#always smiling and always kind of shy when he was the center of attention

[candescentkpop]

Xion

Oneus: Valkyrie

Oneus Part 90 / ∞

[brownblob]

"I Love You"

When the words "I love you" spill from the prefect's lips, how do the Housewardens react?

Part 1

TW: Kissing in Malleus' part, forehead kisses, mentions of insecurities (Fluff)

Part 2 (Separate): Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

ᥫ᭡. Kalim Al-Asim ᥫ᭡.

Like the scorching sun in the Scalding Sands, Kalim's feelings for you burned deep within his heart. Why is it that he wants to spend time with you, but the moment he does, his heart seems to stop? Why is it that the word 'friend' bugs him when associated with you? Why is it that he wants to be selfish, to hog you for himself? His mind become's mush whenever you're near and his throat feels dry, he just feels so shy.

Kalim is everything but shy.

Expensive gifts, prized heirlooms, rare gemstones, and any luxury you could name- he'll give it all to you, so why do you reject? Anyone else would accept his gifts with open arms, encouraging him to give more. Wait, you aren't anyone, you're you. You don't take, you give. Despite the little you have in this new world, you who harbors no magic, gives him joy. You spend time with him, you care for him, and you don't take from him- he really wishes you would.

Take his riches and look back at him just one more time, he swears he'll hand you all the gold he can acquire. So please, please just look at him more.

You're caring, so much so that he could just melt in your arms. How lucky he feels when you look at him, but why? Jamil looks at him too, he doesn't feel as if mice are tickling him then. No, when you're around, all he can see is you. You who shines brighter than any gemstone his wealth could buy. You are not a prize to be won, he knows, but he wishes that the glitters of gold could woo you, make him your number one.

He feels so lost and it hurts, nights spent sobbing away.

Kalim, the name alone makes you smile. Someone who's kind despite all that he's faced, all the horrible people he's met- he still believes in the good of people. Some call it naivety, you call it 'a heart of gold'. Yes, he's sheltered, there's some things he's slow at, and he has flaws. Despite said flaws, he want to become better and you see him try every single day. You've seen how he makes everyone comfortable, always including anyone and everyone, how he's akin to a drop of sunshine. It's a rarity and you appreciate it greatly. Twisted Wonderland, it's new to you and things are difficult but when Kalim's there, things don't feel that difficult.

He doesn't look down upon you, he doesn't think you're weak despite having no magic, and he certainly never belittles you- others have and that hurt.

He's always up for some fun, but it always feels better when he can share the fun with you. Thus, flying carpet rides have become your nightly routine. There's a soft knock on your window every other night, a hand extended your way; calling you to live, be happy. You can't help but blush when the carpet takes off, his body huddles closer to yours and the moon seems tease you with how bright she is.

It's another night and he's come to pick you up to go see the Scarabia moon. You're sitting next to each other, the desert seemingly glowing underneath. The stars twinkle and you swear the breeze is cool on purpose, just so the both of you have no choice but to lean into each other. Hands intertwine, both of you looking the other way, cheeks red like cherries.

"I..I love you."

You fumble out on mistake, your breath hitching the moment you realize. His head whips towards you, garnet eyes appraising your blushing visage. A soft smile appears on his lips, his sun-kissed skin peachy with a blush of his own.

"I love you too."

He says eagerly, hands wrapping around you as he pulls you in. The moon looks bigger, the stars winking at you, and the scent of sandalwood engulfs you. A soft kiss is planted on your forehead, one that lingers. Like a pair of sea otters, you both hold the other's hand.

ᥫ᭡. Vil Schoenheit ᥫ᭡.

Center of attention, even the room's filled to the brim with pretty faces. Eye's the color of violets and a smile that's so striking, it could cut right through you. Just how a bright star commands everyone's admiration, Vil himself does exactly that. With beauty that's akin to a velvety rose, thorns sharp and drawing blood of the one who dares touch. He's not sure why he's so fond of you, really, it baffles him. Your constant babbling should bother him- your posture isn't perfect, you don't regularly use the products he recommends to you, and your diet could use improving.

He only recently realized the perfection of imperfection. That's what you are, like an abstract piece of art that can draw even the most elegant man's heart. Truly, you can take his breath and keep it, which is a difficult feat to accomplish. Yet, you seem to have done just that.

He doesn't like how drawn he is to you, the you who could improve so much. Nevertheless, he can't deny how his heart flutters when you ramble on and on, the words you spew seem like pearls to him. Undeniably, you've got his heart, and it bothers him.

Vil seems unreachable to you, as if he's a god and you're a follower. You can see him, but you can't touch. Everything about him is captivating- the way he moves, how he walks, how he talks, everything. You feel like a toad in front of him sometimes. Still, the reason your heart continues to flutter is not his beauty but how soft he can be. His words may be harsh, telling you to fix your posture or add a certain product to your skincare, but he means well. It used to irk you, how he pointed out your flaws, but he never touched an insecurity- it was never something you couldn't fix. Many times, he only tells you how to improve and that's in his nature. It started with you muttering curses under your breath, now all you do is give him a dopey smile as he flicks your forehead.

It's hard to love Vil, and you're sure that it's even harder to be loved by him. He's untouchable and you're not sure if he'll even spare you a glance. But, the nights you spend at his dorm, him tending to your skin as you blabber about your day. Or the few rarities when he opens up, speaking of his insecurities. It shows how human he is; how he too, can feel.

It's another night at his dorm, your skin's worsened as of late and Vil's ordered you to give him a visit. You sit at his vanity, the light's so bright that it could blind you, but what truly blinds you is Vil himself in all his glory. His dampened hair, the ends the color of wisteria, and the scent of patchouli just makes you want to melt right then and there. He strides over with a new product in his hand, carefully beginning to massage your face with it.

"I love you."

The words come out instantly, his hands stopping in motion as his violet eyes widen. A sheepish blush coats your face as you realize what you said. Your breath hitches, the fear of rejection drilling into your mind, and your heart drumming against your chest.

"That's quite bold of you, sweet potato.."

He lets out a small chuckle, eyes holding content. He leans closer before flicking you on the forehead gently.

"I love you too."

ᥫ᭡. Idia Shroud ᥫ᭡.

The buzz of video games, the stench on junk food, and an interest for oddities. Idia Shroud was a wallflower, yet you'd managed to befriend him, something he's truly grateful for- your presence. He liked you. You understood him, you never belittled him for what he enjoyed, in fact, you encouraged him to continue. No matter how good or bad you were at a game, you'd play alongside him. It didn't matter whether you enjoyed his rambles, you'd listen no matter what, before babbling on and on about something of your own interest. Nights like this, filled with games, reading manga, watching anime, and spending time with you- he never wanted these to end.

You were brave, so unlike him. You had no magic, still you managed to show courage, to fight against overblots. How he wished he was you, no, how he wished he was yours. The realization hit him like a truck in an isekai, quickly and out of nowhere. When he figured he liked you, he didn't let you anywhere near him for a week- opting to hide in his room and not leave. It took some convincing from Ortho and also the fact that you may dislike him if he ignored you, before he opened his doors for you once again. Nevertheless, he was skittish, averting his gaze from your face, and sitting on the other end of the couch when you visited. That worried you, you were sure you'd messed up big time and he became uneasy around you because of it. Thankfully everything became normal after two weeks, he was sure he wouldn't be able to recover.

The truth was, you liked him too. It was weird and something unforeseen, you both started out as friends- you'd visit his dorm, play games all night, munch on junk together, and then laugh at all the cringe characters in the current anime you both were binging on. Right now, you were experiencing that cheesy crush from a shoujo manga, and the feeling was messing with your brain.

The gloomy boy you pined for was everything but dreamy, somehow, that's what made him so charming to you. Hair an electric blue that flared up like flames, pale skin akin to porcelain, and eyes yellow like daffodils. His physicality was mesmerizing but there was so much more to his character too. He was passionate about what he enjoyed, jabbering on for hours about his interest, something that you didn't mind one bit. He was competitive, striking a triumphant grin whenever he'd win a game against you. He's prideful too, his creations making him an utter genius. At the same time, he held such emotion, a man who would never judge for he himself experienced the badmouthing of others.

There's just something about Idia, something that makes your cheeks flare up. You're not sure if he notices how his presence can make you skittish, how you become timid when he's near, and how divine he seems to you. He never notice how he makes you feel, how ironic that you become just like him when he's near.

Just like the usual, you're cooped up in his dorm alongside him. You've been binging an anime for the past few hours and the way he's so focused on the characters while you're so focused on him, it bothers you. He feels so close yet so far and the fact that you're having such thoughts about the whole situation, makes you feel stupid.

"I love you.."

You immediately pause at your own words, Idia pauses the show too. There's a long silence in the room and before you know it, Idia's moved far away from you. His hair's become an electric pink and his eyes are wide.

"W-w-w-what..!?"

He exclaims the words as if he's animated, the feeling of fluster surging throughout him. Were you playing a joke on him? This wasn't right, it couldn't be. His gaze averts the other way every time you look at him and he won't admit it, but he really hopes you're not joking.

"I love you, Idia."

You say again, softer this time and you yourself look the other way, peachy blush coating your face. You're cursing yourself for speaking up, palms sweaty and clammy. You feel dizzy and your breathing is erratic , the feeling's mutual. The room's silent again, no one says anything and the only sound either of you can hear is the buzz of the computer.

"I...I...I dove, no, love you too.."

He mutters out, fumbling his words while he does. You both look at each other, shy gaze. Your lips form a small smile, making Idia's hair flare an even brighter pink. His face is rosy and he'd rather not look at you but you're just so pretty that he can't help but look.

You're not sure how it things fell in place but he accepted your confession, and now you've somehow managed to cuddle up to him. He's stiff but that's fine, the mere fact that he's holding your hand tightly is enough to reassure you. That, and how smug he looks.

ᥫ᭡. Malleus Draconia ᥫ᭡.

Child of man, you truly are peculiar. Malleus Draconia, the name alone makes millions, if not billions, tremble to the bone. He holds such unrivaled power that the thought alone is fearsome- he is fearsome.

A monster, that's what many would call him, but you don't. No one dares approach him as carelessly as you do, a bumbling smile on your lips as you walk next to him without a care in the world. Do you truly not know what he's capable of? 'Tsunotaro', that's what you've named him- quite bold of you, not that he minds. Please continue to enlighten him about human practices, he's interested in every thing you have to say.

Loneliness is a disease that he's suffered from since his childhood. It's second nature to be alone with his own presence, silence a bandage that covers but doesn't heal his wounds. Yet, the way you come to him, invite him to all your little events, how you choose him. How can he be lonely when he has you?

You, who is so bright like a star coated in gold- is he even allowed to go near you? It feels as if you'll break in his hands, yet you seem so brave, putting yourself in danger with a smile. You've got his heart in your hands and it hurts that you don't realize.

'Friend' was a word he grew to love, knowing the special bond you shared. Nevertheless, it's the same word that has caused Diasomnia to have horrible whether for the past week- you're a friend to many but a lover to none. Be his, child of man, he's the only one worthy enough to call you his.

Since the day of his realization, Malleus follows you as a second shadow would. Now, no one with ill intentions would dare approach what he's already considered his. Truly, how precious you are. Giving him small shiny pebbles you find, trying to tuck daisies into his hair but being unable to reach his head, and the times you try to tease him as a joke, making the silliest of faces. Please tell him that he's the only one who has the honor of seeing you in such various forms. Dragons are hoarders, you know? And he wants nothing but to hoard you all for himself.

Spending time with your Tsunotaro is always fulfilling. His knowledge on gargoyles, the depth in which he speaks of them and how little he knows of human interactions. It all makes your heart flutter, eliciting a smile on your lips. It's not difficult to have feelings for someone such as him, it comes naturally. He seems so intimidating, dangerous even and it's not that he's not- he is, but there's so much more to him. He's curious, always listening to what you have to say. He's sweet, always handing you gifts whether small or unimaginably grand. And the manner in which he speaks, the elegance he holds, he's just as charming as any prince in a book- if not more.

When you began actually having feelings for him, all his words seemed to make your mind all fuzzy. Could he really not tell how his vocabulary affected you? 'My dear', 'my love', and all other forms of endearments had become a usual, so much so, that it felt right.

You went on walks with him, spotting gargoyles and chatting about them. Sometimes you drag him to picnics with and he happily follows, letting you braid his ebony hair. Still, not everything you shared seemed friend-like, and if it was, you didn't want it to be. The way his emerald eyes gazed over you, how his touch lingered so gently, and how his lips brushed agains your ear when he said he'll keep you safe. It couldn't mean nothing, you didn't want it to.

A walk in a meadow at nighttime, how strange, but also the daily for you. You walk alongside Malleus, skittish and timid- this isn't how you usually act. The moon's peeking out from under the clouds and casting a silver sheen on all that it lands on. Fireflies scurry around slowly, the cool night air making you feel at ease- but it's not enough.

Your face is flushed and you won't meet his gaze, he's not sure what he did wrong. His frame towers behind you as you seem to walk quicker, increasing your pace. Hurt, that's what he feels; did you start seeing him as a monster too?

You can't leave, please- he'll beg if he has to, give you all of what he has and can create. Promise you'll stay, and don't ever leave.

Then you pause, turning around as you take deliberate steps towards him. You look up, your smaller frame covered by his daunting shadow.

"I love you, Tsunotaro."

You say with a certain melancholy in your voice, as if you know he'll reject you and your love. How could he ever think of rejecting? He'd rather pierce his own heart and bleed to death than ever think of rejecting any of your words.

His viridescent eyes widen, the glow of them seeming intense. His hands holds you in place gently, he seems to be staring at you, looking you as if you're the most fragile piece of glass. The words don't spill out of his lips and you look more desolate by the second- he seemingly can't speak, he's not sure if this is but a dream.

"I love you too, child of man. So much that you wouldn't believe it."

His hands wrap you in a desperate embrace, almost as desperate as the words he'd just managed to choke out. It was as if you would wither away if he let go, as if he was making sure you were not a dream.

Your own eyes widen, lips parting shock at his words. The night seems magical and his embrace is sincere. He pries away from you only to look at you more, all your expressions- please continue to show such faces to only him. Only he should see you like this, with your face flushed red and eyes widened as you stare at him as though he's the only man in the world. His hands seem shaky, unlike who he usually is.

No, he seems so vulnerable and you seem to be his vulnerability.

Everything seems alright when you're there, he doesn't feel loneliness; far from it, actually. He doesn't feel like a monster when you love him, when your own arms loosely wrap around his neck as you pull him in for a soft kiss- no, monster's don't get such luxuries.

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: Please reblog, even if you don't press like on the post. Reblogs help a ton more!

Note 3: I didn't expect the last part to get so much attention, thank you so much everyone. I greatly appreciate everyone's interactions with my posts! As of now, I'll be working on requests and maybe some other ideas! (I really hope this part 2 is good too)

[mrsbarnesblog]

Tattoo

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 

But you were so wrong. 

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 

“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 

“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 

“I can do it myself!” 

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 

He was good at it. 

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 

God, he must be big. 

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.” 

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 

“I do.” 

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 

“Good fucking girl.” 

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 

You both felt how close you were. 

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 

[milunalupin]

— little things

james potter x animagus!reader ★ 1k words

It started with an accident.

James Potter was never one to shy away from chaos, but this time, it wasn’t his fault—well, not entirely. He had been talking with Sirius about sneaking into the library undetected when out of nowhere, a small, furry creature darted across the corridor.

“Did you see that?” James whispered, his attention caught immediately.

Sirius squinted. “A rat, maybe?”

“No, it’s too… fluffy,” James muttered, leaning down to get a better look. Sure enough, it wasn’t just any animal—it was a rabbit, hopping quickly along the stone floor as if it had a destination. Sure, curiosity killed the cat, but James and Sirius were far from felines, so they followed it without thinking.

The rabbit led them into an empty classroom, and for a moment, they lost track of it. That is, until it suddenly stopped and turned around, staring at him with wide, bright eyes.

And then, with a soft pop, the rabbit transformed.

"Why are you following me?" came the voice, sharp and tinged with a hint of annoyance.

James stood frozen, jaw slightly agape, utterly certain that he was hallucinating. But there you were, standing in front of him, disheveled, a little out of breath, and looking entirely unamused.

You were a Slytherin—one the boys knew vaguely, a classmate who didn’t exactly run in their crowd. You were known to hang around Regulus Black and Narcissa Malfoy. Though not particularly close, James was well aware of you—always quiet and mysterious.

You ran a hand through your hair, clearly trying to look unbothered. “That was… not supposed to happen.”

"My own cousin, a fluffy little bunny?" Sirius snorted, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Just because Druella took me in, does not make me your cousin." you scoffed, stepping closer. “Look, I’m not exactly ready to broadcast it, alright? No need to make a big deal of it.”

Sirius grinned, suddenly leaning in with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I love making a big deal of things.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “So I've heard.”

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself as you stared at the two Marauders, both of them still grinning in a way that made it hard to take them seriously.

James just stood there, still blinking as if he was trying to fully process what had just happened. “I mean, honestly… a rabbit?”

You shot him a glance, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”

James opened his mouth, but you raised a hand to stop him. “I’m serious. I didn’t mean for you two to find out. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Sirius chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he looked at you with that same mischievous grin. “And what exactly were you planning, then? A big reveal? Dramatic entrance? ‘Hey, look at me, I can turn into a rabbit!'"

“It’s not a party trick, Sirius.” You huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his earlier teasing tone now replaced by a more genuine curiosity. “So, you’re really just doing this for yourself? You’re not planning some grand scheme to rule Hogwarts with your rabbit powers? Actually, that explains why I saw a rabbit around the dungeons the other night. Thought I was going mad.”

You gave him a dry look. “You probably were.”

James scratched his chin thoughtfully, clearly trying to digest everything. “So, this whole time, you’ve been hopping around Hogwarts as a rabbit?”

A heavy silence settled in the room, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever as James and Sirius exchanged glances. It wasn’t that they were angry, but there was that unmistakable air of mischief in the air, the kind that made you feel like you’d just inadvertently opened a door to a whole new world.

