#I’m just bitter right now because I know everyone is having fun and I’m just sitting here

[lemonynuggets]

sitting in front of my brother’s candy pile miserably knowing he won’t share a single candy with me

[rootedinrevisions]

Terrified to Lose You

Summary: It was supposed to be nothing—just one reckless night to get each other out of their systems before he shipped out. But when cocky, insufferable Jake Seresin lets his guard down, and she lets herself lean in, the lines between want and something deeper start to blur. With the weight of tomorrow pressing in and unspoken feelings lingering between them, neither is ready to admit just how much this night really means. Because once the sun rises, he’s gone and there are no guarantees he’s coming back.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Sexual Content/Smut. Strong Language, Military Themes (Looming Deployments, Uncertainty of Returning from Deployments, etc.)

Word Count: 9,514

Author’s Note: This is a combination of a request I received for enemies to lovers with Jake Seresin. As well as the @elixirfromthestars writing challenge using the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone from the Twisters soundtrack…but using it for the Top Gun: Maverick Fandom instead. Hope you guys like it! xx

The Hard Deck is buzzing with the usual chatter, but there’s an edge to it tonight. The music is a little too loud, and the pool tables are too noisy, but no one is really having fun. Not tonight.

The squad has gathered, everyone gathered around the bar, half-heartedly pretending to be relaxed. The pitchers of beer on every table are the only thing that seems to lighten the mood, but it’s forced. 

Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow evening Coyote, Hangman, Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob head out for a mission they’ve been preparing for for weeks. There’s a lingering sense that no one knows exactly what’s waiting for them on that aircraft carrier.

Coyote and Rooster are at the pool table, the clack of cues against balls filling the space. Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob are crowded around one of the tables laughing at some half-hearted joke. But even they can’t ignore the quiet weight of what’s coming. The deployment is looming, the jet engines roaring in their minds even as they try to unwind, and everyone knows that tonight could be the last time they are all together.

But you? You’re on the outside looking in. You had been on the shortlist. Had been the key phrase. Your name was in the mix for this mission, and for a moment it felt like you would finally get your shot. Then the final call came, and you weren’t picked. The rejection stings more than it should, but you push it down. You try to drown it in a gulp of your drink.

You shouldn’t be bitter. They chose who they thought was right for the mission, but that doesn’t stop the resentment from bubbling up in your chest.

Then of course there’s Jake. He's sitting at the bar, that cocky smirk never leaving his face. Even as the weight of tomorrow presses on him too. His eyes flicker toward you once in a while, the usual game between you two never stopping. There’s always a silent challenge in the air when the two of you are in the same room.

Even now, with everything so tense, you can feel his gaze like a weight on your back.

“Stop staring, Hangman,” you mutter to yourself, but you know he’s already aware.

You shift on your stool, and a sudden urge to leave this place sweeps over you. This wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You should be out there with them preparing for the mission. Not stuck watching them go off and do it while you sit on the sidelines.

And yet, every time you turn your head, you catch his eye again. That infuriating, self-assured smirk.

He tipped his beer toward you. "Gonna miss me when I’m gone, sweetheart?"

You scoffed, reaching for your own drink. "I don’t even like you when you’re here, Hangman."

A chorus of groans erupted from the group.

"For the love of God," Phoenix muttered, rubbing her temples like she was developing a headache. "Just fuck already and put us out of our misery."

Bob sipped his drink and shook his head. "I’d rather not have to witness that, actually."

You rolled your eyes. "As if."

Hangman, the smug bastard, winked at you like he knew something you didn’t.

You gasped, feigning outrage, which only made his grin widen. "You are unbelievable."

"And you," he countered, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse skip, "love it."

Your lips parted, ready to fire back, but the weight of everyone’s eyes on you made you hesitate. It wasn’t the first time the team had accused you two of having some kind of unresolved tension, but the last thing you wanted to do was give them more fuel for the fire.

So, instead of acknowledging the warmth creeping up your neck, you simply took another sip of your drink and turned away. Hangman let out a quiet chuckle, low and knowing, and you knew this wasn’t over.

A few hours passed, The Hard Deck was nearly empty now, and the warm hum of conversation long faded. Penny wiped down the bar, occasionally glancing your way, but she knew better than to interfere. Everyone else had trickled out, heading back to base or wherever else they were spending their last night before deployment. 

But you were still here. And so was Hangman.

He leaned against the wall near the back pool tables, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you like he had all the time in the world. That infuriating smirk of his hadn’t wavered, even as exhaustion tugged at the edges of the night.

"You worried about me, darlin’?" he drawled, voice low, lazy like he already knew the answer.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as something inside you twisted tight. "I don’t have the energy to waste worrying about you."

That should have been the end of it. But of course, it never was.

Hangman pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward you. His eyes glinted, sharp and knowing. 

"That’s a lie."

Your jaw clenched. His confidence was insufferable, unbearable even. Because it wasn’t just arrogance. It was accuracy. It was him knowing you better than he should, seeing things you weren’t ready to admit.

The pressure building in your chest needed somewhere to go, so you shoved at him. Hard. Your palms met the solid plane of his chest, and even though he barely budged, it made you feel like you had some kind of control over the situation.

You turned on your heel, needing distance, needing air. Footsteps followed, steady and unhurried. 

"You know what your problem is?"

You didn’t stop walking, didn’t answer. But when you heard him getting closer, and felt the heat of his presence just behind you, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning back around, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Oh, please, enlighten me," you snapped.

He was right there. Close enough that the scent of his cologne curled around you. Close enough that his breath, slow and even, ghosted against your skin. The space between you had evaporated, leaving nothing but heat and the heavy weight of everything unspoken.

"You talk a big game," he murmured, voice low and edged with something that made your stomach tighten. "But you don’t know what to do when someone calls your bluff."

The words hit like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you didn’t have a comeback.

Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling faster than you wanted to admit. He always did this. Pushed you right to the edge, just to see if you’d jump. And God help you, but you always did.

"Fuck you, Seresin."

He grinned, but this time, there was something sharper behind it, something more dangerous. "Yeah? Say that again."

Your teeth clenched as you shoved him, both hands flat against his chest. He barely moved, but the warmth of his body beneath your palms sent a jolt through you, one you refused to acknowledge.

"I swear to God if you don’t back off—"

"Or what?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it, something dark and crackling in the air between you.

You were breathing hard now, but so was he.

"You drive me fucking crazy," you gritted out.

Jake huffed a short laugh, tilting his head. "Likewise, sweetheart."

Silence. Charged. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, and without thinking, you wet them. It was the smallest movement, but he caught it. Of course, he did.

And then he moved.

His hands were on your face, fingers pressing into your jaw as his lips crashed into yours, hard and desperate, like he’d been holding back for way too long. There was nothing soft about it, nothing careful. It was fire and fury, an explosion of everything you’d been choking down for months.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands found his hair, twisting and pulling, nails scratching just to get a reaction. And God, did you get one.

Jake groaned into your mouth, deep and raw, before spinning you, pushing you back against the wooden wall of the bar. The impact sent a shockwave through your body, but you barely noticed. Not when his knee slipped between your thighs, pressing just enough to make you gasp.

"I hate you," you breathed, head tipping back as his mouth dragged along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

He grinned against your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. "You love this, though."

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Because the way you pulled him closer, nails digging into his shoulders, said everything.

His teeth scraped against your throat, and your grip on his shirt tightened like you were trying to ground yourself, trying to remember why this was a terrible idea. But then his hands slid down your sides, rough and unrelenting, and suddenly, thinking wasn’t an option anymore.

Jake pulled back just enough to catch your gaze, green eyes dark and wicked under the dim light of the bar’s exterior. His lips were swollen, his breath coming just as fast as yours. 

"We should get out of here," he murmured, voice rough with something you refused to name.

You scoffed, even as your body betrayed you, already aching to follow him wherever he was about to lead. "Oh, and I suppose you just happen to have a place in mind?"

His smirk was immediate, cocky as ever. "Darlin’, I always have a plan."

The arrogance sent a fresh spark of irritation through you, tamping down the heat pooling low in your stomach. You pushed against his chest, though it wasn’t nearly as forceful as it should have been. 

"Jesus, Hangman, do you ever turn it off?"

"Not when I’m winning," he shot back, and that stupidly cocky grin widening.

Your eyes narrowed. "This isn’t a game."

Jake tilted his head, taking his sweet time looking you up and down, his hands still resting on your hips like he had every right to touch you. 

"Then why," he murmured, voice low and smooth as honey, "does it feel like you’re losing?"

Your pulse slammed against your ribs. He was insufferable. Absolutely unbearable.

And you were going home with him.

God help you.

The drive to Jake’s place was tense, thick with something neither of you was willing to name. You sat in the passenger seat of his truck, arms crossed tight over your chest, gaze fixed on the road ahead as if you weren’t acutely aware of him beside you. As if every nerve in your body wasn’t tuned to him. The way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the way he shifted gears with that effortless, cocky ease, the way his tongue flicked over his bottom lip like he was savoring the anticipation.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was loaded.

You exhaled sharply, shifting in your seat. "Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna keep glancing at me like a damn creep?"

Jake huffed a laugh, glancing at you sideways. "Oh, sweetheart, I was gonna let you sit there and stew, but since you’re practically begging me to talk…"

Your head whipped toward him, eyes narrowing. "I am not—"

"Admit it," he cut in smoothly, lips curving into a smirk. "You like this. You like me."

You let out a bark of laughter, turning back toward the windshield. "You’re delusional."

Jake clicked his tongue, shifting gears again. "That so?"

"Yes," you snapped, but it lacked bite. 

Maybe because his hand had just settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, his thumb brushing idly against your jeans.

It was infuriating how casual he was about it, like he did this all the time like he knew you wouldn’t push him away. And the worst part? He was right.

You glared down at his hand but didn’t move it. 

"I hate you," you muttered, more to yourself than him.

Jake chuckled, squeezing your thigh just slightly, sending a slow wave of heat curling up your spine. 

"Sure, sweetheart," he drawled. "Keep tellin’ yourself that."

You clenched your jaw, staring straight ahead, determined not to react. You could not let him win this round.

But then he leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur, right against your ear. 

"I bet," he said, his breath fanning warm over your skin, "that by the time we get to my place, you’re gonna be begging me to ruin you."

Your stomach clenched. Your breath caught.

You turned sharply toward him, ready to rip into him, to tell him exactly where he could shove his ego. But one look at his smug, knowing expression, and suddenly, the only thing you wanted more than to slap him was to kiss him.

Jake barely had the truck in park before you were unbuckling your seatbelt, ready to throw the door open and escape the suffocating tension between you. But before you could make your move, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

"Uh-uh," he murmured, voice like silk and sin. "Not so fast, sweetheart."

You turned, mouth already open to argue, but whatever insult you had locked and loaded died in your throat when you saw his face.

Jake looked at you like he was savoring every second of your frustration, drinking in the flush creeping up your neck, the way your lips parted just slightly as you struggled for a retort. His grip on your wrist was firm but not tight, thumb ghosting over your pulse, which, much to your horror, was racing.

You swallowed hard, yanking your arm free. "Are we going inside, or are you just gonna sit here looking smug all night?"

Jake grinned, slow and cocky, before pushing open his door. 

"Oh, we’re goin’ inside," he said, stepping out like he had all the time in the world.

You inhaled sharply, willing yourself to get a grip, then followed suit, slamming the truck door a little harder than necessary. You stomped up the walkway behind him, practically vibrating with the need to do something. You didn’t even care what. Punch him, kiss him, you just needed something.

Jake reached the door first, unlocking it with ease, but instead of stepping aside to let you in, he turned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Last chance to back out, darlin’," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your body screamed at you to get closer. "Like you would let me live that down."

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I’d never let you live it down," he agreed, then tilted his head, eyes dark and burning with something that made your stomach twist. "But we both know you don’t want to back out."

And just like that, you snapped.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you yanked him down, crashing your mouth against his.

Jake groaned, deep and satisfied, as if he’d known this was coming. He let you take control for a split second before flipping the script, crowding you into the door, hands gripping your hips like he was staking a claim.

The kiss was fire and fury, all teeth and tongue. His hands roamed, rough and sure, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

You pulled back just enough to gasp, "God, I hate you."

Jake grinned against your lips, fingers curling into your waistband. "Yeah?" His voice was pure arrogance. "Show me, then."

The door had barely clicked shut before Jake had you backed against it, his body flush against yours, heat radiating off him in waves. His lips found yours again, just as greedy, just as needy as before, like he’d been starving for this and now that he had a taste, he wasn’t letting go.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, and he groaned against your mouth, low and rough, before yanking the fabric over his head and tossing it aside like it was offending him.

"Jesus, Hangman," you muttered, taking in the broad planes of his chest, the way his muscles flexed as he ran a hand through his already tousled hair.

He smirked, stepping back into your space, hands finding your waist again. "Was wonderin’ when you’d finally admit you liked lookin’ at me, sweetheart."

You scoffed, shoving at his chest. "I don’t."

Jake caught your wrist mid-shove, his grip firm, the heat of his palm branding against your skin. "Liar," he murmured, and then he spun you, pressing you against the door, his chest flush against your back.

Your breath hitched.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. "You know what I think?"

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jake chuckled, feeling your stubborn silence. "I think you like it when I get under your skin," he continued, voice thick as honey, hand sliding along your arm before settling at your hip. "I think you like fightin’ me ‘cause it makes this—" he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, biting down just enough to make your fingers twitch—"so much better."

You shivered.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he murmured, lips trailing lower.

You hated him. You hated how right he was. How much you wanted this, wanted him.

So instead of answering, you turned, grabbing his face and pulling him into another kiss, swallowing his smug little chuckle as you pushed him backward.

Jake let you lead—at least for a few steps—until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he took advantage of your forward momentum, twisting you both so you tumbled down with him.

You gasped as you landed in his lap, his hands immediately finding your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make you ache.

"Well, would you look at that," he drawled, looking up at you with pure, unfiltered arrogance. "Right where you wanna be."

Your glare was instant, but whatever insult you were about to hurl at him got lost in the way his hands slid up, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin at your hips, his gaze dark and knowing.

"Say it," he murmured, voice softer this time. "Say you want this."

You exhaled sharply, fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him grunt.

"Jake—"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

You clenched your jaw, breath coming short and fast.

"I hate you," you whispered, leaning down, lips brushing against his.

Jake grinned. "That so?"

You nodded, eyes locked on his.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head up to kiss you again, all teeth and heat. "Hate me all you want." His fingers dug into your hips, his voice dropping to a growl. "Just don’t stop."

His hands, hot and steady against your hips, didn’t push—didn’t take the way you half-expected him to. Instead, he just looked at you, gaze flickering over your face like he was memorizing the way you looked right then—cheeks flushed, lips kiss bruised, breathing heavy.

You swallowed, suddenly too aware of the weight of his hands, the heat of his body beneath you. "What?" you muttered, shifting slightly in his lap.

Jake’s fingers flexed at your waist, his jaw tightening like he was holding something back. Then his eyes lifted to meet yours.

"Want me to take this off, sweetheart?" he murmured, toying with the hem of your shirt, voice softer than before. More careful.

Your breath caught.

You weren’t sure what surprised you more. The fact that he asked or the fact that it sent a different kind of heat through you. Something deeper. Something that settled low in your stomach, curling tight.

"You don’t have to ask," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse was suddenly hammering against your ribs.

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, one hand leaving your waist to push a strand of hair from your face, thumb grazing your cheek for just a second longer than necessary. "Yeah, I do."

And that? That threw you. Because it wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t teasing. It was real. For a split second, it wasn’t about the fight, the tension, or the way you constantly tried to push each other’s buttons.

It was just him.

Your throat felt tight, and you hated it. Hated that something so simple made your stomach flip.

But you still lifted your arms.

Jake didn’t hesitate after that, peeling your shirt off in one smooth motion and tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. But then he stopped again, and Jesus Christ, the way his eyes raked over you, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, the way his breath shuddered just slightly. It made your skin prickle and made heat lick up your spine.

For the first time that night, you didn’t have some sharp remark ready.

And Jake noticed.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as his hands skimmed up your sides, settling just beneath the band of your bra. 

"Well, would you look at that," he murmured, eyes dragging back up to yours. "Speechless."

Your glare was instant, but before you could snap at him, his grip tightened, pulling you closer, lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, "And beautiful."

And just like that, he shattered every thought in your head.

Jake's fingers trailed up your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver before they settled on the clasp of your bra. He didn’t rush. There was no quick practiced flick like you might have expected. Instead, he lingered, thumbs tracing idle circles against your skin, his breath warm against the hollow of your throat.

"You good?" He murmured, lips brushing against your collarbone, his voice lower now, less teasing, almost gentle.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t used to this side of him, the part that asked, the part that wasn’t all sharp-edged arrogance and cocky smirks.

"Yeah," you muttered, but your voice was quieter now, and that was enough for him to notice.

Jake hummed like he wasn’t quite convinced, but he popped the clasp anyway, dragging the straps down your arms with an almost painful slowness before finally tossing it aside.

Heat bloomed across your chest, your arms twitching with the instinct to cover yourself, but before you could even think about being shy, Jake’s hands were there, skimming up your ribs, curling around your wrists to stop you.

"Nuh uh," he murmured, his grip firm but warm, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, dragged over every inch of you, taking his damn time like he was committing every detail to memory.

"Jake," you started, but your voice wavered, and you hated how small it sounded.

His gaze flicked back to yours immediately, something sharp flashing behind all that heat. "Don’t," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Don’t get shy on me now."

You huffed, shifting slightly in his lap trying to grasp at something. Control, defiance…anything. But then his hands were back tracing up your sides, his thumbs skimming just beneath your breasts. His eyes were locked on yours.

Your stomach flipped, and God you wanted to look away. You wanted to fight the way your heart was hammering against your ribs. But then his hands slid higher, fingers splaying wide across your ribcage holding you there.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, and it was so genuine and unguarded that it nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Jake Seresin. Cocky, arrogant, never shuts the hell up Jake was looking at you like you like you were the best damn thing he’d ever seen.  Like he’d imagined this a hundred times over but now that you were here, in his lap, chest rising and falling under his hands, he was afraid to blink in case he woke up and it was all gone.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze dragging over every inch of you with a hunger that wasn’t just lust, it was something more, something you didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Fuck,” he muttered almost to himself, his head tipping back against the couch for just a second before he looked at you again. 

His pupils were blown wide, his breath uneven and God you’d never seen him like this. It was like you had him completely undone without even trying.

His hands moved then, fingertips tracing the delicate curve of your waist before sliding up, fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice rough. “How long I’ve wanted you like this.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of your lips as you took him in. You slid your hands into his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers as you gave a firm tug. His breath hitched, his grip tightening instinctively, but he let you guide him, tilting his head back until his chin rested against your sternum.

His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling beneath you, the sharp angles of his jaw and throat bathed in the warm glow of the lamp beside the couch. He was completely at your mercy, and fuck, you liked the way that felt.

You leaned down, slow and deliberate, until your breath ghosted over his parted lips, your nose barely brushing his. His hands twitched on your waist, but he didn’t move. He was waiting. Watching. Wanting.

A smug little hum left your lips, and you let your fingers tighten just slightly in his hair as you murmured, “Well, Hangman… you finally got what you wanted.” You dragged your lips down, grazing along the sharp edge of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse jumped beneath your mouth. Then you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, voice turning to a whisper. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His hands flexed against you, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes locked onto yours as if you’d just lit a match and dropped it into a trail of gasoline.

Then he grinned, lazy and sharp, green eyes dark with intent.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with promise as his fingers skimmed higher, teasing along your spine. “You have no idea.”

One second you were in control, straddling his lap with hands in his hair. The next his hands slid down gripping the backs of your thighs as he stood, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

A startled gasp left your lips, hands flying to his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, his fingers pressing firmly into the curve of your ass to keep you steady. His smirk was downright insufferable as he took a few steps toward the hallway, completely unfazed by your sudden shift in position.

“Jesus, Hangman—” you started, but he only chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest as he carried you with ease.

“What?” he drawled, like this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. “You wanted to know what I was going to do.”

Your stomach fluttered at the effortless strength in his hold, but you rolled your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Instead, you crossed your arms loosely around his neck, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You know, you don’t have to carry me.”

Jake slowed just slightly, glancing down at you with something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “You sayin’ you don’t like it?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening against the nape of his neck.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like it. If anything, you liked it too much. But there was something about being held like this—about the way he handled you so effortlessly, so casually—that poked at an old insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind.

Guys like Jake Seresin always went for the kind of girls who looked effortless in their arms, who didn’t overthink the way they were being held, who didn’t worry about whether or not they were too heavy or too much.

