#MAYBE IM WAY OFF let me know LOL I just thought about him. he’s a good actor and everything and the correct age bracket

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff

↳ ✎ᝰ 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)

↳ contains ── so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

It’s simple, really. 

Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted ‘Have a good night!’

And repeat. 

Well, most of the time. 

Occasionally, there’s the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely don’t have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store? 

Total dream job. 

You get paid—as in actual, legit money—to sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong? 

At least, that’s how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like: 

“Can you work nights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, you’re hired.” 

No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate. 

And it’s not like you’re picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someone’s gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across. 

So yeah. Easy work.

At least, that's what you thought.

Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.

Someone?

Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whatever’s left of his identity. You think it’s either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, or—more likely—a vampire who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Joseon era (you’re leaning more towards vampire).

But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.

Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like he’s done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.

You watch, intrigued. And then—horrified.

Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?

You’re barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before he’s already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.

You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.

“Uh,” you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, “That’ll be—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already fishing out the exact amount—three crisp bills—out his back pocket and holds it out for you.

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.

When you don’t show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.

All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.

Wow. Okay. So tonight’s customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.

You internally scoff at the entire interaction, but—unfortunately for you—you can’t look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?

You’re weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.

It’s a curse.

Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously you’re not staring, you’re just…hyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.

Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.

Step two: Ramen into the microwave.

Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.

Step four: Peel the lid back in slowly—so painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.

Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milk—of course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.

Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.

And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mind—he slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.

Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybe—

Nope.

All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyes—barely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.

But even so, you still can’t look away. What even is that color? And why can’t you look away?

Whatever. It’s just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.

Except it is.

Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. You’re probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard you’re trying to decode this guy’s entire identity from literally just his eyes.

You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as you’re trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiar—

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.

Abort mission. Now.

You cough—loudly, dramatically—and your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.

When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see he’s now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you can’t even see his eyes anymore. He’s gone full turtle mode.

You lift a brow.

Weirdo.

A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.

Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?

You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.

And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.

You’re in the clear. At least, you think you’re in the clear. 

After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Face—spicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampire—you’ve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits. 

He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, that’s the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like it’s a Michelin-star ramen bar—and not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (don’t ask). 

By night three, you’ve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur. 

By night four, you’ve decided he’s your own personal karma sent by the universe. 

It starts off with the door chime. You don’t even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule. 

You don’t look up from the colorful juice pouches you’re restocking. You’re halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid display—color-coded, of course—because, clearly, you’ve peaked as a human being. 

Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please don’t perceive me. Same old routine, same old—

Wait. 

He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns. 

And looks directly at you. 

Your face heats up—probably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but it’s close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if it’s your lifeline before you clear your throat, “Uh—is something wrong?” 

He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time in…ever, he speaks. 

Gasp. 

So we can cross mute off the list. 

“They’re out of my flavor,” he says. His voice is deep, which isn’t surprising to you, given he’s the literal human embodiment of the color black, but it’s also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh. 

Almost. 

Because his tone isn’t just serious—it’s accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment. 

Excuse me? 

Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesn’t look good on your resume. 

Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Uh..yeah, it looks like it,” you deadpan, inching closer to where he’s standing to investigate the shelf. 

Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction. 

Nope. It’s empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics. 

“Tragic,” you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. “There are plenty of other flavors. Maybe try…the regular spicy?” 

You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that you’re deranged. 

“No.” 

You blink. 

“No?” 

“It has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.” 

You blink again. 

You wait for the punchline.

It never comes. 

This man is dead serious. 

You’re standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious. 

And he’s staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, it’s looking like you’re facing death. 

But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split second—just a split second—you’re derailed from your rising anger. 

They’re brown. But not just any brown—the kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. You’re literally staring at, like, three inches of this guy’s face. 

And he’s a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N. 

“Uh, yeah,” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. “Sorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But I’m sure you won’t implode by going one night without it?” 

You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood. 

He does not smile back. 

Not even a flicker. 

Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life. 

You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day won’t be so bad afterall. 

“I’m sure the regular spicy one is just as good. What’s the worst that could happen?” you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesn’t explode in front of you—mainly because you’re not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager. 

“I’m not risking it,” he finally deadpans. 

Your jaw drops slightly. 

“You’re not ris—” you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But you’ve come this far. “You’re being…serious?” 

The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh, I understand,” you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. “I understand that you’re just picky.” 

At that, his eyes flash—sharp, unreadable. “I’m not picky.” 

“You won’t eat a perfectly fine ramen just because it’s not named after the ninth circle of hell.” 

Silence. 

He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review. 

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, “Fine. I’ll take the mild one.” 

You blink at the flavor in your hand—the one that’s clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him. 

“You mean regular spicy.” 

“Right. Whatever. Same thing.” 

He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here. 

Before you’re about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store. 

“Hello?” 

Oh. Right. Your job. 

You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible. 

He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two. 

“You know,” you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, “some people would say thank you for the recommendation.” 

His brow arches—or at least, you think it does. It’s hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires back—

“And some people wouldn’t forget to restock the ramen.” 

Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didn’t just verbally body-slam you. 

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic. 

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore? 

Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldn’t legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshoots—you name it—nothing about his life is consistent. 

However—

There are two things—two sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness. 

The first? 

Insomnia. 

Not by choice, of course. He doesn’t love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But it’s a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseung’s insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleep—with a side of existential dread. 

And the second? 

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk. 

Yes, it’s a weird combo. 

No, he doesn’t care. 

This unlikely pairing is Heeseung’s personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world. 

Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace. 

Then—and only then—can Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm. 

Does he have a problem? Absolutely. 

Is he addicted? Without a doubt. 

Does he care? Not in the slightest. 

Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent. 

Well, except for last night. 

Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen. 

He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with. 

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the someone responsible. 

Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last night’s disappointment of an outcome. 

Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter. 

Yup, there she is. 

You. 

The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice. 

You’re here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him. 

But tonight, he’s prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight. 

Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are. 

He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk. 

Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night. 

Except—

Except, of course, you’re watching him. Again. 

He doesn’t even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other night—like you’re seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds. 

He doesn’t get it—what’s so strange about ramen and coffee milk? It’s not like he’s dipping the noodles in it. Why you’ve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but it’s really throwing him off his ramen zen. 

Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voice—because, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What's right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help,” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

By night six, you don’t know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.

The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know it’s him—Ramen Guy. The guy who you’re convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float. 

You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like it’s his newborn child.

He’s so weird. 

You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk? 

Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, “You ever think about switching it up?”

Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesn’t miss a beat, “You ever think about minding your business?” 

“Not really. Boredom makes me nosy,” you shrug. “And at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.” 

He rolls his eyes so dramatically you’re mildly concerned he might sprain something. 

“And I’m starting to think you like judging me a little too much.” 

“Wrong. I like judging everyone equally,” you scan his items, then tilt your head. “But maybe you’re a special case. With issues.” 

To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh. 

“Says the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.”

Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.

Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “What? Too close to home?”

You shift in your spot, “Bold of you to assume I have issues.”

He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shift the attention back to him. “What about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?”

At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanor—the slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight. 

Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.

“Why do you keep working the night shift?”

You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "Touché. But I asked first."

There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatiently—nervously?

"I like the peace and quiet,” he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.

For a split second, you’re startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in tone—it’s almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.

"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.

"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"

You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.

Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.

"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."

It’s an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.

He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.

“So,” he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, “do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?”

You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, “Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?”

For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something smug, something entertained. And you don’t know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.

“Touché,” he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessary—like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.

And you should do the same.

You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasks—wiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productive—you find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.

He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feels…different.

It’s nothing. You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.

And yet—

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him—the way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.

It’s nothing.

Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.

The faint sound of the store’s music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.

And then—he hesitates.

Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightly—just enough to look at you.

“See you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:

"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—you take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat. 

He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.

“What…are you doing?” 

“Having dinner,” you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips. 

His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. “It’s almost 1:30AM.” 

“Okay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,” you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal. 

Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like he’s just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence follows—the only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the store’s playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices. 

Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, “Want one?”

He stops mid-motion, as if he’d almost forgotten you were still here.

Almost.

A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.

You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, “So…what kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?”

It’s a question that’s been on your mind since last night’s conversation. What can you say? You’re a creature of curiosity.

Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, “What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?”

He lets out a short chuckle. “You want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. “Look, I’m just saying—most people are asleep at this hour.”

He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. “You’re here too, aren’t you?”

“That’s different, this is my job,” you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, “Unless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.”

And he laughs. It’s small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, “It’s like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hour…I don’t get a lot of that.”

You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.

Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.

You tilt your head. “So, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?”

A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that.”

You raise a brow at his vague answer but don’t press. Instead, you nod towards his food. “And your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?”

He huffs, “Maybe I just have superior taste.”

“Right, totally,” you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him. 

Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You think you have me all figured out?”

You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, “Oh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward slightly. “Alright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.”

You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.

“You’re a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.”

Ramen Guy doesn’t react, so you continue.

“You’re a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain won’t let you.” Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. “So, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.”

Still no response.

“So now, you just keep showing up here because it’s predictable,” you finish with a small shrug. “And maybe…‘cause you’re kinda lonely.”

That makes him pause.

You immediately regret saying it. Because…what was that?

That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t deflect. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“…Not bad,” he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, kinda harsh, but…mostly true.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that.

A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, “So basically, you’re saying we’re the same.”

You let out a snort, “Not even close.”

“We both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.” He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.

“You just started eating those,” you deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I’m still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.”

“You literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.”

“Okay, you’re the one who made it weird.”

A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, “So you agree your food choices are weird?” 

His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you. 

“Whatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.” 

The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—he’s late. It’s 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.

He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodie—forcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).

When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing before—

“Wow,” you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. “Tragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.”

Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, “You wish. Wouldn’t want you to get bored without me.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, “Wow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?”

Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and he’s glad it’s hiding the way he’s failing to fight the smile growing on his face.

When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. “Okay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?” 

Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few nights, it’s that you’re incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, you’re absolutely terrible at keeping things that way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,” you gesture vaguely at him. “So, spill.”

His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he can’t).

“I do…stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeat, “Quite riveting.”

Heeseung exhales, “Why do you care?”

You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. “You must do something interesting. You’re too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.”

Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"

"Yeah, like—" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."

Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."

Then, he simply shrugs. But there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, like he’s deciding exactly how much he wants to say.

"It’s hard to explain,” he finally says. “I just…have a weird work schedule.”

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in, I don’t really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."

You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."

Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."

For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.

And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels a little too tight—like he’s let you stumble into a part of him you weren’t supposed to see yet.

“Well,” you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. “I’m honored you’ve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.”

He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Don’t let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

He then turns to head to his usual corner when—

“Y/N.”

Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.

“My name,” you clarify, casually returning to sorting the register’s bills. “A lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.”

Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.

And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls out—

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And, this time, he doesn’t fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:

“Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

It happens the moment he steps inside.

Heeseung doesn’t even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.

Familiar because he’s heard it a thousand times.

Familiar because it’s literally his voice singing the line.

His stomach drops.

Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where you’re idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.

The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.

Panic creeps up his spine.

He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.

You jump in your seat.

“Geez—” you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. “What the hell?”

Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, “Did you put this on?”

Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers he’s pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.

“Oh—this? Nah, it’s the store’s playlist,” you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. “It’s some group’s new song. Pretty catchy.”

Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.

You don’t recognize it.

You don’t recognize his voice.

The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problem—because now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.

Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?

“You okay?” Now you’re staring at him, suspicious. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, “No reason.” 

You squint at him.

Then—

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Wait.”

His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.

“Are you a fan?” you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.

Heeseung blinks.

…What.

“Oh, you totally are,” you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. “You came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?”

Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.

“Something like that,” he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.

You beam brightly from your seat, “That’s cute. Who’s your bias?”

At that, Heeseung does laugh—because this is now officially the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause.

And then—after a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious face—he finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.

“This guy,” he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. “Because that’s me. That’s my voice.”

Silence.

You stare at him.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, after what feels like an eternity—

“…Huh?”

Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorry—what?"

Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.

"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."

Another beat of silence.

Then—because you’re you—

You burst out laughing.

"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.”

Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."

"Because you’re delusional?"

"Because you don’t pay attention."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, I’m sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that you’re actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"

Heeseung groans.

He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But no—he had to be honest. And look where that got him.

"I’m serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.

You stare back at him.

Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.

"Oh, we’re doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Let’s see if—"

You stop.

Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.

Then back at him.

“Take the mask off,” you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.

With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what he’s told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.

You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.

"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.

Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.

You don’t know what shocks you more—the fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along. 

"So…you’re famous?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the group’s Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."

Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you don’t have to say it like that."

"Like what? Like you’re a superstar and I’ve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am?"

“Unbelievable,” you scoff, shaking your head. “So you sing. You perform. You—commit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.”

Heeseung groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. “So you’re telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a week’s worth of sodium, and I—” You pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?”

“And are you ever able to mind your own business?” Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.

“Absolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,” you wave your hands in disbelief. “Mystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop star—”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“—and I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like he’s just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Wait—” you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. “—you’re loaded, aren’t you?”

Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, “Why is that your takeaway from this?”

“You are!” you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. “You’re rich and you’re out here eating instant ramen every night!”

Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, “Oh my god.”

Grinning, you bend down to this level. “So this whole time, you’ve been lying to me?”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "It’s not lying. It’s…selective honesty.”

You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. “That’s literally the definition of lying.”

“Look, it’s not like I planned to make a habit out of this,” he gestures to the store around him. “I came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, and—”

“And you kept coming back anyways,” you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.

Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.

“…Yeah.”

A silence stretches between you—charged, almost personal—until you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.

“What if I play your group’s music over the speakers every night?”

The look on his face is deadly. “You wouldn’t.”

Your grin grows, “Wouldn’t I, though?”

“This is the worst night of my life,” Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. “Also can we talk about how you literally just said you’re your own bias?”

“Shut up.”

You’re still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds later—Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.

“Alright, serious question,” you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. “If you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?”

Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.

“That’s straight evil.”

“You must choose, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “You can’t just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.”

“Choose.”

He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.

Then back at his ramen.

Then back at you.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Aw,” you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Like, ever.”

Heeseung shoots a glare at you, “I hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.”

“Oh, it totally does,” you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, “It’s just so awful.”

Heeseung’s lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, “You’re a lost cause.”

You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:

“…I’d give up coffee milk.”

It’s quiet. It’s barely there.

Your jaw drops.

“I know, okay?” He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. “It’s like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.”

You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you don’t). But still, you smile—because you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.

Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. “I hate that you made me think about this.”

“You should be thanking me. Y’know, character growth and all that.”

“More like character damage.”

You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, then—he nudges his ramen cup toward you.

“Here. Try some.”

You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him he’s absolutely psychotic.

“Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why? You scared?”

“No, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.”

He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. “Just one bite. C’mon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.”

You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, because—damn it—he’s looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.

And then he moves. 

He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

It’s ridiculous, really. I mean, it’s ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glint—it feels like time slows down.

You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re overthinking.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.

Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split second—one charged, unspoken, split second—neither of you move.

Heeseung is so close.

So close.

You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.

But then you start chewing.

And that’s when you realize—

No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?

Oh.

Oh no.

Yeah. It’s definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is). 

Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodles—the embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits.

And then—

“Oh my GOD—” you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.

Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.

Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.

His laugh bursts out of him—loud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.

If you weren’t literally physically dying in this current moment, you’d probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.

“No way—” he wheezes through his laughter,“—are you actually struggling right now?”

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!” you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. “You eat this voluntarily?!”

“Every night, baby.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if it’s your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.

At Heeseung.

At the way he’s still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when he’s amused—

Weird.

You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.

You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.

“I hope,” you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, “that when you come in tomorrow, we’re all out of this horrid flavor.”

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.

“You’d still restock it for me, though.”

Damn it.

Your shoulders slump, and both of you know you’re defeated.

He knows you know you’re defeated. 

Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.

You stare at it. Then at him.

His smile grows.

And you accept it.

Begrudgingly.

It’s 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noise—lights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers. 

And Heeseung? 

Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help. 

For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air. 

And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.

“You’re supposed to be helping me restock,” you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him. 

“I am helping,” he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great. 

You cross your arms, scoffing, “Oh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?” 

Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, “Moral support?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you. 

Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks it—

“How do you do this every night? Does it not get…I don’t know, tedious? Boring?” 

You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.

“Hm,” you turn to him, head tilted as you think.

Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box. 

You exhale, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah, the hours suck, pay is…alright. And—” 

You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, “—and I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.” 

Something in Heeseung’s expression shifts. 

“I mean, I’m a college student, for god’s sake,” you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. “And I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was just…watching life pass me by, you know?”

Your voice quiets and it’s just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.

Because he gets it. 

He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.

Because despite the differences in your lives—despite how he’s constantly moving while you feel stuck—you both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if you’re ever going to feel like you belong in it.

Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, “Yeah, I get that.” 

You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you don’t push. 

“But then,” you say quietly, “I started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of a…break. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.” 

And that—that makes Heeseung look up. 