Finally, Sirius broke the quiet with a wide grin. “You know, this is brilliant.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, think about it. You’ve got a secret power no one knows about. You could really have some fun with this.” Sirius' grin only widened, as though he could already see a thousand new pranks unfolding in his mind.

You crossed your arms again, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “This isn’t about pranks. The fewer people know, the better.”

James tilted his head, still absorbing the situation. "But come on, imagine the possibilities. You're basically a ghost, but in a rabbit form. You could slip into places, overhear things, see things no one else could. You could have fun with this."

You shot him a look, your expression hardening. "I don't need your encouragement to act like a clown, Potter."

Sirius leaned in closer, clearly undeterred. “But that’s the thing—you don’t have to act like a clown. We could be—”

“Stop,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You two seriously have no sense of boundaries, do you?”

Sirius threw his hands up dramatically. “Nope. Boundaries are for people who don’t know how to have fun.”

You stared at them for a moment, wondering how you always ended up in these situations. Part of you regretted your lack of a solid exit strategy—though, to be fair, this was the first time you’d ever found yourself transforming in front of anyone.

James let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You know,” he mused, slipping his hands into his pockets, “I always knew Slytherins had their secrets, but I never expected one quite this... adorable.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, but James only grinned wider. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said innocently. Then, as you turned to leave, he added, “But something tells me this won’t be the last time we catch you hopping into trouble.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Try it again, Potter, and you might find yourself hexed.”

James simply smirked. “Worth the risk.”

[eu-nicola]

not yours part 1

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: nothing for now

word counter: 9203

author’s note: english is not my first language

In the eyes of the Kooks, you were always a Pogue. You could have perfectly coiffed hair, impeccable clothes, and an air of confidence that many of them envied, but no matter how hard you tried, you were still one of “the others.” After all, you were born and raised on the other side of the island, where the houses were small, the streets dusty, and the rules of etiquette didn’t exist. 

But that never stopped you. You always wanted more, you wanted to stand out, to shine as if the invisible line that divided the island didn’t exist for you. You liked being the center of attention, being the girl who walked into a party and made everyone turn to look at you. It was part of who you were. It entertained you, it filled you with energy. And maybe, deep down, you enjoyed a little bit of the scandal that a Pogue caused trying to be more than that. 

The first time you met Sofia was at one of those parties that the Kooks organized on the beach. You arrived late, as usual, but perfect. The tight black dress you had chosen highlighted every curve. You made sure every hair was in place and that your makeup highlighted your eyes impeccably.

You saw her alone, sitting in a corner, with a half-finished drink in her hand. She didn't seem comfortable in that place, as if she was out of place. Maybe that was what caught your attention. Unlike other girls, Sofia didn't seem to desperately want to fit in. There was something authentic about her, something that intrigued you.

"What are you doing here alone?" you asked her as you sat down next to her. Your tone was casual, as if you had known her all your life.

Sofia looked up and smiled at you, shy but warm.

"I don't know... I think this isn't my place."

"Well, sometimes, what we think isn't our place ends up being the best place of all," you answered, and without waiting for an invitation, you stayed there.

From that night on, you and Sofia became inseparable. She was quieter, more reserved, but that worked. Your explosive energy was complemented by her calm, and soon you were doing everything together: from afternoons on the beach to nighttime escapades to places where the Kooks didn’t dare to go.

It was inevitable that Sofia began to integrate more into your world. But she also began to enter theirs. Maybe too much.

The first time she told you she was dating Rafe Cameron, you felt like the world stopped for a moment.

“Rafe Cameron?” you repeated in disbelief as you looked in the mirror, touching up your eyeliner.

You were in your room, getting ready for another party. The air smelled of perfume and freshly opened makeup. Sofia was sitting on your bed, nervously playing with the hem of her dress.

“Yeah… I know he’s not exactly the kind of guy you like.”

He wasn’t. He never was. Rafe Cameron was the perfect definition of everything you despised about the Kooks. Arrogant, controlling, with that air of superiority that drove you crazy. And although you didn't say it openly, you knew he looked at you with disdain every time you coincided somewhere. As if you were usurping a space that didn't belong to you.

You took a deep breath, adjusting the necklace that adorned your neck, and decided not to say what you really thought.

“If it makes you happy… then fine.”

Sofia looked at you with a mix of relief and gratitude. You knew how much your opinion mattered to her, and you weren’t going to be the one to take that happiness away from her, even though something inside you told you it wasn’t going to end well.

Later that night the party was at its highest point. Music was booming from the speakers, laughter and conversations mixed with the sound of the sea gently lapping against the shore. The dim lights and strategically placed torches gave an almost magical air to the private beach where the Kooks were celebrating once again. Everything was perfect, at least in appearance.

You were there, as always, impeccable. Every accessory was in its place, every strand of your hair perfectly arranged, and your smile was as dazzling as ever.

But from the moment you walked through the door, Sofia was glued to Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against one of the makeshift bars, a bottle of beer in his hand and that cocky grin he never seemed to be able to erase. Sofia, beside him, looked different. More radiant, perhaps, but also more… restrained. As if he somehow controlled her every move.

It bothered you. You couldn’t help it. You had arrived expecting to spend the night together, like you used to before Rafe came into the equation. But there she was, practically glued to him, laughing at his comments, looking at him as if the rest of the party didn’t exist.

You sipped a glass of white wine and forced yourself to smile when a couple of acquaintances came over to say hello. You chatted, laughed, and pretended you didn’t care. Because at the end of the day, you understood. He was her boyfriend. If you had one, you’d probably do the same. If you had a Rafe Cameron who looked at you like you were the only important thing in the world, you wouldn’t leave him alone either.

Still, you couldn’t help the pang of discomfort that settled in your chest every time you saw them together. It was like Sofia was slowly disappearing into Rafe’s shadow.

Someone offered you a drink, and you accepted with a flirtatious smile, because that was what you did. You always knew how to have fun, how to attract glances, how to make sure no one noticed that something was bothering you.

But as the night progressed, you realized that your eyes kept returning to them. To Rafe, who had his arm around her as if to make it clear that she belonged to him. To Sofia, who didn’t seem to notice anyone else.

“Are you going to stay there all night, or are you going to dance?” a boy’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned around and recognized him by sight. A Kook, of course, one of those who always tried to get close to you when you were alone.

You smiled at him, playful.

“What if I tell you that I prefer to stay here?”

He laughed, but insisted.

“Come on, I promise you'll have fun.”

You hesitated for a second, your eyes looking back at Sofia. She was still glued to Rafe, oblivious to everything else.

“Okay” you finally agreed, putting your drink aside. “Let's see if it's true.”

You went out onto the dance floor and let yourself go. Because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was enjoy the moment, at least in appearance. You danced, you laughed, you let the music envelop you. But every time you turned, every time you moved to the rhythm of the music, you could feel Rafe's gaze on you. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling.

For an instant, your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, cold, as if he were evaluating you. It wasn't the first time he did it. He always seemed to observe you that way, as if he wanted to remind you that you didn't belong in his world, that you were nothing more than an intruder.

But you didn't give him the pleasure of looking away. You held his gaze, defiant, with a smile on your lips, as if you didn't care in the least what he thought. Because at the end of the day, if you had learned anything, it was not to show weakness.

The music continued, the lights continued to flicker, and the night continued.

When the music began to slow down and tiredness settled in your body, you decided that it was enough for that night. You had danced, drank, and smiled enough to keep up appearances. You looked once more to where Sofia and Rafe were, still together, as if the rest of the party didn't exist.

You sighed, resigned. It wasn't your place to interrupt that moment. You knew that if you came closer, Sofia would want you to stay, but honestly, you had no energy left to keep pretending that everything was fine.

"See you tomorrow," you murmured to a couple of acquaintances as you left. No one stopped you, because they knew that when you decided to leave, there was nothing that would make you change your mind.

You took the path to your house, enjoying the fresh air that calmed the heat accumulated on your skin. The silence of the night welcomed you with open arms, and it didn't take long for you to slip under the sheets, leaving behind the noise, the lights, and the discomfort that had followed you throughout the evening.

The next morning, your phone rang earlier than expected. Sofia.

"Good morning," you said hoarsely, still half asleep.

"Good morning," she answered, with an energy that made you frown. "Are you awake?"

“Now yes. What's up?”

“I'm at Rafe's house. I thought you could come. There's a pool, some food... We could spend the day here.”

You bit your lower lip, hesitating for a second. The idea of ​​spending the day at Rafe's house wasn't exactly your ideal plan. The Cameron house had always seemed more like a display of power than a home. Every corner was designed to impress, to make it clear that they were the pinnacle of the Kooks. And although you knew how to move in that environment, it wasn't your favorite place.

“Sure, give me some time to get ready and I'll go.”

“Perfect. I'll wait for you.”

You hung up the phone and stood up slowly, stretching your arms over your head as you thought about what to wear.

You opted for a long, light white dress, which highlighted your tan and fell perfectly. You chose a white bikini as well, simple but elegant. You made sure your hair was styled to perfection, letting some soft waves fall to frame your face.

A touch of natural makeup, just enough to highlight your eyes and lips, but not over the top. You chose a small bag, where you kept the essentials: sunscreen, sunglasses, and your phone.

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, adjusting the dress and the necklace that discreetly glistened on your collarbone.

You grabbed your keys, placed your sunglasses on your head, and left the house.

When you arrived, Sofia ran out to greet you before you could knock on the door, her radiant smile lighting up her face.

“You’re here!” she said excitedly, extending her arms towards you.

“Of course I do!” you replied with an equally wide smile as you walked over to hug her.

The hug was warm and genuine. Sofia had always had that energy that made you feel welcome, like everything else disappeared when you were together. She pulled away slightly to look at you.

“You look amazing.”

“You do too,” you said sincerely, noticing how her face glowed despite the simplicity of her outfit. “You always look good when you’re happy, though.”

Sofia blushed a little and laughed softly. You knew exactly why she was so happy. You didn’t have to be an expert at reading gestures to figure it out: Rafe.

“Come on, we’re in the back,” she said, taking you by the arm and leading you to the pool.

They walked through the house until they reached the spacious backyard. The pool sparkled in the sun, surrounded by lounge chairs, umbrellas, and luxurious furniture. Everything was perfectly arranged, as if they had taken the scene from a magazine.

And there he was.

He was sitting by the pool, a beer in his hand, sunglasses covering his eyes. He looked carefree, like the whole world revolved around him. His hair perfectly combed, body relaxed but always in control.

Your eyes met his for a brief second as you crossed the garden. His gaze was cold, distant, as always.

“Hi, Rafe,” you said in a polite tone, keeping the smile light.

He barely raised his hand in a vague greeting, not even bothering to take off his glasses.

“Hey.”

Nothing more. A short, dry greeting, as if you were there out of mere courtesy. Then, he turned his attention back to the conversation he was having with one of his friends, as if your presence was insignificant.

You expected it. Rafe had never treated you with more than minimal courtesy, and that was when he felt like it.

You took a deep breath and turned to Sofia, who didn’t seem to notice her boyfriend’s coldness.

“Come on, I’ll show you where to put your stuff,” Sofia said excitedly, leading you to one of the lounge chairs. 

After you put all your stuff down, Sofia spoke to you again. 

“Come on, let’s go to the pool,” Sofia said, pulling you by the hand. “It’s hot, and the water is perfect.”

You nodded and took off your white dress, revealing the bikini you had chosen so carefully. 

The afternoon passed more peacefully than you had anticipated. The sun bathed the pool in a golden glow, and the soft music coming from the strategically placed speakers made everything seem like something out of a postcard. You and Sofia spent hours laughing, swimming, and enjoying the cold drinks you had brought. At times, the awkwardness that had accompanied you upon arrival seemed to fade away. 

Rafe and his friends were nearby, but they kept their distance, busy in their own bubble of conversations. 

At some point, Sofia stood up. 

“I’m going inside to get something to eat.” Do you want me to get you something?

“No, I’m fine,” you replied with a smile. You didn’t want to move. The sun, the water, and the atmosphere had relaxed you more than you expected. Sofia gave you a quick smile before disappearing through the sliding door into the house.

You were left alone, enjoying the moment. The cold glass in your hand, the soft murmur of the water in the pool, and the warmth of the sun on your skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the tranquility envelop you.

However, that calm was interrupted when you felt a slight tug on your hair. You frowned, opening your eyes. You had leaned against one of the umbrellas, and without realizing it, one of the fringes at the edge of the fabric had become entangled in your hair. You pulled gently, trying to free it, but it didn’t work. The lock of hair was still firmly caught.

You sighed, frustrated. Normally, Sofia would be there to help you in a second, but now she wasn't. You tried once more, this time with a little more force, but you only managed to get it more tangled.

"Perfect..." you murmured sarcastically, resigned to waiting for Sofia to return.

"Trouble?"

The male voice, low and slightly amused, startled you. Rafe.

He was a few steps away from you, with his hands in his pockets and that expression on his face that seemed to mix boredom with curiosity. He was watching you with those cold blue eyes that had always made you nervous, as if he was entertained by your little fight with the umbrella.

"Nothing I can't handle," you said quickly, trying to keep control. You didn't want to give him the pleasure of thinking you needed help. You gently tugged on the lock of hair again, but it still wouldn't come loose.

"Yeah, sure. You're handling it perfectly," he replied in a sarcastic tone, as he moved a little closer.

You looked at him, trying to keep your composure.

“Sofia will be here in a minute, don’t worry.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, stopping right in front of you. The proximity made your skin crawl slightly.

“Or I can help you.”

For a moment, you were tempted to turn him down again. The idea of ​​accepting Rafe Cameron’s help was… strange. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person to selflessly offer help. But the reality was that Sofia would probably take a little longer, and you didn’t want to be stuck there anymore, humiliating yourself in front of him.

You sighed, reluctantly giving in.

“Okay… but don’t make it worse.”

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

That’s exactly what worries me, you thought. But you didn’t say anything.

Rafe moved behind you, and you felt his hands move closer to your hair. His fingers were surprisingly deft and precise, touching just enough to untangle the trapped lock of hair. You were surprised by how gently he worked, without tugging or causing pain. His closeness was undeniable, and for an instant, you were aware of the warmth of his body, the faint scent of mint, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Almost…” he murmured as his fingers slid through the last knot. Finally, the lock of hair came free.

You pulled away slightly, turning to face him.

“Thank you.”

He simply nodded, wearing that neutral expression he always seemed to carry with him. Before he could say anything else, you pointed towards one of the lounge chairs.

“Can you pass me the brooch I left there?”

Rafe calmly walked over to the lounge chair, picked up the small white brooch, and handed it to you. There were no snide comments or haughty looks this time. It was strange.

“Thanks again,” you said as you pinned your hair back, trying to ignore the slight nervousness the interaction had left you with.

“You’re welcome.”

And that was it. No more words, no lingering stares. Rafe returned to his spot by the pool, as if nothing had happened. You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. There was something about his expression that didn’t fit with the image you had of him.

But you decided not to think about it too much.

Then the night came faster than you had expected. The party at the Camerons’ continued, but the atmosphere was much more relaxed. The pool lights created a soft glow over the water, reflecting the stars that were beginning to peek out in the night sky. You and Sofia retreated from the hustle and bustle of the party, looking for a respite.

“That was great, wasn’t it?” Sofia said, her voice filled with an energy that couldn’t be hidden.

You nodded as you walked over to one of the chairs near the pool, sitting down to enjoy the cool night air.

“Yeah, it was fun. Although, you know, always a little awkward with… some of the Kooks,” you replied, glancing sideways at Rafe, who was still talking to his friends in the distance.

Sofia laughed softly, as if those social tensions didn’t affect her as much as they did you. For her, being with Rafe was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re staying, right?” Sofia asked, with an eager look, as if she needed to hear the affirmative answer.

You didn’t know what Sofia had in mind for the next day, but her excitement was contagious. You looked at Rafe from a distance, and although you didn’t say it out loud, you knew that if Sofia asked you for something, you would do it.

“Sure, why not?” “I want you to come with us tomorrow,” you replied, though a small spark of doubt lit up inside you. What exactly were they going to do the next day?

“Perfect,” Sofia said with a satisfied smile, as if she had achieved what she wanted. She then leaned slightly towards you, lowering her voice. “I want you to come with us tomorrow. Rafe is going to go racing on his motorcycle. He said he has no problem with you staying the night, if that’s okay with you. Would you like to join us tomorrow?”

You sat there thoughtfully for a moment. The idea of ​​spending another day with Rafe, back in his world of privilege, seemed strange to you. But it was also hard for you to say no to Sofia, especially when you saw how excited she was.

“Okay. What does it matter?” you replied, resigned to the idea of ​​spending the day with them.

The next morning came quickly, and the sun was already rising high when you woke up. The Cameron house was quiet at that hour, with most people still sleeping after the party the night before. When you checked your bag, you realized you didn't have anything suitable for what Sofia had proposed. The shorts and the t-shirt with the embroidery seemed like a comfortable option, but nothing too dressed up.

Sofia walked into the room you had stayed in, seeing that you were still getting organized.

"Are you ready?" she asked with her usual enthusiasm.

"Almost. I just... don't have anything to wear," you mentioned, looking at the clothes you had brought, a little out of place for a motorcycle ride.

"Don't worry!" Sofia said with a mischievous smile. "I'll lend you something. Those shorts are fine, you just need a comfortable t-shirt, right?"

Before you could answer, Sofia turned around and pulled a white t-shirt out of her closet. It wasn't anything over the top, but the edge of the t-shirt was adorned with small floral embroidery. Which might look plain, but it looked incredibly nice.

"Here, this should fit you well," she said as she handed you the t-shirt.

You looked at her, grateful, as you put it on. The fabric was soft and cool, something you needed for the morning heat. Then, you pulled on your shorts, arranged your hair the best way you could, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

When you left the room, Sofia was already ready, her hair perfectly coiffed and her energy bubbling.

“Let’s go!” she said, running towards the door. There was no way you could cope with her enthusiasm.

