous words - they explained. A lot. 

Nanami stills, hands clasped around those creamy blankets he was flinging off, sure to disappear into the starry night. “P-pardon?”

Well, fuck. 

You’re steeling your gaze - you’ve waited this long. And if there was anything about Nanami’s afflicted aphrodisiac, it was that it was contagious.

Making you breathe in a heavy gulp of candied air, “Aphrodisiac, huh? I’ve read about those, and don’t you think that since you saved me-” Slowly - ever-so-slowly dragging your hands to rest on his smooth shoulders, faces inches away. “-it’s only fair that I help? Besides…I can smell it too.”

Oh, he gasps. A confession if any.

Fingers tangling through those damp locks. “But if- if you get tangled up with me- who knows what other villains will come after you. I might’ve taken down Mahito today, but Kenjaku is still out there. And I have to keep ya safe.”

“Well who’s going to keep you safe?” You scoff, refusing - rejecting - to relent.

“I don’t need to be safe if it means that I can keep that beautiful smile on your face everyday.” And maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was how close you were to him in this dimly heady lightning, but Nanami didn’t seem like he meant to say that out loud. Not at all. 

Basking in your spellbound silence. “My love…feel this?” He’s clasping one hand around your own, letting you rover a greedy grope of his plush pecs - his heartbeat. Thundering. Frighteningly so. “Th-this isn’t any old aphrodisiac, especially considering me.”

“And?”

“And that means, darling-” But he was, too, just as much. “That m’gonna want ya…need ya. So badly and fuck! M’gonna make ya forget what it feels like without me…” One rounded index trailing up, up, up to about halfway up your tummy. “-here.”

You’re shuddering, taking in deep gulps of that electric air. “...A-and?”

He’s jerking you forwards with a mere fraction of that superhuman strength to splay your body over his towering one. Face lolling into the cushiony valley of his pecs, legs straddling that slutty waist of his in a way that made you shy. Right on top of his drenched boxers. That needy spot between your legs heating up just as much as his condensing breath did on your skin. “I can’t promise that when I fuck you, I won’t break you.”

Fuck. Was this really the same, adorably feeble Nanami Kento from work? You weren’t sure, but you knew one way to find out…

“I’ll…hold you to that.”

But before he was Superman, he was Nanami Kento from the journalism department. And who was Nanami Kento against you?

“Such a stubborn girl.” You’re being surprised with a sudden implanting of his thick set of fingers leaving a sudden swat on your ass, voice teetering on what almost sounded like a growl. “But you’re mine, aren’tcha?”

Your fingers dapple along the sweat-dampened little curls of blond at the sexy edge of his undercut. And it seemed like the more the aphrodisiac boiled into his veins, the more and more he burned feverishly. 

Senses superhuman but already heightening with the coarse need glossing his brain - he could practically taste your arousal. 

Panting. Charming maw falling parted to mist you own with such rousing puffs of his scent, “Kiss me. Please- kiss me.”

And- fuck, Nanami kisses like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Was absolutely drunk with just a simple slide of his pursed mouth against your own, from a tender little peck until he only got greedier and greedier-

“Mmmm-” Rasping grunts curdle at the back of his throat, slurring into a low whine when he’s wrenching a splayed-out hand onto your scalp and dragging you away. Manhandling. Sultry sucks being left on the tenderest spots of your throat, sure to make the office talk tomorrow. “Can feel how fuckin’ wet ya are f’me already, darlin’. S’this the aphrodisiac or you?”

God, it was so embarrassing. 

That silky little puddle of your reflective slick was flooding from between your flimsy panties to press gluey little smooches against his manspread front. 

You’re mumbling, words stumbling over one another when your hips peek in to seat just above that swollen crown of his cock. Already rock-hard. “Y-you don’t have to say it out loud.”