Because deep down, that’s exactly what all of this has become for him too. 

He doesn’t know when it happened—if maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of that—but these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his. 

And he wonders if maybe…maybe you’re the reason for that. 

Maybe you’ve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving. 

And maybe he’s been keeping you from feeling stuck. 

Just maybe.

It’s late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here. 

And you don’t know how, but you’ve both abandoned your usual spots—his self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.

Instead, you’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.

“See this is exactly my problem with this movie,” you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. “One idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyone’s dead! Like, be so for real.”

Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, “It’s a movie, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

“And I don’t have to pretend this isn’t garbage,” you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. “This is objectively the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“I think I just have an acquired superior taste,” Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. “Just like with my food choices.” 

“Right,” your voice drags out. “Superior delusion, maybe.”

Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.

As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. It’s the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind that’s been happening more lately—something you never would’ve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store. 

Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, “You know, this might be the longest I’ve sat and relaxed in months.” 

You glance up at him, brows raised, “What, you don’t get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he huffs a laugh. “But I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes it’s like…”

He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, “Like I’m moving so fast I forget what it’s like to just…be.”

Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.

“Is it hard?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, “It’s…a lot. You’re always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks I’m already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.”

You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something you’ve started to notice over time whenever he’s lost in thought. 

“But there are moments that make it worth it,” he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. “The music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. It’s unreal.”

Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth before—and it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but don’t realize the weight of until they’re carrying it themselves. 

You nudge his knee lightly with yours, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.” 

Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“See, this is why I keep coming back,” he says, chewing. “Gourmet snacks and free therapy.”

You roll your eyes. “Unbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.”

Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beat—

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

When you look up at him, he’s already looking at you with a new…something. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitates—shifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what he’s about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I—um,” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry? For, y’know, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was pretty…” He trails off awkwardly. “Jerk-ish.” 

You don’t move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.

Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.

Then, a smile—slow and sweet—curls at your lips.

And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesn’t regret a damn thing.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, nodding along dramatically. “You were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.”

Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Okay, I get it.”

“But,” you continue, locking eyes with him again, “I guess I should apologize too.”

Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, “For what? Finally admitting I was right about—”

“For judging you and your still…very questionable choices.”

“Ah, there it is.”

You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing. 

“But seriously…you’re, like…” you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.

Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.

“…pretty cool, I guess.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you scoff. “You’re still a ramen-addicted jerk.”

Heeseung hums, still smiling, “Might be too late.”

Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, “You’re pretty cool, too, I guess.”

You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, “Okay, that sounded almost sincere.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, “No, but seriously, it’s…nice. Having someone I could talk to outside of…you know, my whole chaotic life.”

The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t…really talk to people like this,” he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. “Now like how I do with you. Like…I could tell you anything and everything, really.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, “Oh?”

Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, “Sorry. Too serious?”

You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recently—have started to mean something more. They’ve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. It’s like the moment he steps through the store’s doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, it’s just the two of you in this shared space.

A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.

“No,” you say, softer this time. “Not at all.”

You hesitate for a beat before adding, “I…really like talking to you too. It’s—” you let out a small laugh, “almost unnaturally easy, actually.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are serious—no teasing, no usual smugness, just something…real. Vulnerable.

Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.

You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy looking at his face.

Then, without thinking, his lips.

And he’s looking at yours.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly, you’re close. He’s close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.

You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.

But you don’t.

And he doesn’t.

And then—

Ding.

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.

You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter. 

You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, who’s still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, “I should—um. Go back to work.”

Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, “Right. Yeah. Work.”

Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their change—all while pretending you don’t feel Heeseung’s presence still lingering behind you.

You don’t turn around, and he doesn’t move.

And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.

The door chimes as the customer leaves.

Then, finally—Heeseung clears his throat.

Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manage—

“So, uh—same time tomorrow?”

You blink.

Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, “You’re so weird.”

The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, “And yet, you’d miss me if I didn’t show up, wouldn’t you?”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, except—nothing comes out.

Because, unfortunately, you know he’s right.

And he knows he’s right.

So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.

“Go home, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. “Night, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

When he’s finally gone, you’re left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.

And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles in—

You groan, dropping your head against the counter.

Because now he's in your head.

Great.

The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the store’s white noise. But tonight? 

Tonight, it’s your biggest freaking nuisance. 

You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, you’re taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster. 

Why? 

Because, it’s 2:21AM. 

2:21AM, and you’re alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with. 

Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that don’t even need straightening. 

Heeseung’s voice from a few days ago still rings in your head—completely, and unfortunately, uninvited.

You don’t even know why they’re stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.

The worst part?

His words had been entirely untrue.

Because it’s been three days.

Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.

And you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

Frustrated? Yeah, you’re frustrated. But the real question is—at what, exactly?

Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?

Or maybe you’re frustrated at the very fact that you’re even thinking about this at all.

It’s not like he owes you an explanation. It’s not like he belongs to this store…or to you.

So why does it feel like something’s missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?

You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You don’t care.

You don’t care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain—your traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brain—itches with a thought.

A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.

And before you can fully even process what you’re doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldn’t.

You search up his name.

It’s pathetic. It’s sad. Even you’re disappointed in yourself. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is just…Heeseung—the insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.

And to him? 

Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didn’t have to be anyone around. 

His words echo in your mind as you think—just a person he could tell anything and everything to. 

You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrolling—quick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absence—

And then. 

You see it.

A tweet. 

Tagging his group, followed by a message. It’s short. Sweet. Simple. 

Yet entirely soul-crushing. 

“Can’t believe they’re leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!” 

Your breath catches. 

Your eyes flicker over the words again.

And again.

Leaving. For tour.

Tomorrow.

Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accounts—anything to tell you this isn’t real. That there’s some mistake. That you didn’t just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.

Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.

Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.

And he didn’t say a word.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.

And you hate it.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasn’t to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.

Instead, you’re angry. Upset. Hurt.

And what you hate the most?

You know exactly why you feel this way.

And just as that realization settles in—just as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignore—the familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.

You almost don’t look up.

Almost.

But then you do, and your stomach drops.

Because there he is.

You blink, because at first you think maybe you’ve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that you’ve started hallucinating him—manifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.

But, no.

Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothing’s changed.

Like he hasn’t been gone for days, like he hasn’t left you suffering with your own emotions—like he hasn’t been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didn’t want him to be.

“Hey,” Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milk—all like clockwork, all like he never left.

You don’t respond.

Instead, you busy yourself—wiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending you’re looking for something in the shelves beneath you.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.

And you might actually lose it.

Because if you have to stand here and pretend like you’re fine, that these past few days haven’t felt like an eternity for you—you might actually lose it.

Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, “Hey?” 

He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You mad at me or something?” he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.

You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.

Then, you let out a quiet laugh—an empty, humorless scoff.

“Should I be?”

Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, “What?”

You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gaze—uncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiar—you feel your throat close up.

He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that you’ve somehow come to find comfort in.

And that makes you hate this even more.

“Is this because I haven’t been showing up?” Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, I didn’t realize you’d miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Gi—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Your voice is quiet, but he doesn’t miss it.

And he stills.

There it is.

He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.

“What?” he says again, but this time, it’s different. Careful.

You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.

And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.

Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.

And Heeseung stays silent.

“You weren’t,” you murmur, the words caught in your throat. “Were you?”

Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, “I—” 

He stops. Starts again. 

“It’s not—it wasn’t—”

You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.

He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.

“Look,” he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space you’ve unknowingly carved out for him here. “This—this is the only thing that’s felt normal for me in a long time.”

Your stomach twists.

“Everything else—my whole life, it’s all…chaos. But this?” He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. “You?”

His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings. 

“You’re the closest thing to normal I’ve had.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.

You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.

“So what?” your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. “You thought if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t have to be real?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have to lose this yet.”

Your breath catches.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Heeseung didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to ruin this.

Whatever this is.

Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.

You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, “That’s not fair, Heeseung.”

“I know,” his voice is rough now, like he’s tired of saying it. Like he’s already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.

But you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how!” His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. “Because you—this—whatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didn’t want to fuck it up, alright?”

The words knock the air out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling you’ve been trying to convince yourself wasn’t there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.

And worse than realizing how real this is?

Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too. 

But heavier than that realization is the anger.

Not just at the situation.

Now, at Heeseung.

“So you thought it’d be better to just disappear instead?” Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. “You didn’t even think to tell me.”

Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see it—his own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.

“What does it matter, Y/N?” his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. “What difference would it—would you—have made? It’s not like this was ever going to change anything.”

Your heart stops.

At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.

He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.

Because they do.

Because you know what he’s saying.

He’s leaving. And you’re staying.

And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feel—that was always going to be the reality.

“Right,” you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. “Because it’s not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.”

Now your words hurt.

Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.

Then finally—

“…I don’t know,” he mutters.

The final crack.

You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Got it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.

Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, “I should go.”

This time, you don’t stop him.

You don’t say anything at all.

Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you don’t. 

Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything you’re feeling that you can’t even begin to put into words. 

So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting you.

Cold air rushes in.

And then—he’s gone.

And you?

You’re left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.

Heeseung doesn’t think. 

He wasn’t thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly small—when he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days. 

He wasn’t thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didn’t matter. That none of it ever did. 

He wasn’t thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didn’t matter to him. That you never did. 

And he definitely isn’t thinking now, when he’s supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but instead—his feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest. 

The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around him—but none of it matters. None of it even registers. 

Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.

Because Heeseung?

He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.

He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.

He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.

But what he can’t go without?

Heeseung can’t—he won’t—go months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didn’t bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.

That you weren’t the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didn’t.

And if there’s even the smallest chance to fix this—to make sure you know—then nothing else matters.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseung’s heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.

He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart around—only for his stomach to drop.

The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyes—it’s all missing.

And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, too…not you.

Instead, some guy he’s never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.

“Uh,” Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. “The girl who usually works nights. Is she here?”

“Oh, Y/N?” the worker raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, she called off tonight.”

Heeseung stills.

You’re not here.

You’re not here.

And it’s his fault.

Because last night, you were here—waiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.

“Oh,” is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.

His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting him.

Cold air rushes in.

And just as Heeseung steps out—

He sees you.

You.

Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.

You stop.

He stops.

For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.

The neon glow of the store’s sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.

A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, “Yeah, well…neither are you.”

You’re right.

He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.

But instead? Instead, he’s here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.

Heeseung takes one step forward, “I was looking for you.”

You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something in your mind.

Then you take a small step forward.

“And now you’ve found me.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way it’s been aching in his chest—and he can’t hold it in anymore.

You blink, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you won’t believe him. “For everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot about—”

He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.

“About this. Us.”

You don’t say anything right away, just watching him carefully.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes he’s about to lay everything out bare.

“I think I was scared,” he admits. “Of what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didn’t matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realized—”

He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.

“It does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.”

Another pause.

Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if something’s finally clicking into place, “I’m sorry too.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows burrow in confusion.

“For not—,” you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. “For not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, I’ve been denying it too. I didn’t even realize how much I—how much you meant to me until I saw you last night and…”

You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an arm’s length away.

“I was just so angry and upset, but I think…I realized it’s only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.”

Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way you’re looking up at him now.

“And…I should’ve been more understanding,” you add softly. “I shouldn’t have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didn’t know how to handle it, honestly.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like it’s about to fully grow legs and escape.

Then, he exhales a breath of relief.

And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.

You blink at him.

“We’re both idiots,” he says finally, shaking his head softly. 

A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The tension eases. Just a little.

Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both. 

“So now what?”

You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, “Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight soon?”

Heeseung’s breath hitches.

Because he knows he should say yes.

That’s what’s been planned all along. That’s the reality.

But, for the first time—

He hesitates.

“Maybe."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"

Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."

The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closer—like you're testing the space between you.

Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out. 

“Here.”

You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.

Heeseung stares at it in his hands.

Then at you.

And you’re looking at him with something gentle—something that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” you say, your voice light and grounding. “Of what’s normal.”

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenly—everything makes sense. 

The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only this—only you. 

You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows. 

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his hands—slightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer. 

And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise. 

You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because then—like a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.

Holding onto him just as much as he’s holding onto you.

Neither of you say anything.

There’s a quiet calm between you two—no need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like it’s syncing with his, like they’ve always known each other’s pace.

Like they’ve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it. 

And in a way, maybe that’s just how it’s always been with you two—balancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didn’t care, yet feeling everything all at once. 

So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else. 

Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.

And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certain—

You were never meant to stay on one side. 

You were always meant to cross it. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?

However—

There are three things—three sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.

The first?

Insomnia.

Not by choice, of course.

The second?

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.

Yes, it’s a weird combo. And no, he still doesn’t care.

And the third?

You.

And honestly?

You’re the only one he really needs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list pt.1 (luv u all):

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )

[spaceycat]

hi all! ik that ive been SUPER inactive recently but we move foward.

i actually want to cry so bad that i deleted this poor anon's request on accident cuz it was so good, ANON. IF YOU'RE OUT THERE. IM SO SORRY!!!!

here's the premise: avenger!reader finding out that bucky is a pornstar and asks if he wants to practice with her !!!

let's just say that bucky like didnt fall of the train and isn't as traumatised LOL

also just letting it be known that i dont really want to write smut right now idk why but its just me ig so its a bit dialled down im so sorry <3

⋆★⋆ i'll be a demonstration ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: s&m by rihanna (4:04)

Bucky wasn't expecting you to come to him with that proposition, not in a million years. He wasn't expecting the sweet, innocent, and very much a superhero-self to be interested in him and his work.

But the problem is his work isn't the most respectable thing in the world and Bucky still didn't know you exactly found out that he did sex work in the first place and how long you've been watching you before. However, when you came up to him at a party and said "Maybe you'd want to practice with me? I'd be down.." At first he didn't know what you meant, but as soon as it clicked in his mind - he realised that the what he thought was innocent girl that he had a harmless crush on and flirted with almost every time he saw her for a year was now asking to fuck him. On camera might he just add. And how could he say no to you?

When Bucky texted you the next day about it, you weren't really betting on the fact that he thought it was serious and just thought it was a joke. "wanna practice at mine?" and then it all aligned, you were just trying to flirt, but now - right now, Bucky was now asking you to come over to help him 'practice'.

"My face won't be in it, will it?" You said shrugging off your coat at Bucky's apartment door. "What you afraid of people finding out that the superhero that has saved the world multiple times fucks like an animal?" Your jaw dropped at that. "How?--" "Whenever I'm over at Avengers tower the walls aren't exactly soundproof." "You can't just say that." "I just did, and I would like a demonstration to be honest."

And now, you were underneath Bucky - still in your clothes as he set up and fumbled with the camera beside the bed. "Is it recording?" He'd let out a hum, continuing to fumble with it. "..Should-- be." You were just tired, and horny - to put it lightly. You thought it was kind of endearing how he fiddled with the camera trying to make sure everything was perfect.

You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into a searing kiss - he reciprocated almost immediately after faltering for a moment, he'd pull back. "Listen, doll-- I dont want to watch this back and realise that the camera was the wrong way just give me a minute." "Bucky." You'd pout, he'd sigh. It's kind of a once in a lifetime opportunity that this happens to he's just gotta take what he can get."It'll have to do then.." When your pout was replaced with a pout, he couldn't help himself - locking you in a kiss.

His mind almost short-circuited as you grabbed his hand, moving it to your waist - his hand instinctively tightened. He's had other girls before, sure, but none of them were you. As the kisses turned heated and more open mouthed, Bucky's hand moved underneath your shirt, his hand splayed out on your abdomen - pushing it up slowly.

He pulled back for a moment, taking note of how you chased him - wanting more. Bucky chuckled a bit at that, "Give me a minute, doll." He'd pull your shirt off with your assistance, chucking it aside. He let out a low appreciative whistle, looking you up and down. "Jesus, you're beautiful.." "Bucky-- wait, shit." "It's fine, doll. I can cut it out, say my name as much as you want." The suggestiveness of the comment made your face blush, not even noticing the fact that Bucky unclipping your bra tossing it aside aswell. "Pretty lil' thing.."

His shirt curled in your hands, "Off- please.." You wanted to see all of him. He let out a hum, pushing it off the bed - joining the rest of the clothes.

His hands slid down your chest, moving underneath your jeans to feel your slick folds, he let out a chuckle. "You really wanted this huh?"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Afterwards, Bucky helped you into the shower - going to check the recording that he expected to be a solid 2 hours long. As he grabbed it, he realised that he didn't even start recording. But he wasn't particularly against recording another one with you.