The two of you headed to the beach, where Rafe was already there, next to his bike. It was a sight in itself. Rafe’s bike, shiny and almost imposing looking, contrasted with his relaxed stance, as if the bike was an extension of him.

Rafe glanced at you briefly when you arrived, his expression somewhat unreadable.

The race began with a roar, and the feeling of speed on Rafe’s bike was electrifying. The wind whipped through your face as the sound of the engine mixed with the adrenaline in the air. Rafe was incredibly focused, and Sofia was smiling non-stop. 

As you continued down the road, you realized how skilled Rafe was. Every turn was taken with astonishing precision, and his ability to maneuver the bike quickly was evident. You and Sofia shared excited glances, both shouting words of encouragement, though you knew the real show was watching him. 

Finally, when the finish line was in sight, Rafe hit the gas. The bike roared as it took the final turn, and it wasn't long before he crossed the finish line with an undisputed victory. 

You and Sofia burst into cheers, though it was clear that Rafe's victory was what really mattered to her. She looked proud, and with good reason. Rafe had won in impeccable fashion, and the feeling of excitement was palpable.

Sofia stepped forward to hug him, while you stayed a step behind, observing the moment. Rafe's face reflected satisfaction. He didn't seem surprised by the victory, as if it was something expected.

You stared at Rafe for a moment, observing his relaxed face as he talked to Sofia about the race, but you quickly decided to leave those thoughts behind. There was something in his attitude that didn't quite fit, and you knew it wasn't worth wasting time on things that didn't make sense. The excitement of the day had already reached its peak, and you preferred to enjoy the moment.

You turned around, looking at Sofia, who had already begun to plan what they would do next.

"Let's celebrate!" Sofia said enthusiastically, interrupting your brief moment of introspection.

It wasn't an invitation, but an affirmation, and before you could respond, she had already taken you by the hand, gently pulling you towards where the others were. The celebratory atmosphere was in full swing: loud music, laughter, and an air of satisfaction permeating everything around them. When they arrived, everyone was there, enjoying Rafe's triumph, and even though you weren't part of that inner circle, you couldn't help but be swept up in the energy emanating from them. 

You sat next to Sofia on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, watching as people gathered around Rafe to congratulate him. The way he accepted the congratulations, calm and almost distant, seemed so natural to you, as if he was already used to being the center of attention. But something in you told you it wasn't that simple. There was an invisible barrier between you and him, as if the distance wasn't just physical, but emotional as well. 

But that night, you decided to let it be. You sat there, enjoying Sofia's company, and without thinking too much about it, you began to soak in the atmosphere. 

People started moving towards the dance floor, the music was getting livelier, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Sofia, still full of energy, looked at you with a knowing smile.

“Shall we dance?” she asked, without waiting for an answer, already getting up from the lounger.

You stood up after her, feeling that, at least for that night, you should enjoy yourself without thinking too much about anything else. Somehow, by surrounding yourself with the happiness of Sofia and the others, the feeling of awkwardness began to fade.

The day continued with a festive atmosphere, the music vibrating in the air. You and Sofia had completely let loose, laughing and dancing without a care, until suddenly Rafe approached her. On his face was a subtle smile, one of those smiles that you only see when someone has a deep connection with another person.

“Dance?” he said to Sofia, and she was quick to smile, her eyes shining.

You watched them as they glided to the center of the dance floor, their bodies moving to the beat of the music as if they were one. Something inside you, a mix of admiration and envy, stirred. There was something about the way Rafe looked after Sofia that made you think you might have misjudged him. After all, not everyone was willing to show that kind of tenderness in public. Maybe Rafe wasn't as cold as you had initially thought. 

You stared for a moment, but you didn't let yourself get caught up in those emotions. You decided not to think about it too much. Instead of just standing there watching, you let yourself go with the energy of the party and joined one of Rafe's friends who was nearby. He was outgoing and not afraid to chat, so the conversation flowed naturally. 

You laughed, you enjoyed yourself, and everything kept moving forward without your mind stopping on the images of Sofia and Rafe. But when you looked at yourself, you noticed something that worried you: the way that, with each encounter, you began to see more clearly how attentive Rafe and Sofia could be to each other. It wasn’t just a physical attraction, but something deeper, a connection you hadn’t anticipated. There was an understanding between them, something that seemed to flow effortlessly. And that, somehow, bothered you more than you wanted to admit.

Days passed, and as time went on, you started to see yourself closer and closer to them. Outings became common, and although at first you were a kind of guest in their circle, little by little you began to feel like you were part of it. You saw yourself walking along the beach with them, sharing laughs while watching Rafe throw out a sarcastic joke that made you laugh like never before. The atmosphere between the group was relaxed, fun, and you seemed to fit in perfectly. Almost as well as if you were one of the Kooks, as if you had always been part of that life. 

But something kept nagging at your head, a small knot in your stomach that kept growing. You realized that every time Rafe and Sofia looked at each other or subtly touched each other, a pang of jealousy ran through your body. How had you not noticed that before? How had you not seen how happy it made Sofia just to have him by her side? It was like a spark always surrounded them, and you wanted to be a part of that, of that security and affection that was evident on the surface.

You thought to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you had misjudged him. Rafe wasn't just the arrogant boy you had met at the beginning. There was something about his attitude towards Sofia that made you question everything you thought about him. You could see how he cared for her, how he took his time to make sure she was comfortable, how his eyes always looked for her in the middle of the crowd.

One afternoon, when everyone was on a terrace, and Rafe had approached to offer you a drink, you realized how much your perception of him had changed. There was a softness in his gaze, one you hadn't noticed before, and although it was something that confused you, you also admired it. You felt foolish for having kept yourself distant all this time, and a little jealous too, because deep down you knew you wanted something like that for yourself.

However, you just smiled and thanked him for the drink, not saying anything about what you were really thinking. It was easy to look at everything from the outside, but much harder to deal with what you felt on the inside. You were surrounded by friends, but the small discomfort you felt in your chest never completely went away. You wondered if you could ever be as lucky as Sofia, if you would ever find something that made you feel as alive and safe. 

That same day at night, after several hours of laughter, music, and drinks, the atmosphere at Rafe’s house was still lively. Sofia, as always, was in her element, enjoying the company of the two of you, but you already felt the energy starting to drain away. You had drunk more than you thought, and although it wasn’t enough to lose control, you did start to feel fatigue building up in your body. 

“I’m going to sleep,” you said to Sofia, who looked at you with a cheerful smile. 

“Sure, honey. The room is ready for you. Get some rest” he answered, still smiling.

You walked towards the stairs as you entered the halls of the house. It was a large and luxurious space, and the room you used when you stayed there was decorated with sophisticated details.

But before you reached the room, suddenly, you ran into Rafe. He was coming down the stairs, with a glass in his hand, apparently in a good mood, without the arrogant air he used to have. He stopped when he saw you and, as if he hadn't seen you coming, both of you collided a little. It was a strange moment: your body brushed against his, almost as if you were going to trip, but you managed to keep your balance with difficulty. However, what really made you feel uncomfortable was the look you exchanged. The air between the two of you became heavy for a moment, as if something had happened unintentionally.

Rafe, with a knowing smile on his face, was quick to let out a small laugh, as if he found the situation funny, and that only increased your discomfort. Your face instantly flushed, and for a second you thought you had gotten yourself into one of those awkward situations you always try to avoid.

“Wow, I didn’t see you coming,” he said, still with that carefree smile. His tone wasn’t mocking, but somehow his laugh felt like mockery.

Your mind raced and you didn’t know how to react, you just muttered something that didn’t make much sense, like an “I’m sorry” or an “excuse me,” and without thinking much, you rushed to the bedroom. The door closed behind you, and you instantly felt the awkwardness take over you. You lay down on the bed, covering your face with your hands and thinking about how you had handled the situation.

For a moment, you stood there, trying to calm your breathing, but Rafe's laughter still echoed in your head. You knew it hadn't been anything serious, but still, something about his attitude made you feel like you'd made a mistake by being so close to him. Why did it have that effect on you? The thought of being so close, in such a strange situation, didn't leave you calm.

In the end, you just sank into the comfort of the bed, trying to drown out the uncomfortable thoughts.

The next morning you woke up at dawn, although the sun hadn't yet reached its highest point. You felt a little disoriented at first, the echo of the laughter from the night before still echoing in your head, mixed with the feeling of discomfort that the encounter with Rafe had left you with. But, in the end, you got up the courage to get up and made yourself comfortable a little. You changed into something more comfortable but decent: a simple t-shirt and some shorts. You wanted to dress casually, but you also knew that it wasn't the time to be disheveled.

You walked down the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. The house was quiet, as if everyone was still deep in their rest after the night. You decided to sit in one of the chairs, looking at the soft lights that filtered through the window, observing the garden that stretched outside. Everything was so quiet that it brought you peace.

You were waiting for Sofia, you knew that she would soon appear, probably with a dazzling smile and something interesting to tell, but time passed and it wasn't her who appeared. Instead of Sofia, it was Rafe who entered the kitchen. At first you didn't notice him at all, but when you looked up, your eyes met his. He was still wearing the shirt he had worn the night before. Rafe looked at you with a slight smile, as if nothing strange had happened the night before.

"Good morning," he said, his voice low and calm.

You felt a knot in your stomach, and without thinking about it too much, shame washed over you again. You remembered what had happened the night before: the laughter, the unexpected shock, how uncomfortable you had felt. You blushed and, with a sigh, decided to talk about it, as a way to let go of what was weighing you down.

“Hey, Rafe... I'm sorry about last night,” you said quickly, not knowing if it was really necessary, but you needed to get those words out. You felt stupid for having created such silly tension, but you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort anymore.

Rafe raised his eyebrows for a moment, as if he didn't understand why you were apologizing, but his expression quickly softened.

“You don't have to apologize,” he replied, smiling calmly. His tone was so relaxed that it reassured you, almost as if the situation hadn't been as awkward as you thought. “It was nothing.”

That, in a way, relieved you, although you still felt a little embarrassed inside. But what really surprised you was how you kept talking to him, as if all of that had never happened. Despite the initial awkwardness, something about his presence made you feel calmer. You realized how easy it was to talk to him. The words flowed naturally, without the nerves you had felt before. They talked about trivial things at first: the house, his life, they had even talked about what you had thought of him when Sofia said they were dating. 

The conversation slowly relaxed, without tension. You found yourself smiling more than you had planned, enjoying the talk without the awkwardness from before having room to grow. Rafe wasn't pressuring, he didn't make awkward comments, he just spoke with an ease that made you feel at peace, as if there were no expectations. 

A few minutes passed, or maybe more, and you were surprised by how much you were enjoying talking to him. You had never imagined that you would have such a relaxed conversation with someone like him.

You were about to make one more comment when Sofia finally appeared. She entered the kitchen with a big smile, clearly full of energy, as always.

“Good morning!” she exclaimed, approaching the table and hugging you immediately. “How was your night? Did you rest well?”

She and Rafe looked at each other for a moment, exchanging a knowing smile that made it obvious how comfortable they were together.

“Yes, everything is fine,” you said to Sofia, smiling. “Just resting.”

Sofia looked at you curiously, as if she felt there was something more between you and Rafe, but she didn’t say anything. The feeling of being there with them, as part of the group, grew stronger. It was strange how the dynamics of that house absorbed you little by little, even when you weren’t completely sure where you fit in.

A few days had passed since that conversation in the kitchen, and although the calm between you and Rafe remained, something in you urged you to step away a little. You didn't have a specific reason, you just felt the need to disconnect from it all. You had your own business to attend to, things you had put aside while enjoying the company of Sofia and the others.

Rafe's house, the parties, all of that was left in the background as you immersed yourself in your own thoughts. The days passed without you going near Rafe's or Sofia's house, without you seeing them or even caring about how they were spending their time. You kept yourself busy, focused on other things: personal tasks, things you had had to put off because you were caught up in the flow of the Kooks' social life. You found yourself returning to your routines.

It had been a while since you disconnected a little from everything. The need to return to your own space had faded, and now, at the end of those days of silence, something was urging you to return. You thought about Sofia and how, even though you had been away, you knew she was still your friend. The idea of ​​her now living with Rafe, as quickly as she had, seemed a little strange to you, but in the end, it was her life, her decisions. You decided it was time to go back, to meet them, although you didn't know exactly what to expect. 

Arriving at Rafe's house, the stillness in the air made you feel that something wasn't right. The door was ajar, and inside, there was an unusual calm. Everything was silent. You assumed that Sofia wouldn't be home; she had probably gone out. 

But as you moved towards the living room, you came across a scene you hadn't expected. Rafe was there, alone, in the center of the room. His posture tense, his hands shaking slightly. The first hint of something strange was that the phone in his hand was still in the air, dangling in his hand. It looked like he had received a call that had left him shaken. You could clearly see his labored breathing, his eyes scanning the room as if he was looking for something or someone, but at the same time as if he couldn't find it. The atmosphere in the house felt heavy, laden with something dark that you couldn't quite place.

You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to interrupt, but you couldn't just leave either. You assumed the call he'd received had left him in that state, though you weren't sure what it had been. The silence between the two of you was awkward, and as you thought about what to do, you cautiously approached.

You called his name.

"Rafe..." you said softly, trying not to startle him any more than he already was.

He glanced at you quickly, and his gaze, far from the arrogance he usually had, was filled with anxiety and some anger. His face was marked by a concern you hadn't seen before, and for a moment, he didn't seem like the Rafe Cameron you knew.

The tension in the air increased, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice sounded raspy, almost desperate.

"Go away!" he shouted, his tone a little higher than expected. The sound of his voice, so full of anxiety, made you take a step back, although, despite the sudden fear, something in you told you that you shouldn't leave.

You stood there, motionless for a moment, feeling your heart beating faster than normal. Rafe's panic was palpable, and the last thing you wanted to do was push him further. But, at the same time, you knew you couldn't just leave him like that.

"Rafe," you said, this time with a calmness that you didn't feel, but that you knew you needed for him to calm down. "I'm not going to leave."

His expression changed for a second, and he stared at you, as if trying to process what you had just said. A couple of seconds of tension filled the space between the two of you, but you didn't let him speak, taking advantage of the moment to move a little closer to him.

"It's okay, I understand that you don't feel well," you added, almost in a protective tone, although you said it without really knowing why. You didn’t know him as well as Sofia, but somehow, you cared for him more than you thought.

He took a deep breath, still shaken, and for a moment you thought you wouldn’t make it. But then, something in his gaze changed. His body, which was so stiff and tense, relaxed just a little, as if he was letting the words you had said reach him.

You moved a little closer, this time without him asking you to.

“How can I help you?” you asked softly. You knew that, in those moments, sometimes all you need is someone to be there, without pushing too hard.

Rafe looked at you a little confused, as if he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, and then lowered his head, with a grimace of frustration.

“I don’t know…” he murmured, his voice still deep. “It’s just that… I got a call…”

You could see on his face that whatever had happened on that call had really affected him. You didn't say anything else, just waited for him to gather his thoughts, for him to feel ready to talk.

A few minutes passed in which the silence stretched out, and in that time, you were simply there, in the same room, giving him space, but showing him that you weren't willing to abandon him. Finally, he looked up, and in a low voice, he said:

“Thank you…”

You looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you could see Rafe without the layer of arrogance and superiority that he always showed. You realized that, in that moment, he wasn't the self-assured boy that he had always been. He was just a person, vulnerable, dealing with something that he couldn't handle on his own.

You stayed with him as long as he needed, making sure that he wasn't alone in that moment. You didn't know what had happened with the call, or what was going to happen next, but a part of you understood something new about Rafe.

After that moment, something changed between you and Rafe, something that neither of you had anticipated. From that night on, you became the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments, without the need for words, without the typical facade of security that he used to have. What happened between you was something silent, almost imperceptible, but enough to leave a mark on both of you. 

At first, Rafe didn't admit it out loud, he didn't even make it clear in his gestures, but there was something in his behavior that was beginning to change. The days passed, and while Sofia continued to be busy with her things, you began to see a side of Rafe that you had never imagined. He became quieter, more introspective, but instead of the usual practical jokes and air of arrogance, there were now moments when he looked simply lost, as if you were the only one in the world who understood what he was really feeling. And you, somehow, began to understand it too.

There was something about the way he looked at you when his thoughts seemed to be beyond his control, when the shadows of his past or his problems came back to haunt him. There was something that told you not to judge him, something that urged you to stay calm and empathetic, even when the situation seemed out of place. Whenever he seemed on the verge of losing control, you knew what to do, how to approach him without making him feel vulnerable or weak. You knew when to step back and when to offer him your company without needing to talk too much. 

One afternoon, several days after that first meeting when you calmed him down, Rafe came home late, more undone than usual. He had had a fight with some of Sofia’s friends, and although no one in the house mentioned anything, you knew. It was as if everything he was trying to hide was crudely on display for you. When you entered the living room, he found you staring at the floor, shoulders slumped, and that expression only he could put on: a mix of repressed rage and deep sadness.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, without pushing. You knew those words, though simple, could have more impact than you thought.

Rafe looked up, a little surprised by the calmness of your voice. Normally, he would have responded with a wry smile or a scathing comment, but instead, he looked at you and just said,

“I’m not.”

The tone was low, almost inaudible, as if he were revealing something he had never let slip before. You sat next to him without saying anything else, not forcing him to speak, but willing to stay there if he needed to vent. At that moment, you knew something had changed between the two of you.

The silence stretched out, but it wasn’t awkward. You knew Rafe didn’t need you to tell him what he should do or how he should feel. He just needed time, the space to be vulnerable without feeling judged, and in that space, you were the only one who could understand him. You didn’t need words to recognize the small gestures that betrayed him: the way his hand shook slightly or how his breathing quickened when something affected him too much. Those small details were what allowed you to see what others didn’t. 

As time went by, Rafe began to seek you out more often. Although he didn’t say it directly, you began to notice that there were times when he would simply approach you without a clear reason, without looking for a conversation, just so you would be close. On more than one occasion, he found you sitting on the couch, lost in your thoughts, and without saying anything, he sat next to you. No explanations were needed, because you both understood that just being together, without the need for words, was enough. 