You barely even realize how you’re slipping and sliding in needy little gyrations of your hips before Nanami’s putting a shuddering halt to it. One rude hand curling around that perfect curvature of your waist, he’s snickering at how you’re letting off a thoroughly disappointed whine. “My apologies, but s’hard f’me to act like a hah- gentleman when ya have such gorgeous lips…” He’s chuckling out - humorless, parking one big thumb against the corner of your mouth. “These ones, too.” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence - couldn’t even finish his thought.

Not before bruising your lips with some of the filthiest little sucks on your lower lip - like he’d simply gone way too long without kissing you. Once. Twice. Again and again and-

“O-oh!”  Your hands scramble to find purchase up on his broad shoulders when he’s darting down one fat thumb to paint with all your silvery pussy slick. Drawing slow meshes of circles on your soppy slit up and down up and down up and- “N-Nanami-”

“Kento.” He’s cutting you off with a fracturing furrow of his brows, “We’re way past last names, don’tcha think, my love?”

Oh, that sweetly rugged tone stirred up something inside you that made you want Nanami now now now.

“Oh? S’that so?” Ravenous edges of his fingers pulling aside your sticky panties to the side to sidle in with one thick drag of his digits, they’re being lacquered with such a heavy layer of your sweet, sweet juices that Nanami can’t help but drag his fingerpads upwards to sniff. To suck one by one. Sweet. “You’re heh- babblin’ cute nonsense, but fuuuuck this cute cunt is talkin’ ta me even filthier.”

In such sappy awe at the way your puffy pussy flaps were sugarcoating him all the way down till Nanami was dripping at the wrist. Metallic wristwatch from work all shiny and ruined-

“Need you t-to touch me inside, Ken–” you’re huffing, circling lazy grinds across his roughened hands. “Please?”

“Anythin’ for my girl.”

And Nanami’s giving your ass another good thwack! of his palm, feeling the vibrato of delicious jiggles before hauling your entire body higher and higher. Letting his back hit the silken sheets of your bed within a fluid motion, before you even know it you’re hovering your clothed cunt over his swelteringly fevered mouth. 

Just one sudden move and you’d be riding his face - exactly what Nanami wanted right now. Yearned. 

“Oh- wait-” You’re startling, fingers fumbling with that tight pencil skirt you’d worn to work specifically for him to see. “Didn’t take this-”

“Not a problem.” He’s grunting, only looking up with droopy eyes at where you’re straddling his handsome face, decorated with tawny strands of hair when he’s grinning. Thick fingers clasping onto the hem at your waist, “Hold on tight n’ show me that pretty pussy.”

RIIIIIP–!

Your skirt is on the floor, torn through like butter - your blouse and bra soon to follow. Impatient. And it’s only once Nanami’s done savoring that sweet embarrassment wafting off of you, the way your drenched pussymound smells so sugary sweet - does he even consider freeing you of them.

He’s scrunching up the sodden wet fabric into a little treasure hidden underneath your pillow - something for him later…

And you’re even wetter than usual, that contagious spell of aphrodisiac making your eyes glaze with sheer need. 

“Aw, look at thaaaat.” Nanami’s breathing - enchanting. The curves of his lips lifting into a smirk at the way your dripping slit treacles a fresh coating of slick all down his tongue, letting it sliiiide a lazy trailway to hit the back of his scratchy tastebuds. “Atta girl, b-better be taking all of me if yer that eager, hm?”

And Nanami is so needy - he’s so desperate to have your clingy pussy make a mess all over his face as soon as possible. 

Breathing in like some pervert to take in your perfumed scent. Reaching up to smear a wet glissade of his lips down your own, and you think that it might just be the filthiest French snog that anyone has ever placed on you. The buttoned edge of his nose mushes against your peeked clit so harshly. 

He’s blazing, cock thumping for more- With a low, heated whistle, he’s nuzzling his sweat-glossed forehead up against your moistened inner thigh. Layers upon layers of your slick coveting his features and stinging delicate little ropes that connect his maw to your cunt.

“Mmm- fuckin’ sweet- fuckin’ hot–” Nanami keens out, pillowy palms spreading your legs so comfortably apart until you felt like he was cracking you open. “C’mon now, sit your f-full weight on me, my love.”