[congratufuckyoulations]

Something Sweet🍰

Sanji x reader, sanji x fem reader, idk lol

a/n: Now hear me out. I’m like at the end of punk hazard and they show the library basically. I thought nami was posed all cute and I was like imagine a fanfic where the reader is chillin in the library idk doing sum and like sanji just entertains his girl while she is relaxing. Idk it’s my first fanfic. I was faded writing this. Lowkey still am. Erm reader does smoke cigarettes so igs don’t read if you don’t smoke…… or condone it. ALSO LOWKEY KINDA LONG BUT NOT REALLY IDK IM NEW TO THIS also just pretend the windows can open BTW

Tw- smoking cigarettes , drugs mentioned?? Idk suggestive content

Also I do not promote smoking cigarettes even if I do partake in the Za. Two very different things but also like smoking is like attractive to me since I do as well and there’s HONESTLY NOT ENOUGH fanfics involving my mans cigarettes and like if I was there I would want a puff here and there yk like shit anyways give me a chance💔 anyways I just wanted a fanfic with smoking so I made one RELEASEEE ME

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

-when reading also just imagine these fan drawings too. Yummm the shirt. Also obsessed with this dam song like actually delish and I think it’s cutesy with the fanfic. Def not as long as the fanfic reading time but whateves. Enjoy 😛

It’s a bright afternoon in the New World. On these open oceans, the weather always changing so quickly. The straw hats learned to take advantage of the clear weather and cool breezes like today. The sun beams down on The sunny on this hot summer day.

The crew is all finding their way to cope with the intense sun rays beaming on them. The breeze barely being enough help to cool them off. Chopper lays on the deck sprawled out. His little chest rose up and down with the heat. Chopper couldn’t stand the sun and made it known that he was NOT born for the heat. Nami and Robin are not too far away taking advantage of the sunny day to relax and maybe even get a tan. Zoro working out somewhere mumbling something about how the heat makes the “workout” better. Luffy and Usopp doing who knows what. The rest of the crew is off doing what they know best which will probably lead to chaos soon. Most of them trying to relax on a beautiful day without a care in the world. Sanji soon erupts from the kitchen

“NAMI-SWANN, ROBINN-SWANNN I made y’all a refreshing drink for the most refreshing women I know”. His voice is loud and clear and can be heard across the deck. As the blonde comes spinning down the steps until he’s in front of the two lovely ladies. Robin thanked the chef sending him a smile before she looked back at her book in hand. The sudden burst from Sanji had caught the attention of a stray Luffy, Usopp, and Brook to appear. The three planning to get these refreshing drinks whether Sanji likes it or not. Sanji already yelling at the trio about how they can get their own in the kitchen.

“Hey Sanji, can you fetch Y/N she’s been in the library all morning. I wanted to talk about all the clothes we got from Fishman Island. We haven’t had the time with punk hazard and everything.” Nami speaks up. Lifting her sunglasses to look over at Sanji. Now this action usually would’ve sent Sanji into a full nosebleed. With the way, she looked in the sun. Making dead eye contact with him. Her classic teal bikini tied perfectly. Nami's pants were replaced with jean shorts to adjust to the weather. Her orange hair tied back into her signature high ponytail. But Sanji's mind was elsewhere. The thought of you now distracting him. How could he forget about you? Sanji thought back on this morning and how he didn’t see you at breakfast. His mind did not ever think to check the library. Now that he knew where you were thanks to Nami. He just had to go take you the drink. Sanji couldn’t help but let his mind wonder at how you would smile and thank him for the drink. Chills run up and down his spine.

Then he’s off in an instant with a beeline to the library. Ready to get that reaction he imagined. Walking towards the library entrance he smelt the familiar smoke from a cigarette. The smell wafting through the library hatch confirmed you were indeed in fact where Nami said you would be. Realizing that the ladder down to the library was about to make this a whole lot more difficult with the drink in hand. The cook thought to himself about how thirsty you must be. Feeling suddenly determined to deliver the drink. He worked his magic to get down the ladder without a single spill. Once off the ladder on his two feet, he turned around. His mind was quickly distracted from the ladder situation by the excitement of seeing the library lit up by the sunlight pooling through the windows. And you sat at the table in the middle of the room. Sanji felt himself smile and his back straightened out. His stomach doing flips. Sanji didn't even notice his heart rate quicken at the sight of you. Sanji stood by the ladder with the tray in hand admiring the girl in front of him. You had this way of making it hard for him to think straight. You were sat with your back to the door. Your left elbow leaning on the table as your right elbow also rests on the table with your cigarette in hand (like how Nami is sitting in the pic) you had a book opened in front of you with a couple of other ones stacked by you.

There you sat peering down at the book in front of you focused. Leftover smoke floats in the room from the previous cigarettes you smoked. The room was a little too smokey but nothing he couldn’t handle. The smoke danced beautifully in the air. The way it flowed often became a topic of admiration between you and Sanji during smoke sessions. Sanji approaches you after a second of admiring you. He knows it sounds creepy but he enjoyed watching you from afar. When you thought nobody was looking but he always was. Seeing how your face reacts to different situations. Or how you respond when put in random predicaments. He was completely captivated by you. He wanted to learn so much more about you. Even if that meant seeming like a creep for staring

“Mon Amour~, what are you doing in here all alone on such a hot day? Is it not too hot in here for you, my sweet?” Sanji speaks up as he approaches the table slowly. Passing up the books lining the shelves. The smell of the cigarette you hold becomes more intense the closer he approaches, but it’s all too familiar to Sanji for him to care.

At the sound of Sanji's voice, your focus is pulled away from the book in front of you. Your head turns and tilts to look up at Sanji as he stands by the table. Suddenly his heart is picking up again with how gorgeous you are. Now you aren’t all dressed up. This was better for Sanji. He’s seeing you in your relaxing around the boat loungewear. Today’s outfit includes a white tank top and some white and light blue striped shorts. Your slippers that you wore around the boat discarded under the table. Legs cross under the table trying to sit comfortably. It was a joy for Sanji to see the different outfits you wore. He liked to see what you would pull together and casually pull off. His eyes try not to travel anywhere too far. He can’t help but be taken aback by how relaxed you were just reading in the library on this hot day. The smoke in the room does not make the summer heat any more bearable.

“no Sanji I’m okay. I cracked the windows open for the breeze. also because of the smoke in here” you say as you tilt your head back down to the book to look at the poorly drawn picture of a cake in it.

“I see, I made everybody drinks since it’s so hot out today. Here’s yours my sweet~” Sanji coos as he places the tray on the table. Sanji sits down in the chair to the left of you. The way he slouches in the chair like he’s melting due to the heat catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Not wanting to look at him right away as if somebody was around to catch you staring. You instead look up from the book to the drink placed in the center of the table. Examining the drink before bringing it closer and taking a sip of the orange-flavored drink. Now allowing your eyes to travel to the left to see Sanji's head tilted back looking at the ceiling completely relaxed. You wonder if he had a hard day. It was pretty hot today and cooking anything in the heat seems like torture. Maybe not so much a drink but still. You wince at the thought of cooking soup on a hot day and the steam hitting your face. You shake your head clearing the horrid thought. Focusing your eyes back on the cook next to you. It was clear Sanji thought you would’ve been looking at the book instead of at him. The way he just sprawled himself out on the chair was enough to stare. He was sat with no care in the world. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the usually perfect posture chef slouched without a care in the world. It was a sight to see Sanji so relaxed. As if it was only him in the library. And this wasn’t a bad sight for you.

The way his classic blue button-up shirt had 2 buttons undone and his black tie was loose. The sweat dripping down his neck down into his shirt leaving the rest to your imagination. His blonde hair was a little damp. Some pieces sticking to his forehead. Hell Sanji looked a complete mess. But he was a work of art. Sanji from the start was attractive to you. Maybe it was his looks or the charm that came along with him. But You couldn’t place your finger on what it was about the chef. Was it the way he carried himself? Or How he cared for others? You didn’t know and at this moment you still don’t know. But god right now he looked breathtaking even when he was sweating all over the place. This whole interaction was cut short when you spoke up, remembering there was a conversation in place

“Thank you for the drink Sanji. I couldn’t imagine being in a kitchen during this heat. You're our savior~ ”

you tease, still letting the image of soup on a hot day replay in your mind. Sanji lets out a breathy laugh lifting his head to see your attention is still on the book. Not realizing you had just looked away only moments ago. But now you have the straw of the drink in your mouth. And the drink is no longer in the middle of the table. Instead, it’s sitting closer to you. Your attention is glued to the book. He couldn’t help but smile at how cute you looked with the straw in your mouth completely concentrated on whatever you were reading. Enjoying the drink HE made. Being here with you……in silence?

WAIT! What were you reading? What was so important in this book? Sanjis mind was up and quick to see what’s got your attention. His eyes traveled down to the book and leaning over a little closer to see you looking at a cookbook. A cookbook about cakes? Examining the page closer and seeing a recipe for a strawberry shortcake written inside. Sanji recalls the sweet treat being one of your favorite and most requested desserts from him.

He looks up at you with his curly eyebrows raised in confusion. Your head lifts to be met with his confused gaze. You let out a laugh at how confused the chef was. He looked like this was the biggest moment of his life. Like the world is ending if you don’t eat his food. God forbid somebody else cooks for you.

“Don’t worry Sanji I just wanted to learn how to make strawberry shortcake since it’s my favorite. I was writing down the ingredients but I guess I got carried away with other desserts as well. Besides, you know you’re the only chef in my heart~”

You let out a soft laugh taking a quick drag from the cigarette in your right hand. Soon the cigarette appeared closer in Sanji's vision. His eyes shifted down to the cigarette being handed over. A normal occurrence between the two since Y/N has joined the crew. The two bonded during late nights watching over the boat. Having many conversations over shared cigarettes. When times were stressful the two would just stick to their cigarettes. Both use the nicotine-filled sticks as a source of relief. Enjoying the company of somebody else who also smokes was always nice.

You spoke once again. Dragging Sanji away from the memories to the heat of the present day.

“I thought it would be nice to learn how to bake something. I never really took too much interest in cooking growing up so maybe it’s time to learn something” You wanted to learn how to make a strawberry shortcake? That’s why you were down here away from the others. He smiles at the thought of you cooking. The thought of you in his natural element is almost like a fever dream. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. Enjoying the sound of your crew members' laughter flowing through the windows (Probably at something Luffy did)The sunlight hitting your skin perfectly through the windows in the library. The sun shows your damp skin and the sweat dripping down the side of your neck. The drink has dropped halfway with you being dehydrated on such a hot day. Sanji brings the cigarette up to his mouth. Sanjis's heart skips a beat but he can’t show how happy he is to be sharing another one of a hundred indirect kisses with you. Sanji wondered if this wasn’t heaven then it was definitely a close second. As he blew out the smoke he passed the cigarette over. You happily accept taking another drag while looking toward the windows. Letting the smoke crawl its way down to your lungs. Admiring the view of the sea out the window

“Well if you’re so interested I would be honored to teach you princess~” Sanji mentions through the smoke flowing out of his mouth.

Your eyes find their way from the sea to his blue eyes. The two are not much different from each other. You smile as you blow the smoke off to the side. Doing your best to avoid the smoke getting in the blondes face. Not like the chef cares being all too familiar with the smoke.

“And I’d be honored if our amazing cook taught me as well. Honestly, it would be easier than doing it by book” you say taking another hit and standing up from the chair. Sanjis's head quickly tilts up watching your next move. The way you stand up with your left hand closing the book while your right has the cigarette in it. Your right hand is held at the level of your face for an easy hit of the cigarette. You stack the book on top of the others laid out on the table.

(Remember Sanji is sitting on the left chair and you were in namis spot. Use the pic as reference I tried my hardest💔)

You had pushed your chair back with your legs once you stood up. Which allowed you to easily slide by and make your way to the window on the left side of the library. Your hand glides along the back of Sanji's shoulders as you walk by causing the chair to spin. As Sanji spins around in the chair to face you at the window. He sees you looking down at the built-in couches by the window. You sit on the couch by the window. Your legs are tucked under you as you sit on your knees. Your arms cross on the window seal and you lean your head down onto them. You take a moment to look out the window and examine the ocean while it’s calm. Inhaling the smell of the salty ocean and the soft mist from the waves that crash against the sunny.

You glance back at Sanji seeing him still in the chair. Standing up from the cushion you make your way over to Sanji. Sanji tilts his head up as you get closer towering over his slouched frame. Watching you lean over the table to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. His legs spread open lazily as you welcome yourself to step between them. Sanji sits up with how close you get and can’t help his hands from meeting your hips. His face comes close to your chest looking directly into your eyes like you’re a god who blessed him.

Your hands find their way to the sides of his face. Cradling the cook's face and feeling the stubble he’s grown over the past two years. His hands find their way around your torso and soon you’re wrapped in his arms as you stand in front of him. You sit like this for a second. Both of y’all just enjoying each other’s touch. Letting it all sink in. Making sure it hits every bone in your body. Sanji knew this would end soon. Often knowing this might not ever go anywhere. And he was right as you slowly pulled away from the blonde. His arms loosen up and fall. Until you grab both of his hands swiftly and drag him backward to the window.

Oh, you wanted him to sit with you. You wanted him to stay even longer than he ever had. He just didn’t know that yet. Sanji let this gesture go straight to his head. The way you pulled him to stay. It made him feel so valued. The windows were decently small so when you sat on the right side of the couch and he sat on the left there was not much space between y’all.

It would seem so silly if anybody walked in and saw Sanji sitting on his knees with you in the same position. Especially on the built-in couch with both of you looking out the window. But it was also very cute. The two of you sitting so close on the corner of the couch just to look out the same window. Both sitting arms crossed on the window seal with your heads resting on them like y’all are both ready to nap in the odd position. Your head facing the left and his face to the right. Both directly looking at each other just smiling. Like two idiots who just did drugs for the first time

“Love, have I ever told you how breathtaking you are~” Sanji coos like always making you laugh. Of course, that’s what he says after a moment of silence. Never missing a moment to flatter a girl.

“Now I might’ve heard that a couple of times” you spoke pretending you weren’t affected by the comment. It was moments like this when you wanted you and Sanji to quit playing games. Maybe just get together. The two of you laugh at the response as Sanji props himself up on his elbow pulling the pack of cigarettes out from his pocket and pulling one out. It’s like he could read your mind.

You watch as the man next to you places the stick between his lips. Now smoking may not be good but Sanji made it look like the best thing ever. You watched as his left hand came up to cup the cigarette. Blocking the breeze that’s passing by. While he sparked his lighter with his right. The lighter soon caught flame and watching the smoke emerge from the front of the cigarette. As his right-hand drops to stuff the lighter into his pocket. The left pulls the cigarette out of his mouth you stare at him in awe. Such a simple act was captivating to you. You smiled at this side of Sanji. This was full authentic Sanji. Just him enjoying a cigarette. And with a beautiful lady at that.

“You know, I would be okay if I woke up to this,” you say out of the blue. Sanjis's head snaps to you. How is he supposed to react to you saying something like this? You both stare at each other for a second. Sanji was taken aback. Until he finally spoke up

“I would be okay waking up to you too” and with that, the both of you seemed to just go back to looking out the window. Like y’all understood each other completely and no other further explanation was needed. Sanjis's right hand with the cigarette appears in your vision as you stare out the window. Too lazy at the moment to want to grab it. You lean forward and take a drag while he holds it out for you. Pulling away from the cigarette inhaling the smoke and letting it float away to who knows where. You look back at Sanji.

“Would you take me seriously Sanji?”

You ask softly

“What do you mean, my love?”

Sanji questions. Hoping this will lead to something serious and not just some talking point. Of course, he took you seriously, but he prayed you meant this in a relationship way.

“You know like if we tried to give this a shot would I be taken seriously”

You explain. Your gaze back out the window too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. Only looking down at his hand when passing the cigarette back. Sanjis stares at you as you look out the window.

“Mon amour, of course, I will take you seriously. Honestly, this whole time I’ve been serious about being with you. I’ve just been waiting for you to let me take the opportunity” Sanji states taking a long drag after hoping the smoke will somehow drown out the feeling of how nervous he is right now. You turn your head to look at Sanji smiling at him. You take the cigarette back once again looking out the window and taking a hit.

“Well, here's your opportunity Mr. Prince” you tease as you glance to your left at him. You loved the nickname since the chef did act as charming as a prince would (I wonder why) and the nickname from from Alabasta seemed to stick as a tease for you at least. It was well-suited for somebody like Sanji.

He can't help but cheese at the name-calling. It was always so carefree with you and natural. Sanji craved every inch of that. As both of you are now again face to face giggling. His laugh falters as his right-hand finds your cheek and cups it.

“I promise you I will take full advantage of this opportunity and not mess up even once” Sanji declares. You laugh at the seriousness of the cook but you admire how serious somebody is willing to be for you.

“I’d like to see it~” you smile back at him. The two of you leaning in close. Faces only inches apart and you can both smell the cigarette on each other's breath.

“HAVE YOU SERIOUSLY BEEN FLIRTING WITH Y/N THIS WHOLE TIME SANJI” Nami screams as she hits Sanji over the head. A red bump forms on the cook's head. You two had got so carried away with each others company. Sanji forgot why he was even down here in the first place.

“Oh come on nami leave Sanji alone he was just with me” you reply while playfully wiggling your eyes and taking a hit to blow out the window. Sanji leaned over in your lap cradling his head. Recovering from the blow he took to his head.