There were days when he couldn’t hide what he felt, and without warning, the walls he had built around himself began to crumble. One day, after a particularly bad fight with Sofia, he came into the house, late at night. His face was tense, but there was something different about him. He didn’t yell, he didn’t hurl reproaches, but he just stood in the doorway, staring at you in silence, waiting for you to say something. And you did, you knew that what he needed was something that no one else gave him: reassurance.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” you asked calmly, as you always did.

Rafe took a deep breath, letting the weight of his thoughts surround him for a moment. Finally, he slumped down on the couch, eyes closed, not wanting to show what he felt. But you knew. You knew that, even if he didn’t say it, he was seeking comfort, not in words, but in the way you looked at him, in how your actions offered him respite.

“Sometimes…” he said, in a whisper, while looking straight ahead, not really seeing you. “I feel like I'm alone, even when I'm surrounded by people.”

You didn't need to say anything else. You knew that what he had revealed wasn't something he wanted to share with many, but with you, he felt safe. Sometimes, just knowing that someone understood him gave him the comfort he so desperately needed.

That was the dynamic between you: you didn't need to always talk, or understand everything. You just needed to be there, to be the only one who, in his darkest moments, could offer him a soft light, without pressure, just letting time and space do their work. And in that silent understanding, you became the only person capable of understanding Rafe in his entirety, in his most fragile and dark moments, when no one else dared to enter.

Despite everything you shared with Rafe, there was something inside you that you couldn't ignore. A desire, an attraction that, even though you tried to hide it, kept emerging with every gesture, with every word he said to you in those moments when his guard was down. You found yourself watching him more than you should have, noticing the little details that had previously gone unnoticed: how the light played in his hair, the way he laughed, or how his tone of voice changed when he was relaxed, when he felt like he didn’t have to be the same old Rafe, the one everyone admired or feared. 

At first, you tried to ignore it. You said it was just the closeness, the way things had developed between the three of you, and that it was a passing phase. But it wasn’t just that. Every time he smiled at you or looked at you in a warmer way, you felt a tug in your chest that you couldn’t control. There was something else in you that was building, something that terrified you. 

You thought about Sofia, how happy she was with him, how much she had supported you in everything, and it tormented you to feel what you felt for Rafe. You felt guilty, like you were betraying a friendship you had cared for for so long. She didn’t deserve that, you thought. Sofia had always been loyal, fun, and even though she could be impulsive and a little blind at times, you saw her happy, devoted to Rafe, trusting him in a way you never could.

There were times when, after talking to Rafe, you were left alone, with thoughts running wild in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the way he made you feel special, about how his closeness disarmed you, how there was something in his fragility that attracted you, a side that no one else saw, but you did. You felt at a crossroads, trapped between what you felt and what you knew you couldn’t do.

It wasn’t just a physical attraction, it was something deeper. Something that made you want to hold him longer than a friend should. Something that asked you to be there for him in a way that went beyond friendship. It was the desire to be close to him, to take care of him, to become his refuge, and it terrified you how much you loved him without being able to control it. 

At first, you tried to suppress it. Every time you felt that need to be closer to him, to share more moments, you tried to convince yourself that it was just a phase, that it was because of the closeness of the last few months. But the more you denied it, the stronger that feeling became inside you, like it was an undercurrent that grew every time he looked at you with those dark, intense eyes. Those eyes that disarmed you, that seemed to see beyond your facade, beyond your friendship. 

Sometimes, you felt like you were walking on a tightrope. You knew that every moment you spent with Rafe, every conversation, every gesture, brought you closer to something you couldn't allow yourself. But you couldn't help it. The desire, the attraction, everything you felt for him, was growing inside you, and no matter how many times you told yourself it was a betrayal, that you should stay away, you couldn't stop thinking about what happened when he was around.

Every time Sofia left, every time Rafe was left alone with you, that feeling grew stronger, as if the air between the two of you became thick and charged with something neither of you dared to mention. It scared you, it made you uncomfortable, but you couldn't stop it.

[moonstruckme]

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again. 

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door. 

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing. 

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face. 

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” 

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.” 

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.” 

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?” 

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.” 

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.” 

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?” 

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.” 

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them. 

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host��s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now. 

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips. 

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling. 

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”  

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.” 

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.” 

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.” 

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again. 

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

[makis-eyebrows]

Little Polesitters

After Y/n meets George Russell's daughter, a new version of her sparked out of her, making Alex question how and when it all happened.

Race Weekend – Silverstone Grand Prix

The paddock buzzed with energy and anticipation—drivers preparing, fans cheering, cameras flashing. But amidst all the grown-up chaos, two little girls were the center of a different kind of attention.

Seven-year-old Y/n Albon, daughter of Alex Albon and his girlfriend Lily Muni He, had always been the quiet type. She’d cling to her mum’s leg during press days and would hide behind her dad’s arms when new people tried to talk to her. Soft-spoken, shy, and gentle—Y/n was the polar opposite of the roar of Formula 1.

That was, until she met Amelia Russell.

Amelia, George Russell’s equally seven-year-old daughter, was a ball of sunshine and endless energy, much like her mother, Carmen Montero Mundt. Curious, bold, and unapologetically chatty, she had no trouble striking up conversations with anyone—even if they were triple her age or size. When the Russells and Albons first met up for a playdate during the Spanish Grand Prix a year ago, nobody expected a spark like the one that happened between the girls.

“Hi. I like your shoes,” Amelia had said with a wide smile, bouncing in her pink Crocs.

Y/n had blinked, unsure of what to say. She glanced down at her own Crocs—yellow, with tiny panda pins clipped into the holes.

“They match mine! See?” Amelia pointed. “Wanna play?”

From that moment on, something shifted. Y/n nodded. And just like that, they were inseparable.

Fast Forward to Silverstone

Lily adjusted the little denim jacket on Y/n’s shoulders while the girl impatiently wriggled. “She’s here! I saw her car!”

“Okay, okay, hold still for one second—” Lily laughed, trying to fix the heart-shaped hair clip that was moments from falling off her daughter’s head.

Just then, Amelia came racing through the hospitality gates in a pastel purple dress, holding her dad George’s hand and nearly dragging him along.

“Y/N!!!”

“AMELIA!!!”

The paddock turned at the loud, unfiltered joy coming from two tiny humans. Y/n bolted from her mother’s side and collided into her best friend in a whirlwind of giggles and matching glitter sneakers.

“LOOK! We matched again without even trying!” Amelia squealed.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled. “And your hair clip is the same as mine!”

George and Alex stood side-by-side, shaking their heads with amused smiles as their daughters began to dance in circles together.

“Did they text each other again?” Alex asked.

“Mate,” George chuckled, “they don’t even have phones. Amelia made me call Lily just so she could describe the outfit she wanted to wear today. In detail.”

Carmen walked over with Lily, both laughing as they watched the chaos unfold.

“They’re like two little fireworks,” Carmen smiled. “It's hard to believe Y/n used to be so quiet.”

“She still is,” Lily said fondly. “Except around Amelia.”

Later That Day – Inside the Williams Motorhome

Between interviews and race strategy meetings, Alex popped into the hospitality lounge. The girls were huddled in a corner with crayons and markers, drawing what appeared to be a giant heart-shaped racetrack, complete with little stick figures of themselves holding trophies.

“We’re gonna be racers too,” Amelia declared.

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded confidently, her shyness nowhere to be seen. “We’ll be team... Al-Rus.”

Alex burst out laughing. “Al-Rus, huh? That sounds terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly fast,” Amelia grinned, throwing a wink at George, who had just entered.

George knelt down beside them. “You two better be nice to your pit crews.”

“We are the pit crews,” Y/n replied, looking very serious.

The entire room melted.

Back on the Grid

As the race weekend unfolded, the two girls remained joined at the hip—matching hats, shared snacks, and even coordinated cheers for both their dads.

Y/n still wasn’t much of a talker with most people. But Amelia? She had flipped a switch inside her.

Whenever someone asked about her best friend, Y/n would always answer the same thing, with a small but certain smile:

“She makes me feel brave.”

And that's number 2 for me. I actually quite like doing this, honestly.

I was told I should turn my previous story into a series, but I'm not too sure cuz I'm scared I'll lose the plot, then I'll look slow.😭

But other than that, yall are still open to send requests and stuff.

That's Gang Gang out!!!♡

[alg3a]

hellooo your smuts brought me back from the grave and if you’re taking any requests, i would love to see your take on a jayce x fem reader. i kind of want to see a shy student scenario with a pervy student jayce 😩 omg pls tell me you see the vision lol!

hello! YESSS i definitely see the vision, i hope i executed it alright! thank you so much for this request. i was sort of worried at first because i don’t typically write for jayce alone—normally i just write jayvik or viktor—but this was SOOOO much fun! probably actually my favorite of the three fics i have so far. hope you enjoy!

staring

pervy!jayce x innocent!f!reader

3.9k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After setting eyes on the handsome boy in your lecture, and staring at him every class after that, you find out that your father has sponsored his research and invited him to dinner. After a particularly frustrating meal, you run upstairs to your room, not expecting him to follow you.

warnings: nsfw, fem receiving oral, pervy jayce, innocent/inexperienced reader, sneaky sex, equal bits plot and porn i think, jayce covers readers mouth, creampie, hooray!

a/n: this is my first ever request! i hope i did it some justice. if you like it, feel free to send your own request! i don’t have guidelines yet, but chances are i’ll writer whatever you suggest.

The first time you saw him was across the circular lecture hall and you were quickly drawn in, fixated on every tiny movement of his. You didn’t even notice that you were staring until you realized he caught you. It was near impossible not to look at him, with his wide ambitious eyes and even wider shoulders, he was a difficult sight to steer away from. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he noticed your lingering gaze.

The position he caught you in was so juvenile and schoolgirl-esque that it seemed only fitting for a bright pink blush to span your face. You had a palm against your cheek, your head slightly tilted, and your bottom lip was caught between your front teeth. Your right leg crossed your leg and the suspended foot swung in tiny little distracted circles below your desk.

When his eyes landed on yours, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Not out of anger, more like he was trying to focus his gaze on you to see whether or not you were really staring at him. Then a little smile crept onto his lips around the same time you had realized that he had caught you and you instantly averted your gaze. You tried not to look at him again during lecture, but whenever the professor in the center of the circular lecture hall crossed in front of him, your eyes stayed behind and you allowed yourself a glance in his direction.

You wondered how you hadn’t noticed him before. Perhaps this was the first time he sat in that spot so far this semester. If that was the case, it certainly wasn’t the last time he sat there. For the next few weeks, he was amongst the first students to arrive in lecture and always made sure to secure that exact same seat, not one to the left, right, or above. You’d never seen anybody be so particular about a seat in lecture before. Not even you, who had a penchant for patterns and regulation.

Each passing class only stoked your burning obsession with this boy, whose name you didn’t even know. It got so bad that you had difficulty paying attention in class some days, which was totally unlike you. You were a perfect student, always dedicated and responsible in school, so why now? Why this one pretty boy in one silly lecture?

Your father wasn’t happy when you let him know you received a C on your midterm.

You came from an upper house in Piltover and you were your parents’ only daughter. There was an absurd amount of pressure on you to uphold the standards so eloquently listed by your older siblings and your parents.

“How will it affect your class grade?” Your mother asks sensibly, her voice low and polite and she sets out her favorite dishes from the china cabinet.

“Well, it’s not good,” you begin to say, ready to explain how what really matters is your final project and the final assessment, how they’re weighted more heavily, but your father interrupts.

“Not good?” He chortles, spread out in his armchair the room over. “Abhorrent is more like it!”

“Dad,” you begin to plead, but you are once again interrupted.

“Enough! I’ll look into a tutor and you will spend your time studying and asking your professor for extra credit.”

You hated when he did this. You weren’t a kid anymore, if you wanted a tutor you’d ask a classmate or a TA, and you had read your syllabus enough to know that your professor didn’t afford extra credit to his students. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself in school…or at least that’s what you thought. After all, if a silly crush on a stranger in lecture was enough to tank your grades, were you really all that capable?

You could’ve argued with your dad, but decided against it. It was almost time for dinner and you didn’t want to ruin your appetite with a fight.

“Go get dressed, dear, we’re having a guest for dinner tonight,” your mother said, changing the tone of the conversation.

“Who?” You asked, realizing that she was taking the good china out for a reason.

“One of the students that your father has decided to sponsor.”

Oh, that’s right. The academy just had their Innovation Gala, in which the young inventors of Piltover are given the opportunity to wow rich folks with their ideas in hopes of receiving some funding. Your father had been extending his fortune to students since you were very young. He saw them more as business opportunities than as students.

“Well, who are they?”

“A bright young man,” your father said, his mood instantly lightening. “Lots of promise. A grade or two above you, I believe.”

You think of the inventors you’ve met at the academy as you go upstairs to your bedroom to change, wondering who the guest will be.

You slip into a knee-length powder blue dress and a soft white sweater. You’re brushing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. Muffled exchanges between your parents and the mystery guest pass through your closed bedroom door. You’re applying your lipgloss and staring into your vanity when your mind begins to wander. You can’t get your mind off of the boy from lecture. Would he like this shade of lipgloss? Would he like your dress, your sweater, your shoes, your hair…

Your father shouts your name from downstairs. “Come down, it’s time for dinner!”

You sheath your lipgloss and straighten out your dress before heading downstairs. You're halfway down the spiral staircase before you can see tonight’s guest, and when you do, you aren’t sure you have enough strength in your legs to keep walking down.

He calls your name again, this time wearing a smile on his mouth. Your father had a tendency to turn into a jovial old man when around people that weren’t you or your family.

“Come, meet Jayce,” he says, his arm wrapped around the boy from your lecture.

You only realize how hard you're gripping the railing once you reach the bottom of the stairs. You force a polite smile past your agape expression and walk toward your father and the boy. Your father is by no means a short man, but the boy towers over him. It’s impossible not to pay attention to how his dress shirt clings to his chest, or how the collar wraps neatly around his strong neck, leaving a glimpse of his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you hold out your hand and he takes it, gingerly. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly as his eyes remain on yours.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, shooting a flaming arrow straight through your thudding heart. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but we have a class together, don’t we?”

Wonderful. Not only would you have to play polite with this handsome stranger, you’d have to endure the rest of the night knowing he’d caught you staring at him with bright doe eyes in the middle of class. How ironic that the boy responsible for your sinking grades would be seated beside your father tonight at dinner.

“Oh, I think you’re right,” you smile, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Applied physics?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” he says, finally releasing your hand just as it’s about to get clammy from your excitement and anxiety. He claps your father on the back. “Your daughter is a marvel in that class, really. She’s constantly answering questions and asking even more insightful ones.”

A lie? Why?

“Is that so?” Your father asks, seemingly forgetting his prior rage at your subpar grade.

Jayce nods as your father leads you all to the dining room, where your two older brothers are already sitting. Your father takes his seat at the head of the table, your mother at the opposite end. You sit between him and Jayce, across from your brothers.

For a while, Jayce spends some time introducing himself to the two boys across from you, entertaining their small talk and questions about whatever invention sparked our father’s interest at the gala. You couldn’t focus much on the details, too distracted by the fact that your lecture crush was seated beside you in your own home, at the dinner table you’ve been eating at for twenty years. He spoke so eloquently, so politely that you thought for a second that he might have overlooked your embarrassing moment in lecture so many days ago. Perhaps it hadn’t lived in his head the same way it had haunted you.

The maids brought out the food and you began to eat. You sipped on champagne and did your best to avert your gaze from Jayce, but he got in the way of that attempt.

“So tell me,” he said, turning his attention to you, “how do you like physics?”

How did you like physics? What sort of a question was that?

“It’s a good class,” you say, simply. “I like the professor’s lecture style, it’s very…personal. I detest professors who just read from the notes and expect it to resonate.”

“Right, I’ve noticed how closely you pay attention in that class.”

It takes every ounce of self-collection you have not to choke on your champagne. Was he teasing you? Was that his way of secretly calling you out for ogling at him for every minute of the hour-long lecture?

No, you must be paranoid. Maybe he really meant it, after all he had already oversold your attentiveness in that class once tonight.

“Yes, right.”

“Truly,” he says, and you risk looking over at him beside you. “You look so enamored. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were daydreaming…lost in fantasies.”

You set your glass down with a slam.

“Mind your manners, darling,” your mother says as you collect your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you say shakily, dabbing at the splattered drink on the tablecloth with your napkin.

You hurry to finish your meal as your father changes the subject, discussing some stupid business matter of his. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart in its cage. Once your dish is empty, you set your utensils down and look pointedly at your father.

“May I be excused?”

“Sweetheart, don’t be rude,” he says, his eyebrows straightening into a firm line. “We have a guest.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I have an assignment to work on and I really don’t want my grades to slip any further.” You lie, avoiding Jayce’s eyes, although you feel them boring into the back of your head as you look at your father.

“Very well,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “You may be excused.”

You slam your napkin on the table and walk hurriedly up the stairs. You shut your door with a slam louder than you meant, but you can’t concern yourself with that now. You lay face down in your four-post bed and throw the sweater off of your arms before screaming into a pillow.

Cruel! He was just being cruel. If your staring in class hadn’t made your crush obvious, surely your behavior tonight had sold you out. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You groan out into the pillow before a slight creak of your door snaps you out of your fit.

You turn over, expecting to see your father and already thinking of ways to explain your current exasperated position, but it’s not him.

“What are you doing in my room?” You ask, coming to a seated position with your legs bent ever so slightly atop your ivory comforter.

“You mean, this isn’t the restroom?” Jayce asks, a small smirk on his mouth as he walks slowly toward you like a predator about to pounce. “I guess I didn’t follow your mother’s directions very well.”

“What are you doing?” You ask again.

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Cute room.” He looks around for a moment before his gaze falls back on you, lying so delicately on your bed, just waiting… “Pretty close to what I imagined.”

“What you imagined?” You repeat, seemingly only able to ask questions right now.