You’re sputtering, thighs all achy with fatigue. “B-but-”

“Darling…” Nanami’s smiling, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. “Not to be conceited - forgive my tone - but I’m Superman. N’ if there was any way m’to die, then it would be right between these pretty legs of yours.”

And you didn’t know whether it was the fumes of vanilla aphrodisiac taking over his melty brain completely because Nanami was ruthless. 

Your dear, sweet coworker was kissing the very edges of your bloated cunt with one of his oversized fingers. Sifting through to draw numerous innocent hearts on your sensitive clit, before plunging down,down, down-

“Ah!” You’re yelping at the stinging stretch of his souring fingerpads, swirling in mushy little gyrations around and around your elastic entrance. Extra sensitive right now- damn that flower. “H-how is your finger already feeling so…”

“Good? Does my heh- good girl like this?” He’s cooing up at you, feeling your gloopy cunt with such copious inches of his long hands. 

And with such staggering fingers you could only imagine how big he’d be down there…

SWAT!

“Aww, don’t space out already. Wanna hear those p-pretty moans even longer-” The jutting pout of Nanami’s oh-so-cute lower lip smudges against your saturated clit. Tingling and hot when he tilts his head to bite. “‘Sides, how are ya gonna f-fit my cock if this is too big, hm?”

You’re holding back a wrecked whimper when he’s chancing another rummaging finger to part your pursed pussy lips. Ramming up and down to drag a sultry stripe across every nook and gummy ridge, to feel for- 

“F-fuck-” Head throwing back, your spine arches into a tight little bow that slops the entirety of your cunt down onto Nanami’s eagerly awaiting mouth. “There- there there there- don’ stop, Kentooo.”

He’s been waiting for this forever. And he was going to get his fill. 

And you could feel the way his mouth curled into a flirty smile, the back of his sharp chin slathered against the very back of where you needed him the most. 

“Mhm– Not gonna let ya go-” As if to prove his point, one free hand is all it takes for him to latch onto your waist and pin you to ride his face with reckless abandon. Exactly how he wanted it. “Wanna marry ya- be mine- please-” Because Nanami Kento didn’t want to move an inch - couldn’t bear parting with the exact sweet treat that’s haunted his most lecherous dreams since the day he fucking met you. “-never- ah- never after th-this.”

Such pretty, pretty melodies resonate out every time Nanami’s slobbering honeyed flurries of sucks and kisses onto your cunt - and not just from between your lips.

No, your teary pussymound was so loud with wiry sploshes of sap. And he simply can’t help himself from nodding his head with every waterlogged swash - as if he was having a full fucking conversation.

“S’right- m’wife’s always so right aren’tcha-” Nanami’s rawly drenched fingers pump outside - just for a split-second - to pap! pap! pap! his calloused pads on that syrupy little stud of your clit before curling his fingers into his mouth and sucking. Cleaning himself off. “Sh-should hear what yer gorgeous pussy’s been hah- sayin’- such a talkative girl, isn’t she?”

And those drunken chestnut eyes of his were just pleading - begging - for you to babble out, “Wh-what is she saying, Ken?”

“She’s sayin’- boasting, actually…” he’s drawling off, and with just how utterly fucked that Nanami looked right now, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost his train of thought. Giggling - giggling out, “-that she can take three.”

He was determined to prove it to you.

To swell your adhesive walls open with three of his pulpy fingers until you felt like you were going to burst. Those thickset globular ends of his digits reaching for that precious little bullseye of your cunt - he’s caressing you lovingly from the inside.

Over and over back and forth in maddening crawls until you were halfway through sobbing. And a primal itch inside him purrs at the sight of those prettily glistening tears in your eyes.

Ah, you looked so gorgeous riding his face like this - and, really, it wasn’t Nanami’s fault that his mouth felt a little left out…was it?