“Yeah don’t think I’m not PISSED at you too. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TRYING ON CLOTHES WITH ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” nami burst out her whole face turning bright red again. You swear you see fire in her eyes for a second. You lean back as she points her finger at you.

“Yeah yeah, so can we go try them on now then?”

Namis quick to straighten up her act going back to innocent, can do no harm, Nami.

“Of course Y/N let’s go I bought so many cute clothes from Fish Men Island” Nami squeals in excitement at the thought of a fashion show happening in her room.

“You didn't buy them nami. You scammed Pappug for like a whole store” Usopp corrects as his head pops down from the entrance of the library peeping in. Nami’s head snaps behind her. Soon she is off to chase after the boy who called out her tricks. You laugh at the sight of Nami rushing up the ladder to assault another one of your crewmates. You look back at Sanji who is also coming down from a laugh.

“Besides them. I promise you we will have an official dinner and everything. But for now my dear, you go and have fun with Nami I’ll have everything prepared when you’re done. How does that sound, my love~” Sanji coos once again. You can’t help but burst into a smile as you grab the blonde's face. Giving him a passionate kiss your hands traveling back into his hair pulling him closer. His hands grab your waist to stabilize you. As you practically threw yourself on top of him.

“Sanji, my love how will I refrain from falling in love too fast~” you tease once again while pulling away. Kissing the cook on both of his cheeks before landing a peck on his lips. Pulling away you stand up pulling him up with you.

“It’s always okay if you do, mon amour. I’ll take good care of you”

He says with his hands resting on your waist. Your back was to the table as you both stood facing each other. Remembering the books you laid out have to be put back up. You go to turn back and clean up the mess. But Sanji was there turning you to face the ladder instead. He’s now behind you guiding you to the ladder. His hands find their way to your lower back giving you a gentle push to walk toward the ladder.

“Don’t worry princess I’ll put the books away~” he whispers into your ear from behind. Making you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. Hugging the blonde before you hang out with your

(girl😏)friends.

“And it’s gonna keep getting better than this? (😛)” you joke pulling away and turning to climb up the ladder

“Yes ma’am, it will all be worth it”

Sanji says from the side of the ladder. Watching you climb up the ladder making sure nothing magically happens to you. Thinking you already walked away. Sanji turned to walk back to the table. His attention on the books you had brought out durning the day: When you lay on your stomach by the hatch. Head leaning down into the hole that leads to the library.

“Bye Sanji~” you say while very obviously waving at him in a flirting manner. Like you had the biggest crush on him. He turns his head, his eyes catching your head leaning down into the hole. He laughs seeing you upside down and raises his hand returning the wave. Even though he was a flirt he couldn’t help but feel beat at his own game.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The end yay. I wrote this in one night so bear with meeeeee uhm yay. They gave SANJI a cigarette for a reason and imma include it everytimeee

[katnissandpeetamellark]

What about Walker Scobell as young Haymitch

He’s 16 right now, has a boyish face (how I imagine younger Haymitch), I’m sure they could darken his hair if they go book haymitch or lighten it if they go movie Haymitch. Idk what do you think.

Or counter me with a different fancast I’m open minded!

[svbhuman]

FINALLY I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LETS GO!!!!!! thoughts feelings?

i ran out of tags.. continued next post mayb

[loveanddeepdick]

sweetheart

obsessed!pervy!roommate!geto x f!reader

cw: roommates with tension to lovers, pervert geto, he’s kinda insane lol.., tracking, obsession, piv sex, kinda angry sex, creampie, possessiveness, panty stealing/sniffing/licking, NOT PROOFREAD IM JUST HORNNNYYY 😜😜

notes:part of my obsessed!geto series hehe, not completely the same as my hcs, but it kinda just combines all of them as best as i can 🫣

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“care to explain, suguru?”

you were holding up three pairs of your panties, dangling it in the air in front of geto as he’s standing in the doorway of his room.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you’d moved in with geto nearly three months ago. you thought it was too good to be true, the rent was a little too cheap and the apartment looked somehow nicer in person. you knew suguru, he was close friends with satoru who’d been nothing but kind to you your whole time in high school and now in college as well.

suguru’s aura seemingly changed after the first month of you two living with eachother. you felt his eerie, purple eyes boring into your space and your eyes. you felt the air around you almost tense up when you mentioned guys. it was like he was gripping your soul sometimes.

of course, he knew you were looking back at him as well. when he got out of the shower and his towel was clinging onto his abs. maybe even when he came back from the gym and untied his slicked back hair while his black locks fell onto his muscular shoulders.

one night on your birthday when you both came back from your birthday dinner, he’d given you a special present, a small heart locket. he held his breath as he stood behind you, clicking it into place as he watched how every hair fell from its root in your scalp, how smooth your nape was, how your delicate hand held your hair out of the way.

he had hid a small, unnoticeable tracker inside the locker, tucked away in small details carved into the heart. the way you were carved into his.

he was whipped for you

however, naive of the deeper issues that were lying under your nose, for the past few weeks, you noticed that your underwear had been going missing at a concerning rate. it’d gone from reasonable to unexplainable and it pissed you off. honestly, you wouldn’t have even expected it was geto until he slipped two days ago.

you’d been running around the apartment, checking under tables and in drawers for your missing undergarments that you set out on your bed as you prepared a bath. you groaned before calling out for him

“sugu, have you seen my underwear?” you yelled while pacing the living room, hoping he’d hear you from his room.

“no, i dont even go near your bed”

you huffed, turning away before taking out an old one from the bottom of your underwear drawer until it hit you.

how would he know it was on your bed if he didn’t go in?

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

there you were, snooping through his closet when you found exactly what you were looking for, your missing panties. you picked up a fraction what was hidden away in his closet and called out for him while you held them up. he came quickly, stopping at his doorframe as he watched you with the stolen undergarments.

you knew he wasn’t stupid, i mean, he had kept it going for so long. maybe he let it slip on purpose , maybe he wanted you to catch him.

“shiiit, looks like your laundry got in the wrong room,” he chuckled, wiping the shocked expression off his face before stepping into the room, “lemme put that in the laundry basket for y—“

“hell no!”, you shrieked, pulling your panties away, “you’re the reason why they’ve gone missing!”

geto bit the inside of his cheek before sighing and throwing his hands up, “you think they just grew legs? yes, it was me. think about it, sweetheart, who else would it be? the boogeyman?”

your jaw dropped at his words while he quietly laughed at his own joke. he’s perverted and corny. you hadn’t expected such a straightforward response from him. did this man have no shame? he stared at you while you were trying to find the words.

“cat got your tongue? i like you, sweetheart,” he lowered his hands as he grinned, his eyes traveling to the little locket he gifted you, “hope you’re not mad at me, i mean, i’ve seen your browser history, m’not the only person with some fucked up kinks—“

you threw your panties to the side before walking up to him. fuck it. grabbing him by his plain black shirt, you pulled him down and crashed your lips against his. he smiled against your lips, leaning into you before you pushed him away again.

“you asshole! you’re so weird, stealing my underwear when you could’ve just opened pornhub,” you huffed, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve.

“running away so soon?” he smiled as you turned away. you wished you could punch him in the mouth.

“yes.” you flatly stated as you try to push past him. he caught your wrist, pulling you back into his chest as he wraps his arms around your torso.

“don’t go, sweetheart. i know you want me,” he leaned in, taking a short sniff of your hair before he rested his chin on your head.

“i don’t want—“

“then pull away. i’ll stop everything, leaving you alone, and pretend nothing happened,” he mumbled, pulling away and holding you by your shoulders. his eyes bore into your face as your eyes wandered elsewhere, ignoring his gaze.

“use your words, baby,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup your face as you unconsciously lean into him.

“i-i do..” you admit, looking down in shame.

“aww, baby, s’okay..” he chuckled, bringing you back into his arms as he squeezed you, “i know, i know.. don’t be embarrassed, i’m sorry for taking your panties,”

it felt like he was babying you but you couldn’t help but reciprocate his actions, slowly returning the embrace. you look back up to him, his eyes already on you as you go on your tippy-toes, capturing his lips.

“i want you, sugu”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

geto wastes no time, throwing you gently onto the bed as tugs your pajama shorts off, prying your legs open as he smiles as the small damp spot on your panties. embarassed, you try closing your legs but he keeps them open, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance.

he dips his head in, pressing his nose up against your little clit, rubbing it a little as you whimper. he sharply inhales, whining from your scent before his tongue darts out to taste your slick on your panties.

“s-sugu!” you yelp, jolting from the feeling of his tongue and how shameless geto was being

“shh, shh, jus lemme do it,” he whispered, his tongue darting back out to lick back and forth from your clit to your clothed pussy. he pulled back finally, to admire how sheer your little panties had gotten before he pressed his nose in one last time, whining as he inhaled the mess he caused.

he stood back up, gesturing for you to sit up on the edge of the bed, guiding your hand to his crotch. you look up at him for approval before he nods, your hand cupping his erection before unzipping it, his black boxers doing nothing to hide his huge cock.

there was a small trail of black hair making your mouth water, a stairway to heaven, or maybe hell. you cautiously pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out as his tip slapped against his tummy.

geto hissed as his cock finally spring free, watching you wrap your hand around it. he couldn’t believe his eyes, he’d been fantasizing about this for weeks, seeing his little roommate beneath him, seeing you finally accept him in.

the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock, he couldn’t do it anymore. he already felt like he was going to cum in your mouth and he’d be damned if his first time in you wasn’t in your little pussy.

pushing you down again on the bed, he yanked your panties off, giving your clit a small spank as you gasped.

“please, sweetheart, lemme cum in your pussy first. we can do whatever you want after,” he whined, pumping his cock as he lined himself up to your wet pussy.

you nodded frantically, reaching down to the bottom of his abs and trailing to his neatly cut pines above his cock. he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he pushed inside you.

“f-fuck.. yes, baby, fuck, i’ve been wanting this for so l-long..” he groaned, loosing himself in the feeling of your wet heat.

“be—shit! be quiet suguru.. just fuck me!” you cried

his head snapped up, his cock hardening impossibly more as he moved his hips, suguru’s girthy cock pushing all the way up and kissing your cervix. he loved you this way. being able to submit yet put him in his place, he loved you.

“fuck, fuck, baby, you feel so good!” suguru’s head dipped down, his eyes widening almost maniacally as he watches his special necklace bouncing in tandem with your tits.

he reached down, running his hands over your chest and the necklace as he pounded your pussy mercilessly. suguru moved his hand down, running your clit with his thumb as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy over and over again, making a translucent white ring of juices form around the base of his cock.

his tip was dragging over your g-spot in an almost euphoric way as he groaned profanities in your ear. he ran his tongue along your collarbone, licking up to his neck to leave marks on your neck.

“say it, sweetheart, say you’re mine” he pleads with you, his eyes furrowing as he grabs your face gently, making you look at him.

“i’m yours, sugu..” you mumble, drunk on his cock as your drool on his hand.

“use your big girl voice, baby, ‘can’t hear you”

“i’m yours! all yours!” you cry, “f-fuck, sugu i’m gonna cum!”

his pace quickens, continuing to hit your g-spot until all you could see was white.

“cum for me, sweetheart, cum all over my cock.. fuck!”

you unravel on his cock, squirting all over his cock, making him cum as well. his cock shot warm ropes of cum deep into your sweet pussy as he paused, not pulling out just yet. he leaned back, admiring you as he rubbed your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm before giving your tits a small spank as well.

“good girl, good fuckin girl.. you’re all mine now, sweetheart”

[lavnderwonu]

the boy next door | jeon wonwoo

pairing: idol!boyfriend!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: secret relationship, established relationship, smut

summary: sneaking around with your secret boyfriend.

warnings: smut (!!!), little plot lol, wonwoo as your secret boyfriend, softdom! wonwoo, wonwoo is hot (yes that's a warning), mirror sex (kinda?), pet names (baby), praise kink, size kink AHEM, clitoral stimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, reader has to be quiet, hint at another round.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note!: when i tell you this concept has been on my mind for weeks... i'm not lying. the wonwoo brainrot was hitting HARD when i was writing this. i was originally going to make it a secret situationship but im a #1 hater of that whole thing so relationship it is. plus i just think it'd be hot. who wouldn't want wonu as their secret boyfriend? anyway, let me know what you think, i appreciate feedback! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand as you’re in your bathroom, going through your night time routine, just like any other night. As soon as you make it to your phone, it’s stopped ringing. Unlocking it, you see a notification.

Wonwoo

Missed Call

Your boyfriend. Well, only you knew he was your boyfriend, anyway. Although you’d be lying if you never posted any “soft launches” of you two, whether it was an extra iced americano on your counter, or a very obvious mystery man driving while you sat in the passenger seat.

Before you can even call him back, he’s already texting you.

Wonwoo: are you awake? Wonwoo: i saw your story earlier. you looked nice.

You went out earlier in the day to run your usual errands, which usually consisted of shopping of some sort, then wandering around a bookstore. You threw on a cute floral mini dress, and for good measure, you promptly decided to take a picture in your full-body mirror hoping a certain someone would see.

You laugh to yourself, typing out a reply.

you liked it? well you’re too late. i’m in my pajamas now.

It was only 11:30 pm, so maybe it was a tad early for pajamas for some. But for all you know he was probably in sweats playing some game on his phone or reading a book.

Wonwoo: i don’t care, you always look pretty baby Wonwoo: come over here

He lived down the hall from you, with his roommate and best friend, Mingyu. His apartment was easy access, but pretty risky if Mingyu was there, so usually Wonwoo would just come over to yours.

You're about to ask is mingyu there? until he answers the question before you even finish typing.

Wonwoo: mingyu’s gone

You bite your lip, typing a reply. Fuck, you can’t say no.

on my way

You toss your phone on your bed, quite literally, quickly getting yourself ready, you decide to put on your favorite lavender-colored bra and matching panties underneath your pajamas you already had on. Your favorite color; and a different variation of his.

Going down the hall from your apartment, you reach his door, quickly knocking a few times before he answers.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were in pajamas,” Wonwoo jokes, examining you as you walk in. “You were serious.”

“Shut up, it was getting late.” You blush, as you damn near fight the urge to jump him, cause damn. He looks too good, even in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“You look cute,” He pulls you close to him, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt to grip your waist. “Can’t wait to take them off…”

You lean into him, fingers lightly threading through his hair that’s gotten so much longer recently.

“How much time do we have?”

“Hours.” Wonwoo responds, confident. “Mingyu said he was going out with Jungkook, they’ll probably be out half the night drinking.”

His hands slowly slide up your back, sending your heart thrumming in your chest, you’re unable to deny the effect he has on you.

You both know you’d eventually have to go public with your relationship, but for now, you’d just enjoy the adrenaline rush you get everytime you’re alone together.

You make it to his bedroom, in a heated kiss, you back away to safely removing his glasses and placing them on his nightstand.

Kneeling on his bed in front of him, you quickly tug at the hoodie he has on. “Off.” You order him, and he obeys, pulling it over his head.

He tosses to the floor, before kissing you again, his hands slide up your shirt, groping your breasts lightly through your bra, making you softly moan against his lips. He breaks the kiss and his lips softly trail along the corner of your lips, to your jaw, and onward.

You begin working on unbuttoning your silky pajama shirt as Wonwoo trails wet kisses down your neck. His hands take over, effortlessly unbuttoning it. Your eyes glance over to the mirror on the wall, giving you a full view of you kneeling on his bed and him towering over you.

He slips your shirt off your shoulders, and his eyes briefly follow your gaze, realizing what you’re looking at.

“Are you watching yourself in the mirror?” Wonwoo says into your ear, giving you chills.

“Uh-huh.” Your breath shaky as you reply, nodding.

“Turn around.” He suddenly demands, kissing behind your ear before you turn around, your back now facing him.

Wonwoo wraps one arm around your torso, holding you against his sturdy chest. His hand lightly touches your chin, turning you to face the mirror again.

“Keep watching yourself, baby.”

You watch as his free hand slips underneath your pajama shorts, his fingers lightly ghosting over your clothed clit. You gasp as your hips jolt, desperately seeking out more friction.

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, gripping his arm tighter.

His hand slides underneath the elastic of your underwear, applying firm pressure as he circles your clit, before you feel his fingers slide down between your folds and he mutters a breathy fuck against your neck when he feels how wet you are already.

“You’re already dripping for me, baby.” Wonwoo says deeply, voice slightly muffled into your neck. “Couldn’t wait to see me, could you?”

He’s expecting an answer, and it’s impossibly hard now that he’s sliding two fingers inside you, expertly curling his fingers to find that special spot that you often couldn’t reach yourself.

“N-no, I couldn’t… thought about you all day.” You cry, nails digging into his forearm, and he’s seemingly unfazed by it. His fingers pound into your sweet spot, making your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Fuck, look at how pretty you look.” Wonwoo says, glancing at your reflection, your brows furrowed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“I’m so close…” You whine, turning to bury your face in his neck as you inhale the sweet scent of his cologne like you never want to forget it.

“I know, baby. You’re fucking squeezing my fingers.” Wonwoo grunts as your walls clench around his fingers. “Let it go, I got you.”