Your silence must have said more than you intended, because Jake’s hold on you tightened just slightly, his smirk fading into something softer.

His voice dropped, quieter than before. “Darlin’.”

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. “I just—” You huffed a short breath, shaking your head like you could physically dismiss the thought. “I’m not some dainty little thing, okay? You don’t have to—”

“Stop.” His tone left no room for argument, and before you could protest, he adjusted his grip, bouncing you slightly in his arms as if to prove a point. “You really think I’d be doin’ this if I couldn’t handle it?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head before dipping down just enough to catch your gaze. His eyes were serious now, all teasing gone. “I like carrying you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “And not just ‘cause I can, but because I want to.”

Your breath caught, a different kind of warmth blooming in your chest, one that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the way he was looking at you.

He tightened his hold, tilting his head with a smirk that was softer than before, but still undeniably him. “Now, you gonna let me take you to my bed, or you wanna keep pretendin’ you don’t like this?”

Your heart stuttered, fingers gripping the back of his neck as you huffed, finally letting your head drop against his shoulder.

“Fine,” you muttered, and you could feel his smirk against your temple.

“That’s my girl.”

And with that, he carried you the rest of the way, leaving no room for argument.

Jake nudged the door open with his foot, the hinges creaking slightly as he carried you inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the space. His bed which was big, unmade, and ridiculously inviting was only a few steps away, but he didn’t rush. If anything, he seemed to savor the moment, taking his time as he moved toward it.

You felt the muscles in his arms flex as he shifted his grip, lowering you onto the mattress with deliberate care. His hands lingered for just a second longer than necessary, fingertips trailing lightly along your sides before he straightened to stand over you.

The air between you was thick, charged with something that was no longer just heated banter and reckless tension. This was something else. Something weightier.

Jake’s green eyes raked over you, dark and unreadable, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “You look good like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges.

Your stomach clenched, your breath coming a little quicker as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You just gonna stand there and stare, Seresin?” you teased, but the slight hitch in your voice gave you away.

His lips curled, but there was something softer behind the smirk this time. “You in a hurry?”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. “I—”

Before you could finish, Jake was moving. He crawled onto the bed, hands bracing on either side of your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours.

“You got nowhere to be,” he murmured, the words a slow drawl against your lips. “So why don’t you let me take my time?”

A shiver rolled through you, but you forced yourself to keep your expression even. “You always this much of a tease?”

Jake chuckled, the sound low and indulgent. “Only when I got something worth taking my time with.”

Your breath caught, but you refused to let him see how easily he unraveled you. Instead, you reached up, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft grunt from him. “Stop talking and do something about it, Hangman.”

Jake’s weight pressed you into the mattress, his hands roaming slowly and deliberately as his lips ghosted over your collarbone. Every touch sent heat curling through your stomach, every kiss stoking the fire that had been burning between you since the second he’d crowded into your space outside The Hard Deck.

His hands drifted lower, skimming the line of your jeans, fingers toying with the button as he watched your face.

He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “You gonna let me take these off, or you wanna fight me on it?”

You huffed a breath, fingers still buried in his hair. “What do you think?”

Jake grinned like he already knew the answer, but he still waited. Waited for the tiny nod you gave him, the permission you offered without hesitation. Only then did he move.

The sound of your zipper being undone was deafening in the quiet of the room, your breath catching as he dragged the denim down, slow enough to make you squirm.

He chuckled, low and knowing. “You always this impatient?”

You lifted your hips, helping him rid you of the last piece of clothing between you, and shot him a look. “You always this slow?”

Jake’s eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you want me rushing this.”

His hands traced up the length of your legs, teasing, exploring, his touch sending little sparks dancing along your skin. And then his fingers dug into your thighs, parting them just enough for him to settle between them.

That cocky smirk never wavered as he leaned in, his breath hot against your jaw. “Told you,” he murmured. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

Jake’s lips found the inside of your knee first. His lips were soft and teasing as they brushed your skin. His hands ran up your thighs, squeezing, but his mouth followed at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Your breath hitched as he kissed higher, his lips trailing a warm path along your skin. Every inch of you was tense with anticipation, waiting, bracing, needing.

He was right there. Right. There.

And then he exhaled a laugh against your skin, his breath warm and taunting, before shifting away to press his mouth to your other thigh instead.

Your hands fisted in the sheets. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Jake looked up at you through his lashes, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

Your head fell back against the pillows with an exasperated groan. “You’re insufferable.”

He hummed in agreement, his mouth continuing its slow, torturous exploration. His hands slid under your thighs, gripping tight, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“You love it,” he murmured against your skin, voice dripping with amusement.

You wanted to argue, but then his teeth grazed the soft skin of your inner thigh, just enough to make you gasp, and suddenly, words weren’t coming so easily anymore.

Jake's teasing had you teetering on the edge of frustration and something far more desperate. He knew exactly what he was doing. Drawing it out, making you squirm, feeding off every sharp breath and roll of your hips. But just when you were about to snap at him again, his lips finally ghosted over where you needed him most.

A strangled sound caught in your throat as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against you, his tongue flicking out just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling harder than necessary, but if anything, it only spurred him on.

For once, you were grateful Jake Seresin never shut the hell up because he really knew how to use that mouth.

His tongue worked in slow, devastating strokes, a perfect rhythm that had your back arching off the bed in seconds. He groaned against you, the vibrations sinking deep into your bones, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.

“Jake—” His name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, breathless and wrecked.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, his voice smug and husky. His grip on your thighs tightened. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

Jake was relentless.

Every time you thought he was going to give you what you needed—really give it to you—he’d slow down, change rhythm, pull back just enough to keep you on the edge but never quite over it.

It was maddening.

Your legs trembled beneath his hands, every nerve in your body burning with frustration. He was drawing it out on purpose, keeping you right where he wanted, his mouth and tongue working you into a fever pitch only to ease up the second your muscles tensed, the moment you got too close.

You let out a frustrated groan, fingers tugging at his hair in a warning. “Jake.”

A hum vibrated against you—satisfied, entertained—but he didn’t relent. He kept up his slow torture, his tongue pressing in firm, deliberate strokes, his lips ghosting over you with just enough pressure to make you crazy.

“Fuck, I swear to—”

But just when you were ready to snap, just when the tension in your stomach coiled tight enough to break, he pulled away.

You gasped, blinking down at him in disbelief, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “Are you—”

He grinned, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he settled between your legs, looking so damn smug it made you want to throttle him. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

Your glare could’ve burned a hole straight through him. “I hate you.”

His hands smoothed up your thighs, fingers kneading into your skin as he leaned up, his lips hovering just over yours. His breath was warm when he spoke. “No, you don’t.”

And then, just to drive the point home, he slid two fingers between your legs, pressing into you with the same slow, torturous precision.

Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the pillows. He chuckled against your jaw, lips brushing your pulse. “See? You love me.”

Your body betrayed you before you even had time to think of a comeback. Your hips rolled instinctively, seeking out more friction, chasing what he’d been cruelly holding just out of reach.

Jake groaned, low and rough, his fingers still deep inside you as he watched, transfixed. His free hand splayed across your hip, feeling the way you moved against him, the way your body took what it wanted.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice thick with something dangerously close to awe. “So goddamn greedy for it.”

Heat flooded your face, but embarrassment never stood a chance against the need coursing through you. You didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—even as his eyes dragged over every inch of you, taking in the way you worked yourself against his hand, the soft whimpers slipping past your lips.

Jake fucking loved it.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his fingers curling just right, pressing exactly where you needed. His mouth found your throat, teeth scraping against sensitive skin before soothing it with his tongue. “Use me. Get yourself there.”

Your stomach clenched, muscles tightening as that coil in your core wound impossibly tighter. Every stroke of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and the way he watched you like he’d never seen anything more stunning only drove you higher.

You were close. Too close.

And Jake knew it.

His lips brushed your ear, his voice a rasped promise.

"That’s it, baby. Come for me."

There was no question in his tone just certainty, confidence, command. Like he already knew you would, like you had no choice but to obey.

His fingers never faltered, his pace steady, relentless, pushing you closer and closer until there was no stopping it. Your body tensed, every nerve lighting up as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, ready to snap.

"Jake—" His name tore from your lips, a desperate, breathless cry as the release hit you, hard and all-consuming.

He groaned, low and satisfied like your pleasure was his own personal victory. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, working you through it, dragging out every last wave, every aftershock, until you were trembling beneath him.

His hands never stopped moving, slow and teasing now, like he was savoring the way you came undone for him. His lips ghosted over your hip, smug but reverent. "Damn, baby," he drawled, watching you with something almost like admiration. "That was real pretty."

Jake made quick work of his jeans and boxers, shedding the last of his clothing without a second thought. His confidence was effortless like he had no doubt in his mind that you'd want him just as much as he wanted you.

Crawling back onto the bed, he took you in, his hands smoothing over your skin, possessive and reverent all at once. Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped you over. You barely had time to react before he was guiding you forward. Instinctively, you pushed up onto your forearms, shifting to all fours, but Jake had other plans.

He let out a low chuckle, running his hands down your spine before gripping your hips and pulling you back against him. 

"Not like that, sweetheart." His voice was rough, heavy with want.

Before you could question him, he slid a firm hand between your shoulder blades and pressed down, guiding you back down to the mattress. Your cheek met the sheets, your back arching instinctively under the pressure of his touch.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice all smug satisfaction. "Much better."

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened as he aligned himself with you, his body hovering just above yours. His breath was shallow, and you could feel the heat of him so close, yet not enough to satisfy the aching tension between you both.

With a slight shift of his weight, he brought his hand down on your ass with a sharp, satisfying slap. The sound of it echoed in the quiet room, making your body jump forward at the contact. You let out a small yelp, the sting sending a rush of heat through your veins, mixing with the desire that had been building all night.

You glanced over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling quickly. "What was that for?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice gave away the sudden, surprised pleasure.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "Because I can."

You opened your mouth to snap back, to say something, anything to regain some control in this situation, but before you could get a word out, Jake shifted his weight and pushed forward, the feeling of him filling you completely. The words you’d been about to say caught in your throat, replaced by a breathless moan as he stretched you in ways that sent your body reeling.

Your back arched, and your grip on the sheets tightened as you fought to stay composed, but the pleasure of him inside you was too overwhelming. The cocky grin on Jake’s face was evident, even as he moved slowly, savoring the moment just as much as you were.

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he began to increase his pace. The sounds of his breath, sharp and steady, mixed with the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, filling the air between you. Each thrust had you gasping, your body rocked forward with every press, his rhythm pushing you further toward the edge.

With every stroke, you felt him deeper, filling you completely. The intensity of it had you gasping for air, your heart racing in time with the beat of your pulse. And for a split second, amidst the rush of sensation, a thought flashed through your mind—Why the hell hadn’t you done this before?

The idea lingered for a heartbeat, but Jake’s hand moved to your back, pressing you down into the sheets, and that fleeting thought was gone as quickly as it had come. All that was left was the heat, the pressure building inside you, and the undeniable pull of him—his rhythm, his touch, the way he moved inside you, the way his breath caught when he pulled you closer, driving deeper.

Jake could feel the way your body clenched around him, the tightening of your muscles making him groan, his rhythm faltering for just a second. He had been watching you, noticing the way your moans had shifted from his name into breathless nonsense, and he could tell you were on the verge of losing it.

With a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, he leaned down, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “You’re about to come, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, low, and cocky, but there was a softness to it that sent a shiver down your spine. “Damn, baby. You sound so fucking good. I’m gonna make sure you remember this.”

His hand slid down your body, fingers pressing into your lower stomach, feeling the way your muscles tensed and quivered, and that only made him press harder, driving deeper with each thrust.

Jake could feel the way you were unraveling beneath him, and he couldn’t help but let out a low laugh, knowing he was the one pulling these sounds from you. He was the one making you lose control. There was nothing like this—the power, the rush of it—and hell, he fucking loved it.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, “I’m not letting you go until I’ve got every last sound out of you.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a soft whimper escaping your lips without meaning to. It was just enough to fuel Jake further, his grip on your hips tightening, his thrusts becoming harder, more determined. He heard the sound you made, felt the way it vibrated in your chest, and that drove him wild.

“God, you like that, don’t you?” Jake murmured the cocky edge to his voice sharper now. He moved faster, his rhythm relentless, as if he was determined to make you fall apart in front of him.

The sound of his name left your lips again, a whimpering gasp this time, and Jake couldn’t help but smile against your back.

“I knew you’d be this responsive,” he said with a breathless chuckle, “Just let go for me, baby. Let me hear it.”

The way your body responded to him, so soft and needy, only made him push harder. Each sound you made, every tremor that ran through you, sent a wave of satisfaction crashing over him. He couldn’t get enough, his need for you only growing as he felt you getting closer, his hands tightening on your hips as he set the pace.

You were almost there, and he knew it. And that, more than anything, was what had him pushing to give you exactly what you needed.

Jake’s movements were growing more erratic, his control slipping as the pressure inside him built. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, every muscle in his body tense and straining with the need to finish. But he wasn’t going to let go just yet. Not without one more from you.

You were a mess beneath him, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, your body trembling as you met each of his thrusts. The way you felt, the sounds you were making…everything about you was driving him wild. 

He tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you back against him as he pushed harder, faster. “One more, baby,” he growled. “Give it to me.”

He didn’t ask; he commanded, his voice rough and demanding, as if there was no room for hesitation. His breath was coming in hot, heavy bursts against your skin as he drove you both closer to the edge. 

He needed to hear you. Needed to see you fall apart again.

“Don’t hold back. Let go for me,” he growled, his voice almost a low, possessive growl as he felt the last thread of his restraint snap.

Your body finally gave way, the tension that had been building between you two snapping as you let go. A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body shuddering under him as your release hit. The pressure and pleasure of it all flooded your senses, and you collapsed onto the bed, breathless and spent. Your legs shook, your mind hazy with the aftermath of what he had just pulled from you.

Jake’s movements faltered for a moment, his rhythm becoming more desperate and sloppy as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips tightened, but his breath was heavier, ragged now, his body trembling against you.

“Where do you want it?” He muttered.

It was then that the weight of it all clicked for you.

Your chest heaved with exertion as you finally managed to get your thoughts together, eyes widening slightly. You gasped, the realization dawning. You hadn’t even thought about the condom. You hadn’t talked about it.

“Jake,” you murmured, still breathless, trying to collect yourself enough to speak clearly. “I’m on birth control.”

The words had barely left your mouth before he groaned low and deep, and in the next moment, he surged forward, driving himself all the way into you, his pace finally faltering as he pushed to the brink. His fingers dug into your skin as he stilled, and then he let go with a final, possessive grunt. He filled you, the intensity of his release flooding you both, leaving you both trembling in the aftermath.

His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling as he slowly came back to himself. He stayed there, resting against you for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as the two of you tried to catch your breath. It felt almost like a release for him too. Not just physically but in the tension between you both that had been building for so long.

“Damn,” he muttered against your skin, his voice hoarse. “That was...”

He trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. You both knew exactly what it was.

Still, the weight of the moment hung in the air between you two. Neither of you moved immediately, just feeling each other’s presence, the exhaustion slowly taking over.

You sighed as you sat up, feeling the cool air against your skin as the heat of Jake’s body left you. Your limbs felt heavy, your body spent, but you forced yourself to move, slipping off the bed and padding toward the bathroom.

Jake didn’t say anything as you went, just watched you go, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the room.

Inside the bathroom, you turned on the sink, splashing cool water on your face. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, lips were swollen, the lingering evidence of Jake’s touch still visible on your skin. You exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter for a moment before straightening up.

This was…something. Whatever it was. And now, in the quiet of Jake’s bedroom, the weight of what came next started to settle over you.

By the time you emerged, Jake was pulling on a pair of sweats, his movements slower, more languid now. You grabbed your underwear and the oversized shirt he had tossed your way earlier, slipping them on before crawling back into bed beside him.

It was quiet now. The charged energy from before had settled into something softer, something heavier. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifting as the reality of tomorrow pressed in.

Beside you, Jake shifted. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze settling on you. You felt it before you saw it. The weight of his stare, studying you, tracing over your features like he was trying to memorize them.

“What?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable but intent. Finally, after a beat, he murmured, “You’re worried about tomorrow. About me..”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Your breath caught slightly, but you didn’t respond. You just swallowed, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Jake exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. “You’re gonna tell me to be safe, aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened.

“Just…” you swallowed again, voice barely above a whisper. “Just come back alive, Jake.”

The teasing smirk he had worn all night. Hell, the one he wore all the damn time faded. Something more real passed over his face, something softer, something unspoken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You finally turned your head to look at him, and for the first time, neither of you had anything smart to say.

You just held each other’s gaze, both thinking the same thing.

Jake’s fingers lingered against yours, his touch warm but tentative. You weren’t sure how long the two of you just lay there like that staring at each other in the dim light of his bedroom, words unspoken but understood.

Then, slowly, he shifted.

He leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his lips barely ghosting over yours in a way that wasn’t cocky or teasing or demanding. It was softer. Almost hesitant.

You could feel the way he exhaled against your lips like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Like maybe this, whatever this was, was throwing him off just as much as it was throwing you off.

His lips pressed to yours, just for a second. Just enough to make your breath hitch. And then he pulled back, hovering so close you could still feel him.

The quiet stretched between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. You stared at the ceiling, your mind drifting, already trying to brace for the morning.

You turned your head, glancing at him in the dim light. He looked so at ease, so different from the cocky, sharp-tongued pilot you had spent so much time arguing with. His expression was softer now, the teasing smirk gone, replaced by something quieter.

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your body unraveling as you shifted closer, tucking yourself into his side. His arm draped over you, and you let your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

His free hand rested on his stomach, and without thinking, yours followed, finding it easily in the dark. Your fingers brushed his, tentative at first like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to reach for him. Like you weren’t sure if this was something you were even supposed to want.

But Jake didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled around yours, lacing them together like it was second nature. Like holding your hand was as easy as breathing.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you had to.

The weight of the morning still lingered in the air, but for now, just for this moment, you let yourself have this.

Let yourself have him for just a little longer.

Jake’s breathing evened out long before yours did. His arm was still draped over you, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something that almost felt like peace. Almost. But no matter how hard you tried to ground yourself in the warmth of his skin, in the weight of his hand still tangled with yours, your mind kept drifting.

You stared up at the ceiling, the quiet pressing in.

And I'll ask the stars at night, how I can slow the time…

The words echoed in your head, unspoken but heavy in your chest. The night felt too short, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto it.

Your grip on Jake’s hand tightened just slightly like that alone could keep him here. Keep him safe.

But you knew it wouldn’t.

God, I’m so terrified that I’m gonna lose you.

You turned your head, your gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face softened in sleep. His brows weren’t furrowed for once. His mouth, the same mouth that had spent the night pressing cocky remarks against your skin, was relaxed.

He looked peaceful. Like he didn’t have to wake up in just a few hours and walk into the unknown. Like he wasn’t about to get into a jet and disappear into the sky, leaving you behind to wonder if you’d ever see him again.

And I’ll die if I do.

Your throat tightened, your chest aching under the weight of everything you weren’t saying. Everything you wouldn’t say.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this. Weren’t supposed to want him to stay. Weren’t supposed to feel like the world was tilting beneath you at the thought of him not coming back.

But you did.

And that scared you more than anything else.

So you did the only thing you could. You curled further into him, pressed your face against his shoulder, and let your fingers stay laced with his. Holding onto him for just a little longer.

Just in case.

[ye4gerz]

my game, your rules. — ldh part one

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut![later chap] adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 6.2k+ ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ authors note: thank you to everyone who has been patient with me about this first chapter! i get very picky when i start a series so i want this to be good lmao. the following chapters will have more scenes of haechan & reader alone + spicy scenes. enjoy!

next

“You need to start dating,” Jeno declared, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in that infuriatingly self-assured way. His tone was light, but the furrow in his brow betrayed the weight behind his words. It was the look he reserved for when he was teetering between overprotective brother and responsible older sibling, a role he took far too seriously.

“You know, focus on your future. Relationships are part of growing up,” he continued, his voice a mix of concern and exasperation. “You’re always so… wrapped up in your career goals, like it’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t bother to look up from your water, slowly stirring the cup in circles just to give your hands something to do. It was easier to focus on the swirling liquid than on the predictable lecture coming from across the kitchen.

“Because it is the only thing that matters,” you muttered, finally glancing up at him.

Jeno shook his head, letting out a sigh that sounded like he’d been holding it in for days. “See, that’s the problem. You don’t even let yourself breathe. You’re like this… robot. You study, you work, you plan, but you never actually live.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the counter with a scoff. “I’m living just fine, thanks. I don’t need a boyfriend to validate that.”