“B-both?” You’re dawdling your limp arms precariously onto the mahogany headboard - something that lasts for a generous two seconds before he’s unlatching your hands to dig harshly into his prespired tug. Firm arm around your first nudging you to pull- “You’re seriously gonna t-try n’ fit both?”

Both being the way that Nanami’s overfilling your snug channel with the dual penetration of his long, extra-sensitive tongue. 

Hissing with a slightly feral snarl marring those features when your tight hole won’t give way, Nanami’s bumping his nose against your sensitive nub with shy pecks once. Twice. Thrice to bully his feverish muscle inside.

“H-hngh—” he’s groaning at the tugging squeeze of your rubbery cunt. Stray fingers scissoring open your gluey walls, “Need ya to m-milk my tongue- know you can- ah! Gonna take it like my good girl, aren’tcha?” 

And it happens all at once.

You don’t know what you’re more surprised at - the way that he’s somehow managing to wedge in that sugarcoated drive of his tongue, or the way that you’re cumming.

Your own high taking you by surprise - taking all but Nanami by surprise. 

And you’ve never felt anything like this before, eyes flashing with white-hot stars. 

They’re burning into your brain and rendering you absolutely stupid with every bludgeon of his fingers into your gooey depths. So fast and hard that you can feel the recoil from your bulging g-spot sprinting in cratering vibrations down your spine.

“Nana- Ken-ohhh fuck!” Your mouth drivels away mindlessly, the euphoria so good that you can feel pools of dribble spilling from the corners of your lips with every grind. Thighs quaking, somehow wanting more- shit, seems the aphrodisiac won’t be done after just one…“M’cumming- ngh- m’cumming m’c-cumming.”

“Mhmmm- already know.” Words sinking down into what almost sounds like whines, and Nanami almost feels like he could cum in his pants. “Come now- pull on m’hair n’ r-ride me through that pretty high.” Filthy. Depraved. He’s curling the deliciously gravely tastebuds on his tongue to lap up every one of your knotted waves of slick, letting viscous wad after wad hit the back of his throat with a lewd splat!. “H-hehhh. Chatty pussy- y’know what else she’s sayin’?”

Shit- the idea makes your fingers nimbly pull at Nanami’s soft strands until he’s wafting out a low atta giiirl. Mumbling through croaking moans that just won’t stop dropping from your lips, “Wh-ngh! what?”

“She’s hngh- saying…” Yeah, it wasn’t the aphrodisiac - it definitely wasn’t the aphrodisiac that had him losing his fucking mind like this. It was you. “-that yer gonna g-give me another biiiig one very soon.”

Oh.

That wasn’t a promise - Nanami didn’t have to promise that. 

Because he was so intoxicated by that caramel scent sticking to you. Increasing twofold when with a sodden swat! down your bawling slit, you’re being stretched out with three of his digits until you were wide agape. Embarrassingly, so.

But not for Nanami - with a tantalized loll of his head into the silk-covered pillows, he’s gifting your sloppy entrance with a thick wad of saliva. 

As if the need was infectious - that orbed mass of spit flooding the inside of your cozy pussy just before his tongue is. 

“Ngh- s-so hot- ya like that new lipstain, my love?” He’s gulping down the excess slushes of your slick with every thrust past your glutinous walls, hard. Sloppy. Making such a mess on purpose, because for all how straightlaced Nanami was - all that shattered when it came to you. “-s-so sweet. Ah- h-hold my hand if s’too much, darling.”

“Feels so s-sensitive but…” Your jaw drops into a soft oh! when his rugged tongue drags over the globed bruises of his fingertips inside. Fingers scrambling for his free ones in midair, “-but I want more, Kentooo-”

With the leverage on your hand, he’s helping your burning thighs manage out a few more soppy strokes up and down. 

Your head is so dizzy by now, and you can barely see straight. Barely stumble to match every sopping smooch being punished upon your overwhelmed pussy. “Look so pretty like this- So tight- so cute. Probably c-couldn’t even ngh- fit my tip this way.”

“S-so mean.”