Your legs shake as you grip onto his forearm for dear life, desperate for something to hold onto. A cry of his name leaves your lips as you cum, your heart racing, panting trying to catch your breath.

“That’s my girl.” Wonwoo turns to kiss your forehead gently, his fingers slip from your dripping center, brushing your clit one last time and the friction is enough to make you wince.

He releases his hold on you, and you turn around to face him, kissing him needily. “Fuck me,” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

“So needy…” Wonwoo playfully mocks you, suddenly turning into his unintentionally adorable self, as if he didn’t just pull a powerful orgasm out of you moments ago. “Don’t I at least get to enjoy this cute little set you wore for me?” He pulls off your shirt, even though it was already damn near falling off anyway.

You blush, kissing him again.

“We don’t have time for that.” You chuckle, already feeling somewhat anxious that Mingyu is going to walk into the apartment at any second.

Wonwoo can read you like a book, and he notices right away. “Hey, there’s no rush.” He says gently, as his hands reach behind you to unhook your bra.

You slide it off the rest of the way, then toss it on the floor. “I know, I’m just enjoying this. I don’t want to be interrupted.” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you press your body against him, kissing him fervently. You moan against his lips as you feel his hard cock pressing against you.

You slide your hands down his chest, reaching to loop your fingertips into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Take these off, baby.” You whisper as you kiss his along jaw a few times, before you grope his length through them for emphasis. “Please.”

Wonwoo gently nudges you to fall back on his bed, and you sit up on your elbows, eagerly watching him as he obeys you, taking them off. “Better?” His gaze meets yours as you look him over.

You eagerly nod, lifting your hips for him as he rids you of your pajama shorts you still had on, along with your soaking wet underwear.

“How do you want it, baby?” Wonwoo huskily asks you, removing his underwear. He curses under his breath as he watches you bend your knees and spread your legs apart, allowing him full access to you.

You gasp as you feel him suddenly pull you further down on his bed, quickly followed by a whine as you feel the weight of his cock on your clit. You sit up on your elbows to see him dragging his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Both of you can only watch, breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo…” You whine his name, gripping the sheets beneath you as the tip of his cock bumps you clit again. You both watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, finally pushing inside you.

“Look at that.” Wonwoo grunts, watching you take every inch, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Fuck…” You throw your head back, a soft moan falling from your lips as you feel so full. “You’re too big…”

“You take me so well…look at you.” Wonwoo praises you, as his hands come up to gently stroke your inner thighs, and it’s enough to get you to relax. “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, you can move. Please.”

He starts to pound into you at a steady pace, making you grab onto his shoulders for something to hold onto. Your nails dig into his skin as he drives his cock into your sweet spot over and over.

You let out a sob of a moan, and Wonwoo thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“God, you sound so pretty,” He moans, “Crying for me…”

“I’m not gonna last long.” You whine, your walls already clenching around him.

Your heart nearly stops in your chest when suddenly you hear the front door to the apartment open, then hear Mingyu enter.

You gasp, and Wonwoo quickly shushes you.

“Relax, he’s not going to come in here, he probably thinks I left.” He whispers, all the while he hasn’t stopped fucking you.

“Can you be quiet?”

You can barely find the words to speak, your brain too focused on the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Answer me.”

You frantically nod, and that’s about all you can muster the strength to do. Your walls clench around him and he knows you’re close.

“Shit, I’m gonna come…” You softly moan, as quiet as you can, then you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling your cries as your walls squeeze his cock hard, but he keeps fucking you through your high.

He keeps going until he’s coming too, groaning into your neck as you feel his cock nearly throbbing as he releases inside of you.

“Fuck…” Wonwoo sighs, as you both are catching your breath. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to happen.” You both smile bashfully at each other.

You gently thread your fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehand.

“That’s okay, we can sneak over to my place… we won’t have to be quiet.”

tags: @dearlyjun @cosmojinyoung

some others i couldn’t tag! 💔

[mandukkul]

In the trenches — nrk

synopsis: Ni-ki's girlfriend just came back from war

tags: bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship, crack/ humour, no mention of "y/n", twitter war based on irl event (my own irl event)

warning: none

word count: 0.5k+

likes + comments appreciated

authors note: Wait why am i on a writing streak?? its because my tim drake oneshots on my alt account is flopping and im lowk mad af (shameless plug lol) so im just writing to make a feel better, and this oneshot is lowk so cute and funny.

The tranquility of Ni-ki’s room is nice. Your boyfriend lies comfortably on top of you, head resting in his well-worn area—your chest— as his feet dangle off the foot of his bed. 

“And then I tweeted back a deez nutz joke that seriously set off OP because then they just started spamming me with a bunch of numbers an— wait, did I get doxxed?”

You pause for a moment and furrow your eyebrows in thought. 

“Nah, no way. Anyways, I ignored their tweet, obviously, and kept sending them Hilson fan art because I checked their bio and guess what?”

You wait for Ni-ki’s reply, hand finding home at the back of his head, combing through his hair gently. 

A moment passes. 

“Riks, are you asleep?”

Your hand pulls away, which instantly pulls your boyfriend out of dreamland as he chases your hand, “Hey, why’d you stop?”

“You whore! You weren’t even listening to my story!” 

“Was too!”

You give him an incredulous look, an eyebrow raised expectantly: “What was I talking about?”

There’s a beat of silence before Ni-ki pulls his head away from your chest to look you straight in the eye, as if he were ready to answer. 

But nothing comes out. 

“I knew it!!” You gasp, offended, pinching his side, making him whine like a baby. “I’m sorry! You just get into so many Twitter wars, it’s hard to keep track!” Ni-ki justifies as he takes your wrist in his hold and pulls your pincers away. 

“I only do it in your honour! They were totally flaming you.”

“You flame me.”

“Yeah, but I make up for it by letting you sleep on my tits.”

“True that.” 

You sigh dramatically, returning your hand back to his hair, massaging gently—to Ni-ki’s satisfaction. “Now that you’re awake, I’ll continue,” you declare, and your boyfriend nuzzles his head back into your chest comfortably. 

“Please continue.” 

“They're homophobic!” You gasp, acting like you just found out.

“They’re homophobic!” Ni-ki mimics, adding his own boyish flare. 

“I know, right? Can’t believe it, but I mean, they’re a hater for a reason.” 

You continue your story about how your day in (Twitter) war, claiming that you are his “strongest soldier” and that the trenches never get any better as the days go by. 

“Seems like you had a tough day, Sweet girl,” Ni-ki says soothingly, and you feel his deep voice rumble in your chest. “I really did,” you sigh dramatically, which makes him chuckle. 

“Do you want a reward for your efforts?” He offers, as he lifts his head off your chest again. “Obviously, I don't do this because I have altruistic intentions.” you humour, tilting your head a bit.

“I don’t even know what altruistic means.”

“Just give me the reward.”

Ni-ki rolls his eyes, shifting his body closer to your face. He lifts his arms from your sides, using them to hold your face gently. 

He reels you in, and places a gentle kiss on your lips. 

Then he pulls away. 

“That’s it?”

“And you call me the greedy one.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as push your hand– the one that was leisurely playing with his hair– and pull him into another, longer kiss. 

This boy

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

epilogue

You finally settled down from your rant, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

“Wait, were you actually doxxed?”

“Go to sleep, Duckie.”

“Sweet girl, Did you get doxxed?”

“Shhhhh.”

author's note pt.2: i lowk love this epilogue thing, it makes me chuckle a bit. im so funny. Maybe its good my tim drake one is flopping because its making me write more ni-ki ones maybe ill write the others too! ALSO TRYING OUT NEW DIVIDERS!! @cafekitsune

[https-murdock]

trust me - matt murdock

summary: when you finally get your dads best friend alone, you take your opportunity.

word count: 1,281

warnings: ⚠️ smut, dbf!matt (it’s own warning), age gap (not stated but legal obvs), oral f!receiving

note: heyyy i wanted to put this out to battle through the writers block howeverrr im gonna write either a part 2 or a separate dbf moment cause this one ain’t that gooood sorry :( learning to put the plot in my smut lol <3

maybe it’s because he’s your dads best friend.

you’ve known him for a few years. when he and your dad started working together on a case that crossed both of their paths, they bonded and he started coming over more, and with you living at home for a while this meant you saw him each time.

you can’t help but wonder if you’re seeing it right when you catch him listening to you potter around over your dads shoulder, that smug little smirk gracing his lips again. or the uncomfortable shuffle he does when you tell your dad you’re going on a date. you can’t help but think he may just feel the same as you do.

but you leave all those feelings aside, all those wondering thoughts because that could never happen.

sometimes you can even see his cross necklace, and you almost giggle when you realise how unholy you are for thinking about your dads best friend this way.

they’d known each other years, their relationship building while you were away at school, seeing matt when you came home during breaks or for a couple visits. there was always something in the way his voice had that drawl… the way you had to press your legs together for some form of release even just from a lingering hug. so, when your dad said he was going away for work, you saw your chance.

“i’m going away for a couple days, matt is only across the road if you need him. no messing around while im gone.” your dad had said, and he had no idea what that phrase meant to you when matt was in the same sentence.

seeing your opportunity, you ‘accidentally’ leave your key inside the house after your dad leaves… giving you no other option but to go see if matt has a spare - and you know he doesn’t.

you notice the way your heart flutters, the way it sits differently in your chest as you’re approaching his front door, and you take a second to question whether this is a bad idea, when the door opens for you.

“oh, sorry sweetheart i didn’t realise you were there.” he smirks, and you wonder how he knows it’s you so quickly - matt knows it’s because he recognises that perfume that makes him painfully hard every time he smells it.

matt knows it’s a shared feeling. he can smell you from so far away, and sometimes it feels like he could taste your slick in the air after you hear him talk.

but matt could never cross that line… could he?

“it-it’s ok, i left my keys inside the house but my dads away for a couple days. you don’t have a spare key do you?” you try to speak with your voice straight, tone as it normally would be, but the more you try the more you begin to think you’re making it worse. “oh uh, no i don’t.” he says, and you both stand there in a moment of silence, both wondering what to say next to ease the tension.

“stay here. i have a spare bed you can take ‘till your dad gets back.” he says, and part of you wonders if he is annoyed like he seems, or if he’s just hesitant to let you closer.

“are you sure? i’ll keep out your way, unless you don’t want me to?” you smirk, wanting to see what pushing this a little further would get you.

“you’re trouble.”

—

“we really shouldn’t do this.” he mutters to himself, letting you slip off his dress shirt as you straddle him. “why? who’s gonna know?” you whisper into his ear, feeling his hands mould to your skin as you leave hot kisses down his neck.

“if your dad found out the way i’m touching his daughter, i would loose my head.” he grunts, flipping you so your back sticks to his leather couch. “trust me, we’ll be fine.” you confirm, gasping when he starts kissing your inner thighs.

you toss your head back, basking in the heat his lips bring to your skin, feeling the way they move closer to where you so desperately need him to be. his calloused hands finally grace the waist of your panties, dragging them painfully slow down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him.

“fuck, wanted to taste this pussy for the longest time.” you’re unsure whether he’s talking to himself at the point, as his head lowers toward your slick.

“p-please, fuck.” the words come out as stutters, almost unintelligible as you wait to be given what you need.

finally, even though isn’t sure why, he lets his trust in you take over. licking a broad stripe up your glimmering folds and groaning to himself at the taste, matt grinds his boxer-only-clad body into the couch, searching for some release.

“god you’re so desperate for this, aren’t you sweetheart?” he chuckles from in between your legs, strong beard rubbing against your skin as you finally let your hands weasel their way into his hair. “so desperate.” you say, and the words tumble out so quick you can’t help the blush that rises on your cheeks.

“little slut, getting this wet for your daddy’s best friend, huh?” he drawls, his voice low and scratching as his lips finally wrap around your clit, a gentle suck making your legs clench around his head.

as you finally feel the exact touch you’ve been asking for, you realise that you’ve both fallen way too deep into this to back out. “i see the way you-ah, fuck, see the way you look at me,” you begin, trying to speak full sentences and failing with his tongue working the way it is, “i know you want this just as much as me.”

there’s a short scoff between your legs, but no reply as you find two of his fingers inside your walls with no build up, the hairs on your body standing up as your moans drift further. “smart mouth isn’t so loud when you’re about to come, huh?” he smirks, wet beard glimmering in the light from his windows.

that’s when it hits you like a train, his fingers still working you through your high, and his hips still grinding into his couch in search of a hint of you.

“holy shit.” is all that leaves your mouth as he sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. matt lifts his fingers, fresh with your slick, to your lips - and as you open them and take them in, relishing in the taste of yourself, he says “we should stop now, before it goes too far.” and your heart sinks at the realisation he’s being serious.

“do you not trust me?” you ask him, smirking at your own words from earlier, unsure whether you even trust yourself to keep your feelings separate.

“trust my best friends daughter? not sure if that’s a smart idea, sweetheart.”

tags 🏷️

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @audreyclimbs @pupmurdock @millennial-birkin @poeticbookwormcat

[dollyhao]

lawyer!abby x client!reader (married to man but dude is barely mentioned, promise. fingering, tension, im not good at these lol, also don’t even know if this is good or not :/, let me know)

can you guys believe i couldn't find any buff women in suits...? maybe i wasn't looking hard enough...

when abby decided she wanted to be a lawyer, she thought she was gonna be some bad ass attorney that puts all the bad guys away. what she never expected was that she would end up dealing with messy divorces. but no complaining on her part; the pay is good and the mess is entertaining.

But when a woman with the bright smile on her face walks into her office she's intrigued, no one walks in here so happy. she stands up from behind her desk to shake your hand, "Good Afternoon, I'm Abby Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

your still smiling at her and you grab her hand, "It's nice to meet you; seems like your gonna be my saving grace." abby laughs and gestures for you to sit. "Would you like to start by telling me your situation?"

you hum and your smile slips a little, "ive been married for the last 7 years and i just wasn't happy anymore." you shrug a little. abby waits for you to continue but you don't so she hums. she can't help when her eyes trace over your features, you don't look like someone who was married for 7 years, you look so youthful and beautiful.

"no details?" abby gives you a teasing smirk as she looks at you. you giggle a little, "hmm, my ex-husband is a rich man who thought i was gonna cry and beg him to stay after i found out he cheated. but i didn't and asked for a divorce." abby hums writing some details down, "so what are you looking to get out of this?" abby puts her pen down, watching the way your lips lift into a smirk. "i want to take him for all he has."

abby smiles back at you standing and coming to stand in front of you, "i can see a blossoming relationship coming from this case," abby holds her hand out again to shake your hand. you smile and bite your lip before taking her hand and shaking it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you and abby spend a good amount of time together settling things for a divorce settlement. you both have gotten so close, an unspoken connection has been building between the two of you; like abby's hand on the small of your back, coffee 'meetings' where you guys don't talk about the case at all, standing a little too close to each other and more unnecessary touches.

it all reached a boiling point when you and abby were sitting in her office after hours when abby pulls out some wine and glasses she keeps behind her desk, you should've left an hour ago but you and abby weren't ready to leave each other.

your sipping from you glass while you listen to abby talk about her college days. you kick your shoes off stretching your legs in-between you and abby on the couch you were lounging on. abby had her blazer off, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low and and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. she looked so good sitting there with her legs spread and her hair falling over her shoulders.

your thoughts are getting hazy when abby stops talking, since you haven't responded to anything she's said in the last 5 minutes. she looks over at you and bites her bottom lip gently. seeing the way the moon shines through her window and lights up your face, she wants you closer.

"are you alright?" she whispers scooting closer to you, picking up your legs and placing them in her lap. "mhmm," your eyes fix on the way abby's lip is still in between her teeth. "i could sit and listen to you all day," you match her tone, scooting closer to play with the ends of her hair.

"i could watch you all day." she mumbles putting her hand on the back of your neck leaning closer to you, bumping your noses together. you close the gap between the two of you, kissing her lips with all the tension that's been building for the last couple months. abby reciprocates with just as much passion; hand in your hair the other on your waist trying to get you closer. you push at her shoulders even though your lips chase hers.

you know you shouldn't do this, not now atleast. you pull away from her watching her as you catch your breath, her lips pink and swollen looking like they're ready to get back on you. "i should go..." you whisper.

abby looks into your eyes, "if that's what you want," you nod and pull your legs off her lap. she nods, "let me take you home." you nod again watching her grab her coat and keys. you stand and do the same walking out the building and to abby's car.

when she pulls in front of your house, she looks over at you waiting for you. you turn towards her, leaning over the console to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then directly on her lips. "thank you." you tell her before getting out and walking to your front door.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

on the day your divorce was finalized and you successfully milked you husband dry of his money, you and abby were pure smiles and grins as you rode back to her office. abby said she wants to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate and you agree, but all you can think about is thanking her for all she has done in so many different ways.

this woman who has been nothing but gentle and attentive to you since she's met you, has melted your heart in a way no one ever has. you want her in a way you never have your husband or anyone else. but you might be thinking too much into this; this might be nothing but two people who worked close together who are obviously attracted to one another.

when you entered her office, you walk over to her desk and lean against it. “i can’t believe you did it,” you say for the second time since you left your ex and his lawyer. abby comes to stand in front of you smiling, "i didn't do much, your husband and his idiot lawyer made it too easy." you stare into her eyes before your eyes flick down to her lips. "i want to thank you."