“Yeah, but fine isn’t great,” he countered, his voice tinged with frustration. “Don’t you want more than just… surviving? More than being a robot. Have some fun for once. Mom and Dad are already asking questions about your future, and honestly, I don’t know what to tell them anymore.”

There it was—the guilt card. You clenched your jaw, your grip tightening on the cup. You hated when he brought them into it.

“Tell them I’m happy focusing on my career,” you said flatly.

Jeno’s lips twitched in irritation. “You always say that like it’s the answer to everything, but you’re a full grown adult now. When are you going to start thinking about what comes after that? It’s not just about work. It’s about connecting with people, about building a life beyond just deadlines.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say, ‘Mr. Social Butterfly’. Not all of us have an endless pool of friends and a girlfriend who adores us.”

Jeno’s expression softened, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver. “It’s not about comparing. It’s about balance, and you don’t have it.”

Silence hung heavy in the room as you stared at him, your mind racing. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—how different you were from Jeno, how you buried yourself in work and ambitions while he seemed to glide effortlessly through life with equal parts charm and ease; but that was the thing: dating, love, relationships… they felt like unnecessary complications. You couldn’t afford complications right now.

“I don’t want to date, Jeno,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less firm. “I’m doing fine without distractions.”

Jeno watched you for a moment, his frustration giving way to something softer. A mixture of disappointment and worry settled in his eyes, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he just shook his head again, pushing off the counter and heading for the living room.

“I just don’t want you to look back one day and realize you missed out. Everyone is growing up and moving on with their lives. Don’t you want to do the same?” he said over his shoulder.

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring into your glass cup like it held the answer to everything, but all it reflected back was the swirl of water and your own reflection as you see in your face is uncertainty.

“You know, I just don’t get you sometimes,” Jeno muttered as he sat on the couch. “You work harder than anyone I know, but it’s like you never let yourself actually live your life.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you stared into space, your earlier irritation now mingling with something heavier—jealousy.

Your brother had always been the golden child: graduating with honors, landing a stable job right after college, and maintaining a healthy, long-term relationship with his perfect girlfriend. Even now, as you both shared an apartment, Jeno somehow made time to work out, hang out with friends, and take his girlfriend on weekly dates. He was everything your parents wanted in a child, the one they bragged about during family gatherings.

And you? You’d barely made it through college. Your GPA was nothing to write home about, and the only reason you’d graduated on time was because Karina practically dragged you across the finish line. Now, you were working as a paid intern at a company you desperately wanted to stay at full-time, but no matter how many late nights you pulled, how many extra tasks you volunteered for, it felt like you were running in place.

It was exhausting, and you were tired of hearing the same thing from your family: “Look at Jeno, he’s figured it out. Why can’t you?”

“I just don’t want to waste time,” you finally said, breaking the silence.

Jeno reappeared in the doorway, now pulling a jacket over his shoulders. “What are you wasting time on?”

You hesitated, shrugging. “Anything that doesn’t help me get ahead. That’s why I don’t care about dating. It’s just… another thing to manage.”

Jeno sighed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue this time. “Well, Karina’s got her work cut out for her keeping you sane.”

“She’s not my therapist,” you shot back, though your tone lacked bite.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he teased, grabbing his keys. “Speaking of which, we’re supposed to meet everyone at the arcade in twenty minutes. You ready?”

You glanced down at your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. “Obviously not.”

“Get changed, then. Make it quick—Mark’s always late anyway, but Haechan will make fun of you if we’re late too.”

You huffed, dragging yourself to your room to throw on something presentable. After rummaging through your closet, you found something decently acceptable and slipped it on. Jeno was right—that was something you already knew—but it wasn’t what you wanted. Why did you have to follow Jeno’s formula for life when you wanted to create your own? Just to please your parents?

You put your hair up in a clip and sighed, watching your reflection in the mirror. The smile you’d worn before this conversation had clearly faded. All you could do was your best and hope it would be enough—but for now, skee-ball sounded better.

The flashing lights and hum of arcade machines filled the air as you and Jeno stepped inside. It was lively and chaotic, with the clinking of coins, bursts of laughter, and the occasional celebratory shout from someone winning a game. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets, already bracing yourself for the energy of Jeno’s friend group and looking around for Karina.

Sure enough, you spotted the guys near the basketball shooting game. Chenle was locked in a heated competition with Mark, who was flailing dramatically every time he missed a shot. Haechan, of course, was standing nearby, cheering and making exaggerated comments to throw them off their game.

“You’re late!” Chenle called out, pausing mid-shot to wave as you and Jeno approached.

“And you’re losing,” Haechan teased, pointing at Chenle’s score with a smug grin.

Chenle glared at him but turned his attention back to you, his smile warming. “Hey! Looks like you finally decided to join us?”

“Not like I had a choice,” you replied dryly, nudging Jeno with your elbow.

“Aw, come on,” Mark chimed in, abandoning the game as Chenle claimed victory. “We’re way more fun than whatever you’d be doing at home.”

You shrugged. “Debatable.”

“Debatable?” Haechan repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. “You’re in the presence of greatness. We’ve got Chenle, the reigning basketball champ, Mark, the king of being–uh Mark, and me—your personal highlight of the night.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Personal highlight? You mean my personal headache.”

Haechan placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Your words wound me.”

Before the banter could continue, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“There you are!” Karina waved excitedly as she emerged from the crowd, a handful of tokens jingling in her hand.

“Karina!” Relief flooded you as you met her halfway, grateful for the excuse to escape the chaos of Jeno’s friends for a moment.

“Sorry, boys, but she’s all mine now! We’ll be back when you finally decide to exchange your tickets into plushies for both of us,” Karina says with a grin as she takes your hand.

The guys groaned, all except Haechan, who smiled and looked directly at you. “Sounds like a challenge, but whatever you say.”

Even though you didn’t say anything, it almost felt like he made that promise just for you. Before you could respond, however, Karina had already dragged you to the other side of the arcade.

“You know,” she began as the two of you wandered toward a quieter corner of the place, “it’s kind of adorable how Haechan never stops teasing you.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Adorable is not the word I’d use. Annoying, maybe.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Come on, admit it. He’s kind of cute when he does it.”

“He’s not cute,” you replied quickly, but the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.

Karina caught it immediately, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, you’re smiling! You like it, don’t you?”

“No,” you insisted, though the small grin lingered despite your best efforts. “I just think it’s funny how full of himself he is. That’s all.”

Karina hummed, unconvinced, but thankfully didn’t press further. Instead, she dragged you toward the skee-ball machines, determined to beat your score from your last arcade outing.

After playing a few rounds of skee-ball with Karina, you found yourself back with Jeno’s group. The familiar chaos resumed as Mark and Chenle challenged each other to yet another round of basketball, their shouts and laughter echoing through the arcade. Jeno, meanwhile, had stationed himself at the claw machine, laser-focused on grabbing a plush toy for his girlfriend.

You stood off to the side, sipping on a soda, when Haechan appeared beside you.

“Not joining in?” he asked, leaning casually against the railing.

“Not really my thing,” you admitted, gesturing to the flashing chaos around you.

“Let me guess,” he said, tilting his head with a teasing grin. “You’d rather be home working, right?”

“Maybe,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

Haechan shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re too predictable, ya know.”

“Excuse me?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his tone softer now. “You don’t always have to be locked up in your room. It’s okay to let loose every now and then.”

His gaze lingered on you a little longer than necessary, and you suddenly felt the urge to look away. There was something unnerving about how easily he could read you, something that made you feel exposed in a way you weren’t used to.

“There’s something else bothering you—I can tell. You know you can’t hide these things from me. What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone full of concern.

You didn’t know how he managed to do that so effortlessly: reading you without you having to say a word. The friendship between you two was something Jeno wasn’t really aware of. As far as your brother knew, you and Haechan were just acquaintances, but since Jeno never really tried to pay attention to your personal life, he had no idea about the real bond you shared with his best friend.

You sighed. “Jeno had a stupid talk with me about my future and our parents. Apparently, they want me to find someone to settle down with and eventually move out.”

You shrugged, your frustration evident. “It’s stupid stuff. Jeno probably just wants me to move out so he can live with his girlfriend. I don’t understand how he can live such a perfect life, but when I’m in the middle of trying to build my own, my family would rather I focus on finding a relationship instead.”

Haechan nodded, listening intently, his expression encouraging you to continue venting. “Well,” he said carefully, “what do you think you can do to calm them down a bit? I mean, I know this isn’t the first time this conversation has come up. Jen’s just worried you’ll end up alone, and as annoying as he can be, he’s only trying to protect you. You also can’t hold him back forever.”

“But that’s the thing!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands. “I never asked for anyone to look out for me! I can handle it myself—it’ll just take time,” you huffed, frustration bubbling up inside you.

“If only I had a boyfriend so they’d lay off and let me keep doing my own thing,” you muttered, frowning.

And just like that, something shifted in Haechan’s expression. A flicker of light flashed in his eyes, his smirk softening into something more serious.

“What if we dated?” he asked.

Your jaw dropped as Haechan’s words hung in the air. For a moment, you wondered if you’d misheard him.

“W-What?” you finally managed to say, blinking at him like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world.

He shrugged, his usual smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes held a glimmer of something softer. “I’m serious. What if we fake dated? It would solve your problem with Jeno and your parents, and you wouldn’t have to worry about them nagging you anymore.”

You stared at him, trying to make sense of his offer, trying to find the joke. “But… why? What would you even get out of it?”

Haechan leaned against the arcade railing, crossing his arms as if he had already anticipated the question. “Think about it,” he said smoothly. “If we fake date, I’ll finally have an excuse to stop all these random girls from hitting on me. They’re relentless, you know,” he added with a dramatic sigh. “Plus, it’ll be fun messing with Jeno. Watching him freak out over us? Priceless.”

You frowned, searching his face for any sign that he was joking, but he seemed completely serious—or at least as serious as Haechan could be.

He must have noticed your hesitation because he straightened up, softening his tone. “Look, you don’t have to decide right now. Think about it and text me when you’ve made up your mind. No pressure.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

“Hey guys!” Karina called, waving excitedly as she approached with the rest of the group. “Come on, we’re heading to the ticket counter! Time to claim our winnings!”

Mark and Chenle followed behind her, grinning as they displayed their handfuls of tickets like trophies. Jeno trailed behind, already scanning the prize wall with a competitive gleam in his eye.

Haechan gave you one last look, his usual playful smirk firmly back in place, before Karina grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the prize counter.

“Come on!” she said, practically bouncing with excitement. “You and I are picking out matching plushies, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

You let yourself get pulled into the chaos, trying to shake off the conversation you’d just had with Haechan. Even as you laughed at Mark’s dramatic attempts to win more tickets and listened to Karina gush over the prizes, your mind kept circling back to Haechan’s offer.

Fake dating him? Pretending to be in a relationship with Jeno’s best friend? It was ridiculous. It would never work… would it?

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Haechan glancing at you as he helped Chenle argue with the clerk over how many tickets they actually needed for a giant stuffed bear. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about the way he looked at you that made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

As Karina handed you a small plush cat she’d picked out for you, you forced yourself to focus on the present. You’d think about Haechan’s offer later—when your heart wasn’t racing from his lingering gaze.

As you were getting ready to leave the arcade, you made your way around to say goodbye to everyone, saving Karina for last. She pulled you into a tight hug, her usual warmth and energy radiating.

“Chenle’s dropping me off, so no worries!” Karina reassured, squeezing your shoulder. “Goodnight, girl. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay? Love you!” With a bright smile, she walked alongside Chenle towards his car, chatting animatedly as they disappeared into the parking lot.

Jeno was already waiting in the car, the faint hum of the engine indicating he was warming it up while you finished your goodbyes. You made your way toward the passenger side, but just as you reached for the handle, someone called your name.

“Wait up!”

You turned, brows furrowed in confusion, only to see Haechan jogging up to you, his grin unmistakable even under the glow of the arcade lights.

“Before you go, I wanted to give you this,” he said, holding up a small keychain. It was a brown bear with a slightly open mouth, its expression as adorable as it was silly.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Haechan… what is this?”

“It’s the only thing I could get with my tickets,” he said with a smirk. “I told you I’d take the challenge.”

You blinked at him, your face flushing as you took the keychain from his outstretched hand. The little bear felt warm in your palm, its tiny eyes staring up at you.

“I think we should name him Gomdo,” he added, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you.

Your jaw dropped slightly, caught off guard by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Haechan. You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugged, his smile softening. “Maybe I wanted to.” Then, leaning in close, he brought his lips to your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Remember what we talked about. I’ll be ready to hear your answer.”

Before you could respond, he leaned back, flashing you one last smile before turning and walking away towards Mark's car, his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. You stared after him for a moment, your heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

Feeling flustered, you tucked the little bear into your purse, its presence somehow both comforting and unnerving as you climbed into the car.

Jeno glanced at you curiously as you settled into the seat. “What was that about?”

You forced a casual chuckle, waving it off. “Oh, he just wanted to brag about how he spent his tickets.”

Jeno seemed to accept your explanation with a shrug, turning his attention back to the road as he shifted the car into gear. Meanwhile, you sat quietly, your hand brushing against your purse where Gomdo was tucked away.

Haechan’s words replayed in your mind, his grin lingering longer than you wanted it to.

You spent the entire night tossing and turning in your bed, unable to shut your mind off. Every time you closed your eyes, Haechan’s offer replayed in your head, his voice lingering in the quiet of your room. Since your shower, you’d been fixated on making a mental list of pros and cons, but the more you thought about it, the more tangled your thoughts became.

When the clock struck midnight and you were still wide awake, you reached for your phone, anxiety thrumming in your chest. Your thumb hovered over the screen as doubt clawed at you.

Would this really be the right choice? Would it even be worth it in the end?

You rationalized the situation for the hundredth time. By the time you eventually moved up in your career, you could always fake a breakup with Haechan. It could serve as a final point to your family—that you didn’t need a relationship or the promise of a family of your own to find happiness.

The thought of proving them wrong—of showing them that your career and personal goals mattered more than societal expectations—burned away your worries, leaving only determination.

Without realizing it, your fingers started moving on their own, tapping out a message on the screen. Haechan’s name sat at the top of the chat, glowing faintly in the dim light of your phone.

You: I’m in. We can start later today.

For a moment, silence stretched around you, broken only by the faint hum of your phone vibrating against your comforter a few minutes later.

HC: I knew you’d come around, babe. We’ll talk more details in the morning. Sleep well, my girlfriend ;)

You stared at the message, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. Leave it to Haechan to throw in a wink and a nickname like it was second nature.

Sliding your phone onto your nightstand, you sank back into your pillows, a strange mix of nerves and excitement settling over you. It wasn’t real—none of it would be real—but with Haechan officially as your unofficial boyfriend, it felt like you were stepping into something bigger than either of you realized.

And for the first time that night, your eyes grew heavy, the weight of the decision no longer keeping you awake.

“You’re what?!” Jeno’s voice shot up, laced with disbelief as he stared at the two of you in shock.

“I’m sorry, Jen,” you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound as convincing as possible. “I really wanted to tell you earlier, but I needed to talk it over with Hyuck first.” You glanced at Haechan, hoping that using a part of his birth name might soften Jeno’s skepticism.

Haechan met your gaze with a confident smile before turning back to Jeno. Without missing a beat, he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand firmly. “It’s real, bro. I’m sorry we didn’t say anything sooner, but we wanted to be sure before telling you. I’ve never felt a connection like this with anyone else.”

His tone was steady and sincere as he continued. “She’s beautiful, but it’s not just that. She grounds me, man. She makes me smile, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart. She’s worth everything and more.”

For a moment, you were stunned. The way he spoke—his words, his expression—was so genuine that it made your heart skip a beat. For a split second, you almost believed him.

Jeno, however, wasn’t buying it just yet. “This is so weird,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as he took in the sight of you and Haechan holding hands. “I told you to get a boyfriend, but Haechan? Seriously? Out of all people?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Haechan’s posture straightened, his mock offense laced with just enough humor to lighten the tension.

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No offense, dude, but you’re the last person I’d want dating my sister. I mean, look at you two—standing there, holding hands, looking all… infatuated. It’s just—it doesn’t make sense to me.” He flopped onto the couch, his face contorted in bewilderment.

Haechan tightened his grip on your hand, his voice unwavering as he said, “Well, nothing’s going to change how I feel about her. I might be your best friend, but I promise you—I’m going to be the best, and only, boyfriend your sister will ever need.”

You took a deep breath, stepping in to support Haechan’s story. “And it’s not like we’re rushing into this, Jeno. We’ve already been on dates! Remember a few weeks ago when I left work early and told you I had a headache? That was actually because I was so nervous about a date with Hyuck that I needed extra time to get ready. Oh! And the night at the arcade! He wasn’t bragging about his tickets–he actually got me a teddy bear!”

Jeno groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “It’s still… weird. But hey, if you’re treating her right, and if you’re both happy—who am I to judge?” He looked between the two of you, his expression still full of disbelief but softening slightly. “I guess I’ll let Mom and Dad know unless you want to do it yourselves. I just need a minute to process this…”

He stood up, shaking his head as he started to leave the room. Before walking out, he threw a glance at you and Haechan, his brows furrowing.

“You can tell them if you want,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just make sure you tell them the most important part—we’re happy together.”

You turned to Haechan, offering him a small smile that he returned easily. For all the absurdity of this fake relationship, in that moment, it almost felt real.

Jeno shot you and Haechan one last skeptical look before heading to his room to call your parents with the news. The sound of his door locking was like a signal, and the moment it clicked, you yanked your hand out of Haechan’s grip, wiping your palm aggressively on his sleeve.

“What was that for?” he asked, feigning offense as he inspected his now slightly wrinkled sleeve.

“You have sweaty palms! At least give me a heads-up if you’re going to go completely off script!” you hissed, your voice low but sharp. “What even was all that? We practiced everything for nothing!”

Haechan leaned back, his expression unbothered. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? He totally bought it. You’re lucky we didn’t have to pull out the photos too!”

You narrowed your eyes, his smugness only fueling your irritation. The “photos” he was referring to were ones he insisted you take during your so-called “official unofficial dates” to sell the story. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the idea, but Haechan had been adamant.

“What kind of relationship would we be in if we didn’t have any photos or memories together? Are you trying to get caught?” he had said during one of your early planning sessions, his tone half-joking but entirely serious.

And to your frustration, he wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t forget,” he added now, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “those photos got you free food and drinks too. Having a girlfriend is so expensive, by the way. I should start invoicing you.”

You groaned, resisting the urge to smack his arm. “Well, luckily for you, this fake relationship has an expiration date. You won’t have to deal with me for much longer.”

Haechan rubbed the arm you’d just wiped your hand on, exaggerating the motion. “You’re the one making this hard, you know. I’m just trying to be the best fake boyfriend you’ll ever have.”

Despite yourself, a laugh slipped out, and you let out a deep breath, some of the tension from the past few weeks melting away. “In all seriousness, though,” you said, softening your tone, “I really appreciate this. I just… I need a little breathing room from them.”

Haechan’s playful expression faded, replaced by something gentler. “Hey, I get it. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

For a moment, you found yourself caught in his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his words. Then, as if sensing the shift, he clapped his hands together and grinned. “Now, do I get a thank-you for my oscar-worthy performance, or what?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face. “Thank you, Hyuck,” you muttered begrudgingly.

“Louder for the people in the back?”

“Don’t push it.”

He smiled at you, and for a brief moment, you swore your heart did something strange—something you weren’t ready to acknowledge. You quickly brushed it off, telling yourself it was just the adrenaline of lying to your brother.

A blush crept onto your face, but you shook it away, turning your attention elsewhere. “So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Haechan shrugged casually before plopping himself down on your couch. Without a second thought, he grabbed the leftover bag of chips Jeno had abandoned earlier and began munching away, his hand already reaching for the remote.

“What kind of movie are you feeling tonight?” he asked as he scrolled through Netflix like he owned the place.

You blinked at him, baffled. “Um, why? And what are you doing?”

He glanced at you, feigning innocence. “I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? As your boyfriend, we should actually spend more time together—to, you know, make a point. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t spend time with my girl?” He punctuated the sentence with a playful wink and puckered his lips dramatically in your direction.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you muttered, fighting back a smile as you sat down beside him. With a quick motion, you yanked the bag of chips out of his hands and into your own. “And the answer is thriller.”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he draped his arm lazily over your shoulders, making himself more comfortable. “Good call. If you get scared, don’t hesitate to lean on me, baby. I’ll protect you.”

“Wow, just like that, you ruined the moment,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Now play the movie before I change my mind.”