“Mhm,” he says, finally reaching the edge of your bed. He stands over you, looming like a tower, preventing any light from reaching you. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen how you look at me during lectures.” He pauses to laugh. “You’d think I was the one lecturing the way you stare, and stare, and stare…”

“That’s not–” you try to defend yourself, but you can’t. You have no reason, no explanation, no excuse. No words.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his smile widening. “It’s cute. The way you cross and uncross your legs when I catch you looking. Oh but before that, when you’re resting your cheek on your hand and tilting your pretty little head… that’s the best.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and part of you thinks he actually might be. But the other part…

“Tell me,” he says, his knee resting on the edge of the bed, positioned for him to climb onto it if only you would just give the word. “What do you think about when you’re staring at me?”

“Jayce…” you mutter breathlessly, unsure whether or not you should say.

He leans over your sprawled out body and puts a delicate finger beneath your chin.

“You can tell me,” he smiles, his eyes betraying his true desire. “Chances are, I’ve had the same ideas.”

“I’ve,” you utter, barely able to get the words out as he pushes your head up ever so slightly, forcing you to make clearer eye contact with him. “I’ve thought about…”

Thinking those thoughts is one thing, but saying them out loud is completely different. It’s impossible.

“Use your words, honey,” he says, stroking your bottom lips with the calloused pad of his thumb, as if he were trying to coax the dirty words out.

“About laying on your table…in the empty lecture hall…”

“And?”

“And you’d…” you sigh, exasperated. Somehow trying to utter this sentence took more out of you than running a mile would. “You’d have your head…between my thighs.”

“Would I be tasting you, sweetheart?” He asks, a grin spreading across his face, revealing sharp canines. A new thought crept into your mind. What would those teeth feel like dragging your panties off? What would they feel like biting your thigh, or your neck?

“Yes,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own admission, although he pried it from your pretty, glossy pink lips. “Yes you’d be tasting me…”

“Attagirl,” he says, removing his hand from your chin and his knee from your bed.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’s going to do. Would he take this admission and run out of your room with it? Would he tell your parents? Would he tell his friends? Would you go to school the next day, the laughing stock of the academy?

He drops to his knees.

Your breath halts as his hands land on your knees, his eyes gazing up at you over the crest of the side of your mattress. His calloused palms rub the soft skin of your thighs, upward bound.

“Jayce?” You ask, knots in your stomach.

“I was right,” he says, the path his hands taking never ceasing. “We have had the same idea.”

He pushes up the fabric of your powder blue dress, pulling you slightly off of the bed so that his lips can find the inside of your thighs. He leaves soft kisses along them.

You watch as his hungry amber eyes flicker up, landing on your soft pink panties.

“Fuck,” he mutters against the plush skin of your thigh.

He pushes your thighs apart and pulls you closer by your hips. His nose presses against the wet spot on your panties and he takes a deep, slow breath. You watch as his eyes flicker shut, relishing the scent of you so close to him. The sight only makes you wetter.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he groans. He flicks his tongue out and licks the fabric of your panties, leaving a damp spot. You twitch against the wet sensation, your thighs closing a bit but his hands are faster. He holds them down as he continues to tease you through the fabric.

“Jayce…” you begin to start your reprimand, ready to tell him to stop teasing you and just dive in, to eat you out like he’s starving, but you can’t utter any word other than, “please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, looking up with that wicked grin of his. “Use your words, remember?”

“Please…please taste me…”

You feel utterly deprecated just saying such dirty things to a man you only just officially met, but if the fantasies in your head were worth anything, you two were intimately acquainted by now. And to Jayce…well those fantasies seemed to be worth a lot.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, his hands sliding up your thighs to pull down the fabric separating his tongue from your pleasure. He’s quick to push your thighs back down again, regaining his control of your trembling body.

He makes sure he’s watching you when he administers his first slow, tantalizing lick. His eyes are hooded and hungry, and his hunger translates well.

“Oh my god…” you whimper as he tastes you.

He picks up speed, his tongue slicing through your folds and spending lots of time at your quivering clit. He licks and sucks and slobbers like he hasn’t had a meal in years, which you know to not be true. Such an appetite.

“Jayce,” you whimper, pleading, begging, but for what you do not know.

He moans against your clit as you say his name, the precious sound of your debased voice striking a delicate chord within him. The vibration of his moan against your core makes your back arch, and his eyes dart back up to you, to watch you suffer under his pleasure.

“I think–I think I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly as your hands grab at the sheets above your head. You look so pretty, stretched out and suspended like that, your arms hanging above your head and your legs thrown out on either side of Jayce’s blur of dark hair and sharp features.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” Jayce muffles against you, his assault on your quivering clit not letting up one bit. “Let me hear it.”

You whine and squeal and thrash against his face, his hands squeezing hard to keep your thighs down so he can continue his job. You reach for his hair, just to have something solid to grab onto in your ecstasy, and he moans at the rough tug, the vibrations topping off your climax as your arched back grounds itself against your sheets again, descending alongside you.

He’s still hungry, and he hardly allows you any time to recover from your first orgasm, something you didn’t experience very often, especially not from the mouth of a man. Already, he’s climbing atop you, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to reveal his long, fully hardened cock. You reach out with unsteady fingers to unbutton his fancy dress shirt, admiring the way it’s already gathered wrinkles from his rowdy behavior between your legs.

Now you’re equally dishevelled. Your lip gloss has been rubbed off by your hungry bites at your lip and his mouth shines with your arousal and his own spit. Your dress is polled up over your hips and his own shirt barely clings to his arms in its unbuttoned state. Your hair pools out beneath you and his still bears the marks of your tugging.

It’s heaven for Jayce to see you like this. He’s spent weeks admiring the prim and proper put together little rich girl across the lecture hall, imagining what she would look like fucked out beneath him, screaming his name and abandoning all manners. He wants to ruin you, and he will.

His lips crash against yours, your arousal and his spit providing you with new lip gloss. His tongue betrays his hunger, crashing against yours, pushing it aside as he explores each corner of your little mouth. All the while, his hands are creeping up your soft stomach and resting on your breasts beneath his heavy, muscled torso.

“Jayce, I want you…I want you inside me,” you mutter, gaining some boldness at the sight of his craving.

He doesn’t even have the strength to muster a reply. He intends on saving all of his energy for destroying your cute little cunt. He grabs his cock, pumping it a few times to spill out the precum resting on his tip. He aligns it with your tight entrance and spreads your arousal over it to provide aid in jamming it into you.

“Fuck!” You shout into his broad shoulder. “Oh fuck!”

He didn’t expect such naughty words to rip from your innocent little throat, but he delights in your reaction to him stretching you.

He rocks his hips in and out of you, slowly at first, but even he can’t hold himself back just for the sake of torturing you. He ruts into you, pathetic, needy. His body presses down onto you, your chest smushed against his as he leans on his forearm beside your head. He groans out at each desperate thrust into your tight cunt.

You’re no better. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever closer and deeper into you. Each kiss of his tip to your cervix elicits a loud whine from you, echoing through your room. Your ornate decorations and pristine shelves now act as a shallow veneer. You’re not so clean anymore. Not so innocent.

“Oh Jayce,” you moan breathily. “Just like that! Oh fuck!”

You’re a mess beneath him, muttering slutty little words that rise and fall in volume as his thrusts punctuate them. Jayce is so lost in pleasure that it takes him a minute to realize that your volume has become an issue.

He brings a hand over your mouth, the other arm still acting as support as he rests on his forearm. You taste the salt of his skin on his palm as he presses it to your soft lips.

“You make such pretty noises for me,” Jayce says softly, a groan interrupting his syllables every so often. “And you sound so good but you gotta be quiet, baby.”

Despite his words, his thrusts don’t soften and his grip on your mouth remains. Your moans continue, quietly, muffled against his strong hand. To prevent himself from moaning too loud, he bites down on your shoulder. Hard. It’s enough to send you over the edge, the pain rippling through your skin and down to your core.

You can tell he’s close too, by the way his bite hardens and his hips jut mercilessly into you. Your legs begin to tremble and you tilt your head back, your back arching off of the bed to press even closer against his chest.

He replaces his hand with his mouth, which does an equally good job of shutting you up. With a final rut of his hips into your cunt, he stifles a groan against your lips and you feel yourself filling with his seed. Your muscles relax, your toes uncurling and your chest resuming its breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head leading the fall onto the bed beside you. His hand wraps around your waist and he administers a final kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Just how you imagined it?”

“Better.”

[amirasainz]

Hi I love your work. I was wondering if you could write one where baby sainz only likes being around Rebecca and Alexandra when she's not with her family.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

Safe space

Carlos leaned against the garage wall, arms crossed as he watched his sister, Amira, from a distance. The bright lights and buzzing atmosphere of the paddock seemed to envelop her like a whirlwind. Even though she was shy by nature, her presence radiated a kind of quiet charm that made her the center of attention wherever she went. It wasn’t just the fans; drivers, team members, journalists — everyone wanted to steal a glance, get a smile, or hear a word from the younger Sainz.

But despite the admiration, everyone in the paddock knew Amira was reserved. She preferred to stay close to Carlos, rarely venturing far from him or their father during race weekends. Her wide, doe-like eyes would search for him in the crowd when she was overwhelmed, and Carlos would always be there to reassure her with a warm smile and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

Over time, however, someone else had started to catch Amira's eye — someone who wasn’t family but felt like she could be. Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, had gradually earned Amira’s trust, giving her the kind of warmth and protection that the young woman craved amidst the chaotic world of Formula 1.

It started with the little things. Amira would glance around nervously, lost in the crowd, and there Rebecca would be, standing beside her, a reassuring hand on her arm. Rebecca was older and had an innate calmness about her that soothed Amira. She made sure Amira was comfortable, brought her a warm jacket when the paddock got chilly, handed her bottles of water or small snacks, and kept eager fans at bay with just a polite but firm look.

And then, there was the incident.

Amira had gotten separated from Carlos after a press event. The fans were closer than usual, crowding around her, each person trying to get a piece of her attention. She felt her pulse quicken, her breath shallow, and she looked around for Carlos, desperately.

But before Carlos could even move toward her, Rebecca was already there. She stepped in, wrapping her arms around Amira and pulling her close, creating a bubble of safety between them and the crowd. Amira didn’t resist; she melted into Rebecca’s embrace, burying her face in the older woman’s shoulder, finding solace in her presence.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Rebecca whispered softly, gently running her hand up and down Amira’s back. She was calm, commanding, effortlessly making it clear to the people around that Amira needed space.

Carlos finally reached them, concern etched across his face. “Hey, Amira,” he started, relieved but worried. “You okay?”

Rebecca tightened her hold just a little, almost protective, and gave Carlos a playful, challenging look. “I don’t know, Carlos. I might just keep her with me for a while.” She spoke softly to Amira, her voice dripping with warmth. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Amira looked up, her face still close to Rebecca’s. She gave a small smile, one that hinted at gratitude, and shook her head slightly. Carlos raised an eyebrow, amused but appreciative. His little sister had finally found someone outside the family who she could trust implicitly.

As the day went on, Rebecca kept Amira close by her side, arm casually draped over her shoulders. She made sure Amira was comfortable, offering her drinks, snacks, or a warm scarf when the breeze picked up. Amira felt protected, almost treasured, in a way that was new yet familiar. She glanced up at Rebecca occasionally, shy but grateful, the same way she looked at Carlos or their father.

And from then on, it was an unspoken understanding in the paddock: Amira Sainz was family, and if Carlos wasn’t by her side, Rebecca would be. Fans and drivers alike watched with quiet admiration. They knew that the young woman who once seemed untouchable and distant now had someone by her side who wasn’t bound by family, but by a deep, gentle care.

Carlos often caught glimpses of Rebecca tucking Amira’s hair behind her ear or shielding her from the more intense crowds with an arm around her shoulders. It was a bond that had formed quietly, a connection that had grown so naturally that it almost surprised him.

One evening, as the team celebrated in the paddock, Carlos watched his sister resting against Rebecca’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed with a content smile on her face. He caught Rebecca’s eye, and she gave him a gentle, knowing smile. There was no need for words; they both knew Amira was safe, cared for — a princess of Formula 1 who had found her protector.

[moonlitsmile]

burning desire 2

hwang in-ho x f!reader

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐/𝟑 . the next day means a new game, that game being mingle. In-ho is determined to keep you safe, Even if that means killing somebody for yoy..

The familiar sound of classical-like music echoed through the speakers as morning arrived, signaling the start of another day. Some of the players were already awake, their movements faint and sluggish, but most remained sound asleep, lost in the brief respite of dreams. Her eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dim light of the room as it brightened, the main lights turning on. A soft yawn escaped her lips as she stared up at the underside of the bunk above her. Still in this hellhole, she thought bitterly. But despite the grim reality of her situation, a small part of her remained curious—what would today’s game be? What kind of twisted trial awaited them?The music continued to play, its familiar melody filling the space. She had grown tired of hearing it every morning, but, strangely enough, it carried a sense of calm, almost soothing in its predictability. Rolling off the thin mattress beneath her, she let her feet hit the cold floor. The black metal frame of the bunk bed loomed above her as she rubbed her eyes. They still felt heavy, her body reluctant to wake fully.

“The third game will begin momentarily,” the woman’s voice announced over the speaker system, cutting through the music. “All players, please get out of bed and get ready. Let me repeat…” The instructions droned on, but she barely listened, sighing softly instead. Around her, the others were beginning to stir, groaning and stretching as they reluctantly pulled themselves out of their beds. Her gaze, however, immediately sought out In-ho. As always, he was already awake, sitting silently on the black metal frame of an empty bunk, his posture calm and composed. She had never seen him sleep in. Did he even get tired like the rest of them? Or was he simply too restless to rest? She couldn’t help but wonder.

Her own eyes were still soft and sleepy as she yawned again, covering her mouth with one hand while the other reached up to rub the lingering drowsiness away. When her vision cleared, she noticed In-ho’s eyes on her. Startled, she froze for a moment. His gaze was gentler than she expected, almost warm in contrast to the cold and detached demeanor he usually carried. It caught her off guard. She hesitated, but then a small, shy smile tugged at her lips as she looked away nervously. Her hands instinctively went to her head, smoothing down her messy hair in a vain attempt to compose herself. She sighed quietly, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the moment. It was time to focus.

~

The doors of the large elevator slid open with a soft chime, revealing the vast room where their next game awaited. The woman’s voice, calm yet unnerving, echoed through the speaker system, pulling their attention forward. “Welcome to your next game. The game you will be playing is mingle.” Her voice lingered in the air as they hesitated. As the group began to step out of the elevator, her eyes darted around the room, scanning her surroundings. She walked hesitantly, trailing behind the others as they entered a large, dimly lit room. It was a peculiar space, dominated by a giant spinning platform in the center. Fifty differently colored doors lined the walls, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. The platform itself resembled a carousel, but instead of horses or whimsical decorations, it was an unadorned spinning disk—a foreboding centerpiece for the task ahead.

Her breath caught slightly as she surveyed the room, nerves bubbling under the surface. Mingle. The name struck a chord. She had played something similar before, but she wasn’t confident in her skills. The memory of it only made her chest tighten further. Her hands fidgeted slightly as she tried to focus. Who wouldn’t be nervous in a situation like this? The stakes were far too high. She didn’t want to die. The woman’s voice cut through her thoughts again, crisp and unyielding. “Let me repeat, the game you will be playing is mingle.” The repetition didn’t soothe her; it only added to the weight in the air. Around her, the rest of the group exchanged uneasy glances, the tension palpable. Some admired the room’s dim, elegant design, but beneath aesthetics lay the truth: the games were anything but beautiful.

“All players, please step onto the center platform," the woman’s voice instructed. The words hung in the air like a command that couldn’t be disobeyed. “When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size. Go into that room and close the door within thirty seconds.” The instructions seemed deceptively simple, but the reality of executing them in the heat of adrenaline and chaos was another matter entirely. Her stomach twisted as she imagined the chaos that was sure to unfold.

“Oh, this game? We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging,” Jung-bae commented with a nervous laugh. The attempt at lightheartedness felt thin, but it broke the silence. “I’ve played before too,” she chimed in softly, her voice barely audible. “Yeah, except instead of hugging, we go into those rooms,” Dae-ho added, his tone carrying a mix of dread and resignation. Her gaze lingered on the platform’s dim lights and the odd pony-like figures scattered in the center, their presence oddly unsettling. In-ho’s eyes, however, remained fixed on her. He observed her closely, his expression unreadable. She had no idea who he truly was or the depth of his role in all of this. To her, he was just another participant. But to him, she was far more than that. He was a player in his own game, yet his thoughts were consumed with her safety. He was determined to protect her, no matter what.

“If the number is bigger than five, we’ll find the additional people we need.” Gi-hun said as glanced at everyone, trying to offer some semblance of leadership. Dae-ho frowned, his concern evident. “But what if it’s smaller than five? Like three or four?” The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. “No matter what happens, don’t panic. Let’s stay calm,” In-ho advised, his voice steady and reassuring. Her eyes instinctively flicked toward him, drawn by his calm demeanor. He seemed to carry an air of certainty, as if he already knew the outcome of the game. How could he remain so composed in a place like this? The thought lingered in her mind, distracting her momentarily. She shook her head, trying to refocus. She couldn’t afford to be distracted—not now. She had to survive. As the group began moving toward the platform, her steps felt heavier with each passing moment. The platform loomed ahead, its surface wide enough to accommodate all the players. She walked alongside In-ho, her presence near him both comforting and unsettling. Jung-bae flanked her other side, his expression tense. Once on the platform, everyone lined up in uneven rows, spreading out from the center to the edges. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying her nerves. She sighed shakily, trying to steady herself, but the anxiety clawed at her composure. In-ho glanced down at her, noticing the slight tremor in her hands as she patted them against her thigh in an attempt to calm herself.