“you don’t need to do that.” she licks her lip, caging you in as she puts her hands on her desk. her breath fans over your face as you have to restrain yourself from leaning forward and kissing her.

abby turns you around pressing you against her desk, "you've been an angel throughout all this," she whispers in your ears, "i wanna thank you," she kisses the back of your neck. she pushes you down across her desk, untucking your blouse from your skirt and pushing it up to expose your bare back. you shiver at her cold hands as they run across your skin and jump when you feel her lips press a kiss to the base of your spine.

"abby, touch me please." you turn your head to look at her, unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. "what's the rush? i thought you were supposed to be thanking me," her eyes are locked on your lacy pink panties as her big hands grip your ass. "i-i am. i just want-" you whine and jump when her hand collides with your ass. "then be patient."

you nod as abby's thumb runs up and down the wet fabric covering your dripping cunt. you whine pushing back against her, she moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your tight walls, feeling you tighten immediately.

you moan, jaw slack, her name caught in your throat as she fucks you on her fingers. "now what do you say?" she reaches her hand to grab your hair in her grip pulling your body against hers. you brace your hands on her desk as you fuck yourself against her fingers.

"thank you! t-thank you," a long drawn out moan falls from your lips as she uses her fingers to scissor your pussy open. abby's breathing is getting heavy as she falls more and more into the intoxicating moment; the look on your face, the feeling of you wrapped around her, the sounds your making as your orgasm builds.

"i want you. i-i want to have you all to myself." abby whispers against your sweaty neck. you clench hard around abby as you moan out, "ah, yesss! yes please." you reach your hand to hold the arm thats hitting just the right spot, overstimulating you. your orgasm subsides and you lay back on her desk. "you good beautiful?" abby picks up your skirt, pulling you up and zipping your skirt back up then tucking your stained panties into her pocket. abby moves the hair out your face with a smile and you nod.

that ended up not being the last time you've fucked abby in her office, she's up and moved you in her house where she fucks you in the shower in the morning then makes breakfast for you after. and divorcing your husband continues to be the best decision you've made.

[blue-jisungs]

paintfully cute

# author's note … it was so strange to write for keeho??? like im glad i did hehe but i had this inner feeling that he’d give me a reality check LMFAOSOISJE i don’t have that w other idols help 😭 anywho enjoy ‼️

# warnings … might be suggestive lol + red velvet propaganda bc i can ‼️‼️‼️

# word count ... 735

# summary ... date idea: painting jeans <3

keeho walked into the living room, bottles of paints almost spilling from his hold. he scoffed upon seeing you sitting at the couch, patiently.

“what?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“nothing. you’re cute” he grinned and put the necessities on the floor, where beforehand he sprawled some foil.

you joined him on the ground, excitement running through your veins.

“i grabbed some jeans, brushes… let me just play some music. is there anything you wanna listen to?” your boyfriend asked, grabbing his phone “maybe a hit kpop band p1harmony?”

“those losers? no way. better put on some red velvet” you grinned and nudged his elbow teasingly. keeho just rolled his eyes playfully and did put on red velvet on shuffle, knowing how much you love their music.

you ran your hand through the denim material of the jeans and straightened any wrinkles that formed.

“so from what i read those work like normal paint. it’s sometimes better to put white base underneath so the colors stays longer” he said and handed you some brushes “you have any ideas?”

“not yet” a small pout formed on your lips.

keeho had an amazing idea to transform old pants by simply using fabric paint on them. that’s what you’re doing right now, as a form of indoor date. you were really looking forward to it, curious about the outcome.

“i don’t want to be basic though” you huffed, sitting back on your heels and eyeing the piece of clothing in front of you.

keeho hummed, leaning forward. you saw him paint some strokes with a brush he grabbed.

“so no flowers?” he teased, hyper focused to be precise. scanning though the containers with paint, an idea started forming in your head.

“i have a vision” you blurted out and reached for a brush “there’s gonna be like… bone x-ray… and there’s gonna be hearts where my knees are”

keeho looked over your shoulder and puckered his lips in thought.

“trust your gut. i’m doing whatever is on my mind” he said encouragingly and you nodded, humming to the song and getting ready to work.

you two created your pieces slowly but surely, thanks to the paint drying fast. keeho decided to put them on to see if there’s anything missing. you did the same and walked up to the mirror that was in the living room. suddenly, an idea bloomed in your head.

“i think yours are missing just one thing. can i…?” you asked and keeho nodded, liking the idea of you adding something personal. you quickly ran up to the paints and smeared pink paint on your hands while he still observed the pants in the mirror.

then, you attacked. smacking two hands against his butt, keeho let out a squeal.

“yah, a little warning next time” he laughed when you pressed your hands further to make sure the color was imprinted precisely. he turned around and his mouth fell agape “you little devil! come here!”

you ran away with a squeal and… well, tried to run away. keeho grabbed you by the belt hoops and pulled closer, leaving small yellow stains on them.

“you have some red paint on your face” you giggled and tried to wipe it but forgetting you had the pink, you only created a bigger mess. keeho watched you with adoration in his eyes, not realizing your schemes. he was just way too whipped for you.

“what do you think of my jeans?” he hummed and eyed yours in the mirror “yours are impressive. i had my doubts when you told me the idea but you managed to pull it off”

“thank you, baby. that’s on being a natural” you grinned and looked at his “well, yours look like a five-year-old…”

keeho just rolled his eyes and leaned in to prevent you from further dissing his artwork. some of the paint he had on his face brushed off on you. you moved your hands to his neck and only smiled wider when you felt him shiver a bit.

“your hands are so cold-” he leaned away but rested his forehead against yours. you saw the realization in his eyes “y/n!”

you only laughed, not realizing that you’re as dirty as him. a mix of yellows and greens on your forehead and chin that he smeared accidentally. chuckling, you shared a few more kisses waiting for the jeans to dry completely.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙clues | MV1˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: max verstappen x singer!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: fluff af

summary: in which you and your boyfriend lay out clues for your fans to connect the dots of your new relationship

a/n: super cute req not a maisie fan myself but saw the soft launch pics nd immediately thought i need to make a fanfic of this 😝 ended up choosing max coz i feel like i've done slightly similar plots with oscar & lando before, i barely write for max !

request!!!: Hiii, I’ve never requested before so slightly nervous but I have idea lol. Idk if you know who Maisie peters is (amazing singer btw if you don’t know her go look her up!) but she recently just high key hard launched but covers the face of her bf, maybe you could do something like this for like max, Lando or Oscar 🤷‍♀️ I have been literally day dreaming about it and maybe like everyone’s trying to figure out who it is and with every picture that’s posted there’s clues idk!! Completely up to you! Anyway love your work 🫶🫶🫶

fc: maisie peters

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oliviarodrigo, and 892,283 others

yourusername ‘there it goes’ is urs now.. i hope u love it as much as i do 🫶

view all 11,822 comments

user1 the love we had was eating me whole i had to send it home 🥺

user2 i threw a party he kissed me right in front of my friends ?!? 🤔

oliviarodrigo so amazing as always 🫶

yourusername ahh tysm angel!!!

yourbff SO PROUD OF U

yourusername love u so so much

user3 omg this song is so amazing im so happy she's moving on from her ex

user4 me too she deserves the world fr

user5 the way i loved u i will not be embarrassed of that ❤️

user6 she's so talented i love her fr

maxverstappen1 posted a story

liked by danielricciardo, yourbff, and 538,192 others

user7 OMG THE CROSSOVER

user8 wtf is max in london

user9 omg what is happeninggg

user10 feels sus

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 718,634 others

user15 omg a bf ??

user16 OMG WHO IS HE

user17 boooo & we all wanted her to date max lol

user18 she alr has a man 😭

user19 max verstappen found d3@d

yourbff

liked by yourusername, gracieabrams, and 528,028 others

yourbff perks of ur best friend being famous xoxo

tagged: yourusername

view all 4,283 comments

user20 not y/bff/n being a red bull supporter!!!

user21 another win for the maxy/n agenda

user22 obsessed with the y/n f1 crossover

yourusername car go zoom or whatever

yourbff ikr my favourite part was when they drove fast

gracieabrams tell y/n to get off the paddock & into the studio!!

yourbff i'll let you tell her that 😝

yourusername 🤨

user23 you tell her gracie

user24 y/n looks sooo cute

user25 ikr max verstappen found crying in the rb garage

yourusername

liked by yourbff, redbullracing, and 991,367 others

yourusername gives u wings 🪽

tagged: yourbff

view all 13,892 comments

user26 omg the red bull references...

user27 IS SHE DATING MAX VERSTAPPEN I NEED TO KNOW

user28 so many clues

user29 maybe they're jus friends? they've never even been seen interacting

redbullracing 🫶

liked by yourusername

user30 something is happening

yourbff hehe 👀

user31 EVEN THIS IS SUSPICIOUS

user32 i feel like her first soft launch was too early for it to be max

twitter ->

interview ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc, and 1,692,901 others

yourusername a crush? no well i would take him on a date if he wanted

view all 18,736 comments

user35 ok im convinced

user36 this is so cute i could cry

user37 NOT HER QUOTING MAX IM FINISHED

user38 they're dating surely

user39 "reasons i love you" omg😭😭😭😭

user40 CHARLES IN THE LIKES?

yourbff favs

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,021,732 others

maxverstappen1 the best tour guide 🇬🇧

tagged: yourusername

view all 14,827 comments

user42 omg

user43 this is life changing

user44 IM SO SHOCKED

yourusername ❤️❤️

liked by maxverstappen1

user45 AHHH

yourbff finally

maxverstappen1 🤫

user46 can't believe my fav singer is dating my fav driver

user47 & who was it that said only hot girls support rb 😝

charles_leclerc my favourites

maxverstappen1 ❤️

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 1,927,183 others

yourusername my life my heart my love

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 23,103 comments

user51 this relationship might be the best thing to ever happen to me

user52 daniel ricciardo in the likes we won fr

user53 i love u y/n

user54 y/n love songs about max incoming

charles_leclerc we love having you around y/n !

yourusername ahhh tysm for being so welcoming

user55 OMGGG LOVEEEE

danielricciardo slay y/n

yourusername yupppp u know ittt

user56 FRIENDSHIP?!?!??

yourusername of course we're friends i have to earn the approval of all of max's boyfriends

danielricciardo HAHAHAH

maxverstappen1 🤨

maxverstappen1 i love you

yourusername i love you 🥰

THE END 💙

[holycrimin]

In honor of me getting my first ever TMNT Comic,

here's Leo with a crush who gets overly excited when gifted something they're obsessed/hyperfixated with (cough definitely not me cough)

while I did buy the comic for myself (it was an Eastman and Laird's TMNT adventure special) I wanted to explore this more because my brain is way too active and i need an outlet lol

pls dont blame me if its a little ooc, im trying my best and this is impulsive T0T

note: Reader uses they/them, Leo is a massive dork, semi proofread

2012!Leo x Expressive!Reader

Saw something he thought you'd like while on patrol,

"Hey guys, you think they'll like this?" He looks throught the window.

They snicker and shit on him (lovingly in a sibling way)

Whether it was a poster or figurine or comic, he's getting that baby just for you

Obviously he'd get it by paying because stealing would be wrong.

And by paying he means snatching it in the middle of the night and leaving a twenty with an apology note

Because that's what heroes do

anyway

Hops up to your apartment,

(with his brothers watching from the shadows because they absolutely cannot resist a good show. yes, even Donnie; like a true hypocrite)

He makes sure that neither your parents are there with you and he knocks on the window

You, with your ultra smart brain, immediately knew it was him because it was either that or a murderer that climbed up to specifically your window to murder you

which was unlikely, but hey, so was being friends with a giant turtle

You open your window and are immediately greeted with a shiny (not-so-brand new) comic/poster/figurine of the thing you talked about nonstop for weeks. maybe months. actually now that you think about it it mightve been year—

"Hey."

"Wh-"

"No way. NO WAY." You take it out of his hands (gently) and look at it in awe, before looking up at him with a dazzled expression

(If you squinted you could see sparkles coming off of you)

"What- Where- Dude. Where'd you even find this?!" A wide grin on your face as you look at him.

"Oh y'know.. Patrol and fighting bad guys, awesome stuff. Uh, then, y'know.. I found some merch that I thought you'd like."

"Dude he's seriously blowing this." one of the guys (mikey) whisper. "Yeah, he's worse than Donnie." he says, earning a 'Hey!' from Donnie.

Leo glares at them for a second before turning his attention back to you.

You let out a giddy giggle, "ahh! dude!"

"Dude." You set it down gently and put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I. Love you. So much. You know that?"

He blushes a little, "Well, I mean, it's not really a big de-"

"Not a big deal?! DUDDEE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Is this a marriage proposal?" You say, shaking him a little.

"Wh- um.. What?" Leo lets out a weak chuckle, he feels his face heating up. "Because I accept. Let's get married, I love you so much. Oh my god, you have no idea-"

Ohhh god.

Yeah, that does it.

Well, even more than it already has.

"Whahahaha... Okay, uh, You don't really mean that, do y-" Oh.

"..Oh, sorry, is that too far? I mean, I do it with my other friends, but I'm not sure- Leo?" Yeah, no this is going to kill him. Kinda pathetic, huh? That a kiss on the cheek could send him spiraling just like that.

"Ah.. hahahah! Okay cool, haha.. uh, bye! I'll ah.. see you tomorrow? yep. Yeah. Okay, bye!"

He runs off.

Aw crap.

Did you do something wrong? God, you hope not. Maybe you should tone it down next time.

"Smooth moves brother, really got them falling for you."

"Shut up."

------------------------

Total writing time: idk like 15-20 mins?

Any fellow fic writers feel free to take inspo or even write a direct sequel to this, I just really like this idea and would absolutely love to read more abt it lol

[nastybuckybarnes]

Home

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost needs to get back to work.

Warnings: Minor Angst, Fluff, language?

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: I have no idea what to call this one it's also just a little thing to get us ready for a big thing and then a bigger thing i hope you enjoy! sorry i haven't been super active - i had no wifi at my new place until today and im also still kinda in the process of moving in LOL

~*~

The energy is different when Ghost returns to his quarters at the end of the day. He has a new tension in his shoulders that not even the hot water of the shower can wash away.

It isn't until he joins you in bed that you find out why.

"M'gonna be gone tomorrow."

Those four words have you sitting upright in bed, a frown on your lips.

"Where?"

One of his hands comes up to caress your collarbone, then slides up to cup the side of your neck.

"To the city. We're gettin' closer."

You're not sure what he's getting closer to, but that's the least of your concerns right now.

"I will be alone?"

He shakes his head, "Johnny will be here. He'll take you to lunch 'n whatnot. But this is... how it's gonna be for a bit movin' forward. I won't be able to be around as much."

Your frown deepens.

You don't want to be away from him. Not for any longer than you have to. Especially now that you're on base.

You're not oblivious to the looks you've been getting from the other men here. More than once have you caught the unwanted wandering eye of someone. But every time without fail, your Ghost is able to scare them off. One sharp look toward them and a dark promise in his eye, and the offenders are looking away.

What are you going to do when he's gone?

Your mind flutters to the Corporals who tried to have their way with you, back when you first met Ghost. You've seen each of them around base, but never together and never quite like you did that night.

You'd like to keep it that way.

You can't help but pick at your fingers as you start to think of every bad thing that could possibly happen with him leaving.

"Hey, none of that. Look at me."

You obey, lifting your eyes to his in the dim light.

"Everything'll be okay. Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you. I trust him with my life, you can too. 'N'm sure the men here know by now not to even think about you the wrong way. If not, m'happy to make an example outta them if I need to."

His free arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you to lie back down on the bed with him, snuggling you close to his body.

"A few more weeks, Mouse. Then I'll bring you home with me. You can forget everything and we'll start a new life together. How's that sound?"

How does that sound?

That sounds like everything you never thought you'd get. Everything you never thought you'd be allowed in life.

"Good." Is all you end up saying.

~*~

'Good' is also the one word you wouldn't use to describe how things are the days Ghost is gone.

The first day is the worst.

Obeying your Ghost's wishes, you accompany Soap to get lunch, sitting in silence as the piercing eyes of the other soldiers drag along your back.

And on the walk back, whispers erupt and more eyes are following you.

Soap -Johnny- isn't as effective at getting them back in their place. Sure, they keep a wide berth, but their eyes don't skitter to the ground the way they do when Simon's mean glare lands on them.

Maybe, you find yourself thinking, it's because Soap isn't all that different from the men around you.

Maybe he's thinking the very same things they are.

Ghost's words ring out in your ears that night as you lie awake.

'Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you. I trust him with my life, you can too.'