Despite your words, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. Sitting beside him, the banter flowing so naturally, felt… comfortable. More comfortable than you had expected.

Of course, you still weren’t used to Haechan calling you pet names, but the way they rolled off his tongue with such ease made you think you could eventually get used to it—out of necessity, of course. At least, that’s what you told yourself as the movie began playing and the two of you settled in, perhaps a bit too close together.

It has been almost a week since the announcement at your place. A whole week of spending more time with Haechan than you ever thought you would.

You pouted as you walked beside him, your breath visible in the freezing air. Haechan, ever observant, noticed immediately.

“What’s with you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.

“What’s with me is that I wanted to stay late at work to finish up some paperwork and presentations,” you huffed. “Yet here I am, being dragged out of the office to get freaking ice cream.”

“Again, what’s the problem here? Sounds more like a blessing to me,” Haechan replied with a smirk, his tone brimming with pride. “Also, don’t blame me. Jeno’s the one who called and asked me to pick you up after work. I just figured we could grab some ice cream on the way back.”

You shot him a skeptical look, squinting at him. “It’s freezing outside, and you thought ice cream was a good idea?”

“Can’t help thinking about sweet thoughts when all I think about is you,” he said with a wink, nudging your arm.

Your face immediately heated, and you turned your head sharply to hide your blush. “You’re irritating, and you don’t need to flirt with me when Jeno isn’t around, it’s not necessary,” you muttered, but your voice lacked the bite you intended.

Haechan laughed, the sound warm and teasing. “Oh, but it is, you’re so easy to make blush. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you responded, rolling your eyes, though your heart raced at his words.

The two of you stepped into the small corner ice cream shop, its warmth a welcome contrast to the bitter cold outside. You had no intention of actually enjoying yourself, but the cozy atmosphere and the way Haechan seemed genuinely excited made it harder to stay annoyed.

He leaned casually against the counter, studying the menu like it was the most important decision of his life. “Cookies and cream, right?”

You blinked, “how’d you know?”

He shrugged, flashing you a playful grin. “I pay attention. You’re predictable, remember?”

“Predictable?” you echoed, crossing your arms.

He nodded confidently. “Cookies and cream ice cream, oversized hoodies, snarky attitude—you’re like a walking checklist.”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped when you noticed his smug grin. He wanted you to argue. If there’s anything he enjoyed just as much as making you blush, it was definitely getting under your skin. Instead, you huffed, turning your attention to the menu.

Minutes later, you sat by the window with your cone, the soft glow of the shop’s lights reflecting off the glass. Haechan plopped down across from you, licking his strawberry ice cream with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.

“You look ridiculous,” you said, unable to hide your grin.

“Yet, here you are, enjoying my company,” he shot back.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it—he had a point.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, you found yourself laughing more than you’d expected. Haechan had a way of making even the simplest stories entertaining, his animated expressions and dramatic gestures drawing you in, distracting you of the outside world.

It wasn’t just his humor. It was the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way his voice softened when he teased you gently. There was a warmth to him, a genuine charm that you hadn’t fully noticed before.

Your gaze lingered on him for a moment too long, and when he caught you staring, his smirk widened.

“See something you like?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Your face burned, and you quickly looked down at your ice cream. “In your dreams.”

“Every night,” he quipped, his tone teasing but his gaze steady.

You forced a laugh, but your heart wasn’t cooperating. It thudded against your chest, each beat reminding you of a truth you didn’t want to face.

Don’t fall for it. You can’t.

The cold air nipped at your skin as you eventually walked side by side down the quiet streets. Despite the chill, the warmth in your chest hadn’t faded. It was unsettling.

Haechan’s hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, his steps light and unhurried. “You’ve been quiet. What are you thinking about? Is it because of my incredibly good looks?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “don’t flatter yourself.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you with an exaggerated gasp. “You are thinking about me!”

“Am not!” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“Liar,” he teased, stepping closer. “You’re thinking about how irresistible I am. Admit it.”

You glared at him, your lips twitching despite your best efforts. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to thank him, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.

Haechan’s teasing demeanor had melted away, replaced by something softer, genuine. His dark eyes locked on yours, and the playful smirk that usually graced his lips was absent. His soft eyes grazed you up and down with something much more than just friendship.

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his gaze flickering to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes.

For a split second, you thought he might kiss you, and the realization sent a rush of panic through you. Before either of you could move, the door behind you swung open.

Jeno stood there, keys in hand, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

“Well,” he said, glancing between the two of you, “this is awkward.”

You stepped back quickly, clearing your throat. “Jeno, we were just—”

“Save it,” Jeno interrupted, smirking. “I gotta say, though, you two are starting to convince me. The way you look at each other? Pretty obvious.”

“Obvious?” you echoed, your voice slightly higher than intended.

“Yeah, obvious,” Jeno said, stepping past you. “Anyway, I’m heading out to the gym with Jaemin. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He shot Haechan a pointed look before walking down the hallway.

Haechan grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Told you we’re convincing.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, stepping inside quickly.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment at the door. The way Haechan looked at you, the way he leaned in—it was all too much.

You pressed a pillow to your face, groaning, but then your phone buzzed with a text from him:

HC: Sweet dreams, pretty girl <3

You felt your heart betray you again, skipping a beat. You push all of this down, swearing to yourself to lock this feeling away and forget about it.

You reminded yourself, you needed to focus on yourself and keep up this game until your family stopped pestering you. Once they meet him and a couple of months have passed, you can end things and finally be free of him. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ INSTAGRAM UPDATE ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── 250312: Spring

i have been getting comments about wanting more negative comments on Luna’s instagram posts, so here you go! it’s so much fun to write how everyone reacts 🤭

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰౨ৎ luna's instagram

Liked by jeonghaniyoo_n, vernonline, min9yu_k and 7,454,454 others

lunabae spring wrote me a love letter 🌷💐✨

View all comments

moonlightbae Bugs is living a better life than us

jeonghaniii BUGGSSSS 🥹💕

↳ bugsbunny_17 This is a Luna & Bugs fan account now.

jiyeonienienie_ you are spring personified Jiyeon ☺️🌷

jxjdaily the Lego dates 😩

h0shik-tiger Mom, Spring wrote you a love letter? Meanwhile, I got seasonal allergies

boojae_dk The real masterpiece here is YOU 💖💖

gyuldaekwan Luna with a paintbrush? Luna painting? Oh, hang that up immediately in Louvre, she’s making history

shua_angels And where is my Lego invite?

↳ lunaticsforever lets third wheel together 🫣

seokminsbiceps When did Bugs sign up for a modeling career?

lalunanova Bugs… let’s switch positions… i can be a bunny *starts hopping*

verkwan_ how do WE join the Lego date?!

horanghaehoe A performer, an artist, a songwriter, a model, Yoon Jeonghan’s fiancée, a bunny mother, a Lego master… what can’t she do?

user0762727215 Ugh, here we go again 🥱 Luna and her constant need to shove her relationship in our faces. You’re only showing off Jeonghan because you know it gets you more likes and engagement. We all know your entire relationship is a PR stunt. You just love male attention, don’t you? Anything for the views, right? Gosh, you are embarrassing 🤮 do us all a favor and kys, thanks.

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n Imagine waking up, choosing to be bitter, and still being this bad at it. If jealousy was a sport, you wouldn’t even make the bench. Try harder.

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n You can be bitter all you want, but the moment you speak badly about my fiancée, we have a problem. Careful now— I’d hate for your sad little comment to be the biggest mistake you make today.

↳ jeonghaniyoo_n Oh, look what I found— your account spreading hate and fake news about my fiancée. Don’t worry, I already reported it. Maybe spend less time being obsessed with Luna and more time preparing for that account suspension and enjoy being sued.

↳ lunabae oops, sorry! can you repeat that? i was too busy admiring the custom Lego set MY FINACÉ bought and built with me. just because your life is as dry as overcooked chicken doesn’t mean you need to project your misery onto mine. MY FINACÉ loves ME, my bunny that MY FIANCÉ bought ME is adorable, and my life is thriving— sorry that bothers you 😊💕

↳ sound_of_coups Not the audacity being on sale for free today.

↳ joshu_acoustic Ah, jealousy. A disease with no cure.

↳ woozi_universefactory Imagine thinking you matter in this conversation.

↳ everyone_woo This level of delusion is fascinating. Should we study it?

↳ ho5hi_kwon If Luna wanted clout, she’d get it from me. Not Jeonghan 🤷‍♂️🐯

↳ junhui_moon You spent all that time typing just to embarrass yourself. Inspiring.

↳ pledis_boos PR stunt?? LMAO, babe, have you seen them? They’re disgustingly in love 😂

↳ min9yu_k The irony of calling someone out for “clout” when you’re the one desperate for attention.

↳ dk_is_dokyeom It’s giving “I have no love in my life so I hate happy people.”

↳ xuminghao_o You’re mad at Jiyeon for existing? Have you tried… not being miserable?

↳ feat.dino If you don’t like her, why are you here? No, really. I’ll wait.

↳ vernonline Seek help.

caratrose SEVENTEEN WENT FERAL I CAN’T BREATHE.

bunnies4luna Not Hoshi saying she’d get clout from him LMAOOO.

jeongluna4ever SEUNGKWAN EXPOSING THEIR RELATIONSHIP HELP 😂

lulu-hannie YOON JEONGHAN IS OUT HERE COMMENTING NOT ONCE, NOT TWICE, BUT THRICE AND THREATENING A LAWSUIT? This man does not play around!! I’m shook.

↳ svtfan1997 I am literally shaking. Jeonghan’s scary side is RARE, but when it comes to Luna? He doesn’t hold back. @/user0762727215 your done.

94zlover_ Vernon really said “therapy is an option.”

bugsbff I want to be reincarnated as Bugs so I can witness this drama in real-time. also… KEEP YOON JEONGHAN’S WIFE’S NAME OUT YOUR MOUTH!!

loveforluna @/user0762727215 got jumped by the entire band. ALL FOURTEEN of them. Imagine 😂

ashonashonash Jun’s “Inspiring” sent me to another dimension 🤣🤣🤣

svtmoonchild seventeen in the comments like it’s Fight Club. Don’t mess with Bae Jiyeon. Period.

aegyo_king Petition to frame this comment section and hang it in a museum.

missluna_17 that bitch just got publicly executed… well… that’s one way to get their attention 😝

napipopeta I’ve never seen Jeonghan this scary… He reported the account and said they’re about to be sued? My jaw is on the floor.

lunaandsunshine Jeonghan is acting like the CEO of Protecting Luna and I’m LIVING for it! You NEVER see him this fired up.

bunnyboo_THREE comments and one of them says they’re getting sued. He’s not joking too.

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[ichorai]

thread ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; “they’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. 

“of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “we showed them there’s no sharks in the water. obviously they’re going to jump in.”

words ; 6.6k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, coryo's paranoia, he isn't exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus came late to class. He rushed in, uniform only slightly askew, and hair messier than usual. You moved your bag aside so he could take a seat beside you. With a nod, he slipped into the row and began laying out his books. 

You wondered how Tigris reacted once he got back home. Probably worried sick for her cousin and her friend. Your father, of course, was furious with you once he learned about your tryst with Coriolanus in the Capitol Zoo, but there was little he could do when he was off working in the districts. During dinner with your mother, Lucretius Flickerman, and his wife, the tributes and the games were practically all the three could talk about. Lucky was going to be the first ever host, apparently.

How fun.

To neither of your surprise, Highbottom eyed the two of you with disdain. When you had strode into the hall, he remained silent. Coriolanus’ arrival seemed to tip him right over the edge.

“Both of your little excursions were in violation of about five different academy rules,” he grumbled. “Chiefly amongst them—endangering a Capitol student. Yourselves.”

“There were peacekeepers crawling all over the place,” Coriolanus retorted. 

The dean’s nose twitched angrily. Then, he fixed you with a harsh look over his spectacles, and drawled out your name. “Since you are the academy’s brightest, and your records have been… untarnished until now, I will let you off with a warning.” There was a pause, before the dean continued. “Mr. Snow, I’m moving for the gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor, effective immediately.”

“What?” the two of you exclaimed at once.

“You said we had to get them to perform, not stay away!” Coriolanus just about spat.

“I’ll add insubordination, as well,” Highbottom replied, tone venomous.

Raising your hand and ignoring the dean’s irritated exhale, you haughtily said, “It was me who went into the tribute’s truck. Coriolanus only followed. We didn’t know that we’d end up in a zoo enclosure.”

Arachne tittered with condescending laughter. “Yeah, and then you held hands with them. Made it seem like we’re the same as those animals.”

From your other side, Sejanus was quick to defend the two of you. “Coriolanus and Y/N didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Stiffening, Coryo scowled and said, “I don’t need your help, Sejanus.”

He ignored him and continued on, “That the tributes are human beings, just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games—because people know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights!”

“Dean Highbottom,” you called, not bothering to raise your hand this time. “How is it fair that Coriolanus gets disqualified while I’m not? We did what you told us to do! We were just trying to get to know our tributes.”

“Would you like to be disqualified as well? I can surely arrange for that to happen,” he deadpanned. “But poor little Wovey would be left all on her own.”

Nausea coiled within your abdomen. You drew yourself up to your full height. “Well, that would be entirely unnecessary—” 

Before you could finish your sentence, the doors to the lecture theater swung open once more, and Dr. Volumnia Gaul crept in, footsteps completely silent. How she managed that, you weren’t at all sure.

With everyone’s eyes on her, she fixed her stare on the two of you. Her hair was wrangled back into a high up-do, tall and grey on her head. 

“Quite a show you two put on. You’re good players,” she said, voice booming throughout the theater. “The hunger games needs good players. Maybe one day you’ll be gamemakers, like me.”

The thought sent chills up your spine. Coriolanus kept his expression stoic.

“If the games continue at all,” said Highbottom.

Singular blue eye flashing, Dr. Gaul grinned in an unnerving manner. “Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Snow and L/N in that zoo? The people would never stop wanting for more.” She drew closer to the rows of seats, gloved hand trailing over a few of the desks. “I came here to ask the star mentors a question… what are the hunger games for?”

You and Coriolanus exchanged a quick glance.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, as if it were obvious. “To commemorate the end of the war.”

Volumnia’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, in a similar fashion to a snake.

“And what would you say, Y/N?”

It was hard to maintain eye contact with her, especially because it felt like she could peer into your very soul and dissect you apart from inside out—but you managed. With your father being such an avid supporter of the hunger games, you wondered if your answer would be what she was looking for. “I don’t agree with the games. But I know it’s because—fear is power. Keep the districts afraid for themselves, for their children, and you’ll always have the upper hand.”

She smiled, wide and eerie. “You’re right. Fear is power. But punishment and fear can take many forms. They can come from bomb droppings, the cancelling of food shipments, stage executions. The question is, why games?”

Defensive, Sejanus spoke up, “Shouldn’t we be asking whether or not it’s right in the first place?”

“You have a problem with my games?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended! The oldest of them were only eight!” he exclaimed. “The Capitol is supposed to be everyone’s government now. It is supposed to protect all of us. I don’t see how making children fight each other to the death is protecting anyone.”

With a sneer, Dr. Gaul told him, “That sort of sympathy might be interfering with your mentoring assignment, Mr. Plinth.”

Finally, Highbottom said to his colleague, “Perhaps Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the games’ time has passed.”

Yes, you thought. It’s time to let it go.

To your surprise, Coriolanus abruptly stood up from his seat. “Dean Highbottom is wrong,” he asserted. “My classmates, too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. We should be viewing those tributes as human beings. You saw those kids at the zoo. They just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should let them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal.”

“Who would watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?” Dr. Gaul asked, as if the notion of caring about district folk was ludicrous.

“Everyone,” replied Coriolanus. “Especially if they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning. People need someone to root for and someone to root against! And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even have them place bets.” 

You felt sick as you looked up at Coriolanus with a mildly disturbed expression. If he noticed, he didn’t give you any indication.

“I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena,” he continued. “But if you give her a chance—I would bet the Plinth prize that she could win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul was effectively intrigued.

“I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow,” she said. 

Clemensia, strong-headed as ever, stood up and said that she should be working with Coriolanus, as his class partner.

With an amused snicker, Volumnia bowed her head and made her way back to the door. “It’ll be an interesting test,” she ominously said before turning on her heel and exiting, her dark cloak billowing out behind her.

During lunch, you sat down across from Coriolanus in the cafeteria, noticing that he had three sandwiches stacked on his plate, along with half a dozen cookies on another. It was a rare thing, seeing him with so much food. Usually he opted for just starving himself to save some money, despite your urges to get him to eat.

“Hungry?” you asked with an arched brow, but he shook his head.

“It’s for Lucy Gray,” he replied, staring down at the food. Then, he pulled out a red handkerchief and started wrapping the food up. “I’m going back.”

With a soft sigh, you started digging into your own lunch. “Hopefully not inside this time.”

He spared you half a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you coming? Everyone else is. I heard Arachne tell Felix she’s going to use food to get her tribute to do tricks for her.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you glanced over at her several tables down. “Sounds like something she’d say.” You took a bite of your food and chewed thoughtfully.

“They’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. 

“Of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “We showed them there’s no sharks in the water. Obviously they’re going to jump in.”

He tied the handkerchief together so the sandwiches and cookies would stay put. “They’re all sheep. No original thought whatsoever.”

There it was again, your wind-chime laugh. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, now empty save for a few bread crumbs. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Coryo. Besides, I’m glad most of the class is going. The tributes must be starving in there,” you told him. “I’ll come and bring some food for Wovey.”

A voice from your right jutted into your conversation, Sejanus’ angry face coming into view as he slammed down his lunch tray in the empty spot beside you. “You guys going to fatten up your tributes so you can finally start taking bets?” he just about snarled.

“Do you think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it?” Coriolanus responded defensively, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?”

“We can’t send them back to their homes,” you told Sejanus in a juxtaposingly calm tone. “The best we can do for them now is help them out here.”

The curly-haired man slumped forward, his shoulder stooping like an old wildflower. “He was my classmate,” he muttered. “Back in two.”

Though you gave Sejanus a sympathetic look, Coryo regarded Sejanus as if he was confused. He wondered why Sejanus even bothered to care this much when he was no longer a part of the districts.

“It’s not your fault that—” Coriolanus began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so blameless I’m choking on it!” he gritted out. Then, he let out a shaky breath, trying to steel himself. “My father bought him for me, you know. At the reaping. Just so he could show me that I could never go back to two.”

A frown marred your features. “He bribed Highbottom?”

“Something like that,” Sejanus told you, using the prongs of his fork to poke and prod at his food. “Morphling costs a pretty penny.”

Silence stretched over the three of you for a few seconds. Coriolanus looked annoyed, but Sejanus didn’t seem to notice. 

“Being in the Capitol is going to kill me,” he sighed.

This made Coryo scowl. “So do something about it.”

Sejanus’ dark eyes flitted over to the bundle of food in Coriolanus’ hands. “You’re quite the rebel.”

Coriolanus retorted, “Oh, yeah. I’m bad news.”

When he said that, he’d expected you to laugh again, but you kept quiet, staring down at your now-unappetizing lunch.

There was a considerably larger crowd around the enclosure that evening. You had a small basket clutched in one hand, consisting of juice boxes (still grape, since you now knew it was a safe option), soft bread rolls, and wrapped leftovers from your dinner with Lucky. You hoped Wovey wasn’t allergic to anything—you’d forgotten to ask in the heat of it all.

Coriolanus still only had the few sandwiches he saved from lunch, but you assured him that you were more than happy to share with Lucy Gray if need be. 

She looked much more haggard tonight, most of her makeup smeared off, her lips chapped and bleeding at the center from what you assumed was anxious biting, and her hair was more unruly. Though her eyes still held the same fire, the same passion, lighting up when she noticed the two of you approaching. She asked if the food was for them with slight surprise—you often forget that they hadn’t much to eat in the districts, anyway—and took what was offered, before handing off a good portion of it to her district partner, Jessup. The larger man declined the food at first, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but eventually caved and took the sandwiches. 

When he turned to walk off, Coriolanus asked about the nasty wound on his neck. It was just behind his ear and oozing with blood and pus. A bat bite on the train, Lucy Gray told the two of you, looking awfully guilty on behalf of her friend. 

Crooning from a little way’s away drew your attention to Arachne and her tribute. She was dangling a cold bottle of water just inches from the tribute’s reach, urging her to beg.

Lucy Gray’s brows cinched. “One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon. Your friend over there sure knows it.”

The two of you scoffed at the same time.

“She is not my friend,” Coriolanus told her. “She is poison with perfect teeth.”