“I’d be nice if ya- hngh- spit in my mouth.”

Gasping, “Like this?”  But you didn’t even have to ask - you knew the answer in Nanami’s eyes, in the way he was smearing your pussy lips thoroughly ajar. In the way his dilated pupils run all the way to the back of his lips when you do. 

Your greedy gaze dazes back down to take in that heavenly sight of him - and you almost wish that you still had your camera for the article today with you. Because this was a sight you wanted to remember forever and ever. 

He’s so pretty with his golden locks splayed out like an angelic halo on the pillowcase below, clammy skin flushed rose red, swollen lips coral pink and gumming over your gluey ones like it was his favorite candy. Sucking. Even harder at the sloshes of translucent sap that laminated his face down to his chin, his neck, and all the way up to his cheekbones. 

Thighs stuttering and sticking with every grind on top of his face, it’s all you can do to manage out a pitchy, “Think I might just- K-Ken–”

He’s swirling up a lazy few fingertips to your needy clit and pinching. “-cum all over m’face again, my girl.”

You do. You do like you can’t stop.

And he’s supping up every draining burble of your flooding slick like it was an antidote to this little ah…indisposition. 

He says so, too - gurgling out wet little scientific explanations into your cunt that make your high peak with orgasms upon orgasms. Your second, third, and forth meshing into one to make you practically convulse. Nanami’s forced to dig his fingers into the plush of your thighs to stop you from escaping. 

And the question about whether this was part of his powers is halfway out of your mouth before Nanami’s leaving off a final swat! again your drooling pussy.

Chuckling - crazed - at the wispy sprays of juices that makes you gush out. 

“C’mon now, do those legs s-still work?” Nanami can’t hide the way that his deep voice wobbles into what almost sounds like a laugh. High. 

You’re being ragdolled with a squelching pop! off of his heated mouth and easily lifted to take his third favorite seat of yours - his lap. The second being his mouth, and the first- well, it was sure to be his thoroughly achy, angry cock right about now. 

“Ken-”

Nanami couldn’t bear to hear his name in your sweet, whimpering tone - he just couldn’t. Shutting you up with a slow slide of a kiss, “Yeahhh, darlin’...kiss me- more. Lick it allll up.”

“D-didn’t think you’d be so dirty…” you’re gasping, when his tongue pries your slagging maw open to once more spit. Sweet. Caramelized. 

“Oh, my pretty girl…” Two of his soppingly wet fingers smush your cheeks into a pathetic pout, “You haven’t seen dirty just yet. Now- spit back in m-my mouth, why don’tcha?”

You do - splattering a messy mark right at that adorable dimple of his with your messy aim. But he loves it - it was so sweet. Darting out a tongue to extract back all those sugary remnants before giving you one, final French kiss. 

Begging in that growling way of his, “Whaddya- whaddya want from me- I’ll give ya anything- anything-” Both arms looping your waist to plaster your sweaty front into his Herculean one, you have to hold back a keen at how your hardened nipples massage against his pecs. 

But, most of all, what you could feel - what you so badly wanted to feel - was that long, thick outline that jerked once you glide away sweaty strands of Nanami’s hair. Desperate. 

“Wan’ your cock, Kento.” You were way past feeling any sort of embarrassment now. Winding your arms around his sculpted shoulders, “N-need you ngh- inside me. Now.”

Of course, whatever you wanted - Nanami Kento would give.

He’s tugging down on the elastic waistband of those too-tight boxers, and your ears burn with the saturated schwf! of soaked fabric on skin. And that superhero suit…did not do him justice. 

Nanami’s slouching back on one arm when you’re oh-so-impatiently helping him kick off that useless piece of fabric. Head tilting with an uncharacteristically cocky smirk, “Like what you ah- see, hm?”

Shit, did you ever. 

Because it’s always the quiet ones - always. 

And with your seat position right at the thick, globular mushroom tip of Nanami’s cock, you knew that he’d be packing a staggering few inches. The mere outline of it puckering up against your pussyflaps enough to get you to gulp with nervousness.