Settling a bit, you decide that maybe you can trust Soap.

The other men, though? They don't get that luxury.

From that moment on, you vow not to leave his quarters again unless directly accompanied by Ghost.

The entire time he's gone, he can't help the odd feeling in his chest.

He's not looking in windows for your drawings or in shadows for your eyes. No, instead he's looking for more hostiles, more targets, more things standing between him and his Mouse. The future between the two of you.

The more people he kills, the faster they advance, the more ground they cover, the closer they are to success.

Success means taking you home. To his home, making it your home, too.

And his teammates aren't oblivious to the new fire beneath him.

He's always been good. A key asset to the team and arguably one of the best at what he does.

But this? This is like nothing they've ever seen before.

More than once, however, have they caught him looking at a piece of paper.

During the lulls, the safer moments when no one is shooting at them, a small piece of paper is in his hands and his eyes are tracing and re-tracing the drawings on it.

And when he gets back to base the following day, he feels excited.

His palms tingle and his stomach twists, and he feels a sense of relief when Soap greets him with a smile.

"How's she been?" He wastes no time on pleasantries, immediately making a b-line to his quarters.

"Haven't seen her much. She's been sayin' she's 'not hungry' since yesterday. She hasn't left since."

Simon's brows pull together as they come to a slow outside of his door.

He gives Soap a nod, watching as the man turns and leaves, then slowly pushes the door open.

"Mouse? You feelin' ok-"

He's cut off by you throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his frame and tugging him forward with such strength that he actually loses his footing for a moment.

His arm instinctively wraps around you as he stumbles, pulling you closer to his body.

He steadies himself then brings his other arm around your waist, hugging you tightly.

Your fingers slide up beneath the back of his balaclava to card through his sweaty hair as you nuzzle your nose into his chest.

He tugs the balaclava off then pulls your head back, dropping his lips to meet yours after far too long.

You sigh softly, melting into the kiss.

"You okay, Mouse?" He asks after a moment, pulling back to look at you closely.

Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him with dreamy eyes, nodding.

"Johnny tells me you haven' left the room. Why?"

His hands slide up until he's cupping your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You close your eyes and hum softly, sliding your hands under the front of his sweater as you seek out his skin.

"The men... they... they do not trust. They stare... they... they say things... I do not like it. Not without you. They do not look when you are here."

He feels a tinge of anger bubble in his stomach, but he can't really blame them.

Does he understand where they're coming from? Yes. Absolutely. He wouldn't feel comfortable having them on the field with him if they blindly trusted you.

That being said, him trusting you should be enough.

The unspoken claim he has over you should be enough for them to not ask questions. It should be more than enough for them to keep their mouths shut when they see you.

"You just gotta... be around them more. They'll grow to trust you the more they see you."

You huff out a sigh and lean forward to kiss his lips softly once more.

"Don't want to without you."

He smiles against your mouth and slowly walks you back toward the bed, turning at the last minute and falling backward onto it, pulling you with him.

You land on top of him with a soft gasp, giggling wildly when he rolls over and peppers kisses over your face.

"M'gonna go shower, 'n then we're gonna go get dinner, 'n then... m'gonna bring you back here and you can have me all to yourself. How's that sound?"

You nod eagerly, smiling breathlessly when he rises to his feet and heads toward the bathroom.

The rest of the night is easy now that your Ghost is back.

Your meal is a lot more peaceful than the one you shared with Soap, with fewer eyes burning into your back.

And the time after is far better than when you're alone as well.

Soon enough, he's got you in bed, body exhausted and thrumming with the gentle aftershocks of your orgasms.

"I'll be leavin' again tomorrow. Want you to go with Johnny, just be around the men. It'll do ya good. N'then, soon enough, ya won't be doin' anythin' without me. I'll take you home 'n make you my pretty little housewife. Can have a garden or draw or cook, whatever makes you happy."

The words are whispered against the back of your neck.

While his lips brush your skin, his hand flexes against your stomach, pressing firmly against your lower abdomen where the carnal idea of a future with you is making his cock stir.

Your fingers trace over the back of his hand as your lids grow heavy.

"Where is home?" You ask quietly.

His warm chest is pressed against your back, the steady thrum of his heart better than any lullaby.

"Home is wherever you want it to be. S'long as m'with you, we'll make it home."

[dilfstar]

ONLINE LOVE !

brother!leon x sister!reader 4.3k words. warnings ! incest, piv, rdr n leon r both idiots, insecure n loser!rdr :] dubcon, somno, breeding notes ! gigi loser w no job and mostly online friends :( sorry this took so long 2 write i was trying not 2 kms 😛

The high pitched ping from your computer let you know he finally replied to your message. Almost an entire day later… It’s whatever! He’s probably just busy, right? There's no way he's already tired of you… Right?

You ran over to your desk, slipping on a random sock on the floor, bumping into the corner of a nearby end table. You looked down at the aching spot, already seeing the beginning of a bruise appear. “Damnit, Leon! Learn how to clean your shit!”

The chair squeaked as you sat down, floorboards groaning when you rolled closer to the desk. Your eyes focused on the screen, the spinning loading wheel making you want to scream. “Hurry up…” Your thumb was between your teeth while you anxiously watched the screen, eyes lighting up the second your messages with him loaded.

lskndy98 : hey! sorry i took so long :( work has been kicking my ass heh… dollstar : omg no problem :) i totally get it ! what’s ur job if u don’t mind me asking?  lskndy98 : im a cop. i work at the local precinct. not the best job… but it pays well! dollstar : omg no way??? ur lying! my brothers a cop too LOL

The conversation went on for hours. You were in love with a guy you’ve known for a little more than week. A guy you met in some random chatroom. A guy that could be a serial killer for all you know! It’s whatever. Doesn’t even matter, does it? He’s hot enough. At least his body is… He hasn’t exactly shown you his face. Which makes sense… Was this weird? This was weird. Imagine if your friends found out! Or even worse– Your brother.

Leon would never let you live this down. He’d call you a freak, a loser. Fucking asshole. He’s the loser and freak. Not you! He’s the one that spends all his free time holed up in his room… on his computer… talking to people online… Okay, maybe you two weren’t so different, but it doesn’t matter. You’re better than him!

Sure he was older and he had a job and he was your parents favorite. But, what does that matter? You actually have friends and someone that likes you. You: 1. Leon: 0.

Maybe… just maybe. You were a loser too. You didn’t even know this guys name and you wanted to marry him? Yeah. You’re as lame as Leon. Worse even. He had a steady income! You had nothing.

The knocking on your door frame snapped you out of your thoughts, head whipping around to face whoever was bothering you. The sight of Leon instantly made you want to vomit. “What do you want? I’m clearly busy.”

He scoffed at your words, pushing off the wall with a grunt, face twisted into one of annoyance as he walked over to you. The look was immediately wiped away when he got closer. Explicit messages covered your computer screen. He laughed at you. He actually laughed at you!

“No way… You're flirting with some random guy? How long have you even known him?” He leaned over you, practically on top of you as he stared at your screen. Your hands moved as fast as possible to click out of the tab. Your cheeks were burning with shame, the thought of shooting yourself seeming more and more appealing with each second.

“It’s… It's none of your business! Go away!” You pushed him back, getting out of the crappy office chair to shove him out of your room. Why did he have to come in and see all of that? Idiot, idiot, idiot was all that repeated in your head. All thoughts clouded with pure embarrassment at your worst enemy finding out you were sexting some random dude on the internet.

Leon, on the other hand, felt like he was about to vomit. You were really talking to some dude you didn’t know? Yeah, sure, he was talking to some girl he didn’t know… but it was different! This girl wasn’t just using him for nudes like the guy you were talking to was. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone good. Someone that could take care of you. Leon could do that for you. If he wasn’t your brother. Don’t be weird!

His jealousy was normal, right? It was just a big brother being worried about his sister. Nothing more. So what if he felt sick about some loser messaging you, talking about fucking you. He’s just being protective, yeah?

You spent forever taking pictures for him. All kinds of unnatural angles and poses to show off your body in a flattering way. Tits squeezed into the tightest bra possible. You didn't even look like yourself. Good.

It was pathetic, really. Trying to impress a guy whose face you haven't even seen. What would your parents say if they saw you like this? They'd laugh at you just like Leon did. Maybe everyone was right about you being a loser. No job, no school, only friends are people you met online… This guy would change everything though! He has to!

Each picture was worse than the last. Wrong angle, bad lighting, face in it. He couldn't see you. Not yet. It had to be the perfect moment! (When you two got married and he couldn't back out!)

After another hour, you finally got it. The perfect picture to send. One that made you look like some edited catfish on instagram… but all natural! With a few quick swipes, you opened the messages between the two of you, uploading the photo as fast as your shitty internet would allow.

Your thumb hovered over the send button, refusing to just inch forward and press it, an invisible force field blocking you from sending the photo. “It's just a body pic… What's the worst he could say?” The words barely audible as they fell from your lips, your thumb hitting the screen soon after.

Dots appeared a few seconds later, disappearing just as fast as they appeared. This went on for what felt like an eternity only for his message to be something stupid. Something so incredibly lame and stupid. “Nice. 👍”

Nice.

Nice.

He said “nice” to a picture of you in next to nothing. Who says that? Is he stupid? He has to be… Why else would he reply like that?

You frowned at the screen, the thoughts in your mind becoming increasingly negative with each second. Maybe you weren't as pretty as you thought. Maybe you gave him the ick. Maybe you-

It doesn't matter. He’s just a random dude you met online. You’ve never even seen his face! So what if he thought you weren't hot? He's probably some sleazy neckbeard that scrolls reddit all day. Whatever.

Ding!

lskndy98 : fuckkkk lskndy98 : just came so hard lskndy98 : you wanna see? lskndy98 has sent you an image!

Oh. Oh. He was big. His hand could barely wrap around his cock. Cum dripping down the side of it and onto his hand… All because of you.

You were speechless, every single thought that was running through your head vanished. So he did think you were hot! A hot guy thinks you're hot! 

Okay, so you don't exactly know that he's hot… but he is big. It counts, right? Whatever. You're the reason there’s cum dripping down his thick cock. Someone thought that your body was worth something! All of that time spent getting the right angle was so worth it now!

dollstar : omg 0____0 dollstar : was tht rlly bcus of me?? dollstar : ur making me blush… <3

You couldn't stop staring at the picture, everything else being blurred out, your mind entirely focused on him. The phone slipped into your hand, holding the picture close to your face as the other one slipped down into your underwear. A soft sigh escaped you the moment your fingertips made contact with your clit.

You could feel the pleasure crawling through your veins, your breathing suddenly becoming ragged and heavy. Each brush of your fingers made you dizzier than before. All ability to process your surroundings flew out of your head.

Knock, knock, knock.

You dug your teeth into your lip, not hearing the heavy beating on the door. Your mind was in such a haze you failed to notice Leon standing in your doorway staring directly at you until it was too late. A loud shriek bounced off the walls and into his ears as a throw pillow came flying at his face. 

“Get out! Get out! Fucking perv…!” Any previous sexual feelings you had jumped out of you the second you saw your brother’s face. How long was he standing there? Why were you related to such a creep…

The air in the room was heavy once you finally stepped into the kitchen, an awkward, ashamed look was plastered on your face as you approached Leon. 

“...Hey.” Hey? That's the best you could come up with?

“Uh, sorry about… earlier. You weren't meant to see that. Let's just try to forget about it, yeah?” Simple enough for him to understand. At least you hoped it was.

All he did was nod at you, barely acknowledging your presence. He stayed glued to his phone, turned slightly away from you. 

“Hello? I’m talking to you, asshole.” You stepped towards him, turning him around to face you, absentmindedly looking down and making eye contact with the very obvious bulge in his pants. Oh.

It was as if time froze. Your eyes were locked onto his dick, like it had its own pair and was battling you in a staring contest. This could not be happening. Your older brother, the guy you’ve fought with for years, was hard for his own sister. Disgust overtook your body as you ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before puking your guts up.

How could he do that to you? What kind of sick freak gets hard for his little sister? It felt like millions of tiny bugs were crawling over your skin, the taste of vomit resting on your tongue as you hid in the bathroom with the door locked. What about all those years together growing up? Eugh, did he feel like this back then too?

You stared at the door for what felt like hours, waiting until it felt safe enough to leave and go back to your room. Carefully, you twisted the doorknob, tip toeing on the wooden floors to get to your destination. 

You flipped the lock on your door as soon as you got in, making sure he couldn't try to peep on you. The only comfort you had was the hot, faceless stranger on your phone even though he was just words on a screen. God, your life really was pathetic. The only guy that's ever been interested in you probably lived across the country and your freak of a brother wanted to fuck you. 

Your back was against your door as you messaged whatever he was to you. To make things worse, you two still haven't decided on what you were. Each new thing that you realized only seemed to make your night worse. Maybe you weren't meant to be happy or enjoy your life. You were probably some sort of monster in a past one and this was just karma finally getting you back.

dollstar : hey… you there? dollstar : could use some company dollstar : lol lskndy98 : what's up??

The only thing that was able to comfort you was venting to your eboyfriend about everything that was wrong in your life without fully going into detail about just how horrible it was. He can know your brother sucks without knowing why… There's no need to drive him away just yet.

The next few days were filled with you thinking about how to approach Leon. You couldn't let this situation stay like this forever, you had to work something out with him. But every time you tried coming up with something, you got too scared to talk to him. What if it happened again?

After taking a few shots to loosen yourself up, you made your way to his room, gently knocking on the door. It creaked open, giving you a nice view of his bedroom and the door to his bathroom. You’re not sure why, but it felt like something was pulling you in towards the bathroom, putting you under a trance to take a peek inside. I mean, it's not like it’ll hurt anyone to snoop through his things. He's probably not even in there!

Your fingers wrapped around the knob, turning it even after hearing the shower running. There was no way for you to stop yourself, your body was moving on its own. You cringed as the steam hit you, immediately enveloping you in a gross, wet heat. The humidity in the room made you want to gag, distracting you from the main thing in front of you.

The vomit taste that's been resting on your tongue the past few days melted away as soon as you laid your eyes on his lean body in the shower. The way the droplets of water dripped down his toned abs made your thighs squeeze together.

No! No! He’s your brother for crying out loud! Don't be a gross pervert like him. 

Without saying anything, you left and went straight to your room. The whole thing shouldn't have been so… hot! You two were related for crying out loud. Connected by blood. It was wrong! But, it really turned you on, the taboo aspect of it sending a dangerous shock through your veins. 

A thought popped into your head, one that made you dispose of your clothes and crawl into bed, camera mode on your phone ready in your left hand. He’s in the shower, right? So, he shouldn't bother you for a bit… You have about an hour. Just enough time to make a certain someone a sweet video!

The moment the camera started recording you began touching yourself, dragging your fingers over your thighs, wincing softly but covering it with a moan when you pressed too hard on the bruise from earlier. The feeling that flowed through your body when you made contact with your clit set your skin on fire. Each touch already too intense for you to handle.

“You like that…? ‘ts all for you…” Well, kinda. Sure, most of it was for the guy you've been thirsting over for weeks, but a small, tiny part was from seeing your brother naked, no matter how hard you tried to deny it. He just looked so good. All that training at the academy and mornings at the gym really paid off. He had to be like, the hottest guy you've ever seen. Even if he was your brother!

He was big too. You only got a slight glimpse of it but it was the biggest you’ve ever seen. Though, it’s not like you’ve seen many. It looked heavy, like it’d hurt your mouth. Maybe that's why all the girls in school talked about him like he was a God. He definitely looked like one…

Another part of you wondered how he’d be in bed, even if it was gross to think about at first. Would he be gentle or rough? Would he make sure you came first? Or leave once he was done? Was he any good at it? You needed to know- No! Stop it! What's wrong with you?!

You fingers stop moving instantly, thumb pressing the stop recording button as you moved to sit up. How could you do this? Touching yourself to the thought of your brother… The guy that practically raised you. Something has to be wrong with you for you to find him hot enough to fantasize about.

Whatever, it's not like anyone will know. Just send the video and forget why you took it. Simple. Easy. Not hard at all. So why couldn't you move? Why was there a little voice in your head telling you not to send it to some stranger when there's a hot guy in your house? Fuck- Stop it!

You focused in on your phone, sending the video with a few pictures from before.

dollstar has sent lskndy98 an image! dollstar : hope u like it :p dollstar : thought of u the whole time… wish u cld help :(

Weird. He usually responds almost instantly… Maybe he's busy with work or in the shower or something. It doesn't matter, it's not something to worry over. None of this is anything to worry about. It's normal to feel like this once in your life, yeah? Yeah. It has to be. It’s too late to focus on anything that big anyways. As soon as your head hit the pillow you passed out, drifting off into a sweet dreamland filled with visions of you and your mystery man. 

Leon turned the hot water off, grabbing a white towel as he stepped out of the shower, wrapping it around his waist. His first instinct was to check his phone, see if anyone at work had called him. Nope! Just a message from his sorta girlfriend!