“How such a vile tongue hides behind those pearly whites, I wouldn’t ever know,” you remarked, earning you a snicker from Coriolanus. Finally, you peered around for Wovey, eager to finally get her something to eat. However, curse your damned softening heart, your eyes grew gentle upon seeing her curled up by the very same tree stump, head resting on Bobbin’s shoulder, fast asleep. 

Lucy Gray casted a glimpse over her shoulder to see what you were looking at. 

“Could you give this to her?” you asked, slotting the small basket between the enclosure’s metal bars. “When she wakes up, that is. She must be famished. Feel free to take anything in there, but just… leave some for her.”

The girl nodded, taking the basket from you and handing it over to Jessup, who cradled it as if it were more precious than gold. You watched him carefully—not because you were worried he was going to keep all the food to himself, but because you were curious as to why he hadn’t reached in to take anything for himself yet, even after several minutes passed by. 

Coriolanus leaned forward, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as he lowered his voice. “Are you going to share everything with Jessup?”

Lucy Gray’s expression faltered. “Why? You think I oughta build up my strength to strangle him in the arena? Not exactly my forte.”

“I might have a chance to help you,” he told her, watching her keenly. “To make some suggestions to the gamemakers. I might even be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food, and water, to keep you going. You just have to try singing again.”

Firmly, Lucy Gray said, “I don’t sing when I’m told, I sing when I have something to say.”

“And you have nothing to say?” you asked her, head tilting. “The whole world is watching, Lucy Gray. Now’s your chance.”

A myriad of emotions crossed over her face. “It doesn’t matter much now, does it? I’ve seen the arena—there’s nowhere to hide. What’s the point?” Her gaze traveled from you to Coriolanus. “The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch and you say you want to help me. Which is it?”

“Both?” he offered. 

It didn’t satisfy her, but it was enough, for now. 

Then, she grabbed a sandwich from the red handkerchief and took a large bite, a muffled noise of appreciation falling from her lips. 

“Bread’s soft,” she said around a mouthful. “Softer than in twelve.”

Then, she offered a cookie to Coriolanus. He began to protest, but she insisted he take it.

“I saw you staring,” she said. “I always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus laughed, a coarse and unrefined sound. “One time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach.” 

A match of pity struck within the confines of your chest, but you remained quiet. Coriolanus told you stories of his times during the war often—usually after the two of you laid together, sweaty and naked, bearing your souls to one another. Pillow talk made him quite emotional, you found.

“And how was it?” Lucy Gray queried, eyes round.

Coriolanus took a bite of the cookie, humming in though. Then, he shrugged. “Pasty,” he said.

Lucy Gray laughed. She looked back to you, appreciative. “Thank you, for the food. I’m sure the little one’s going to be happy.” Your eyes flickered back to Wovey. She stirred a bit on Bobbin’s shoulder, but remained asleep. “She’s so sweet. So young. Something about her reminds me of my cousin, Maude Ivory. I can’t stand to think of them without me like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Coriolanus whispered.

You nodded in agreement. “They’re waiting for you, I’m sure. You’ll see them again.”

Lucy Gray smiled sadly. “I won’t hold you to that.” Then, after she took another bite, she blew out a gentle sigh. “You two seem like… genuine folk. It sure would’ve been nice to meet you under different circumstances.”

Coriolanus leaned his head against the enclosure’s bars. “One of your shows, maybe.”

Somehow, her smile grew impossibly wider, but her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I would’ve liked that.” With a light sniffle, she asked the two of you, “You two keen on dancing?”

You thought back to all the dance lessons you were forced to take as a young child. It was never your strong suit. “Not really, no. Coriolanus is much better than I am.” 

“Not your fancy Capitol dancing,” she told you, waving a hand in the air. “Dancing like you’re free. Dancing with no rules. Just the music, to guide you.”

Both you and Coriolanus exchanged glances. “Can’t say I’ve tried,” you replied. “But it sounds fun.”

Lucy Gray nodded, showing more enthusiasm than you’d ever seen in her before. “You’d have the time of your life. If you ever visit… I’d love for you to come. Both of you—we’d have a drink. Share a dance or two. We’d have all the time in the world. People always say our music shows are the best places for romantic dates. It’d be perfect for you two.”

It was a pleasant fantasy to entertain. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. When you looked at Coriolanus, his expression was simultaneously strained and distant, as if he were far away, thinking of other things. You reached out to place your hand on his shoulder.

But before you could, screams erupted from around the enclosure, followed closely by shattering glass. You whipped your head away from Lucy Gray, seeing Arachne’s tribute jabbing the broken glass bottle straight into her jugular. Coriolanus yelled something—you weren’t entirely sure what, but he jumped up to grab Arachne, applying pressure to the wound.

It wasn’t enough. 

Blood, dark and viscous and filling the air with the smell of copper, began to pool around her neck, down her shoulders, filling the crevices of her collarbones. She was blubbering something, gargling through blood, but you couldn’t quite hear with the loud static buzzing in your ears. 

You glanced to the side, catching sight of peacekeepers lining up their guns to shoot. You rushed forward to get to Coriolanus, yanking him down just as several shots rang out. He was whimpering, telling Arachne to hold on for him, but when you frantically reached down to feel for her pale wrist’s pulse—it wasn’t there.

Arachne was dead. 

You clambered off of Coriolanus, away from the dead girl, backing away. You only barely registered Sejanus calling out your name in concern, but you didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, you turned your eyes to the tributes, all ducking and cowering behind trees and tires. To your relief, Wovey was now awake, eyes wide as she crouched behind the tree stump with Bobbin.

The relief was short-lived, however, because peacekeepers began urging everybody away from the enclosure. You reached out for Coriolanus, taking his arm. He was shaking, eyes as large as saucers and visibly distraught. 

The two of you walked to his estate in tense silence.

Once there, Grandma’am and Tigris fawned over the two of you, though in far different ways. Grandma’am dove into a lecture about rebels and how lucky the two of you were that your tributes hadn’t done the very same. Tigris wrapped a warm shawl over you and a patched blanket over her cousin, telling Grandma’am that Lucy Gray and Wovey weren’t rebels, just innocent girls. 

“Trust me, that one hasn’t been a girl in a long time,” Grandma’am bitterly retorted. “Outside this Capitol, they’re savages, however they may smile. She will use you, Coriolanus. You must use her or you’ll end up dead in the trees, like your father.”

Coriolanus stiffened. 

An hour later, he tugged you into his room and kissed you hard and desperate, as if he wanted to distract himself from his own thoughts. You were the one to pull away, even if everything inside you was screaming to stay. You almost caved, almost, when his head dipped forward in an attempt to capture your lips again, but you placed the tips of your fingers over his mouth with a soft, sympathetic smile. You hugged him tight until he stopped trembling, and reluctantly drew yourself away from him. After embracing Tigris goodnight, you walked home alone with your thoughts, wondering if the games were going to continue in lieu of the evening’s events.

There was an assembly held at the academy for Arachne’s death, followed promptly by a proper funeral. Though, it didn’t quite feel proper with all the cameras and reporters hovering around. You wondered if people were expecting to see you cry. You were incredibly shaken, sure, but were you sad?

It’d be a lie if you said yes.

They made sure to zoom in on you and Coriolanus when you kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand just before he was appointed to go on stage and sing the national anthem. Why he was the one to do so, the two of you had no idea. It’s not like Arachne was friends with him, despite what the reporters wanted to think. It was a ridiculous waste of breath, he thought, singing for a girl he barely knew.

After Coriolanus’ performance, President Ravinstill gave a rather monotonous speech about courage and bravery. How Arachne was going to be sorely missed. Right—of course she was.

And the very next day, life moved on. As if Arachne’s death had never happened.

Soon after, they had all the mentors and tributes gathered into one of the academy halls— with the tributes shackled to tables, of course. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to run. You’d seen all the peacekeepers lining the hallways outside.

“In spite of yesterday’s tragic events,” Highbottom said, not a shred of sincerity to be found in his tone, “our President has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone that the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror. To which end Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special, televised presentation of each tribute to our audience so they could… get to know them.”

A glorified show-and-tell, you dryly thought. How wonderful.

You and Coriolanus looked at each other for a brief moment—he’d ask Lucy Gray to sing again, you were certain. Then, you turned back forward, where Wovey was fiddling with her thumbs, sniffling a few times.

“You’ll have an hour to discuss strategy,” said the dean, before whisking himself off to the shadows of the room to down another vial of morphling.

You sat down in front of your tribute, trying your best to offer her a warm smile.

“Did you like the food I brought? Was it okay?” you whispered, making sure to lower your voice.

A nod, a scuffle of feet. Her bottom lip trembled.

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you moved on to the pressing matter at hand. “Okay, Wovey. I need… I need to know what you’re good at. Are you a fast runner?” 

She thought for a moment, but then shook her head.

“I know you can climb?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “I used to climb in my mama’s factory all the time. Trees, too.”

“Good. That’s good,” you murmured, pulling out a notepad so you could jot some things down. “Are you good at hiding? Staying still?”

“I think so,” she said, looking awfully uncomfortable. “Will I go back home if I win?”

A sharp pang hit you square in the chest. You tore your gaze away from your notes on the paper to look at her. 

“Yes,” you hesitantly replied. “They’ll take you home.”

This seemed to satisfy her for the time being. Gave her hope that you perhaps shouldn’t have instilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “So—for your televised presentation. We need to win the audience over so they send in donations—I’d be able to send you things. What do you want to do?”

After quite a bit of back and forth, you managed to get Wovey to agree to talk about her family on stage. How much she missed them. It wasn’t much, but perhaps the youngest tribute sympathy card would push the odds in your favor.

Halfway through the hour, however, Coriolanus and Clemensia were called away by Highbottom—most likely to discuss the proposal Coryo had written up once you left the estate. You made a mental note to ask him how it goes once you saw him again. You felt bad, seeing Lucy Gray sitting all alone, bound hands lightly rapping against the table’s wood.

By the stroke of four in the afternoon, they gathered all the mentors and tributes in front of the arena. Coriolanus came bounding up to the group just seconds away from the gates opening, appearing breathless and mildly frazzled. 

“You okay? Where’s Clemmie?” you asked, resting a hand on his elbow, brows kinking with confusion.

“She’s… not going to make it.” He winced, appearing distinctly torn. “I’ll tell you later.”

There was a brief silence where you scrutinized him, eyes wide. Something bad happened when he was with Dr. Gaul, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

You walked alongside Coriolanus into the arena, with your two tributes in front of you. Lucy Gray was saying something comforting to Wovey in that sweet voice of hers, and for that you were grateful. The last thing you needed was Wovey to break down in an anxious mess. 

The arena itself was spacious but incredibly rundown, crumbling under the weight of its neglected upkeep. The glass roof was stained and dusty, rusty slants creaking as they parted to filter sunlight into the dome.

“Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual hunger games,” a distorted voice echoed through the arena’s shoddy speaker system. “Tributes, mentors, you have fifteen minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy.”

With one final squeeze on Coriolanus’ shoulder, you parted ways with him, stepping beside Wovey to urge her into a lap around the arena. Staggered rows of dusty seats lined the edges high above the ground—Wovey was a good climber, wasn’t she? 

You tried your best to give her advice. “Hiding in the seats is your best option. Climbing over the rows whenever someone comes to attack you should buy you time. You’re small, too—I think you’d be able to crawl beneath the seats to get away. As for weapons… maybe grab something small from the center. A knife or a dagger. But only if you have time, and only if you know you can make it. If not, just make a break for the seats, as fast as you can. Got that, sweetheart?”

Wovey stayed silent. But she nodded. Nodded and nodded until you worried her head was going to pop right off. 

You bent down at the waist slightly so that you were eye-level with her. “I’ll be watching you the whole time. I’m there if you need m—”

Sudden explosions rang out about the arena. Plumes of dust flew everywhere, blinding you almost instantaneously. With your eyes squeezed shut, you felt the ground shake and split and rumble until another closer explosion flung you a good few feet off the ground. You landed on your side with a strangled scream, though the pain only registered a few seconds later. Cracking your aching eyes open and squinting through the haze of dust, you caught sight of shattered glass thundering around you like crystalized rain, nicking your skin with sharp pin pricks. 

Your right side buzzed with warmth. Something damp. You dazedly looked down.

Oh.

It seemed you’d landed right on a broken metal pipe, sticking right out of your abdomen. Blood was pooling down your academy uniform, soaking the fabric a far more sinister shade of red. You choked out something akin to a dry sob, before screaming out for help. You heard dozens of similar cries echo back to you.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself up, 

“CORYO?!” you screamed as loud as you could. Faintly, you could hear his strained voice echo your name back—somewhere across the arena, you’d wager. 

The pain was starting to grow worse. Searing, almost, as if you were being laid over an open fire. You staggered through the rubble, pressing a hand to your side in a terrible attempt to staunch the bleeding, careful not to jostle the pipe. It was probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right then and there.

As you kept moving, you caught sight of a large, gaping hole at the opposite end of the arena. There were tributes running out. Peacekeepers shooting them. The explosions had been so loud that your ears were ringing with terrible white noise—you couldn’t even hear the sound of the rifles blasting.

You glanced around wildly. 

You spotted the small little girl near the edge of the arena. Running with Dill, you realized, mind still lagging a second too late from shock. Another explosion rattled through the arena—this time, crumbling the roof away completely.

With a mangled noise, you began limping as quickly as you could.

Another call of your name, echoing and rattling about your skull, and Coriolanus materialized right beside you out of seemingly nowhere. There were two of him, you realized. He appeared fuzzy. 

You reached out for him, but he suddenly pulled you forward, yelling something. Something you couldn’t hear. A flash of rainbow by his left, and you saw Lucy Gray just barely escape being crushed by a large stone support column. 

More crumbling ceiling. Coriolanus’ hands were cold when he urgently shoved you forward. So hard that you went tumbling down, screaming with the sudden painful jolts the metal pipe sent shooting up your spine. A second later, you blearily looked around for Coriolanus—realizing that he’d pushed you into the clear when you found him pinned down under heavy foundational slants—and they’d caught on fire. 

Numb panic shot through your mind. You barely registered your own voice croaking out his name. You tried to crawl towards him, but he only seemed to get farther away. 

The last thing you saw before your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you went careening backwards was the rainbow dress, and wild, dark hair. 

The hospital bed was far from comfortable, but you’d been so tired you were knocked out for half of the day. Though, Tigris told you that you did sort of wake up at some point in the night, mumbling Coriolanus’ name with half-cracked eyes, before falling right back asleep.

He’d startled awake before you—rushing to your bed (right beside his) and taking your limp hand in his cold, clammy one. Brushed the hair away from your forehead and muttered apologies and please don’t die like they were a mantra.

When you finally stirred, you nearly burst into tears upon seeing Coriolanus.

“I thought you died,” you dry-sobbed. Your side ached considerably with the effort. “I thought I was going to die.”

He drew you into a loose hug, careful to avoid your bandaged midriff. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here. I love you—I’m not going anywhere, okay? Lucy Gray saved you. Saved us.”

“She did?” you croaked, voice soft. Yes, you sort of remembered. It was all a blur.

“She caught you before you could crack your head open on the ground,” said another voice. You turned your stiff neck to see Sejanus at the foot of the other side of your bed, next to Tigris, who was running her hand up and down your arm in a comforting manner.

You blew out a shaky sigh. Your head pulsed, and you suddenly felt nauseous. “What… what happened?”

They took turns explaining. Rebel bombing. The dead tributes. The president’s son, Felix, in critical condition. Sejanus’ tribute missing. How the games were still commencing regardless. The pipe that had been lodged in your abdomen missing any vital organs. How you were lucky to be alive.

“Wovey?” you whispered. “Is she okay?”

Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your head. “She’s okay. Not one of the ones that died.”

“Lucy Gray?” you whispered. 

“Alive. She could have run. She stayed back to help you and me,” he said as his hand traveled down to gently cup your face. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I owe her now. She saved the love of my life.”

“Oh, Coryo—are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your gaze roamed all over his form, clad in an identical hospital gown. 

“A few burns and bruises. Nothing compared to you.” 

You drew in a staggered breath. Every muscle and tendon in your body screamed with even the slightest movements. 

Tigris squeezed your hand. “We were so worried for you. Coriolanus couldn’t sleep all night. Your mother came by earlier but she had to leave—a spill in the lab, or something. And your father sends his love from district two. Your mother said he was furious. Military is doubling down.”

“Typical,” you whispered, supplying the three with half a weary smile, glad that they were there for you. “I can’t believe they’re going on with the games tomorrow. This is absurd.”

“They don’t want to seem weak,” Sejanus bitterly replied. “But you woke up just in time. The televised presentations are starting soon.”

Nearly an hour later, Sejanus switched on the television set hanging in front of the beds. Tribute after tribute went by, most of them appearing gaunt and exhausted. True to what the two of you had discussed, Wovey got on stage and talked about her family back in district eight, despite looking rather shaken. The audience crooned and sighed with pity. Donations were sparse, but still more than you had expected, to your bittersweet relief. You watched from the hospital bed, curled up with Tigris at the head of it, your head on her shoulder, whilst Sejanus and Coriolanus were standing far closer to the curved screen. 

Lucy Gray was the last to go on. She had a guitar with her. And she sang a beautiful song—one about a boy back from home, she said. The audience cheered and sniffled. Even the nurses stopped their bustling to watch, some of them discreetly wiping away tears.

Once visiting hours were over and Tigris and Sejanus were shooed out of the hospital, Coriolanus sat beside you and slung an arm over your shoulder. He slotted his fingers beneath your chin and kissed you deeply. It was a slow embrace, with not a hint of sexual intentions—he just wanted to hold you. Remind himself that you were still alive, still here, still his.

Your nose nudged his when he laid his forehead over yours. The two of you breathed in each other’s comforting presence. Just the two of you. It reminded you of when times were so… uncomplicated. Before all the mentoring came along, the only things you had to worry about were grades and Coriolanus’ refusals to eat properly.

Then, he told you about Clemensia. How she was probably somewhere in this very building. How she screamed when she was bitten by the snake muttation. Your mind raced with questions, but you yawned instead and leaned against his chest. 

“I love you, too, Coryo,” you whispered into his hospital gown, realizing you hadn’t said it back earlier. 

A few minutes later, you were back asleep. Coriolanus was careful not to wake you when he laid you back down. Tucked the blanket up to your chin. He kissed your hairline once more, regarding you with a fond expression, before straightening, trying his best to ignore the aches blossoming over his back and legs.

And then he left the ward, assuring the doctors that he was fine and he could be discharged. They reluctantly agreed after a brief check-up, and had him sign off for himself. Once he was out, he immediately set off for the arena, trying to search for something, anything to keep his tribute alive.

Tunnels. The ground had collapsed into them, giving Lucy Gray a perfect place to run and hide. He went back home, making sure Grandma’am and Tigris were asleep—before pouring a copious amount of powdered rat poison into his late mother’s compact. 

It was cheating. But you and Sejanus had both said it before—he was a rebel by nature. Bad news.

He visited the zoo enclosure and gave it to her then, informing her of the tunnels. Wiped her tears with a handkerchief, then told her he owed her his life and more. That you were okay, and it was all thanks to her. Lucy Gray looked overwhelmed for a moment. She did what any decent person would, she thought. He promised her that she’d get out. Return home to the Covey. False hope whispered unrealistic dreams into her ears and she let herself listen. 

“We all do things we’re not proud of to survive,” he whispered when Lucy Gray attempted to protest, not wanting to poison anyone. He pushed the compact firmly into her hands. “Do it for your family.”

Conflict warred across her features. She nodded once, then twice. 

Coriolanus' expression set with determination. “We are going to win this, Lucy Gray. We’re going to win this together. I’m going to get you home.”

[accio-boys]

lost in his dance | fiyero x reader

summary; you confronted Fiyero’s careless attitude, leaving him behind, wondering if he’d notice. btw here's the part 2 of the story.

The wind roared past the window, rattling the glass and filling Fiyero’s suite with a biting chill. Ozma Towers, with its grand halls and lavish rooms, felt colder than ever.

You sat at his desk, staring at the stack of neglected assignments and half-finished projects, the frustration boiling in your chest. You’d spent hours trying to pull him out of his downward spiral, but it always felt like trying to fill a broken jar—no matter how much you poured in, it leaked right back out.

“Fiyero, what do you mean you’re going to Ozdust again?” you called out sharply, hearing him rummage through his wardrobe behind you.

“You’ve been there every night this week with Galinda. Don’t you think it’s time to focus on your work? You’re failing half your classes.”

His laugh echoed from the other side of the room, light and careless.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, stepping into view with his shirt untucked.

“You’re always so tense. You really should learn to let go.” He leaned against the edge of the desk, his smirk infuriatingly lazy.