But this? This had your jaw dropping. 

Fingers trailing down that lightly fleeced copper happy trail of his in utter disbelief. Because not only was Nanami Kento big - he was big. 

Swollen, glistening near-nine inches that jerked at the vulgar size difference of your digits struggling to wrap around his ridiculous girth. Nestled against bulky breeder balls rounded and weighing heavily underneath his strawberry pink length. He seemed even harder than usual - and it was all for you.

Fuck, that aphrodisiac. This was all for his gorgeous (future) wife.

Lazily drooling out a thick few wads of pearly pre that butters over your fingerpads, and just a simple touch - just one drag of his sweltering hot length makes Nanami whimper-

“O-oh- yeahhh- brace yerself, my girl.” He’s letting his head tumble back with a groan, heavy-handed arms guiding to the fleshy mound of your waist. “Gonna be ah- ruinin’ this pretty cunt-”

Nanami’s making you mewl with a welcoming little thwack! of his plumply bloated cockhead against your puffed-up pussy lips. Making your creaky bedframe sing out a few protests. Stirring out a staccato of one - two - three before finally - finally - slipping right between that pursed pout. 

CRASH!

An overwhelmed hand of his grips your headboard the moment he’s pushing and pushing - only to have the strong mahogany break underneath his superstrength. Damn, these powers.

“Awww, look how much yer drooling-” Nanami’s hiccuping with every tiny clench of your gummy walls around that cylindrical intrusion. A mean few fingertips so ferally smearing over the rings upon rings of saturated sap your cunt was slobbering all over his hefty base. Drawing a foggy line with them over your tummy, “G-gonna be riiiight here…h-heh.”

And maybe it was best that your dear Nanami was talking to, well, her. Because just the simple stretch that came with his fattened tip was enough to render you spellbound. 

“Nana-”

Smack! “Mhm? M’here, m’here, your dear hngh! Kento is here.”

“Kento- oh my goood-” Nonsensical syllables drooling from your lips and readily available for Nanami to kiss away. Your head slags drunkenly into the crook of his neck with each sinking inch, “S-s’so big, dunno if it’ll even ah- fit.”

“Shhh, s’gonna fit. Deep breaths…deep breaths.” 

You’re echoing, trying to time your stumbling gasps to match his. Backfiring when you only obtain lungfuls of his masculine scent, ‘D-deep breaths?“

“Mhmm- deep-” Oh, but even he wasn’t immune to the cloggy clamp of your pussy that had Nanami rutting. “Whoops.” One of his powerful forearms showcase in front of your narrowed vision, ogling all the pumped veins and rippling muscles. “C’mon- bite.”

You’re listening without a second thought, teeth sinking into the smooth skin - gurgling back tiny sobs at the sheer stretch. It felt like you were being split apart. 

He’s rolling his tips upwards, glissading you in a cozy massage against the ridges of his sweat-shielded abs. “M’gonna make it- duh. Look at me-” Dextrous fingers curling around your throat to make your woozy gaze focus on him, “Yeah- yeah. Look riiiight at me wh-when I ah- ”

And it takes only the tiniest probe of his thumpingly peaked veins bludgeoning against your tender walls, fuming divot bawling out a few geysers of creamy precum that fill you up scorchingly.

It takes only that for you to cum with an unstable shudder, moans piling on top of moans. You’re digging your fingerpads into Nanami’s damp scalp and pulling when you cum for the nth time on his cock.

You didn’t even know how you were cumming again - why, but you had a feeling that the thickening perfume of vanilla and candy in the room had something to do with it…

“C-cummin’ from jus’ the ah- tip? Seriously?” Nanami’s breathing, chest heaving with awe. Pushing and pushing away the heavy strands of his blond hair just to see you. And the urgent motions only make your pussy slide down even more, spearheading his lusciously right-leaning curve up into your gooey placeholders. “Really are jus- ah- made f’me- really ah! So perfect. So, so perfect.”