His eyes shot open as he clicked on the notification, being hit in the face with a video of her touching herself. For him! Her fingers looked so nice moving around her thi- Ouch, nasty bruise. Looks like the one his sister has… In the same place, on the same leg. Same shape and everything.

No, no, no, no. This was not happening, especially not after that night a few days ago. He stared at himself in the mirror, all color drained from his face, a sickly feeling creeping up on him.

Why did he have to be hard right now? He just found out the girl he's been talking to for weeks is his sister… He jerked off to pictures of her! 

He set his phone on the counter, leaning forward to try and stop the sudden dizzy spell and urge to vomit on all of his stuff. This was just a horrible nightmare, right? He would wake up tomorrow morning and forget all about it, go back to normal. But, you looked so cute all needy for him, even if you didn't exactly know it was him. One little listen to it couldn't hurt.

The first moan after he hit play hit him like a wrecking ball, sending a shock to his system as he listened to the video, hearing it bounce off the bathroom walls. Your little noises just sounded so pretty, he couldn't help how hard he was getting for you. 

“Leon!” The high pitched whine from the video almost made him short circuit. You said his name. Sorry, you moaned his name. You were thinking about him while touching yourself and you didn't even realize before you sent it! He couldn't hold it in anymore, he was gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles were white. God, why would you do this to him?

He walked out of the bathroom, still dressed in only the small towel around his waist and his phone on the counter still playing the video of you. He made his way to your door, standing outside of it for what felt like a decade. Slowly, he twisted the doorknob, sneaking into the darkness. 

The close he got to your sleeping figure the more control he lost. You just looked so perfect… so soft. His hand crept towards your face, wiping away a small line of drool. He really shouldn't be doing this to you.

Leon crawled onto the bed, dropping the towel on the floor. He peeled back your blankets and pulled your panties down, mouth watering at the sight of your cute little cunt, all wet for him. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own as they moved through your slit, collecting your essence on the tips. He brought them to his mouth, groaning out in pleasure at the taste. Well, it's too late to stop now…

He inched closer, spreading your legs apart just enough for him to fit in between them. You looked so beautiful like this, only wearing a bra, eyes shut so peacefully, cunt exposed for your big brother. His thumb hovered over your clit, barely brushing against it. He was still too hesitant to fully dive in.

He took a deep breath as he began to circle your clit, watching the way your face twitched in your sleep as he touched you. “Yeah, jus’ like that…”

Each sound you made was pure heaven in his ears. Every little whine or moan made his heart threaten to jump out of his chest! He pushed two of his fingers into your needy hole, craving something inside of it. So easy, it was sucking him in. How desperate were you for some action?

He made sure to be gentle, not wanting to wake you up just yet. Each thrust of his fingers was so delicate, simply stroking your walls, as if he were trying to memorize them in exact detail. He might not get this chance again, so why not milk the most out of it? No pun intended.

Too engrossed in your pretty pussy, Leon failed to notice you beginning to wake up. Your eyelids fluttered open as the strange feeling down there started to mess with you. “Huh…? L…Leon? What are you-”

You gasped loudly, pushing him away as you scooted back to the headboard, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. “Fucking freak! Get out!” 

Why wasn't he more scared of getting caught? Why did he look so okay with this?!

He cooed at you, shaking his head as he crawled back over to you. “Not gonna do that, princess. I think we both know what you really want… Saw that video after all. Been trying not to think about you since that night I caught you. You're just making it too hard.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. All of the pieces slowly connecting in your head. Same age, same initials, same job. You’ve been almost dating your brother this whole time!

He used your confusion against you, pulling your body just enough to make you lay down, giving him an opportunity to pin your wrists onto the bed. “I think I deserve the real thing after you’ve been teasing me for months, don't you?” 

The moonlight pouring in through the window reflected off his teeth, only making his sinister smirk that much more intense. You should be terrified right now. Trying to push him off or scream for help, not dripping onto your sheets.

All you could do was nod, pouting up at him with a scared look in your eyes. You did want this… You just didn't know it would be with him.

He held both of your wrists with one hand, moving the other one back down to your pussy, resuming his actions from a few moments ago. His touch was different than anything you’ve ever felt before. All of the lame hookups you had in the past were nothing compared to this. Your fingers didn’t even feel this good! His were so thick and long… You already felt so full.

It wasn't even 3 minutes until you came, your big brother’s fingers working on you like some super powered vibrator. Your back arched off the bed, wrists burning as you tried to pull them out of his grip. It all felt too good, your nerves were on fire, all of it hitting you like a 90 pound weight.

You shuddered as he pulled his digits out of you, coated in your juices, shining under the moonlight. He wiped them on your sheets, trying to get back to you quickly. Gross.

He moved around, lining up the tip of his aching cock with your sensitive hole, teasing you a bit before pushing in slowly. His head fell forward, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tried not to scream. You felt so perfect around him, like you were made for him!

He released your hands, propping himself up on his forearms as he laid over you, slowly beginning to move. Soft groans and grunts fell from his pink lips. All of the prettiest sounds coming from the prettiest boy.

“Could’ve been doing this for so long… Fuck- Could've been making you feel good for such a long time… ‘m sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to you… Promise.” You could barely hear what he said, head too fuzzy to process anything other than the way the veins on his cock dragged along your walls.

It was all better than you could've imagined. All the stories you heard that you thought were disgusting at the time were true. He was a creepy, perverted asshole but he’s the best in bed. You’ve never felt more alive than now, stars appearing above your head as pleasure began to take over again.

“Leon, please!” You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer. Your thighs were around his waist, not giving him a chance to escape even if he wanted to. He rolled his hips into you, making sure to take his time instead of rushing things like he’d usually do with a girl.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you… Don't worry.” He mumbled it against your neck, leaving sloppy, wet marks behind as he moved all over your skin. You were his now, he had to make sure everyone else knew too.

He leaned into you harder as his pace got sloppier, his orgasm building up. He inhaled your scent as he came inside of you, filling you up like you were always meant to be. Leon almost collapsed on top of you, using the last bit of strength he had to roll the two of you over with him still inside.

“Sorry I woke you up… Jus’ had to make sure you knew who you were really talking to..”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

quick question- I was a bit confused in some dialogue during book 1 lol 😭😭 It’s during the later chapters when riddle has collared both ace and deuce after they’ve challenged him for his seat. More specifically, the part where yuu calls riddle out for his behavior (rightfully so) and he responds by insulting them and their parents I believe?

The confusion stems from aceyuu shippers (just wanted to clarify I’m not self shipping lmao) where they say ace ends up punching riddle because he’s explicitly defending yuu’s honor or whatever but i also see other people (non-shippers) who say ace punched riddle because he insulted ace and/or deuce’s parents? Im not quite sure which one it is and went back in the actual game to check but i feel like the wording of riddle’s insults is a bit vague? Idk, maybe im just being a bit of a dum dum and can’t properly comprehend the scene even though it’s quite simple. I feel like it’s also just because i see a lot of people saying different stuff and just wanted to hear your thoughts on it if that’s okay?

I just feel like you really understand both the story and characters in that regard haha

P.S. your posts r genuinely very informative and helpful especially for people like me who kinda have no media literacy (not in a negative way!!) pls keep up the good work you’re rlly great at it <333

Hmmm, I see 🤔

Before I get to responding to this question, I want to preface this with a few disclaimers! Firstly, I do not mean to invalidate or detract from Ace x Yuu shippers or anyone who may interpret their relationship as romantic. You should ship what you like and have fun doing it. My reply aims to be more objective, but that should NOT impede on your enjoyment or whatever it is you choose to ship. Secondly, for those who don’t ship Ace x Yuu, I will be discussing the pairing later on in this post, so please keep this in mind.

Let's first look at how the game and how it depicts the scene. This occurs in 1-22, shortly after Riddle collars Ace and Deuce in their duel for the dorm leader seat. With his victory secured, Riddle begins to gloat about how this is proof that he is "the most correct". At this point, Yuu/the player character is granted two dialogue options:

If you choose "But that's not right!", Riddle replies with, "I am the one who decides what is wrong and right! What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?"

If you choose "You can't just use rules to do whatever you please!", then Riddle replies with, "If there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules. I have to wonder what sort of pitiful education left you unable to comprehend so simple a concept."

However, no matter which dialogue option you choose, Riddle continues on to say, "Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. And as a result... You lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It's quite sad."

Deuce becomes upset after hearing this--but before he is able to act, Ace is already on his feet and manages to deck his dorm leader in the face.

Based on the fact that Riddle seems to react to something that Yuu says, the framing here implies that the "you" Riddle is using refers to them specifically. As you can see above, both Ace and Deuce take offense to what Riddle says, but it is Ace that acts preemptively and attacks Riddle for his rudeness. This is what Ace x Yuu shippers will point to as a defining moment in their relationship (though, to be clear, this scene can definitely also be interpreted as platonic!!).

… Buuut it’s not completely clear that Riddle is explicitly directing any and all insults towards Yuu and Yuu alone, even if Yuu was the one to prompt his tirade. Due to the visual novel style format of the game, we have limited assets to base our interpretations off of, so going by the game alone may not be entirely accurate to what is happening in this scene. For example, we don't know how the characters are oriented relative to one another. It's possible that Riddle responds to Yuu's dialogue and then turns away to berate Yuu, Ace, and Deuce for their stupidity, since all three of them are, in his eyes, rule-breakers. We simply cannot tell due to the constraints of a visual novel. Let’s consult the manga adaptation and see how that presents 1-22.

In the Episode of Heartslabyul, the framing of the panels centers Riddle and Adeuce; Yuuken is not involved whatsoever. (On a prior page, all Yuuken remarks on is how fast Riddle is able to cast his spell; Yuuken has no lines similar to game!Yuu’s earlierdialogue options.) Riddle stands imposing over his opponents and rants at Ace and Deuce about their lack of an education. You can see that it really strikes a nerve with Deuce (whom we learned used to be a delinquent prior to NRC). This still results in Yuu punching Riddle.

The manga seems to imply that Riddle is not insulting Yuu, but rather Adeuce. This makes sense to me, given that though all of them are rebels to Heartslabyul’s strict rules, Adeuce are the two who most directly challenge his authority.

You can see in a close-up panel that Deuce is gritting his teeth and trying to hold himself back from going at Riddle. The text in that panel involves the mention of parents who cannot use magic—which just so happens to be true of Deuce’s mother. The same mother that he worked so hard to make proud of, the mother he turned over a new leaf for. But again, it’s Ace that gets the hit in. Why is that?

Let’s check out our final source, the first volume of the light novel. On pages 319 and 320:

Riddle very clearly states “And as for you two.” This clearly refers to the fallen Ace and Deuce. He then unleashes his barrage of insults at them. Again, not at Yuu, but at Ace and Deuce. The text even goes on to remind us that Deuce would be especially rattled by Riddle’s words because of how he had come to NRC for the sake of his mom. In this version, we see our Yuu (Yuuya) being more involved by trying to keep Deuce from lashing out. Like in the game, however, Ace still gets in that punch on his dorm leader.

Okay, so… The game, manga, and light novels are different iterations of the same base story. Based on which you consume, you could walk away with an entirely different understanding of the scene in question. The game, being the most interactive medium with a self-insert main character, a gacha game which makes $$$ from endearing the characters to us, has the set-up which is most conducive for yumeshipping and thus making the player feel beloved and important in 1-22. This is obvious if you also consider that many fanservicey lines from other parts of the game (such as Ace wanting to sleep in Yuu’s room) being left out of the manga. It's also entirely possible that Riddle first reacts to what Yuu says, and THEN shifts his attention to address the group rather than just Yuu. The manga, with a more standoffish and level-headed Yuu, doesn’t speak up like game!Yuu does, so Riddle instead directly insults Ace and Deuce. The light novel, which features a timid and non-confrontational Yuu, is focused on deescalating the situation. And, like the manga, the light novel is NOT interactive and so it doesn’t need to concern itself with making the player feel special. Riddle isn’t mandated to acknowledge Yuu; he can instead be mad at Ace and Deuce all he likes.

If we were to combine information from across the game, manga, and light novel to decipher what is “truly” happening, here’s how I see it!

The light novel contains a scene exclusive to it on pages 176 and 177. As Ace is making himself comfortable at Ramshackle, he formally apologizes to Yuuya for being mean to him in the prologue. Ace explains that his meanness was because he thought that Yuuya had bullied his way to be admitted to NRC under special circumstances. “[…] the rest of us had to work our butts off to get in, and you just sorta walked in.” He proclaims that this was unfair, so it annoyed him.

This makes a lot of sense for Ace’s character. In book 7 of the main story, he expresses that he is insecure about being an ordinary mage and that he hadn’t even developed his UM yet. (Coincidentally, he has a Chat where he praises the Queen of Hearts for having no special magic but still being able to make it big—perhaps because her circumstances remind Ace of himself?) He calls himself lame and pathetic, someone who is always looking for an excuse to take the easy way out. This is in spite of the bravado he puts on and how he often brags about being better or smarter than Deuce (most notably in book 5). If we believe the light novel dialogue, Ace worked hard to get invited to NRC. He has pride in earning this, and he has something to prove while he is there. Recall that his older brother is an alumnus of the school, and that his own father is a magicless human. Ace canonically has a good relationship with both of these family members and often bonds with them through little things like card trick competitions. When Riddle insults Ace's background... he is also insulting Ace's brother and father. He is also insulting all the effort Ace put forth to get into NRC in the first place. Ace would of course lose it--especially when he has been the primary victim of Riddle's rage for most of book 1. He's the first to be collared, the one who had to apologize and attempted to make an apology tart (which got rejected). Bro's fed UP having to bend the knee to a tyrant and sick of watching everyone else do the same. The punch that comes out of it seems to me like the result of all Ace's pent-up frustrations, as well as his own fury at Riddle speaking ill of him and his family.

While Ace is unquestionably willing to ride or die for Yuu in books 4 (he takes a long public transit route from the Queendom to Sage's Island after receiving a SOS text from them) and 6 (he tries to protect his friends from Ferrymen)... I think book 1's a bit too early for him to be SO loyal to Yuu that he'd get this angry on their behalf and sock Riddle. (Book 1 takes place during the first week of school; Ace seems to have only known Yuu for a few days at this point + hasn't really hung out with them besides sleeping over at Ramshackle since he's not allowed back at Heartslabyul.) His punch definitely feels fueled by a bunch of other things rather than being extremely motivated to defend Yuu's honor. I think maybe a case could be made for the game specifically, since that's the only version where Yuu is potentially addressed rather than Ace and Deuce being addressed. However, this does take some extrapolation. You'd have to assume that Ace is actually very attached to Yuu this early on or pair it with the idea that Ace is sensitive about magicless humans in general being discriminated against because of his own father being magicless (ie Ace was insulted by proxy, even if Riddle might have aimed the comments at Yuu). Not sure if the latter argument holds up very well though, considering that Ace himself did discriminate against Yuu in the prologue because they lacked magic. Likewise, he doesn't get mad for Fellow and Gidel in Playful Land when they share about being looked down on for not being magically inclined. But hey, maybe that was just Ace being in denial and acting contrary in order to cope with his own complicated feelings on the topic. He’s been known to behave like this anyway, acting cocky despite having no UM and denying that Yuu would go home (even though we later find out he deeply does not wish for this to happen).

I definitely think that many of the game-exclusive lines and content are there as fanservice for the players, who are encouraged to project or to self-insert as Yuu. Ace in particular is one of the characters who gets a ton of this kind of yumejoshi bait-y stuff. Everyone has it to some extent, but Ace is one of the rare few who has several pretty overt instances in the main story (whereas most other characters have their fanservice content relegated to voice lines and maybe some events). On top of this scene (which could potentially read as "Ace defending Yuu's honor"), we have: multiple instances of Ace offering to share a room/bed with Yuu (once in book 1, again in book 3), he has shared his number with Yuu and invites them to call him if they "miss him", Ace's entire book 7 dream revolving around a reality in which Yuu is able to freely traverse between Twisted Wonderland and their original world (furthermore, he is the ONLY dreamer we have seen in which Yuu is involved in the dream), etc. Ace is also known to frequently tease Yuu, and, on top of having several voice lines inviting them to hang out, is actually shown hanging out with them and caring about them in various vignettes and events. For example, he has movie nights with Yuu (Idia's Labwear vignettes), asks for their opinion on whether or not he looks the part to woo the Ghost Bride, rides roller coasters with them in Playful Land while previously complaining that his ex-girlfriend wouldn’t, and worries for where Yuu might be (Endless Halloween Night). With this abundance of Ace and Yuu content, I can see why people that have the shipping goggles on--and even those who don't--might interpret early scenes as Ace acting out for Yuu's sake, be it romantically or platonically. More objectively speaking and when considering the manga + light novel though, I don't think I personally read 1-22 that way. I enjoy Ace as a character and I support Ace x Yuu shippers, but the evidence and context suggests that he's venting other frustrations to me.

Again though, this is just my interpretation. Feel free to use this information however you’d like and come to your own conclusion.