“I see I still haven’t corrupted you yet.”

“Corrupted me?” you snapped, turning to glare at him.

“Is that what you call this? Dragging everyone down with you? Your friends, your grades, your future? Do you even care about anything?”

His smirk deepened as he reached for his coat, moving with the same infuriating ease he always did.

“Of course, I care,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“I care about enjoying life. About living in the moment. You should try it sometime.”

“Living in the moment?” you shot back, standing abruptly.

“You think ignoring your responsibilities is living? Pretending nothing matters isn’t freeing, Fiyero. It’s pathetic.”

His expression flickered for a moment—just a moment. Something raw and unguarded flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could name it.

“What’s so wrong with not caring?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than before.

“What if none of this matters? What if it’s all just… meaningless?”

You froze, the anger in your chest dimming for a second. “That’s why you do this, isn’t it?” you said, your voice quieter now.

“You act like nothing matters because you’re scared it doesn’t. But Fiyero, hiding behind parties and charm isn’t living—it’s running away.”

For a second, you thought you’d gotten through to him. He looked at you like he might say something real, something honest. But then, with a shrug, his mask slipped back into place.

“Maybe,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“But at least I know how to have fun. You? You’re so obsessed with trying to matter that you don’t even know how to enjoy yourself.”

You stared at him, your fists clenching at your sides.

“Do you think this is fun for me?” you snapped.

“Do you think I enjoy cleaning up your messes while you throw everything away? You’re selfish, Fiyero. And I’m done.”

His grin faltered. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice laced with something you couldn’t place—confusion, annoyance, maybe regret.

You grabbed your bag and stormed toward the door, your chest heaving with anger and disappointment.

Pausing for a moment, you turned back to him, your voice cold and cutting.

“Do your own work for once. Or don’t. I don’t care anymore. I’ll just be dancing through life, like you said.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with bitterness. You didn’t wait for a response.

The wind howled louder as you stepped into the hallway, slamming the door behind you. It cut through your coat, chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t stop walking.

Your mind raced, replaying his words over and over, the ache in your chest growing with every step.

You told yourself you were done. Done with his excuses, his charm, and his endless refusal to care. But as the cold wind whipped around you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even noticed you were gone—or if he’d just keep dancing through life without a second thought.

should I do a part 2? should I also do requests? what do you guys think?

[rhiannonsknife]

While rewatching yj i was thinking about what if Jackie became our friend while being stuck in wilderness.

She never talked to us before, maybe just a few times in practice or in class. But she literally has no one out there since everyone has turned their backs on her. So what if we start talking to her, make her do some chores to make her fit in and standing up for her when someone bashes her. And then you guys make fun of whatever cult-related thing that’s going on.

I feel like Jackie would cherish that and she really just needs someone to be girling with out there cuz she’s all lonely and i wanna hug her soo bad.

this reminds me of how no one came out to comfort jackie after her fight with shauna :((( guys i would’ve been out there instantly!!

jackie slams the cabin door behind her as she storms out into the cold, the sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet room. inside, the tension is palpable: shauna standing stiff, everyone else awkwardly pretending they’re not watching. no one says a word. no one goes after her.

no one except for you. the moment she disappears into the dark, you’re already grabbing your jacket.

you’ve been watching jackie unravel for weeks, her usual confident demeanor cracking under the weight of the wilderness, the isolation, and now the fight with shauna. the final straw in a series of events that broke her slowly.

jackie’s not perfect, far from it. but is anyone out here? besides, she’s been your friend, or as close to a friend as anyone can have in this hellscape.

you’ve seen how everyone’s turned on her, how she struggled to keep up and you’re not about to let her do it alone.

"where are you going?” shauna asks sharply as you put your jacket on.

“to get her,” you say simply.

“she’ll come back,” someone mutters. you don’t even bother turning to see who.

“yeah?” you snap, halfway out the door. “and what if she doesn’t?”

the cold hits you like a slap as you step outside and move toward where you think she’s gone, calling her name.

“jackie! jackie, come on, it’s freezing out here!”

at first, there’s no answer, just the wind howling through the trees around. there’s no snow yet, but judging by the constantly dropping temperature, there will be soon. you keep going, your breath puffing out in visible clouds as you search. when you finally spot jackie, it’s by a log at the edge of the clearing. her arms are wrapped around her knees, her head bowed, and she’s shivering violently already. she doesn’t look up until you’re right in front of her.

“what are you doing here?”

“looking for you,” you reply, crouching down beside her. “what the hell are you thinking, sitting out here? it’s freezing”

“go back inside,” jackie says, brushing hair from her face. “i’m fine”

“you’re not fine,” you counter. “jackie, you’ll freeze to death out here. come back inside!”

her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her breath hitching. “why do you care? clearly the others don’t”

“that’s not true, they’re just-” you pause, trying to find the right words. “it’s not you they’re mad at, not really. it’s this…place. what it’s doing to us!”

jackie lets out a bitter laugh. “that’s not how it feels”

you don’t know what to say to that, so instead, you shift closer, wrapping your arm around her shoulders. she tenses but doesn’t pull away.

“i care,” you say quietly. “and i’m not gonna let you freeze out here just because things are hard”

she turns to look at you then, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed from the cold. finally, she swallows hard. “i don’t want to go back in there. i can’t”

“yes, you can,” you tell her firmly, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “i’ll be right there with you, okay? if anyone says anything, i’ll handle it. you don’t have to do this alone!”

jackie hesitates, but when another gust of wind sweeps through, she shivers and nods. you stand first, holding out your hand.

“come on,” you say, your tone soft but insistent. she stares at your hand before taking it, her grip surprisingly tight as you help her to her feet. you keep your arm around her as you guide her back toward the cabin, the warmth of your body pressed against hers.

when you open the cabin door, the room instantly falls silent. all eyes are on jackie as she steps inside, her chin lifted just slightly, trying to hold on to whatever pride she has left.

you don’t leave her side.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

last 5 years running out my mouth

katsuki bakugou x reader

one night, amongst the crowds and the music, katsuki wonders why he’s looking for you- he knows you don’t go to parties, anymore. themes of (katsuki’s) depression and substance usage

i love you 5sos nation 🪐 inspired by you dont go to parties

5 am.

katsuki’s clinging to his couch. everyone on his contact list, and everyone on their contact lists and so forth, stood in his house. red, drunken eyes dart around, as if looking for someone. though he knows its futile. you’re not there. at least, not anymore.

he groans, sitting up. he needs to vomit. this isn’t a good look for a new, fresh-faced hero. he pushes through the crowds, starting to kick people out. he didn’t care where they went, just not here.

he knocked over a vase. he’s probably offended a bunch of people. he’s trying to make it to a place in the apartment that doesn’t reek of alcohol and dead dreams- an ambitious attempt, to put it nicely.

he groans, bumping into someone. he grows even more frustrated when he sees who it is.

“katsuki, you’ve gotta sit down, man.” kirishima says, directing his friend to the bedroom. kirishima is a party goer, but lately, he knows to stay sober enough to keep things in check. someone had to be bakugou’s jailor.

katsuki doesn’t protest, sitting down while the redhead ushers everyone out of the house. he sighs, returning to the bedroom, seeing bakugou sitting there, his head in his hands.

“fuck… i don’t know.” he pinches the bridge of his nose. he doesn’t curse out of anger or hatred; he curses out of sadness. katsuki sits there, like theres vultures spinning around him, waiting for their time to strike.

what a tragedy.

bakugou opens his mouth to say something, but the overwhelming urge to vomit takes over. kirishima walks over, pushing him onto the bed and making sure he lays on his side. he stares, heartbroken, wondering where it all went wrong.

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you prayed he’d just talk to you, about his fears and about his doubts. you wish he’d be honest about his panic attacks, especially after the war. he’d wake up in a cold sweat, remembering the fighting, remembering the tears. but some invisible barricade caged his feelings inside his heart. this had to be his battle.

he’s still there in the darkness, feeling like a heartless monster. he’s starting to come undone, the sadness in his bones seeping into the security and confidence once embedded in him. maybe he isn’t who he set out to be in the first place.

but he’s not gonna let you know that.

“told you i’m find, moron.” he says, spooning you. he hopes you don’t notice how glossy his red eyes are, but you do.

“katsuki, please-“

“i’m fine.”

you bite your lip. if you can’t get him to open up, maybe you can take his mind off of it. a party never hurt anybody, right?

“…denki’s throwing this get-together tomorrow night.” you say, proposing the idea to him. “its a reunion for our class. we should go. it’ll get your mind off of… whatever it is.”

he scoffs, musing that he’s too good for parties. “yeah, a bunch of lightweight assholes i have to drive home? no thanks.”

“oh c’mon, it’ll be fun.” you pout.

it’ll be fun, and because you’re desperate to see a smile on his face again, even if its from laughing at his friends drunken antics. anything that’ll have even a semblance of your katsuki back.

“i’ll think about it.” he can’t say no to that face.

and that was the first time you ever saw katsuki drink.

he can handle his alcohol well, actually. he keeps you close by him, starting with one shot, and then another, and then kissing your neck in front of all your friends while his bitter breath tickles your skin.

he was laughing, enjoying himself. he was surrounded by people who diminished his doubts. a night of partying and fun did him some good.

what you didn’t anticipate, however, was how often he was attending them now.

the fame followed him everywhere. katsuki would end up in different celebrities’s basements, with close friends or even strangers. at first, you went with him. but it were as if the alcohol formed oceans between you two, separating you from katsuki.

he’s spiralling and you can see it. he’d chase down all that pain with shots, and all that trauma with drunken dares and released inhibitions. at first, you went with him to have fun. then, you went with him to make sure he didn’t take his foot off the breaks. now, you couldn’t bring yourself to go at all.

“katsuki, you need to stop.” you say, following one of his nasty hangovers.

he groans, clutching his temples. “don’t… god, you’re making my head spin, [y/n].”

“i’m making your head spin?” you scoff. “no, thats because you were out till 3 last night.”

“it was denki’s birthday.” he tries to excuse himself.

“no, it was sero’s, and they told me you were shitfaced for most of it!” you raise your voice, tears brimming.

his eyes widen, seeing how upset you are. he knows its irresponsible, but he also knows being drunk was a way to feel something, anything other than sad. given the choice between drowning in whiskey and drowning in tears, he chose the one that was capable of poisoning him.

“please.” you plead. “stop with the parties, with the drinking. its hurting you!”

“i have it under control!”

“you don’t!”

he stands up, his hangover more evident than ever. “god fucking damnit, [y/n]. if all you’re gonna do is bitch and moan like a fucking extra, just go!”

exactly 2 seconds in, katsuki realized what he said. but he’s too late.

theres a palpable silence in the air, followed by the sniffling crinkle of your nose as the tears cascade down.

“[y/n], babe, baby, i’m sorry. fuck, i-“

you slap him, cutting him off. his head whips to the side, just taking it. he wants to argue back, but he knows he deserved that.

you pack up your things, and he doesn’t have it in him to try and stop you. he begs in his mind for you to stay. secretly, you’re begging that he’ll beg.

but he doesn’t. and you leave.

subsequently, katsuki’s partying habit goes from controlled to dangerous.

he’s never not drunk, never not out doing something with people he doesn’t know. he’s always staying just a bit too late, but always manages to kick himself out in time to get to work. he’s always irritable, in part to the hangovers but largely in part to your absence.

people are starting to catch on. maybe not the fans, who adore him and his looks no matter what, but his colleagues have noticed a shift. the no-bullshit, toughed out dynamight sunk somewhere beneath his rising blood-alcohol levels.

still, he looks for you. he wonders if you’re still on the couch, singing karaoke with your friends, belting and humming along to the tunes. he thinks you might be in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and calling an uber in advance. or maybe you’re in the washroom, overstimulated, your anxiety taking over. anxiety he knows all too well. the anxiety he tried to hide beneath parties.

some nights, he’ll drunkenly stumble into the washroom, whether its his own or someone else’s. he’ll wonder if you’re there, sitting on the sink, ready to leave with him to your shared home.

but its another lonely night.

you don’t go to parties anymore.

because you’ve stayed at home, crying over photos, wearing his hoodies. everything you’ve learned about katsuki during your split had been against your will. there was silence from him, but the whispers of news and gossip tabloids could scream. you’re mad, yes, but you also pray for his safety.

selfishly so, you hope he still looks for you at those parties. at least there, he cares a little. maybe even more than you realize.

right now, he’s sitting on the couch with kirishima, denki, and sero. though all of them have had a bit to drink, katsuki is undoubtedly the worst of them all. he’s bitching about you, about missing you, about how you left him.

“she just.. got up and fucking left.” he slurs, leaning his head back. the mood is killed, and no one really has the energy to argue. except maybe for denki, who points out the obvious.

“you told her to leave. and she had a good reason for bringing it up to you, dude.” denki says. “can’t blame her for walking out on you.”

silence. the calm before the storm.

exactly 5 seconds later, katsuki is positively losing his shit, yelling at denki who just sits there, dumbfounded. kirishima is holding his friend back while sero attempts to position himself between the two. its one thing to be yelled at. but being yelled at by katsuki bakugou? thats something else.

“i don’t know what to do, man.” sero says, looking at eijirou for answers. the redhead honestly isn’t sure either. one thought crosses his mind, but he’s worried.

“get him to sit down.” eijirou says. “i’m calling [y/n].”

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“hello?” you say into the receiver. theres a pit in your stomach hearing ejirou’s voice, knowing he wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t an emergency.

“hey [y/n], listen… katsuki’s drunk, and he’s yelling at denki… i’m so sorry, but… you think you can come get him?”

god, its exhausting being a good person sometimes.

“yeah, i’ll be right there.” you huff, grabbing your car keys. eijirou thanks you, knowing you might be the one thing that calms him down right now.

all 3 boys help get him into your car. your heart clenches, seeing just how badly he’s been doing. he’s sick, and he’s tired. his eyes are swollen from crying, you know it.

eijirou leaves you with a long hug, arms embracing you. “take care.” he says. “call me if he acts up. he might need someone to kick his ass.”

you chuckle, for what feels like the first time in forever. “yeah, he could.”

when you re-enter the car, you don’t start it right away. you look over at katsuki in the passenger seat. maybe he’s starting to sober up, or he’s drunk enough where he’s starting to be honest.

“i’m so fuckin’ sorry, babe.” he says. you just nod, eyes welling up with tears, words failing you.

he laughs bitterly, head leaning your way. “i’m a mess, [y/n]. like, a real mess. doctor told me i have depression. i didn’t tell you ‘cause i didn’t wanna look weak. pathetic, right? i feel pretty weak right now.”

you look over at him, already wanting to cry all over again. you should have seen the signs. right now, they are so glaringly obvious- the detachment, the avoidance, the drinking….

“and i miss you more than anything.” he says. “i wish i just… talked to you more. even if its your shitty knock-knock jokes.”

you’re crying, but you do scoff a little, holding his hand. “my knock-knock jokes are not stupid.”

“knock knock.” he says.

“who’s there?”

“i still love you. and thats the worst part about all these damn parties… you weren’t there. i don’t care about parties if you’re not there.”

that might have been the most sober thing he’s said all night.

you don’t say anything, not ready to forgive. but you do place a kiss to his cheek before driving him home.

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a few days later, katsuki shows up to your house at 9 o’clock sharp- a new record considering the recent events. he called in advance, but your heart still skips a little when you open the door and motion for him to enter.

the bags under his eyes have reduced. he’s nor slurring his words, and he’s not snapping at all. he seems… better.

“i uh… brought you coffee.” he says, awkwardly handing you the cup. “i got you some sugar and creamer, cause i didn’t know how you like it.” he shoves his hands into his pocket and takes out the packets.

“katsuki, i have that all here.” you almost laugh at his nervousness. its clear that this has taken a hold on him. as he sobers, he feels the need to rebuild himself again.

“right, sorry, smartass.” he says, he sounds like an asshole, but its a nickname you’ve both grown used to.

physically, he seems like he’s finally gotten some rest. on the inside, however, you can see the turmoil in his eyes. he had spent weeks drunk on distractions. now, he’s facing all the things he’s fucked up.

you think back to what he said in the car. about his diagnosis, about his struggles. you wonder just how long he’s been feeling that tv static in his head, how long he’s been bullying himself. you wonder how strong his demons are, how they’ve got hands and how he was struggling to fight them.

it breaks your heart.

“i… i know what i told you the other night.” he huffs, hands in his pockets. “i remember that much.”

“…why didn’t you say anything?” you dare to utter, wanting to see his pain and wanting to shield him from it.

he pauses, finding the right words. “…i don’t know. i’m a hero, i’m the god damn best. i didn’t wanna look weak.”

“depression isn’t a weakness, kats.” you remind him, that familiar nickname rolling off of your tongue in a way that makes his heart ache. “especially after everything you’ve been through.”

he knows what you mean. the relentless training, the fights, all the times he thought he was going to die. honestly, he didn’t think he’d make it this far. everyday could have been his last.

“it just… hurts.” he admits, wincing at the vulnerability in his tone. “so damn much… like… i don’t know. like i’m trapped.”

his voice cracks at that last part.

“i don’t know what to do. how to deal with this. i just know i’m sick of parties. i’m sick of being away from you. i-“

you cut him off with a hug there, enough to get his eyes misty. he hugs you back instantly, fitting in with you like a puzzle piece. burying his face in your neck, he inhales and lets himself get lost in you.

“you don’t have to know what to do.” you say, stroking his back. “as long as you’re done hurting yourself. i’m here, you asshole.”

you shed a few tears as well as katsuki sobs that he’s sorry. but as you hold him, he admits to himself that vulnerability didn’t kill him- it just brought him closer to you. after days of searching for you at parties, during lonely nights, you’ve got him again.

and he’s never letting you go.

[scarletwinterxx]

benefit of friends - kim mingyu imagine

god really made this man to be the most perfect one😭 how to get your own kim mingyu (asking for a friend) lol anyways hope you like this one!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing.

Work is work. Fun is fun. Feelings? Well, they’re like those receipts stuffed into your wallet... you’ll deal with them later.

Your arrangement with Mingyu, your ridiculously handsome coworker-turned-“friend-with-benefits,” was supposed to fall neatly into the “fun” category.

No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions.

But tonight, at the company dinner, you’re beginning to realize that neatly labeled boxes have a way of getting jumbled when Mingyu’s around.

The restaurant is buzzing with chatter, glasses clinking, and the hum of soft music in the background. His deep, warm laugh carries over the noise, drawing glances from everyone at your table. He’s always been effortlessly charming, with his broad shoulders, that perfect smile, and a sense of humor that’s impossible to resist.

And right now, someone else seems to have noticed.

A junior marketing associate, her name slips your mind, but she’s all bright eyes and flirty giggles. She's leaning just a little too close to him. Her hand grazes his arm as she laughs at something he said, and you swear you see her fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary.

Your chest tightens, and you quickly take a sip of your wine, hoping the bitterness will drown the unfamiliar feeling clawing its way up your throat.

Jealousy.

It’s ridiculous, really. You and Mingyu aren’t together.

You’ve both made it clear: this is casual. Easy. No messy emotions, remember?

So why does it bother you so much when he leans in to whisper something to her, his grin widening as she laughs again?

“Are you okay?” a colleague asks, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, forcing a smile.

But your eyes can’t help darting back to Mingyu.

Later, as the group begins to thin out, people leaving one by one, you make your way to the bar for another drink.

You need something. Anything to steady your nerves. You’re swirling your glass idly when you feel someone slide onto the stool beside you.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Mingyu says, his voice low and teasing.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately. “I’m just tired,” you lie.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning a little closer. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it makes your heart race.

“Tired? Or… distracted?”

That gets your attention. You glance at him, and he’s watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he already knows exactly what’s on your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning indifference.

“Oh, don’t you?” He grins, and it’s infuriatingly attractive. “You’ve been glaring daggers at poor Mina all night.”

So that’s her name. Mina.

“I wasn’t glaring,” you snap, a little too defensively.

He laughs softly, leaning even closer until his shoulder brushes yours. “You were. And, for the record, it was kind of cute.”

“I wasn’t jealous, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Really?” His voice drops, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. “Because it looked a lot like jealousy to me.”

You turn to face him fully, ready to argue, but the words catch in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you—intense, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Mingyu,” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“Relax,” he says, smirking. “I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you hate how much that admission makes your pulse race. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, turning back to your drink.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice warm and teasing, “but you like me anyway.”

The car ride home is quieter than usual. Mingyu insisted on sharing a ride, though you suspect it’s less about convenience and more about prolonging the teasing

As the car pulls up to your apartment, you hesitate for a moment. You should say goodnight and leave it at that.