You’re watching his huffs turn heated, “Mmm- wanted you to f-fuck me like this ever since I was- ngh at the office.”

“Ohhh what a coincidence.” He grins - grins. “I’ve wan’ed to fuck ya like ah- this, since I first s-saw ya. Woulda fucked ya right then n’ there in your pretty lil’ cubicle if I ah- could.”

Crying out, “More- more more more-”

“Jus’ another inch-” Nose crinkling at the gripping resistance of your tight entrance, you were so slicked-up that you were practically flooding him with delirious puddles of resin. His fat thumb smears open your lips, “S-see? Juuuus a lil’ more-”

Oh…fuck.

He was finally- wait. No, this had to be a dream, right?

“Wait- shiiit- did you seriously-” He’s stuttering - stuttering exactly the way he used to back in the office. Back in his disguise. “Seriously…think ya deserve a little r-reward for that, right?”

Your reward just-so-happened to be another treacly wad of saliva being blasted onto your tongue. And by now you’re doing nothing but letting it easily be swallowed up with a cockdrunk smile. “God, m’feelin’ so hngh! full— c-can feel ya right- here-” 

Every jackhammer bullied up into your goopy orifice had Nanami wrecking you from the inside. His crowned, rotund tip prying open those stickily sweet walls of yours, barely even having to try to stir up a wet wipe against your poor cervix. 

“Feel me right-” One softened palm splays down across your tummy. Hard. Feeling for that tenderizing whack of his thickly tip into your most precious spots. “-here, huh? Yeahhh- f-feel that bump- touch it. Gonna c-carve out a fuckin’ ngh- cute lil’ bruise right here.” 

“P-please.”

And then, with a heady drawl of laughter, Nanami’s dredging out his tired tongue to lick over your rapid pulse like he wanted to bite. Palms still groping that orbed bulge, “Y-you wouldn’t believe what this- ngh- this is makin’ me think…”

Ever-so-curious, even when you’re being fucked stupid like this. “Wh-what?”

Earning you another few vicious ruts into your g-spot, a few thin lines of drool waterfall past his lips. Almost as if the very thought is enough to make him light-headed. 

“Jus’ thought a-about how yer always so ngh- pretty.” Muttering low and frantic with every bounce on his painfully hard cock, like he didn’t even want to admit this pussydrunk nonsense. But couldn’t stop. “So pretty when you were handlin’ Yuji today. Pretty when yer all ah- overstuffed with my cock b-but…you’d make an even prettier mama, though.”

Oh. 

A mama - Nanami Kento wanted to make you mama. 

And he was pressurizing you with pound after pound drilling into your melty depths until you were sure that you were molded around his shape. That mountainous curve of his crownhead striking every bullseyed sweet spot.

“Wan’ it-” Your legs wrangle around his slender waist, heels digging into the pretty dimples at the bottom of his spine. “Want you to f-fill me up so ngh- badly, Kento.”

“S-seriously?” Your words so distracting that it has his riotous cock drilling hard into that spot and skidding away in increasingly sappy thrashes against your battered and bruised cervix. Jaw clenching, “Really wan’ me fuckin’ this cute cunt hngh- p-pregnant, darling?”

Making you only nod and nod and nod-

“Yeahhh- anythin’ my girl ah- wants, huh?” He’s tittering at how adorably your hips were slurring out the tiniest of grinds. Up and down up and down - failing to meet his sloppy cadence, but angling your hips to use him. “N’ right now- all I wan’ is you all ah- round and fuuuuull.”

And it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac talking. 

You were beginning to overspill already, the flooded torrentials of his slushy precum seeping from the pouty ends of your slippery slit. You’re moping down his length with such humid tufts of juices, “Cum in me- please- need you to- now.”

“Mama didn’t teach ya ah- patience, my girl?” 

And despite his words, he’s falling back to lounge so sexily against the dampened sheets. Close - he could feel it in the snaking heat at the bottom of his stomach that he was so very close. 