“It’s gonna be alright... don’t think about it too much,” he said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance. She glanced up at him, her soft eyes meeting his. A small nod was all she could muster as she whispered, “Okay.” Her gaze dropped back down to her feet, the stillness of the platform beneath them grounding her for a fleeting moment. “Let the game begin,” the woman’s voice announced over the speaker, breaking the fragile silence. Her breath hitched as the platform beneath them trembled, a faint vibration signaling the beginning of movement. Slowly, it started to spin. Gasps rippled through the group as the sudden motion caught many off guard. She stumbled slightly, the unexpected shift throwing her balance. Instinctively, her hand reached out, brushing against In-ho’s before gripping it firmly. She hadn’t meant to grab his hand—it was a force of habit. Her cheeks burned as she realized what she had done. Nervously, she glanced up at him, her face flushed.

In-ho looked down at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. Without hesitation, he held her hand, his touch steady and reassuring. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that he would keep her safe. For a moment, her fear subsided, replaced by the brief comfort of his presence. But the platform continued to spin, and the game had only just begun. The lights in the middle of the platform shut off, dimmer lights above them flickering as they turned on. She glanced up nervously, her breath uneven. She was still slightly jittery, her hands trembling as she tried to calm herself. The atmosphere was heavy, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, a children’s song began to play softly across the room, the whimsical melody contrasting eerily with the silence. “Round and round, let’s go in circles and dance,” sang the cheerful voice in the music, the lyrics echoing faintly. The platform beneath them began to spin, slow at first but gradually picking up speed. Everybody remained quiet, their gazes fixated on the room and the spinning platform, the only sound being the haunting children’s tune.

There were 255 players alive now. The number loomed in her mind, a reminder of how quickly the others had disappeared. A slight shake ran through the platform beneath them, causing ripples of unease among the participants. Without warning, the platform came to an abrupt halt, throwing some people off balance. reader stumbled, nearly losing her footing. In-ho’s hands darted out instinctively, gently steadying her before she could fall. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins quickly overshadowed it. She glanced at him briefly.

“Ten.” The woman’s voice over the speaker rang out. The room plunged into darkness as the lights cut off, replaced by a deep, warm purplish glow that filled the space. Frantic yells erupted around them, the quiet spell broken as chaos descended. People scattered in all directions, searching for others to team up with. Groups were forming hastily, the countdown ticking away in everyone’s minds. Y/N and the rest of her small group huddled together tightly. There were five of them—they needed five more. Reader her voice shaky from nerves, hurried over to the group next to them. “H-how many of you guys are there?” she asked urgently, her words spilling out in a rush. “Four,” Hyun-ju replied quickly, her expression just as panicked. “That makes us nine,” Jung-bae added, his voice edged with tension.

Another random group of five approached them in a frenzy. “Are you a group of five? So are we. Come with us!” one of them shouted, their tone insistent. They reached out, as if to pull them along, but before they could join, another group swooped in.

“Hey, we have five people too! Come on, come with us!” the second group said, tugging the first group away with them. Now, Y/N’s group and the group of four were left behind, still one person short. Panic set in as the seconds ticked away. “We have to hurry! There’s no time, Gi-hun!” In-ho called out, his voice rising above the growing noise. “We need one more!” Hyun-ju yelled, her eyes darting around frantically. Then, she spotted a woman standing off to the side. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward her, grabbing her arm. “We have ten now!” she shouted triumphantly.

“Room 44! Green door!” Gi-hun yelled back.

“Run!” Jung-bae added, his voice urgent.

reader ran with everyone, her heart pounding as fear and adrenaline surged through her. The group spilled into the room, the door slamming shut behind them. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and shakily. A small beep sounded, signaling that time was up. The door locked with a resounding click, trapping them inside. She wasn’t standing far from In-ho, her eyes instinctively drawn to the small opening in the door. Peering through, she could see the couple of remaining people who hadn’t managed to find a group. Her stomach twisted as she watched a guards approach them. The loud, sharp sound of gunshots rang out, echoing through the room as the players were executed one by one. Her eyes softening into ones of sympathy and remorse. A guy in front of their door catching her by surprise. “Please don’t shoot me!” He said, before getting shot right in the head. Right in front of her eyes through the opening in the door. She flinched at the sudden close noise, gasping softly as her body tensed. She stumbled slightly, bumping into In-ho by accident. Startled, she jumped and quickly turned around to face him. “I’m sorry,” she said gently, her voice trembling. Her nerves were getting the better of her, and it showed. In-ho’s eyes were locked on her, his dark but strangely gentle gaze steady. “Are you okay?” he asked lightly, his voice calm despite the chaos that had just unfolded. She nodded quickly, avoiding his eyes as she tried to compose herself. She didn’t want to look out the door anymore. The image of those left behind was burned into her mind, and she knew it would haunt her long after this moment had passed.

The lights then turned back on. The light beeps of what sounded like a forklift echoed softly in the tense silence. The woman’s voice came through the speaker once again, calm and detached as always. “The following players have been eliminated. Players 013, 043, 049, 054, 060.” She continued listing numbers in a monotone voice, the names blending together as the players in the room exchanged wary glances. This round had been brutal, far more challenging than the others. For some, it seemed almost impossible. After a few minutes, the guards began clearing the room, efficiently removing the lifeless bodies, placing them in boxes, and wheeling them away on carts. A buzz suddenly filled the air, signaling the unlocking of the door. “All players, please step back onto the platform,” the woman’s voice commanded over the speaker. The room collectively sighed, the heavy weight of the situation pressing down on everyone. Dae-ho moved toward the door, opening it as the group shuffled out.

Reader followed hesitantly, still shaken from the events of the previous round. Her mind raced, replaying the chaos. She clenched her fists, reminding herself to stay focused. Caution wasn’t enough anymore; speed was her only option. Quick and fast—that was the strategy now. She walked back onto the platform, her gaze lingering on the dark stains of blood smeared across the ground. A chill ran down her spine. She couldn’t end up like them. She wouldn’t. The thought alone made her stomach churn. In-ho trailed not far behind her, his sharp eyes watching her every move as she returned to the platform with the others. He noticed the slight tilt of her head as she glanced around nervously, trying to take in her surroundings. He could sense her fear, and though he hated to admit it, it bothered him. He didn’t want her to feel this way—even if he knew part of it was his fault. Still, he cared more about her safety than her feelings at the moment. For him, that was all that mattered.

Everyone lined up back on the large platform once more. The overhead lights flickered before dimming, casting faint shadows across their faces. The platform trembled slightly, causing several players to stumble as they tried to steady themselves. Reader felt her balance falter but managed to catch herself just in time. She instinctively glanced to her side, expecting to see In-ho, but he wasn’t there. Instead, he had moved to stand in front of her, next to Gi-hun. She watched as the two men exchanged hurried whispers, likely trying to strategize about the next number. The eerie music began to play once again, a mocking tune that felt out of place amidst the tension. The platform creaked as it began to move beneath their feet. “We will go hand in hand, and have fun jumping around. Round and round—” The sudden jerk of the platform stopping caused gasps to ripple through the group. Some players stumbled again, their nerves frayed.

“Four,” the woman’s voice announced over the speaker, cold and emotionless. The lights flickered off, replaced by the dim, purplish glow that seemed to swallow the room. readers heart quickened as she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. “Your four, go!” Gi-hun shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “No, it’s okay! I’ll go find another group. I’m sure there’s another nearby,” reader yelled, trying to make herself heard over the noise. In-ho’s expression darkened at her words, his jaw tightening. He couldn’t let her run off—not when the chances of finding another group were slim. “No. You four go. Go ahead,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“B-but—” reader stammered, her voice trembling. She didn’t want to leave him. What if something happened to him? The thought was unbearable. “Go,” In-ho said strictly, turning away before she could respond. Without another word, he disappeared into the frenzied crowd, searching for another group. Reader watched him go, her chest tightening with worry. She wanted to call out to him, to stop him, but before she could, Jung-bae gently grabbed her arm. “We have no choice. Let’s go!” he urged, pulling her toward the purple-lit room. The four of them rushed inside, the door slamming shut behind them. Reader exhaled shakily, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes immediately went to the crack in the door, straining to catch a glimpse of In-ho. Her heart raced as she scanned the chaotic scene outside. People were yelling, running for rooms, and the flashing lights made it nearly impossible to focus. She couldn’t spot him in the sea of bodies.

The buzzer sounded again, signaling the end of the round. The lock on the door clicked into place, and the unmistakable sound of rapid gunfire filled the air. Reader flinched, her back pressing against the cold wall behind her. Her heart pounded as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to steady her breathing. How many more rounds could she survive? How many rounds were left? The question lingered in her mind, heavy and unanswerable. The lights flickered before tuning back on, the clicking sounds of every door unlocking echoing through the space. As the mechanisms released, each door swung open, and people began stepping out cautiously. Blood smeared across the floor, more than before, a grim reminder of what had just occurred. The guards moved swiftly, disposing of the bodies with practiced efficiency, clearing the way before unlocking the remaining doors. It was then that **reader** stepped out, her breath shaky but steady enough. Her eyes darted around the vast room, scanning frantically for in-ho. Where was he? She pushed forward, her nerves on edge, walking alongside dae-ho, jung-bae, and gi-hun. The group stopped just outside the door, their expressions tense, voices rising as they began calling out for in-ho.

“Young-il!” Dae-ho shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice louder. “Young-il?” Jung-bae called out, his tone edged with concern. reader glanced around nervously, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her wide, soft eyes flickered with worry as her gaze swept the room. Then, finally, she heard it—a familiar voice that made her heart skip a beat. “Gi-hun.” The voice was steady, calm, and unmistakable.

She turned sharply in the direction of the voice, and there he was. In-ho was walking back towards the group, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Relief washed over her like a wave, softening her expression as a sweet smile replaced her anxious frown. “Young-il!” Dae-ho called out again, this time with a breathy chuckle of relief. “Oh, thank god,” Jung-bae muttered, his tone heavy with gratitude as he stepped forward to embrace in-ho in a tight hug. In-ho stood beside reader, his presence grounding her in the moment. She let out a gentle chuckle, watching as Jung-bae clung to him briefly before stepping back. “I was worried,” Gi-hun admitted, his voice sincere, though tinged with a rare softness. “I’m glad you made it.”

Reader remained still, her gaze fixed on in-ho. Her eyes, wide and tender, were filled with a mixture of relief and unspoken gratitude. “I’m a likeable guy,” In-ho said with a light chuckle, his tone playful yet modest. “So I’m good at games like this.” A small smile broke across her lips as she watched him, her heart settling into a more even rhythm. In-ho’s gaze shifted then, turning towards her. His eyes, which had moments before been sharp and focused, now softened as they met hers. There was something gentle in his expression, a quiet concern that made her chest feel warm. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice light and unusually soft, as though he feared startling her. “Yes… I’m okay,” she replied, her tone quiet but sincere. “I’m glad you made it.” Her lips curved into a sweet, gentle smile, one that carried all her relief and gratitude in its simplicity. In-ho smiled back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that felt personal, almost intimate. His eyes, filled with affection and care, lingered on her for a moment longer before he sighed lightly and turned his attention back to the group. “All players, please step back onto the center platform,” the woman’s voice rang out again, cutting through the moment. It was calm, detached, and yet insistent, as though reminding them that their reprieve was only temporary. Reader took a deep breath, her smile fading only slightly as she prepared herself for whatever came next. Beside her, in-ho remained steady, his presence a small comfort amidst the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

~

Two rounds had passed, and now it was the final round. The remaining players hesitated for a moment before stepping back onto the platform. Tension filled the room as everyone prepared themselves for what was to come. Reader moved to walk beside In-ho, wanting to stay close to him once again. She felt less jittery than before, having learned to be more cautious after the previous rounds. The woman’s voice echoed through the speakers, commanding attention. “Now, the final round will begin.” The platform shook slightly, causing some players to stumble. The familiar melody of “Round and Round” began to play again, filling the room with its eerie rhythm. Reader eyes darted around the room, noting the doors, the flickering lights, and the bloodstains that painted the floor and walls. In-ho, however, kept his gaze on her, watching her closely. She didn’t appear as nervous as earlier, which reassured him.

On In-ho’s other side stood Gi-hun, with Jung-bae behind him. “What do you think the number will be this time?” Jung-bae asked curiously. Before Gi-hun could answer, In-ho replied with quiet certainty, “Two.” Reader glanced up at him, noticing how his focus had shifted from her to the doors ahead. “Why two?” Jung-bae pressed, frowning. “There are 126 people left,” In-ho explained calmly. “And there are 50 rooms. That means there won’t be enough for everyone—only 100 people will survive. The rest will be killed.” His tone was steady and confident, leaving no room for doubt. A tense silence followed, broken only by the haunting music.

Suddenly, the platform came to an abrupt stop. The lights flickered off, replaced by the purplish glow that bathed the room in an unsettling hue. The woman’s voice declared, “Two.” Readers nerves returned, tension rising in her chest as her eyes flicked around uneasily. Sensing her fear, In-ho quickly grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he said firmly, leading her toward one of the rooms. Her heart raced as she followed, her cheeks flushing as his hand held hers. But as they neared the door, another group converged on the same target. Before she realized what was happening, a pair of hands shoved her back. She let out a startled squeal as she hit the floor, her breath knocked out of her. The two others rushed past her toward the door.

Hearing her cry, In-ho spun around. He immediately saw her on the ground and his eyes darkened. She scrambled to her feet, running toward the door, but one of the men had already slipped inside. His partner tried to follow, but In-ho intercepted him. Wrapping an arm tightly around the man’s neck, In-ho growled, “Get in!” to reader. She obeyed without hesitation, darting into the room, her breaths quick and unsteady. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. Inside the room stood another man, his presence immediately setting her on edge. In-ho shoved the second man out of the doorway, entering behind her. His expression was cold and intense as he turned to the remaining intruder.

“Get out,” In-ho demanded, his voice low and firm.

The man’s eyes darted between In-ho and reader before shaking his head defiantly. “We were here first,” he spat, referring to himself and the man In-ho had thrown out.

The timer began to beep, counting down from 18. There was no time to argue. In-ho lunged at the man, tackling him to the ground. The sudden banging on the door behind her made reader jump. Someone outside was trying to force their way in. She pressed against the door, struggling to hold it shut as fear gripped her.

“There are three people in here,” she thought frantically. “There can only be two.”

The woman’s voice continued counting down. “Seven… six…” The banging stopped as the person outside ran off, searching for another open room. She turned her attention back to In-ho and the other man, who were locked in a violent struggle.

“Five… four… three…” In-ho had the man in a headlock now, his grip unrelenting. Readers heart pounded as the scene played out before her. Her eyes big, filled with worry. And now fear.

“Two…”

With a sharp jerk of his arm, In-ho snapped the man’s neck. The sickening crack echoed in the small room. Reader gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at the lifeless body slumping in In-ho’s arms.

“One.”

A soft beep signaled the end of the round, and the door locked with a final click. The woman’s voice spoke again. “Game over.”

Readers wide eyes glistened with fear and disbelief as she looked at In-ho. He was still crouched on the floor, the dead man’s body at his feet. His dark eyes met hers, showing no remorse. Slowly, he stood, his expression softening slightly as he approached her. She instinctively took a step back, her body pressing into the corner of the room. “Y/N…” he said quietly, his voice low and cautious. “Just…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Just don’t say anything.” “I had to,” he said firmly, his tone unwavering.

“I know…” she replied in a barely audible voice.

In-ho stood directly in front of her now. His hand reached out, his fingertips brushing against her cheek as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She flinched slightly at his touch, her fear still lingering. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered, his voice soft and regretful. But he didn’t feel any regret, not at all.

All that was important is that she lived.

[rootedinrevisions]

The Night We Fell

SUMMARY: After a night out with friends, you find yourself a little too tipsy and in need of a ride home. When Phoenix calls Bradley to pick you up, what starts as a simple favor turns into an unforgettable evening. Amidst drunken giggles, lingering glances, and unspoken emotions, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur.

WARNINGS: Some alcohol use and being drunk. But other than that this is pure fluff.

WORD COUNT: 4k

TAG LIST: @missmarveledsblog @shanimallina87 @fore45fore @cardi-bre91

The night had gotten away from you faster than you anticipated. What started as a casual drink with the other aviators turned into a full-blown party at The Hard Deck, complete with a few too many shots of tequila. You weren’t much of a drinker, and the alcohol had hit you harder than you’d expected.

By the time you’d stumbled out of the bar and collapsed into a chair on the deck, the world around you had become a blurry haze of laughter and music. Your friends tried to convince you to head home, but you stubbornly shook your head, giggling at how heavy your limbs felt.

When Phoenix—Natasha—suggested calling an Uber, you waved her off, muttering something about needing fresh air.

“You’re not going to make it home like this,” Natasha sighed, her tone patient but firm. “We need to get you out of here.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew she was right. The bar was starting to spin around you, and the thought of walking felt like an impossible task. Your shy, reserved nature wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and now you were the center of it, your teammates gathered around trying to help.

“No… no Uber,” you slurred, shaking your head as if that would solve the problem.

Natasha exchanged a look with Bob and Payback, all of them clearly unsure of what to do. That’s when Natasha had an idea.

“I’ll call Rooster.”

Your heart skipped at the mention of his name. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, your closest friend since you’d both met during your first stint at Top Gun.

He hadn’t come out tonight, opting for a quiet evening at home, but now he was about to be dragged into the chaos you’d created. A part of you was mortified, but another part—a quiet, secret part—was relieved. Bradley always made you feel safe, even in moments like these.

A short while later, Bradley’s familiar Bronco pulled up outside the bar, and you heard his deep voice before you saw him.

“Alright, where is she?” he asked, concern lacing his words. He stepped into view, scanning the small crowd until his eyes landed on you slumped in the chair, your face flushed from the alcohol.

“There you are,” he said softly, crouching down in front of you. “Let’s get you home.”

You blinked up at him, your mind fuzzy but recognizing the warmth in his voice, the safety that always seemed to follow him. Bradley’s hand slid under your arm, helping you up carefully as he guided you toward his Bronco.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” you mumbled, leaning heavily against him.

“You’re not trouble,” Bradley replied, his voice low and reassuring. “Come on, let's get you home.”

Bradley had just helped you to your feet when you suddenly pulled away from him, a mischievous grin on your face. The alcohol had blurred your sense of reasoning, and all you could think about was the sound of the ocean nearby, calling to you like some irresistible force.