But when Mingyu’s hand brushes yours as he moves to open the door, your resolve wavers.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice casual, though your heart is anything but.

He smiles knowingly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Your apartment feels smaller with Mingyu in it. The tension that’s been simmering all night seems to boil over as he follows you inside, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, his tone teasing but softer now, “if you’re going to get jealous every time someone flirts with me, we might have to renegotiate this whole ‘just friends’ thing.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say again, though even you don’t believe it this time.

“Sure,” he says, stepping closer. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can come up with a retort, his hand cups your cheek, and suddenly you forget how to speak.

“Mingyu,” you whisper, but he cuts you off with a kiss—soft at first, almost tentative, before it deepens. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

You don’t remember moving, but somehow you end up against the kitchen counter, his lips trailing down your neck as your hands tangle in his hair.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, though it comes out more like a sigh.

“And yet,” he says, his breath warm against your skin, “you keep me around.”

His lips find yours again, and this time there’s no teasing, no games, just the kind of intensity that leaves you breathless and wondering how you ever thought you could keep this casual.

Later, as you lie tangled together on your couch, his arm draped lazily over your waist, you realize your carefully labeled boxes have completely unraveled.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with that.

It starts at a casual get-together with some of your friends. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to come. You invited him half-jokingly, figuring he’d have better things to do on a Friday night. But to your surprise, he’d shown up, effortlessly sliding into the group as if he’d always been part of it.

And now, you wish he hadn’t.

Not because you’re upset he’s here.

Far from it.

Mingyu has a way of making everything more fun. It’s just that you’re too aware of him, standing across the room, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he’s keeping tabs on you.

You’re talking to a guy.

what was his name again? Jae? Jin? Mingyu thought to hinself.

The guy has clearly been angling for your attention all night but you don’t notice. You’re oblivious to the way he leans a little too close when he speaks or the way his hand brushes yours unnecessarily as you reach for your drink.

Mingyu notices, though.

From his spot by the makeshift bar, he’s gripping his glass a little too tightly, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. He tells himself it’s fine—you’re not his, and he has no right to feel this way. But when Jae-or-whatever laughs a little too loud at something you’ve said, leaning in like he’s about to touch you, something snaps.

Before he knows it, he’s crossing the room.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, his voice smooth but laced with an edge as he steps between you and Jason, casually sliding his arm around your waist. “Didn’t realize you’d made a new friend.”

“Mingyu? What are you doing?” You blink up at him, surprised

“Just thought I’d check in,” he says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. His gaze shifts to Jason, who suddenly looks less sure of himself. “Who’s this?”

Jason clears his throat. “Uh, I’m Joon. We were just talking.”

“Talking, huh?” Mingyu says, his smile sharp. “That’s nice. But I think she’s good here.”

“Mingyu—” you start, but he’s already steering you away, his hand firm on your lower back.

You glance back at Joon, who’s standing there awkwardly, but Mingyu doesn’t let you linger. He leads you out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hits your skin.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, spinning to face him.

“What was that?” he counters, his voice low and tense. “That guy was all over you.”

“He was not!” you protest. “We were just talking.”

“You’re so oblivious sometimes, you know that? He wasn’t just talking, he was hitting on you.”

You cross your arms, irritation bubbling up. “And what if he was? It’s not like you get to decide who I talk to.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he steps closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Maybe I don’t,” he says quietly, his voice dangerously calm. “But I didn’t like it.”

Your breath catches. His proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it’s overwhelming

“Why do you even care?” you ask, though your voice is softer now, less sure. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and suddenly the world feels smaller, like it’s just the two of you on that balcony.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Your heart pounds as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours

“I care,” he murmurs, his voice rough with something that feels too big to name, “because you’re mine.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable.

“Mingyu—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves you breathless. It’s not soft or tentative like before—it’s possessive, claiming, as if he’s trying to prove something to both of you.

You don’t resist. Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as his hands slide to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, he rests his forehead against yours again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we said no feelings. No strings. But I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

Your chest tightens, and for once, you don’t push him away. Instead, you reach up to trace the line of his jaw, your touch soft.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but there’s no heat in your words. “But I guess you're my idiot.”

His smile is equal parts relief and triumph. “Damn right I am”

Back inside, the party continues without you, but neither of you cares. You end up in your apartment again, the tension between you finally boiling over.

This time, there’s no hesitation, no teasing. Just the two of you giving in to what’s been building for weeks. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of your skin like he’s memorizing you, and when you pull him down onto the couch, he follows without question.

“Say it again,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and low as his lips trail downward.

“Say what?” you manage, your breath hitching as his hands slide under your shirt.

“That you’re mine,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, hidden beneath all the confidence.

You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m yours,” you whisper, and the way his expression softens makes your heart ache.

“Good,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m yours too.”

And this time, when he kisses you, it feels like a promise.

[sserpente]

Bite Me (HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃)

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! I’m dressed as a kitten tonight because…well. ;) This year's Halloween Imagine simply had to go to Sylus.

Words: 2029 Warnings: semi-public smut, biting

“Pleeeeeease?” You drew the word out, putting on your best puppy face. Sylus was a hard one to convince. But if there was one opportunity to spend time with him in public, with your friends, it was Halloween.

Tara and Simone had invited you to a party on the 31st, a costume party you desperately wanted to go to with Sylus. It would be the perfect chance for him to dress up and remain undetected. Besides, the idea of dancing with him, grinding against him on the dance floor surrounded by strobe lights and fog…it was on occasion you both knew would lead to sex sooner or later.

“No, kitten. You go and have fun with your friends. I’m not the type to play dress up and get drunk on cheap party alcohol.”

But Sylus was a tough nut to crack. He really wasn’t the type for parties like that, you knew him well enough by now to know that. Still, you’d hoped he’d make an exception for you. After all, it was Halloween! The best time of the year!

The connection of the video call wavered for a moment.

“Sylus, pleeeease? You don’t have to do anything crazy. How about we just smear some fake blood all over you? Then you can say you’re dressed as a serial killer. That should do it!”

“A serial killer? That’s what you think would suit me?” He didn’t sound offended, instead he gave you a low chuckle. “Go to bed, kitten. I still have work to do and you will complain to me in the morning that I kept you awake.”

“Well, you are keeping me awake! Just say yes and I can go to sleep peacefully!”

“No. Good night, sweetie. Sweet dreams.”

He hung up before you could prepare a comeback. You growled. Damn it. But for what it was worth…at the very least, Sylus had just given you the perfect idea for your Halloween costume this year.

You were a little irritated when you got ready for the party the following evening. Applying your make-up meticulously, you eyed your outfit. A black bodysuit, a black skirt, black tights, high boots you normally wore for hunting, glued-on fake whiskers, and adorable cat ears made you absolutely certain that Sylus would have loved your costume of choice.

As you drew on a little button nose with your eyeliner, you debated whether you should send him a picture. But he didn’t deserve that, really, right? You could respect him not wanting to go to a party with you but you couldn’t help but feel bitter he’d turned you down regardless. He knew you loved Halloween!

You sighed, glancing down when a message from Tara popped up on your phone.

Are you ready, friend? We’re outside!

You nodded at your reflection. You were ready. With or without Sylus. Tara’s friend would drive you tonight so you could drink. And you were just on time too, arriving just before midnight.

The building where the party took place was decorated brilliantly. There were spiderwebs in the corners, garlands and pumpkin string lights lining the walls, and orange and purple strobe lights illuminating the dance floor. Fog wrapped around the ankles of the people dancing.

Pumpkins with spooky faces carved into them laughed at your face, and the selection of snacks and drinks was phenomenal. The bass of the music reverberated in your chest the more you mixed in with the crowd, with Tara holding your hand so she wouldn’t lose you.

You went with a Dracula shot for your first drink—vodka and cranberry juice—before hitting the dance floor. It’s just that someone was missing for this to be truly fun. God damn it.

You didn’t want to be one of those girls who couldn’t enjoy themselves without their boyfriend anymore. You could and you would. Still, it was alright to wish Sylus was here, right?

With a sigh, you nodded when Tara gestured she would get another drink and kept on spinning around on the dance floor—and rolled your eyes when a stranger placed his hands on your waist from behind.

“Go away! I have a boyf—” You flipped around only to be met with a very familiar figure. Your heart skipped a beat. Sylus.

“Sy-Sky! You…you’re here!”

“And you look absolutely ravishing. My kitten is a kitten. How adorable.”

Heat crept up your cheeks. Sylus didn’t exactly look bad either. A small trickle of blood decorated the right corner of his mouth, and his black shirt wasn’t buttoned up all the way. A pair of fake fangs completed the look when he flashed you a mischievous grin.

“You…you’re a vampire!”

“Let’s just say our conversation inspired me. Besides, I wasn’t keen on the idea of smearing fake blood all over myself.”

Oh, but I would have loved to roam my hands all over your bare chest, Sylus. You cleared your throat.

“But…you’re here! I thought you didn’t want to come…”

“I changed my mind. You seemed rather upset when I declined.”

You smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Tara returned with your drinks before you could say anything else. You passed the one she handed you on to Sylus and leaned against him, careful not to smudge your makeup on his shirt and ruin it.

“Oh hello! Sky, right? Lovely to see you again! So you’re a vampire?” Tara began.

“And you. I am indeed. And you’re a…”

“A werewolf-zombie-witch!”

You chuckled. “Tara couldn’t decide which of the three she wanted to do so she combined all three of them.”

“I see. Very creative.”

“I’m sure you two want some alone time. Here, take my drink, I’ll meet you later!” She left with a wink before you could protest—not that you had any. You all but longed to throw yourself into Sylus’s arms. Which you immediately did as soon as she was out of sight.

“Kitten, you’re going to spill our drinks.” But instead of pushing you away, his arms wrapped around you even tighter.

“Let’s get rid of them then.” You downed your little cocktail way too fast for it to be healthy and put the plastic cup on a nearby snack table. Sylus took his time with his drink before doing the same though. You almost started tapping your foot impatiently—and you were certain he was doing this on purpose because the amused expression on his face spoke volumes.

God, he looked so handsome tonight. Your mind drifted back to that conversation you’d had with him, back when he’d taken you to this old castle and you’d slept in front of the fireplace. You’d told him he resembled a vampire…and right now, you wanted him to bite you so badly you could already feel yourself getting wet. Fuck.

“Dance with me!”

“Are you tipsy already?”

“That first shot was strong. And I had two glasses of wine prior to coming here so… probably yes.”

He shook his head, smirking.

“Now dance with me!”

“So demanding, kitten.” Sylus wrapped his arm around your waist and flung you around so your back was pressed against his chest. He moved you both to the rhythm of the music, his face buried in your neck.

“That’s a new perfume,” he muttered.

“Should the fact that you can tell concern me?”

“You tell me, kitten.”

You grinned and kept on dancing, your behind grinding against his crotch in the process. Again, and again and again…for what felt like an eternity, ignoring the rest of the crowd as if you two were the only one who existed.

“I can’t guarantee anything if you keep rubbing yourself against me like that, kitten,” he murmured with a start.

“Maybe that’s the plan,” you whispered back.

Sylus’s gaze darkened. Challenge accepted. He didn’t need to say it out loud. Still, you were unprepared for when he wrapped his hand around your wrist with a start and dragged you out of the main room into the hallway, crimson eyes darting around in an attempt to find...somewhere private, assumingly.

You laughed, the sound echoing through the building. Out here, the music was duller, the bass more bearable. Your eyes were ringing from the noise inside and you registered a little too late what was happening when Sylus tried for a broom closet and pulled you inside without any forewarning.

“That’s not very romantic!”

He huffed a laugh. “Romantic is for when we get home and I can make love to you in my bed. Be glad we’re gonna be here for a while longer or else I would have ripped those clothes off of you already. This…will have to suffice.”

With but one swift motion, he hooked his index fingers under your tights and pants and pulled them down to your knees before you lifting you up and against the wall, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his body.

You bit your lower lip, your pussy pulsing with need.

“S-Sylus,” you choked out, “c-condom?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, kitten. I have some with me.”

Your breathing was heavy by the time he nestled with his belt and eventually, freed his erection. You understood now why he’d been so eager to drag you off now. He was hard. He was struggling to roll the condom over his length while refusing to let you down. But as soon as he managed…you did not receive a forewarning before he buried himself inside you to the hilt, growling against your neck.

“F-fuck, Sylus!”

His hand came up to press against your mouth, keeping you from making a sound. “Quiet, kitten. We don’t want anyone to hear us, now do we?”

“T-the music is t-too loud a-anyway…” you said, muffled because of his palm.

Sylus chuckled, his lips ghosting over your neck as he thrust up into you, hitting your sweet spots with every single stroke.

But instead of giving you a hickey like he normally did (and then watching your reflection in the mirror afterward, smug and amused as you tried to cover it up with make-up when you had to get back to work)…he bit down on your neck. Hard.

Whatever fangs he was using, they held onto dear life as if he’d superglued them on. They were pointy, painful…but not painful enough to seriously cause you any distress. If anything… fuck, this was so hot…

You moaned, throwing your head back to give him better access. At this point, you didn’t even care if he drew blood. Would he drink it? If he broke the skin and a few droplets sneaked their way past his lips?

Sylus fucked you like the filthy girl you were being, teasing and riling him up like that, and much to your luck, it had worked. He knew. Of course he knew. This man was always in control, and you would be lying if you claimed you did not love it.

“Sylus…” You repeated his name over and over again against his mouth as if it were a prayer that would bring you salvation. It would. Oh, it would…for with every single thrust, you felt yourself creeping closer and closer to an annihilating abyss of pleasure. If you hadn’t been pressed up against the wall, legs wrapped around his hips, your knees would long have given in.

“I’m…I’m gonna come…” you whispered out of breath.

Sylus released your neck, the wound pulsing with a dull pain as he licked over it with relish and then released your mouth to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. His strokes grew more frantic, more eager. And it drove you straight over the edge.

You came with a grunt, moaning into his mouth. Pleasure rippled through you as you squeezed around his cock repeatedly, triggering his own release.

Sylus’s heavy breathing turned into a carnal groan as he came, his length jerking against your slick walls gripping him tightly. He slumped against you once he came down from his high, cradling you in his arms.

“Sylus…”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Take me home?” There was no way you were going to return to the dance floor. Not after this. Oh god…

He chuckled. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

[wchswift]

Oooh, those look fun! How about 8G𓆣 (maybe with Dean, or whoever you feel like)? 👀

꒰ 8 ꒱ “i’m taking you home, and that’s that.” ꒰ G ꒱ drunkenness ꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ an alleyway behind a dive bar

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: dean comes after you but a drunken argument almost makes you reveal unspoken feelings.

word count: 830

notes: I love this one sm!! It was so fun to write, tysm for sending it :) hope you and everyone else likes it <3

build a fic

You needed a drink.

After the week you’d had—sleepless nights, a hunt that had nearly gone sideways, bruises that still ached beneath your jacket—you deserved one. But, of course, Dean had to have an opinion about that.

"You shouldn’t go alone," he’d said, arms crossed, voice edged with something that wasn’t quite anger but wasn’t far from it either.

"Sam’s busy, and you're being annoying by not wanting to go to any dive bar with me," you’d shot back, grabbing your jacket. "I’ll be fine, Dean. It’s not my first time drinking alone."

"That’s not the damn point."

"Then what is the point?"

He hadn’t answered. Just stared at you, jaw tight, looking like he wanted to tell you something and stop you. But when he stayed silent, you scoffed and walked out, slamming the motel door behind you.

Now, a few drinks deep, warmth buzzed under your skin, numbing the exhaustion you’d been carrying for days. The bar was loud and crowded, filled with the kind of people who didn’t ask questions. It was exactly what you needed—somewhere to get lost for a little while.

But the problem with places like this? Some guys didn’t understand boundaries.

"You’re real pretty, you know that?" The man’s breath reeked of beer as he leaned in, one arm braced against the wall beside you. His smile was lazy, the kind that said he thought he had a chance. "How ‘bout one more drink, sweetheart? On me."

You sighed, head tilting back against the alleyway’s brick wall. "Not interested."

"C’mon, don’t be like that," he pressed, his hand settling just above your waist. "Bet you just need the right kind of company."

Before you could snap at him—or worse—he was gone.

A sharp grunt, a blur of movement, and suddenly the guy was staggering back, crashing into a pile of crates.

Dean.

He stood in front of you, shoulders squared, fists clenched, chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. The guy muttered something, but Dean didn’t even look at him. His focus was locked on you.

"Seriously?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the haze in your head. "This is what you call ‘being fine’?"

You rolled your eyes, still feeling the warmth of alcohol buzzing under your skin. "I had it handled, plus I didn’t know I needed you watching me all the time."

Dean let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to keep his temper in check. "You don’t. But you do need someone watching your back when you decide to get drunk in the shadiest damn bar in town."

Your eyes flicked to him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh, right. Because you never go off alone, drink yourself stupid, and pick fights in places worse than this."

Dean’s jaw clenched. "That’s different."

"How?" You pushed off the wall, wobbling slightly before straightening. "Because you’re Dean Winchester? Because you’re so damn good at taking care of yourself?" You stepped closer, voice lowering. "You’re a hypocrite, Dean."

His expression darkened, but there was something else in his eyes—concern, something deeper that he wouldn’t say out loud.

"I’m taking you home," he said firmly. "And that’s that."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping. "Why do you care so much?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, unfiltered by the whiskey in your veins. "Why do you always act like I’m your damn responsibility?"

Dean didn’t answer right away. His mouth opened, then closed, like he was struggling with himself. Finally, he muttered, "Because you are."

Your breath hitched. "Dean—"

"I’m always gonna take care of you," he cut in, voice rough. "Even when you make it hard. Even when you run off and drink yourself stupid because you’re too damn stubborn to let me help." His hands hovered at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but was holding himself back. "And I don’t—" He exhaled sharply, looking away for half a second before locking eyes with you again. "I don’t wanna do this here. Not when you’re drunk."

The air between you was thick, heavy with all the things neither of you had ever said out loud.

You swayed slightly, still feeling tipsy, and before you could stumble, his hands did move—one gripping your wrist, the other landing on your hip to steady you.

"You wanna argue about this?" he murmured, voice softer now. "Fine. We’ll do it when you’re sober."

You stared up at him, pulse pounding, every nerve in your body hyperaware of his touch. But Dean was already leading you away from the alley, his grip firm, steady.

And for once, you didn’t fight it.

(I hope this is good cause I'm not used to writing something short and without rereading it several times lol)

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @lyarr24 @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

[impish-baby]

Hey, could I have more HIWTHI content please? Possibly with them finding out reader would write in their journal a lot, possibly hinting towards reader having large amounts of self worth issues, and instead of them leaving because no one notices them, reader left because they feel like a burden?

I’m particularly interested in Marcus and the twins reacting.

Also, please make sure to take care of yourself. I love all of your writing, but no one will ever blame you for taking a break. Also, please stay hydrated.

-🌙

👀 close to something that would happen canonically actually!!

HIWTHI cast's reaction to reader's journal

(Trigger warnings: reader's struggles with self worth, mentioned/referenced suicide)

Marcus feels like a complete and utter failure as a father. No matter how cold or stern he is with his children, he does love all of them with everything in him. So the fact that you feel like a burden? That you felt like a waste of space in your own home? He hangs his head in shame.

Doesn't even bother with asking why you didn't speak up, he's well aware that this is his own shortcoming. It's his fault, that's the simple truth of the matter.

Once you are back home, you're required to start therapy. He'll even let you do in person instead of online if you promise to actually give it a shot, Marcus legitimately wants (needs) you to get better. He has no delusions of their being an overnight change, and so he tries to go at your pace.

There's lots of long conversations, firm reminders that you are loved and of value no matter what. Especially at night, he'll sit at the end of your bed and tell you how much you mean to him. He'd go on until he's blue in the face if that's what it takes for you to believe his words.

Clara refuses to believe what she's read for a long while. She knows it's real, she has the proof held in her hands. Just... her child, her baby, was struggling with almost the same thing she was. And she didn't know. She didn't know and now they're gone.

If she wasn't worried about reader before, she's actually terrified now. The worst outcome is going through her mind, because really, what was stopping you from doing something dangerous? Clara is constantly eyeing the news, fear eating her alive.

The next time she sees you, you're getting the tightest hug. The woman sobbing into your shoulder, thanking whatever higher being that her baby is safe.

You aren't allowed to have sharp objects, unportioned medication, or anything that could be used to harm one's self anymore. Clara doesn't care, she's not leaving a chance. She knows what it's like being in that state of mind. She'll be dammed if she doesn't start acting like a mother should and protecting her child.