Losing his faint grip on his power, Nanami’s clenching and balling his fists to stop from soiling permanent marks all over your body. Mind shattering. Your bedsprings bursting. Teeth gritting to stop him losing control-

Voice breaking into a few whimpers when he finally utters, “S-s’alright- greedy girl.” Before palming one hand onto the bloated budge of his length, the other swirling over your tearily overstimulated clit and tweaking. “-I can be th-the heh- strict parent.”

Oh, at this point, your orgasm is more a few heavenly tingles than anything else. 

Stimulating your most fragile of pummeled crevices, you’re feeling warm, thick goblets of Nanami’s cum swash in a sticky wave. And there’s so much of it - extra with his condition right now, spurting out ribbony ropes of sickly sweet cum with every squeeze of his bulky balls.

Those knotted wads of ivory are filling you up until your gummy walls were inflating, thunking out a little wet spot at your cervix. Something that he can’t help but keen over a few fat digits and push to make a splashing mess. “Gonna get ya pregnant- I will g-get ya pregnant.”

Nanami’s big, beefy arms are pinning you to the front of his chest like he never wanted to let go. Never would. 

Heaving to chase his breath - and, yet, still failing with every battering ram of his snaking cock. Fucking up the thickly viscous streams of cum up deeper and deeper-

“O-oh.” Nanami’s muttering, glassy wooden eyes straying somewhere beyond you and towards the end of the bed. The strangely…sagging bed. “We broke the- hah- we broke the bed.”

Shit. But you barely have the time to register his words before- THUD!

Your back is being brazenly splayed-out across the mahogany floors of your bedroom, Nanami’s arms underneath you shielding your body from every ounce of the stinging smack. Strong. Holding onto you tight. 

Still pumped inside, still carving out the free ounces with masses upon masses of his swollen cock. 

With your head drooping barely-lucidly to the side, you’re gasping at the blackened palm print that had burned itself onto the floor right beside your head.

The air around the two of you was candied, pheromones of candy and vanilla melding into what was probably your favorite scent now. Ahhhh…he didn’t even care if this was the cure anymore.

And despite being the strongest being in perhaps the entire universe, Nanami was melting into you. His abs adhesively plastered against your front, hips rolling in what can’t even be called grinds. Just simple, sappy gyrations of his still-twitchy cock. 

He’s whispering out a slurring mantra of words into your thoroughly wrenched open mouth - barely even able to talk coherently after that mind-shattering orgasm. “Lock- lock them- lock them please-”

“I-I caaaan’t.” You’re whimpering out, limp legs uselessly dangling like dead weight where Nanami was resting them on the cushiony home of his deltoids. 

But not to worry. Of course not to worry, your Nanami was here for you. 

Biceps bulging when one arm bends to pin your ankles behind his neck, he’s folding you down, down, down into such a filthy mating press. 

Moving you around as if it was nothing, as if you couldn’t hear your joint weakly popping. His healing powers being kicked involuntarily into overdrive…fuck.

Nanami can feel his cock jerk - barely softened for a few nanoseconds before thumping with every ounce of blood in his fully spent brain.

“Awww, t-too weak?” Planting a sodden peck against the corner of your ankles. And something in that tone told you that the two of you were far, far from over. That the slowly drunken fucking of Nanami’s hips was just the beginning. He’s squashing back a few remnant dredges of seed from just earlier, slipping out just enough to smear a messy white lipstick. “Well then…”

You’re jolting at the quick pap! pap! pap! of his ballooned tip popping out a few sloppily smushing strikes - before sinking deeply back in.

He’s fucking you again- and again and again and-

“Y-you know I h-haaaah- hate disrespectin’ my girl like- this-” He’s staring deeply into your eyes, gesturing languidly at the expanse of the floor. Ever-the-gentleman…usually. “-but if s’f-fer makin’ our daughter…then. Gotta make sure that I can be her Superdad.”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have the best week n’ happy new year in advance <3

Plagiarism not authorized.