“I’m going to the beach!” you declared, your voice louder than you intended as you stumbled in that direction.

Before Bradley could react, you slipped out of his grasp and made a run for it—well, as much as a run as your unsteady legs would allow.

Bradley sighed, watching you attempt your escape. He glanced back at Natasha, who stood with her arms crossed, an amused but knowing smile on her face.

“Now you know why we called you,” she said with a smirk.

Bradley chuckled, shaking his head as he set off after you. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

It didn’t take him long to catch up. The soft sand slowed your pace, and by the time Bradley reached you, you were giggling to yourself, your feet sinking into the cool beach beneath you. He walked up beside you, a teasing glint in his eye as he tried to reason with you.

“Come on, we’re going home,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve had enough fun for one night.”

But you weren’t having it. With a pout, you shook your head, your hair falling messily around your face. “Nooo, I don’t wanna go yet. The beach is so nice.”

Bradley sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried a different approach. “I’ll take you to the beach another time, I promise. But right now, I need to take you home and you need to sleep it off.”

You looked up at him, blinking like you were seriously contemplating his offer, but the alcohol still had too strong a hold on you. Instead of agreeing, you turned and tried to take another unsteady step toward the water.

That’s when Bradley decided enough was enough.

Before you could protest, he scooped you up into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other behind your back, lifting you effortlessly off the sand. You let out a surprised yelp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Bradley!” you squealed, squirming a little, though not enough to actually get free.

He grinned down at you, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “You left me no choice,” he said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on you. “You’re way too stubborn when you’re drunk.”

You pouted, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you. The warmth of Bradley’s arms and the playful tone in his voice made you feel strangely content, despite your half-hearted protests.

As he carried you back toward the parking lot, the others watched with barely concealed laughter, Natasha shaking her head at the sight.

“Thanks, Bradshaw,” she called after him, clearly relieved they didn’t have to wrangle you themselves.

“Anytime,” he called back with a wink, continuing toward his Bronco with you securely in his arms.

Bradley drove you back to his place, the familiar roads passing by in a blur as you leaned your head against the window, humming some tune to yourself. He kept glancing over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You were different like this—unfiltered, carefree—and he couldn’t help but be charmed by it.

When he finally pulled into the driveway, you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back against the seat.

“What’s wrong now?” Bradley asked, trying to suppress his laughter as he watched you.

“My legs,” you whined, drawing out the words, “they suddenly don’t work. Guess you’ll have to carry me again.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face. “Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he teased, already moving to get out of the truck. “Guess I’ll just have to take care of you, huh?”

Before you could respond, he was at your door, opening it with a flourish and reaching down to scoop you up just like he had at the beach. You giggled as he lifted you, your arms finding their way around his neck once more, your face pressed against his chest.

“You’re so strong,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “How do you do that?”

Bradley laughed softly as he carried you inside, the warmth of your body against his making his heart beat a little faster. “It’s all the push-ups,” he joked, kicking the door shut behind him.

Inside, the low light of his living room cast soft shadows across the space, but you barely noticed. As soon as he set you down on the couch, you flopped back with a dramatic sigh, your arms splayed out to the sides.

Bradley laughed as he looked down at you, shaking his head with that signature grin. “You’re going to be a lot of work, aren’t you?”

You just grinned up at him, your head lolling back against the cushions. “Probably.”

He crouched down in front of you. “Alright, let’s get you out of these bar clothes and into something more comfortable,” he said, giving your outfit a once-over. “Stay here.”

Bradley disappeared down the hall and returned a few moments later with a soft t-shirt and a pair of his shorts. He set them on the couch beside you. “Here you go. This should do for tonight.”

You blinked at the clothes, a lopsided smile forming on your face. “You’re giving me your clothes?” you asked, your voice high with surprise.

Bradley just shrugged casually, though the way he glanced at you made your heart flutter. “Yeah, well, you can’t sleep in those,” he nodded toward your jeans and top. “Go ahead and change. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You stood, wobbling slightly on your feet as you started to peel off your top. But when it came to your jeans, they were another story. You tugged at the waistband, trying to shimmy out of them, but in your drunken state, your legs didn’t quite cooperate. One misstep later, you tripped over yourself, landing on the floor with your jeans half down, a soft “oof” escaping your lips.

Before you could even try to untangle yourself, Bradley was suddenly at the door, peeking in with a look of concern. “You okay in here?”

You froze, staring up at him from the floor, your face flushing as you realized the position you were in. “Uh, I—” you stammered, trying to pull the jeans down the rest of the way but getting more tangled in the process. “I think I… need some help.”

Bradley hesitated for only a second before walking over to you, kneeling beside you with a soft laugh. “Hold on,” he said gently, his hands moving to your waistband. “Let me get these off for you.”

His touch was warm but careful, and his eyes stayed focused on your jeans as he slid them down your legs. He made sure to avoid anything that might make you uncomfortable, keeping his movements slow and respectful. Once they were off, he glanced up at you, noticing the shy look on your face. You were suddenly quiet, your playful demeanor fading as a wave of embarrassment hit you.

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was soft, reassuring as he met your eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to help you get comfortable, alright?”

You nodded, still feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I know… I just—sorry. This is kinda embarrassing.”

Bradley shook his head, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. “No need to apologize. It’s not weird, I promise,” he said, his tone full of warmth. “You look cute in your flustered state, anyway.”

That comment earned him a shy giggle from you, and he stood, handing you the t-shirt he’d brought. “Here, finish getting dressed. I’ll turn around.”

True to his word, Bradley turned his back to you, giving you the privacy to slip into his shirt and shorts. The fabric was soft, smelling faintly of him, and it hung loosely on your frame, but it felt comfortable in a way that made you feel safe.

Once you were dressed, you cleared your throat softly. “Okay, I’m good.”

Bradley turned back around, his eyes soft as they flickered over your new look. A slow smile spread across his face.

“I’m soooo tired,” you groaned as you suddenly flopped back onto his couch, though the playful gleam in your eyes betrayed you. “But I’m also kinda hungry. Do you have snacks?”

Bradley shook his head, unable to suppress his smile as he watched you sprawl out, so completely at ease in his space. It was a side of you he hadn’t seen before—this unguarded, silly version of you. Normally, you were a bit more reserved, shy even, especially around him. But now, with the alcohol loosening your inhibitions, you were like a completely different person, and Bradley couldn’t deny how much he liked it.

“Snacks, huh?” he asked, moving into the kitchen. “I might have something you’ll want.”

You perked up instantly, your eyes following him as he rummaged through his cupboards. “Ooh, what do you have? Chips? Cookies? I’ll take anything, really.”

He came back with a bag of chips and a box of cookies, setting them down on the coffee table with a flourish. You gasped dramatically, your eyes wide as you grabbed the bag of chips, shaking it like it was some grand prize.

“You’re amazing, Bradley,” you said with exaggerated sincerity, ripping open the bag and shoving a handful into your mouth.

Bradley chuckled as he sat down next to you, watching as you munched happily, your legs curled up underneath you. He couldn’t stop staring. The way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief—it was like seeing you in a whole new light. You were always beautiful to him, but this side of you? This carefree, uninhibited side? It was something else entirely.

You caught him staring and tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “What’re you looking at, Bradshaw?”

He smiled softly, leaning back against the couch. “You just look so good when you wear my shirt,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Your cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the playful banter between you stilled as the weight of his words settled in the air. You looked down at the oversized shirt you were wearing—the one that still smelled like him—and suddenly, the world felt just a little bit smaller, the space between you and Bradley charged with something unspoken.

“I—I can take if off if it bothers you,” you mumbled, suddenly shy again. The bold, carefree version of you flickered for a second as you averted your eyes.

Bradley chuckled, scooting closer to you on the couch, his hand resting lightly on your knee. “Bothers me? Not even a little. Honestly, I kind of love it.”

You glanced up at him, your heart fluttering at the soft smile on his lips, the way his eyes lingered on you like you were the only thing that mattered in the room And as you looked into his eyes, you could feel that shift between you, that quiet understanding that whatever this was, it was about to change.

But before you could say anything, the alcohol caught up to you again, and a fit of giggles escaped your lips as you reached for the cookies, breaking the tension in the air.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest at the way he looked at you.

Bradley just smiled, his hand resting on your knee a little longer than necessary. “Maybe,” he said softly, “but I think I’m in good company.”

Bradley leaned against the arm of the couch, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night,” he said, his voice low and calm, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet that had settled in the room.

You blinked up at him, lazily pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Hmm, I guess you’re right,” you murmured, still tipsy but slowly sobering. You gave him a teasing smile. “Maybe I’ll just go home.”

You turned and started heading towards the front door. Bradley let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening,” he said firmly, crossing the room in a couple of long strides, his arm wrapping around your waist to stop you from going any further.

His eyes softened as he looked at you. “So… do you want to crash on the couch? Or… you could take my bed?”

You felt your face flush at the thought of sleeping in Bradley’s bed. The sudden rush of nerves had you avoiding his gaze, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Sharing a bed with him—or with anyone—felt so personal, so intimate. And it wasn’t something you’d ever really done before. “Um…” You bit your lip, eyes darting up to meet his, then quickly away. “I don’t know…”

Bradley, noticing your sudden change in demeanor, tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, leaning forward a little to get a better look at you. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart race a little. It wasn’t something you ever talked about, especially with a guy. But the warmth in Bradley’s eyes, the safe feeling that always surrounded you when he was near, made it easier to admit your nervousness. “It’s just… I’ve never really…” You trailed off, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shorts, feeling suddenly shy and vulnerable.

Bradley waited patiently, his gaze never leaving you. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your knee. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

Taking a deep breath, you let the words tumble out before you could second-guess yourself. “I’ve never… slept with a guy before,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “I mean, not like… sex,” you added quickly, flustered. “Just… you know, sharing a bed. Falling asleep next to someone.”

Bradley blinked, a momentary look of confusion crossing his face before he processed what you’d said. His brows furrowed, but not in judgment—just surprise. “Wait, really?” He asked softly, tilting his head as he studied you. “What about… I mean, your ex-boyfriends? You never…?”

You shook your head, feeling the embarrassment heat your cheeks. “Nope,” you muttered, rubbing your hand over your face as if trying to hide. “I always… I don’t know, kicked them out or left before we actually slept. I just… I’ve never felt comfortable enough, I guess.”

Bradley’s expression softened even more. There was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. “Wow,” he said, his voice gentle. “I didn’t know that. But hey, that’s totally okay.”

You risked glancing up at him, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief at his easygoing reaction. “It’s stupid, right?” you mumbled, feeling silly for even bringing it up. “I’m just… I don’t know, I get really shy about stuff like that.”

Bradley shook his head, reaching over to gently take your hand in his. “It’s not stupid,” he said firmly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “If you’ve never felt comfortable enough to stay the night with someone, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain it.”

Your eyes softened at his words, the knot of nerves in your stomach slowly unwinding. His understanding felt like a weight lifted off your chest. “Thanks,” you said quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “But… I think… I want to, if it’s with you.”

Bradley’s eyes flickered with surprise, then something warmer—something softer—as he met your gaze. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and careful, not wanting to push you if you weren’t ready.

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “Yeah,” you whispered, offering a small smile. “I trust you, Bradley. I know you wouldn’t make it weird.”

Bradley’s lips curved into a slow smile, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly.

Your heart fluttered as you nodded again, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “Okay.”

He stood up, offering his hand to help you off the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Let’s get some sleep. You can have the bed, and I’ll stay until your asleep and then I’ll—”

You tugged his hand slightly, cutting him off with a small, shy smile. “No,” you said quietly, your voice just above a whisper. “I want to share it. With you.”

Bradley looked down at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you were certain. Then, with a soft nod, he led you down the hall, his hand never leaving yours.

As you and Bradley made your way to his bedroom, the air between you was warm and comfortable, even with the slight awkwardness of your earlier confession. His hand stayed in yours, steady and reassuring as he led you into the dimly lit room. The bed was neatly made, its navy-blue sheets crisp and inviting. Bradley let go of your hand as you approached the edge, both of you standing there for a moment.

“So,” Bradley started, glancing at the bed, then back at you with a small smile, “which side do you want?”

You blinked, surprised he was even asking. “Uh… whichever side you don’t want?” you said, a shy giggle escaping your lips.

He chuckled and nodded, walking around to the right side of the bed and pulling back the covers. You mimicked his movement, lifting the blanket on your side before climbing into the bed. The mattress was firm beneath you, the sheets cool and soft against your skin. Bradley slid in beside you, lying back with a content sigh as he settled into the pillows.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks again as you tugged the blanket up to your chin, suddenly feeling self-conscious being this close to him. But the warmth of his presence beside you, so familiar and comforting, was enough to make you relax. For a moment, you lay in silence, the gentle sound of Bradley breathing beside you filling the room.

Bradley shifted slightly, turning on his side to face you. “You good?” he asked, his voice soft in the dark.

You turned your head to look at him, nodding. “Yeah,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m good.”

But as the quiet settled in, your playful, tipsy side started to peek out again. The combination of being cozy in his bed and the lingering effects of the alcohol made your inhibitions lower, and before you knew it, you giggled softly.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, amused. “What’s so funny?”

You turned on your side to face him, biting your lip as you tried to stifle another giggle. “I was just thinking…” you started, your voice trailing off as your laughter bubbled up again.

He smiled at your amusement, a curious glint in his eyes. “Thinking what?”

You wiggled a little closer to him, your face still flushed with giggles as you blurted, “Can we cuddle?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a second, clearly taken off guard, but the grin that spread across his face was unmistakable. “Cuddle, huh?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

You nodded, biting your lip again. “Yeah,” you said softly, the playfulness in your voice contrasting with the bashfulness you felt creeping in. “I mean, if you want to…”

Bradley let out a soft laugh and shook his head fondly. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, shifting slightly closer to you. “Come here.”

With that, he wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you toward him until your head rested against his chest. His body was warm and solid against yours, his arm resting comfortably around you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You snuggled into him, your cheek pressed against his shirt, and sighed contentedly.

“You’re really good at this,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest.

Bradley chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. “I try,” he murmured. “Feeling better?”

You nodded, your body relaxing completely into his. “Much better,” you whispered, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a blanket. The playful giggles had faded, replaced by a calm, peaceful feeling as you nestled against him, your fingers resting lightly against his chest.

Bradley’s hand gently stroked your back, his voice a quiet rumble. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “Just sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

With those words, the last of your nerves melted away, and you drifted off, feeling safe and warm in Bradley’s arms.

[holylulusworld]

Alone again - Naturally

Summary: Even around your so-called friend you are alone.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, almost accident, fluff, Lois bashing

Alone again. Naturally.

You should’ve known better than to go out with your so-called friend.

A few years back Lois Lane was your best friend. Now you are only an excuse for her to go to a bar or attend a party without one of her flings.

She always was the one drawing all the attention toward her person. In high school, during your freshman year and after you landed your first job at a cat magazine.

Lois Lane. The rising star.

You have always been in her shadow, and this will never change. If you are shy, meek, and introverted, people easily overlook you.

Just like tonight. Lois is once again the center of the party. She chuckles loudly and bathes in the attention she gets from the men in the room.

You sigh deeply, wishing you didn’t follow her invitation to the party her employer throws only for her.

Her latest article got all the attention, while your job led to nothing but articles about birthdays, other people’s weddings, and missing cats.

Your career is just like your love life – non-existent.

Her laughter fills the room, and when she looks your way you hope Lois will save you from drowning in self-pity. Sadly, she turns her back on you to talk to someone else than you.

She always does this. Sometimes you believe she’s the cruelest person on the planet. Maybe she only keeps you around to show you how much better her life is.

“I’ve never seen you around here,” crap, someone found you standing in the corner. Now you have to engage in small talk. You wring your hands and force a smile on your face. “Hi, I’m Clark Kent.”

“Hi,” you glance at his offered hand and murmur your name. “I’m not working here.”

“I got that,” he flashes you a stunning smile. “I assume one of the gentlemen brought his charming girlfriend with him. A shame he left you here.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “Lois invited me and she’s…” You bite your tongue. This man is a stranger, and you don’t want him to believe you are the kind of person talking behind your friend’s back. “She’s busy and I’m not much of a partygoer.”

“Honestly, I came here to hide in the shadows. I’m not much of a partygoer myself,” he grins and finally drops his hand. “So, what do you do for a living.”

“I’m a…” You are embarrassed to admit that you are working for an unimportant online magazine that barely anyone reads. “I write articles.”

“Oh, I’d like to read some. Where can I read them?” He gives you a soft smile. “Anything I should read first?”

“I write about missing cats and such,” you drop your eyes to avert his gaze. “Nothing important like you and Lois. I guess no one even reads the things I write.”

“I’d still like to read your articles.”

“It’s fine, really,” you sniff, and wring your hands again. “I know that the things I write about are boring. No one wants to know about Miss Fluffy ending up stuck in the neighbor’s car. You don’t want to read the things I wrote about.”

“Never underestimate your talent,” Clark tries to cheer you up, but you don’t believe a single word leaving his lips. “I’m sure you are a very good author.”

“No. I’m not.” Your fake smile drops. “I know my place, Mr. Kent.” You get defensive and step back. “You should go back to the party and talk to more interesting people.”

“What about?” He asks as you try to find a way to sneak out of the room without drawing any attention toward you. “Why don’t you come with me and talk to some of the people in the room?”

“I told you, I’m not much of a partygoer, or good at making small talk,” you wince at your words. You sound like the pathetic loser you are in your opinion. “Uh-I should go now.”

“What about Lois?” Clark takes a step toward you. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to her at least?”

You glance at Lois and quickly avert her gaze. She’s not in the mood to hold your hand or talk to you. “I think she’s good without me.” Your voice cracks. “I don’t even know why she invited me.”

“Wait—” Clark tries to stop you, but you hurriedly make your way toward the exit. “Y/N, don’t just go.”

You are out of breath when you finally leave the building. Feeling like a fool for coming here to watch Lois celebrate another milestone in her career.