Jack is bawling his eyes out right away. The pen ink in your diary smudging as his tears hit the paper. You...oh god..

He feels like the shitiest person on earth, he doesn't deserve to call himself an older brother. He knew Jaiden had his struggles, and now this..

He pockets the journal. Jack reads it as some form of punishment. You suffered with this, he'll suffer with it too. When you're back home, he's trying his best to include you in everything.

Movie nights, board games, he comes up with anything and everything so you can spend time together. See? He has fun with you, he likes hanging out with you, you aren't a burden..

Theo feels bitter, resentful. At your parents, at themselves, at the fact that you felt that way. His resolve to find you becomes ten times stronger, there isn't a single doubt in their mind that you need to come home.

Much like Marcus, they'll affirm how much you're loved and wanted any chance they get. Theo cages you in their arms and mumbles praises for what feels like forever. They'll even go into morbid detail about how everyone fell apart while you were gone just to prove how needed you are.

Jaiden is tempted to rip the pages out. He goes through a rollercoaster of emotions.

At first, he's pissed. That you didn't say anything, that you didn't do anything to get help, that you just sat there and felt fucking miserable for years-

He's ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.

It feels.. awkward between you. Jaiden stares constantly, like he's never seen you before. When he finally breaks down sobbing, he's willing to beg at your feet if you'd forgive him for being such a horrible big brother

[akanemnon]

Sorry for the late ask but I have an unpopular opinion that I actually don’t know if people would agree with me on or not.

Years before I deleted TikTok, I used to be obsessed with these mildly edgy videos titled “Villains who weren’t evil, just broken 😢” With songs like “You’re Somebody Else” by Flora Cash or smth, and I feel like Lesslo would definitely fit under that category.

I hope I’m not misremembering anything as the Fun Gang escaped the labyrinth quite a while ago and I know that he’s probably gone for good from the script but considering he’s Asgore’s wedding ring, and I don’t think he turned into a bitch until the divorce (I know he also had history with the Priestess and Knight so I assume maybe that could’ve also contributed to him becoming an antagonist??? Forgive me for having a horrible memory…)

Nevertheless, my unpopular opinion is:

THE BITCH ISN’T ACTUALLY A BITCH, HE’S JUST BROKEN. 😢

I mean, as much as of an asshole he is in Twin Runes, I don't think he's completely irredeemable. He just needs to be knocked down a peg. Because right now he incapsulates that mindset of "If I can't be happy, then no one can!"

In all honestly, Lesslo is a victim of circumstance. Nobody is really at fault. Divorce happens. But as a wedding ring (the symbol of love and marriage) he was caught in the middle and grew bitter.

But I don't think that's gonna be something that will be explored in Twin Runes. Maybe in another story? I dunno. Sometimes, not everyone gets that sort of closure. That's just how life works.

[raspberrylovc]

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN

warnings :: situationship (yes this a warning)

fear street 1978 travis au!!

—

DESPITE TRAVIS’ gaze being so heavy, you couldn’t feel it at all. it was as if you’d subconsciously learned how to tune it out. he hated how you didn’t feel it — how you didn’t even spare him a glance.

you were sat next to kurt, laughing at whatever flirty comment he threw your way. you didn’t think too much of it. it was just some stupid guy saying something even stupider. but travis couldn’t stop thinking about it. his jaw was clenched and his hands were shoved into his pockets, and he just watched. like he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

you didn’t even see him move until he was right beside you. “having fun?” his voice was low and bitter, immediately gaining your attention. a few people turned their heads, but not enough people to make a scene. you looked up at him confused but before you could even speak, his mouth opened again.

“guess it doesn’t take much to keep you entertained.” the words felt like a slap. to both of you. he didn’t even mean it, he just wanted you to hurt like he was in this exact moment. you heard someone awkwardly laugh, trying to play it off as a joke. but you knew better. you saw the anger in his eyes — felt the jealousy radiating off of him.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you stood from your seat, crossing your arms across your chest. “you tell me.” he says. “one minute you’re all over me, and the next you’re laughing it up with fucking kurt. i’m just trying to keep up.”

“we’re not even-“ you cut yourself off. you weren’t even together. so why should you care what he thought? you didn’t owe him anything — that was the point of no labels. but it still hurt. especially since you were standing there, waiting for him to take it back, and he said absolutely nothing.

you felt your eyes starting to tear up, and with that, you walked off. you shoved past him without another word, you shoulder knocking into his as you stalked off into the woods. you didn’t look back. you couldn’t, or else the tears you were desperately trying to hold would fall.

you didn’t know how far you walked. you knew it was pretty far since you couldn’t hear any of the usual camp noises, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care.

you weren’t crying. not really. maybe one or two tears fell, but you wouldn’t count it as crying. you hated how much you cared — how much you kind of hoped he had followed you. you didn’t want to, but you did. and, of course, your hopes came true.

after you walked off, travis panicked. he wasn’t mad at you, he was jealous. and his jealousy left him to react badly, to snap at you. he stood frozen for a couple of seconds, debating if he should talk to you or not, before walking after you.

he stood a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tense. you could see the stubborn set of his jaw, the way he kept looking at you and then looking away like he didn’t know how to start. "i’m not good at this." he finally muttered, voice rough. "at... saying shit the right way."

you didn’t move. didn’t make it easier for him. he shifted his weight from foot to foot like he wanted to bolt but made himself stay rooted in place. "i didn’t mean it like that." travis said, softer now. "i just—" he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "i saw you with him and it- it pissed me off. i know i don’t have any right to say anything, but... i guess i thought-“

"you thought what?" you said, voice sharper than you meant it to be.

“i thought maybe it wasn’t just... this," he said, gesturing between you. "i thought maybe it meant something." you wanted to scream at him. you wanted to slap him. but another part of you also wanted to forget this happened and kiss him until you were both dizzy. you didn’t do any of those things. "you don’t get to make me feel like shit in front of everyone just because you don’t know what you want, travis."

“i do know.” he rushes out. “i want you.” he sounded desperate. the words hung between you two for a moment. and even though you wanted to stay mad, you found yourself taking a step toward him anyway. and maybe it was reckless but you closed the space between you and kissed him anyway.

—

A/N

i loveeee writing angst

[thef1diary]

omg omg omg you've got me gasping at the way you ended the last dirtbag!danny and i need more.

like maybe how he would tell reader, or maybe reader would notice a slight change and maybe ask about it.

— Hi nonnie!! ahh im so happy you liked it! This thought is soo interesting because the way I see dirtbag!danny, I don’t think he is the type to sit you down and have a heart-to-heart. Instead, he’d let it build n build until it boils over, all his thoughts jumbling up together as he speaks until he’s confused, and you’re confused. Lil ramble under the cut <3

It’s not his style to just come up to you and tell you what’s bothering him. Nah, it’s going to fester, like this slow build up of little moments that just sting until he can’t hold it in anymore.

You start noticing the changes though. Like, at first, it’s subtle—he’s less cocky, not as quick to throw out his usual dirty quips. Maybe he’s pulling back a bit during the moments you’d normally joke around or tease him. He’ll still show up, still do all the things he always does, but there’s an edge to it now. Maybe he’s a little sharper with his tone when you make plans with friends and don’t invite him.

And you’re confused because this isn’t the Daniel you’re used to. Dirtbag!danny doesn’t get moody. He doesn’t sulk. So, naturally, you’re going to ask what’s wrong, right? But instead of answering, he just brushes you off with a sarcastic, “Nothing, sweetheart, you’re overthinking it,” or something equally frustrating.

But then it happens. One of those little moments that really tips him over, the tension just creeping in without either of you realizing.

Maybe it’s a random night, and you’re just talking, casually filling the quiet while he’s sitting on the arm of the couch, scrolling through his phone. You tell him about something your friend said earlier. “She was going on about how great it is to have someone stable, you know? Like, all the pros of being in a real relationship—security, consistency, all that stuff.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “She’s convinced I need to find someone like that. Like I’d even want all that right now. It was… kind of funny, honestly.”

You expect him to smirk, maybe toss out some cheeky comment about how you’ve got all the security you need right here. But he doesn’t. Instead, his whole body tenses, and he lets out this short, humourless laugh, shaking his head.

“Funny, huh?” His voice is sharp, biting, and it makes you pause, blinking up at him. “What’s so funny about it?”

You frown, sitting up a little. “What’s with you? It’s not that deep, Danny, I was just—”

“Not that deep?” he snaps, cutting you off. He stands up abruptly, running a hand through his curls, his frustration spilling over. “You’re sitting here laughing about it, like it’s some big joke, but maybe it’s not so damn funny to me.”

You’re caught off guard, the words hitting you out of nowhere. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you sit there and joke about ‘stability’ and ‘security’ like it’s some foreign concept, like what we’re doing is just…” He gestures vaguely, his voice dropping, bitter. “Just fun, nothing else.”

“Isn’t it?” you challenge, your voice softer but no less pointed.

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he just stares at you, the tension crackling between you. Then he scoffs, his voice low and cutting. “Yeah… sure, nevermind. I’m not your boyfriend anyway, right? Isn’t that what you tell everyone?”

And it’s such a Daniel way of trying to explain it, right? Like, he doesn’t come out and admit what he’s actually feeling. Instead, it comes out as anger, frustration, because he’s spent months telling himself it doesn’t bother him. That you calling this just fun was fine because that’s what he signed up for. But deep down? It does bother him, and now you know it.

You just sit there, stunned for a second, trying to process what he just said. Because it’s not like you didn’t notice the change—you just didn’t realize how much it was eating at him. And now it’s out there, hanging in the air between you, and you’re left wondering what to even say to that. Do you brush it off, like you think you should do? Or is this the moment where everything shifts?

Because honestly, even Daniel doesn’t know what he wants. He’s upset, yeah, maybe even a little mad at himself for letting his odd feelings get in the way—feelings that he doesn’t even understand yet—but he’s also scared. Scared that you’ll agree with him, that you’ll tell him he’s right, and that this really is just casual to you. But he’s also terrified that you’ll say something else, something more, and then what? What does he even do with that? It’s messy, it’s complicated, and it’s so very Daniel.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your latest thoughts n rambles and go through the #dirtbag!danny tag for any missed blurb n fics <3

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🛏️ Bed Sharing Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🛏️ Three Days in February by @mercurial-madhouse {E, 187k}

“What if I don’t remember in time?” Louis pushed out a breath too controlled to be steady. “We’re six days away from tour and we’ve got the Brits on Tuesday. What if I can’t figure this out before then? Fuck, what if I actually did ask for this and now I’m going to…to…shit…just fuck it all up for you lads or be stuck like this for-…”

Harry uncurled both of Louis’s hands from the fists they’d turned into and pressed them flat against his chest, silently urging Louis to take comfort the best way Harry could give it to him. “You really think we care more about tour than you? You’re going to remember before then. If you asked for this, you must’ve had a good reason.”

How close is too close? Harry and Louis are about to find out after a drunken night leaves Louis cursed. With only a week before tour starts, the race is on to fix things before they lose Louis forever. Oh, and Harry has to keep his long-time crush on Louis a secret while the lad can literally hear his thoughts. Easy, right?

Featuring ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

🛏️ My Lights Stay Up, But Your City Sleeps by PearlyDewdrops / @moonhusbands {E, 108k}

Harry breaks into his own smile, scrunching his nose when he glances back up, meeting Louis' eyes, his stiff posture loosening. They stare for a beat, Harry's smile dwindling. "So... you're okay with it? That it can’t go anywhere?"

Louis nods easily. "We're on the same page. Promise." He holds out his pinkie to prove it, mind hazy and giddy from alcohol. Harry’s dimples appear in each cheek as he holds out his own, their pinkies intertwining. "We're just two people who like each other, have fun together, and who may or may not kiss and... stuff.” He grins, wild adrenaline pumping through to his fingertips.

Harry sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, lowering his flushed gaze to the floor.

“Just don't go falling in love with me, and it'll be fine," Louis smirks.

Or Louis has trouble sleeping, Harry has a habit of wrapping himself around Louis during the nights, and a mutual agreement to engage in a fun and simple thing quickly turns into something perhaps not so fun, and certainly not simple.

🛏️ nothing worsens, nothing grows by @soldouthaz {E, 102k}

and he sits there quietly with harry’s headphones in his ears while his eyes begin to close, totally unaware that he’s listening to the soundtrack of harry falling in love with him.

or, another roadtrip au featuring harry as the misunderstood hipster, louis as the bitter psych major, liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

🛏️ Caught In Your Gravity by @lululawrence [NR, 62k]

It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

🛏️ No Going Back by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 56k}

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

🛏️ i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine by @disgruntledkittenface {M, 50k}

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

🛏️ Cabin Fever by @germericangirl {E, 46k}

“What the fuck is he doing here?“ He asked still looking at him, before he turned back to look at Niall for an answer.

Niall’s mouth fell open and he looked at him with wide eyes "He um changed his mind?“

Harry stared at Niall for a few seconds in silence, before grabbing a bag and walking towards a bedroom without looking at anyone else, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Liam flinched in front of Louis.

“Well I’m happy to see you too.“ Louis mumbled, some of the tension leaving his body. This wasn’t exactly how he thought their first meeting would go. It was quiet for a moment before Louis finally spoke up “Did you seriously not tell him I was coming?“

Or: One cabin, one bed, two ex-boyfriends. What could possibly go wrong?

🛏️ Close to Nowhere by @angelichl {E, 34k}

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.” 

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

🛏️ never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same by fearsparks / @onlythebravest {T, 27k,}

“Why didn’t you call me?” Louis demanded. “As usual?”

Niall grimaced and reluctantly said, “He said you would make him drop.”

“Make him, how?” Liam asked worriedly, then quickly turned to Louis with almost judging eyes, asking, “You’d never force him to drop, right?”

“Fuck no,” Louis said firmly, shaking his head. “Never.” He’d never force Harry to drop unless he wanted to drop. Jesus, are his friends all idiots?

(Harry and Louis have relied on each other for over two years now, always turning to each other every time they need anything from touch to pheromones. But after Harry's omega unexpectedly causes him to drop in the pub, their relationship is no longer the same.)

🛏️ Fate Had Other Plans by @snowy38 {E, 25k}

Louis Tomlinson books into a remote Ski Lodge in Austria to avoid everyone at Christmas. He is looking forward to his bah-humbug lonely Christmas when Harry Styles 'breaks into' his lodge and ruins his plans with his happy, sociable nature...

Harry Styles booked into a Ski Lodge to spend Christmas alone with his boyfriend Nick Grimshaw; only two weeks before Christmas Nick dumps him and Harry decides the trip will help him re-find himself. What he doesn't expect to find is love...

🛏️ Yours In Fractions by @kingsofeverything {E, 23k}

Louis and Harry are strangers who, because of a mix up, share their mutual friend's apartment and bed over the holidays.

🛏️ The Aurora Zone by MsHydeStylinson / @mizzhydes {E, 19k}

“Hi, I’m Harry.” The guy introduced himself and Louis just grabbed his hand by instinct. It was big and warm when pressed against his own. His handshake was firm, and Louis just dumbly repeated his action.

“Louis.” Louis replied and then quickly wrenched his hand out from the grip of Harry’s claw. He hoisted himself up a bit more and glared at him suspiciously as this Harry guy was peeling off his outerwear like it was just a normal thing to do. Well, sure it was, but why the hell was he doing it in Louis’ room?

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Louis finally aired the question that had been circling in his mind this entire time now.

Or the one where Harry is busy crossing off his bucket list while Louis is busy falling for the guy he's supposed to hate.

🛏️ You Are The Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn!) by @yoursolosong {E, 18k}

“You built this?” Louis whispered in a trembling voice.

Harry's mind finally seemed to kick in and he rushed to explain, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Lou. I know how weird this must look. I didn't mean to take advantage of your stuff behind your back, please, I am so sorry.”

Harry was now a blubbering mess. He fucked up.

He knew he fucked up.

Real bad.

It hadn't even been an hour since they made up and Harry fucked it all up. Again.

Louis must think Harry’s a weirdo.

God.

“I will wash it all for you and give it back, I promise. We can both forget everything about-”

He was cut by the sound of Louis growling.

And oh shit.

“You won't touch it,” Louis commanded.

Or Harry is an alpha who realizes he’s also into alphas and wants to be submissive. He battles between his instincts and what he wants.

🛏️ Lost But Won by @2tiedships2 {NR, 16k}

“If you start out by talking about your weekend of golfing I swear to god I will stab you with a pen,” Louis said by way of greeting. “You’ll have to give me a few minutes though so I can see if I even own a pen. But the warning stands.”

“Hello to you too, dearest Louis,” Niall yelled from where he still sat on the couch next to Harry.

There was a clunk on the floor and what sounded like shoes hitting the wall as Niall announced, “We have a guest. You might want to save stabbing me until you don’t have a witness.”

“Well if they are obsessed with golf then…” Louis trailed off as he made his appearance in the living room.

Harry’s mouth dried up. This was not the alpha that Niall had described.

When Harry loses his passport after a weekend trip to see Niall, the inconvenience of being stranded in America becomes a little more bearable after meeting Louis. Or a lot more bearable.

🛏️ if it looks like, feels like, tastes like love... by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix {T, 16k}

Niall has an easygoing smile on his face, bright and unbothered, as if he isn’t facilitating a lunch between Harry and the one person he might truly hate. “Niall. Louis,” Harry greets them both, somewhat strained. Louis doesn’t even look up at him. Harry sighs, taking a seat next to Niall and grabbing for the sandwich on the table. “Hear me out,” Niall says, cutting right to the chase. “Family housing.”

Or, the one where harry and louis hate each other but pretend to date to be able to live in university 'family housing', zayn and liam are their nosy next door neighbors, and niall is the friend who made it all happen.

🛏️ In a sky full of stars, be my Northern lights by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed {T, 13k}

It's one of those nights there's nothing on the telly that Louis absently scrolls through Tinder. After swiping left on a bunch of profiles he comes face to face with a picture that stops him in his tracks. The picture is..almost sweet. It’s a boy with brown curly hair, wearing a very low cut yellow blouse, paired with a black jacket. He’s got a smile on his face and his tongue sticking out, but it’s not in any way lewd or suggestive. He just looks like he’s having a good time, and something about the innocence of it has him swiping right rather than left.

He’s barely checked the other pictures on the boy's profile before Tinder confirms that he’s got a match. The shots are so different from the pictures Louis is used to on Tinder - half naked boys who are smoldering at the camera - that he can’t help but smile.

It quickly turns into a frown when he opens up the message he’s just received.

Harry: Hello! Harry: Thank you for swiping right Harry: I have a proposition for you

🛏️ Ever Since by @letsjustsee {NR, 10k}

Louis once again went to leave, but before he could reach the door he heard Barkley jumping off the bed behind him. The giant dog accosted Louis before he could get through, nudging Louis’ legs with all his weight and making him stumble, and Louis had to grab the doorframe to steady himself. “What the heck, Barkley?” Louis was mostly talking to himself, aware that Barkley couldn’t actually understand him, but he had never witnessed the dog acting so oddly. He turned around when he heard a quiet murmur coming from the bed. “What?” He hadn’t been able to make out what Harry said, but at Louis’ question he sat up in bed, hair already wild from the pillow, eyes heavy, and Louis’ stomach gave a little flip. “He wants you to stay.” 

Or, a very fluffy AU where Louis finds a lost dog that he wishes he could keep - until he meets his owner, who he wishes he could keep more.

🛏️ remember you well by fondleeds / @harrybridgers {NR, 8k}

“Um,” Harry starts. He looks out of place. Louis can’t really believe he’s seeing Harry like this, so unsettled, so unlike himself. He holds out his hands. “Should we–. Should I, um. Did you wanna, like, cuff me to the bed or something?”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Do I need to?”

AU. Harry’s a criminal, Louis’ a cop, and they’re stranded overnight at the Motel 6.

🛏️ All That Matters by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa {T, 5k}

“The wedding is set to be in five weeks. Your journey will take approximately four weeks and starts in three days. I have arranged for guards to accompany you. A maid will come pack your things.”

OR Omega Prince Harry is send on a journey to his future husband. Alpha Louis is one of the guards travelling with him.

🛏️ The Morning After the Night Before by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {NR, 4k}

Harry and Louis have more or less grown up together, even now as adults it's tradition for their families to spend a few weeks in the summer at a beach house together.

Problem One: Louis has been in love with Harry forever.

Problem Two: It wont stop raining.

🛏️ like a dream but i wasn't asleep by @alwaysxlarrie {G, 2k}

It's cold outside and Harry just wants to get into his hotel room and go to bed. It should be a simple task, but it’s made more challenging by his complicated relationship with gravity, a booking mixup, and a really hot guy.

Receptionist Amy is the only victim here.