Before you can go back and apologize to her for leaving without saying goodbye, you hurriedly cross the street.

One moment you want to reach the other side, and the next a car speeds toward you. You gasp, and close your eyes, waiting for the impact.

You don’t feel the car hit you, and you don’t end up dead on the street. You’re suddenly high up in the air, clutching Superman’s suit.

“You should be more careful.”

“I-“ you look up at the superhero you heard so much about. Rumors said that he was dating Lois Lane not so long ago too. At least you read an article telling you so. “Clark?” You furrow your brows as the same soft eyes you saw not moments ago look back at you. “How…?”

“What? I—” He seems to be confused. You’re the first person to uncover his secret. “Y/N, you can’t just run over the street. That’s dangerous.”

“Okay,” you hastily say. I mean, you are floating above a building, your life in a stranger’s hands, and you won't argue with him. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You can worry me any time,” he wraps one arm around you to bring you closer to his chest. “How about I bring you home?”

“Does…uh…Lois know about your secret identity?” You can’t stop yourself from babbling.

“No,” he whispers lowly. “I guess she wouldn’t have left Clark Kent if she knew I got a secret,” Clark smirks when you look at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“You won’t drop me, right? I swear I won’t tell anyone about your secret.” You claw at him. “No one would listen to me anyway.”

“Do you honestly believe I’d drop you?” He quirks a brow.

“No…I mean…you’re a hero…right?” You pout. “I didn’t want to find out. It’s just…your eyes give you away.”

“I should wear sunglasses from now on,” he laughs while floating toward the next building to land on the rooftop. “If you promise to not tell anyone about my secret, I believe you. And I won’t drop you, sweetness.”

“Hmm…” You nod thoughtfully. “Did you date Lois as Superman too?”

He laughs now. “No. She didn’t know we were the same person. Lois broke up with me for Superman and the stories she wanted to write about him.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” you pat his chest, admiring its firmness. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Sometimes she’s just…” You trail off while patting his chest. “You know…”

“Let me bring you home,” Clark stops you from defending your friend. “Please.”

“Can we…uh…walk?”

“I’m already in my suit and got no clothes to change back into Clark,” he lies. Clark could easily change back into his alter ego, but he’d love to fly you home.

“Does this mean you want to fly?” You suck in a breath. “Do you have a seat belt or something?”

“I’ll bring you home safely, Y/N.” You end up back in his arms. This time you sling your arms around him and hold tight onto Clark for dear life. You close your eyes and hide your face in his chest.

You squeak when he pushes off the building. “Now that you know about my secret, do you want to fly with me again someday?”

“Uh-“ you blink your eyes open but still claw at him. “If you bring me home safely, we can do this again.”

“It’s a date then,” he smiles and flies into the night, making a detour to hold you a little longer…

Part 2: Not alone any longer

Tags in reblog.

[hvlcy0n]

SAY IT (PT. 1) . . . hayato suo x fem!reader

+ you’ve never reciprocated any of suo’s confessions of love, but a chance to eavesdrop on a conversation among you and your friends grants him all the insight he needs.

+ 4.2k words

+ NSFW (MINORS DNI) // UNEDITED // brief mentions of sex // mentions of edging at the end // brief mentions of overstimulation // mentions of past heartbreak/insecurities // established relationship // manipulation // i got all the big stuff but i’m definitely forgetting some minor stuff i’m just tired of looking at this

+ this is my first time writing suo so plEASE cut me some slack, i got tired of seeing it every time i opened google docs. i left any descriptions/names of your friends extremely vague on purpose so you can fill in whoever. the NEXT part of this will be centered around smut, but this one was more just kinda the build-up to his decision to push you out of your comfort zone.

suo has always been able to see right through you.

granted, that was his area of expertise—the ability to pierce through people’s defenses as if they were nothing more than a gossamer film and unearth whatever information he resolved to discover. he was regarded as dangerous by both allies and enemies, capable of sinking his fingertips into peoples’ psyches and peeling back the layers until their self–control began to fracture and ruby welled beneath his touch and trickled down to obscure his opponents’ vision in an all–consuming bloodlust that left them vulnerable and uncoordinated. 

he had a critical eye and a terrifying intuition; and while his friends wouldn’t trade him for the world, they were also aware of the uncharted territory of suo’s complex character—not to mention the existence of a small distance between them that had been discreetly established by suo himself. while he genuinely enjoyed the presence of his friends, he valued his privacy and space, and he often kept information about him restricted. he was more enigmatic than anything else. 

so, when suo offhandedly mentioned having a girlfriend, they were shocked. although emotionally intelligent, none of his friends pegged him as a romantic, his secrecy and manipulative tactics seemingly too insurmountable an obstacle in a relationship. generally, he was kind and respectful, but his demeanor could flip on a dime in the face of discourteous behavior. he could be mean—unfair.  it wasn’t uncommon for him to mask his slick tongue and cruelty behind refined language and his gentlemanly composure as he subjected his targets to public humiliation. sometimes, his emotions could get the better of him, and he could be frightening when they do. a gentleman? maybe. but there’s more nuance to him than that.

unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis. 

the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you. 

the better he can love you.

love.

that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.

you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes. 

the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.

he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.

there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings. 

he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own. 

it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that. 

it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.

it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few  friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.

“so, are you and suo still together?”

oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.

he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.

“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.

“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”

“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.

and of course, you knew that.

“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”

“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.

now we’re getting somewhere.

it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”

“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”

this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right? 

the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.

god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?

“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”

“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”

“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”

“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”

“i do!”

suo’s fingers twitch.

your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”

your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.

“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”

“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.

“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.

“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”

suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.

“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”

“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.

“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back. 

there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”

clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”

“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’” 

“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.

“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee. 

suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.

“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”

“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.

“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”

“right.” you nod.

“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”

“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”

“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.

“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”

“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.

“dude, what the fuck?” 

“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”

“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”

“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.

“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”

“don’t piss me off.”

 “what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”

suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.

the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.

fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.

maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.

but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now. 

a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night. 

he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.

he’s only human, after all. 

and what would humans be if not flawed? if not a bit cruel? if not a bit . . . selfish?

[starsinthesky5]

I've been watching videos of Taylor at the children's Hospital from last year and all I'm thinking about is songbird doing that in a Cincinatti hospital and it being so sweet. She's the first lady of Cincinatti your honour

a/n: this might have been one of my favorite things to write out. this concept is so :(

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

she's is absolutely serious about her charity work and philanthropy. giving back to her community is one of the most important things to her, especially now that she’s in a position to do something about the causes she’s always cared about. she doesn’t just post the links or sign the checks—she shows up, rolls her sleeves up, and works.

she’s deeply involved in youth mental health advocacy—funding school programs, hosting quiet music therapy sessions, personally partnering with child psychologists to create resources for kids navigating grief, anxiety, or trauma. she’s a soft place for so many to land. the kind of person who will read through every letter sent to her team from a worried parent or a hurting teen, and figure out a way to respond, to help.

and food insecurity? that’s close to home for both her and joe. they’ve seen what hunger does to a family. they remember. and she and joe put real money and heart into community food banks, his foundation, student lunch programs, meal kits for families during the holidays—always quietly, always intentionally.

her name's on programs and articles now, sure. but it’s also on the mouths of the kids at the shelters who light up when she walks in.

because she goes. regularly.

like to the children’s hospital in cincinnati—where the nurses and staff just smile when they see her name on the visitor log. she usually shows up in a soft cardigan, no makeup, her hair up with a bow. guitar case over her shoulder, tote bag full of handmade care packages in hand. she brings notes for the parents, bracelets and stickers for the kids, books for the rooms.

and it’s not a media event. it’s never performative. no press, no announcements. she doesn’t let her team record it. the only footage that exists is a few grainy phone videos from starstruck nurses or overwhelmed parents who post about how kind she was, how she remembered their kid’s name weeks later, how she sang lullabies to the babies in the NICU.

she sings for them, but more importantly—she sits with them. cross-legged on the floor beside hospital beds. reading storybooks aloud with funny voices. letting a five-year-old decorate her face with butterfly stickers. holding hands with a scared teenager and asking, what’s your favorite song right now?

sometimes when she’s at the hospital, the kids ask her about joe in the shy, giggly way kids do—“is he really your boyfriend?” or “he’s my favorite quarterback ever!” and she just beams, leans in like she’s telling them a secret, and says, “mine too,”. they light up when she pulls up a silly picture of him in her phone—usually something where he’s got bedhead or a grumpy face—and they all giggle together like it’s the funniest thing in the world. one little boy once asked if joe could come visit too, and when she said maybe next time, he asked if joe liked fruit snacks, so he could save him some. she texted joe immediately. he showed up two days later with a whole box.

speaking of, when joe comes with her? it's so special.

he doesn’t like attention. but he loves her. and she’s the one who got him to be more hands-on with his foundation in the first place. more than just a name or a face—she inspired him to show up. to go to the shelters. to play catch with the kids from the food programs. to give the teens at the mental health center someone who listens, not just someone who donates.

when they go together, it’s not a spectacle. joe’s quiet in the background—handing out juice boxes, playing uno, helping a little kid build a lego castle while she sings a lullaby across the room. they leave with drawings tucked into her tote bag and little friendship bracelets on both their wrists.

and yeah, cincinnati knows.

they call her the first lady of the city with so much love it doesn’t even feel like a nickname—it feels true. like she’s theirs, and they’re hers. and joe? joe just grins when people say it. because she wears that title so naturally, so gracefully, like she was always meant to.

because even with all the fame, the shows, the stadiums full of people screaming her lyrics. this is who she is. someone who shows up. someone who gives. someone who cares.

and she brings him with her. and teaches him how to care even louder.

[wtfaniii]

Little Cheater

Summary: You are twelve years old and you accompany your father to work, there was no one who could take care of you so he had no other option, there you meet a new friend.

Warning: Nothing, just something outside the series to focus on this wonderful man with purple hair, also, there will be some non-canon things.

Based on this request!

Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x little friend

Your eyes continued to watch with curiosity and interest the huge screen in front of you that showed a bunch of people dressed in the same uniform playing "green light, red light."

—¿Why can't I play with them? —You asked, pointing at the screen while your father put on a black hood and the mask with the square figure depicted in the center.

—They are not children's games —He responded without much encouragement while putting his gun in his pants pockets.

—That's just what it is ¡You see! —You said with irony, getting up from the bed you were sitting on —¿Can I go play?

Your father snorted under the mask, seeing you with the arms crossed. ¿Why did he bring you here to begin with? Your mother was probably hooking up with some other idiot and he hadn't been able to get a babysitter in a matter of hours, you shouldn't be here and yet you were standing in front of him demanding that he let you into those games.

—No, Stay here, I'll be back in a couple of hours.

It was him last thing he said before leaving the room but you were disobedient, you were definitely not going to stay there watching adults having fun playing while you were sitting on that bed.

So you sneaked out of the room and walked without stopping until you managed to find a door guarded by two pink guards with the triangle symbol emblazoned on their respective masks.

—¿Can I come in and play? —You asked with a wide smile showing your white teeth.

That gesture always worked to get the adults to do what you wanted but these guards remained silent without moving an inch.

You sighed and took a wad of bills from your dress pocket, money you had secretly taken from your father's wallet.

—¿Can I come in?

Once again the guards remained silent for a few seconds until one of them took the money and opened the door for you. "Walk until you reach a blue metal door, ask the guard to let you in" He told you seriously. You nodded and walked even further into the facilities until you reached said door where they finally allowed you to enter.

Inside there were many beds and the players were scattered talking or simply sitting without much encouragement, you didn't understand why but you didn't care and you walked among them, you walked until one of them caught your attention a guy with purple hair who seemed to be rapping sitting on a ladder with another player next to him.

You walked towards him and put on your best smile.

—Hi... —You greeted quietly but keeping your smile, you were curious and quite intelligent but when it came to socializing with others you were very shy and that was because your schoolmates picked on you.

—Hey... —Thanos looked up at you with a curious look —¿What are you doing here? ¿Did they bring you here too? ¿What kind of debts could a girl your age have?

—I have no debts —You said walking towards him softly while you also looked at him with curiosity —¡I like your hair!

Thanos nodded and continued making movements with his hands while he continued rapping under your attentive gaze. He believed that you would leave if he didn't pay attention to you, but when he saw you fascinated with his verses, he had greater motivation, considering you his small audience.

You laughed with some rhymes until another black-haired player with the number 124 approached you.

—¿What are you doing here girl? —He crouched down to be at your eye level with a mocking smile —¿Aren't you afraid of being here?

You stepped back, seeing him judging.

—¿How old are you? ¿eight? —Again he mocked, taking a step forward to intimidate you.

—¡I have twelve!

He laughed at your response and was going to make another mocking comment but before he could do so, Thanos snapped his fingers, drawing both of attention.

—It's not cool at all to bully a twelve year old girl —He said, motioning for you to sit next to him, to which you quickly went with him —Señorita, don't let this moron scare you, he's just as nervous as everyone here, ¿Right Nam Su?

—It's Nam Gyu —He corrected him making a nervous movement with his hands.

—It's the same —Thanos continued playing with his verses while you listened to him.

You also tried to rhyme a few times but when you couldn't, he laughed at your failed attempts.

—¿How do you do it? ¿Will you teach me? —You asked frustrated after several failed attempts.

—This is an art, little lady, and don't learn it, are born with it —He says, puffing out his chest with pride and moving his hands in front of your face in an exaggerated way, making you laugh again

—¡You're funny!

He smiled at you genuinely, everyone say that all children tell the truth and if you managed to empathize with him in just one hour that means that he is a great man and that fueled his pride.

—¿Do you want to play with me? —You asked with a shy smile as you played with the fingers of your hands.

—¿Play? —He asked curiously, the drugs had diminished considerably from his system so he was already calmer sitting next to you

—¡Yeah! My dad gave me this so I don't get bored, I play solitary but now you can play with me —You said excitedly, taking out a game of cards from the pocket of your dress.

Thanos nodded and settled in his place to be in front of you, his mind still did not fully understand how a girl your age was here, you were not wearing a uniform and you looked so calm that he doubted that you really knew what was happened in this place.

Still he kept his mouth shut and started playing with you after dealt the cards, you was adorable and very friendly, in a way you reminded him of himself as a child.

As time went by you were winning in each round, he was surprised.

—¿How do you know how to play this so well? You're barely twelve —He asked with a frown while scratching his head in frustration for not having won a single round.

—Dad taught me once —You were intelligent and you memorized things quickly, that's why you also knew many things about this place even if your innocence proved otherwise.

He continued playing against you, he was not going to give up until he won a game and that led him to complain and accuse you of being a cheater after each round lost due to a large difference in points, causing you to only laugh.

Lunch time was announced and Thanos went to pick up his food along with his team, leaving you on the stairs while you put away your cards with the intention of continuing to play later, however a guard approached you.

—Your father wants you to leave immediately and return to the room —Said the stranger sternly.

—But I don't want to go yet.

—I don't think you have a choice.

You pouted and looked towards Thanos and the guard randomly forming a plan in your little head.

After a couple of seconds you smiled innocently and ran to where your purple-haired friend was, you knew there would be consequences when you returned to your father but for now you wanted to continue in this place, it was the first time you made a friend and you didn't were ready to leave him so soon.

The guard was going to follow you, he had clear instructions and if he let you go the punishment would probably be for him but as soon as he took a few steps the boss's voice sounded in his earpiece.

"Leave her" Your father said in an authoritative voice and giving the order to the guard to leave, he was not happy to leave you there and even less so with that specific player but he did not want to make you unhappy either, he saw you laughing and talking to someone unknown, someone other than him and your mother and that was somehow encouraging, if player 230 could help you socialize more maybe he could overlook this lack.

Although he himself would also put his authority at risk with the frontman

—Hey, ¿What happens? —Thanos asked when you suddenly arrived and hugged him around the waist while pressing your right cheek to his stomach.

—Nothing, I just like you —You said with a triumphant smile as you watched the guard leave.

He brushed it off and kept you by his side during the line despite Nam Gyu's protests, Se mi and Min Su also liked you but you were more attached to Thanos.

As night fell... He was barely settling into his respective bed when he saw you sitting on the side and leaning against the wall.

—¿Aren't you going to sleep?

—I'm afraid to sleep up there alone —You admitted looking towards the bunk beds where there was an empty bed on top that had been left for you.

He wasn't going to allow you to spend the night on the floor, you weren't going to sleep well and seeing you nod off from exhaustion he deduced that you were also more asleep than awake.

He got out of bed and went to you to carefully pick you up and place you in him bed where you quickly fell asleep, Thanos covered you with the blanket and placed the pillow under your head.

A small laugh caught him attention and he looked up to find Se mi with a hand on his mouth to muffle his laughter, watching him with a tender look.

—Looks like you made a friend —She said smiling, caressing your hair.

He smiled softly, she was right, you were his friend but he wasn't going to say it out loud so he answered the following.

—She is the leader of my fan's club, I have to be good to her —He made sure you were comfortable and sat on the floor next to you, it would be a long night for him without a bed but he put your comfort first.

Anyway... you would tell him what the next games were going to be at dawn, you were going to cheat but it was inevitable, you grew fond of that fun guy.

And without realizing it, that affection he got from you could be a possibility to get out of that place alive.

[dat-town]

take my tears

Characters: Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn

Summary: Han Dongmin and his journey to believe he is loved.

Warnings: in this au the parents of taesan’s character are not the nicest and he has a twin sister (obviously it has nothing to do with how his real family is), emotional neglect, comparison and gender-based differentiation between siblings, academic pressure, self-esteem issues, negative self-talk, time skips, narration-heavy

Words: 8.5k

Author’s note: title from taesan’s unreleased song because i think it fits the vibe. requested by @bluecene - bsf's brother taesan x f!reader! where taesan gets mistreated by his parents and other kind of trauma's mostly angst with a happy ending!

When Han Dongmin was born, he was already only second place.

Hyemin and him were twins, the difference was mere minutes, so it shouldn’t have mattered who was born first. Yet, somehow it always did.  Especially because Hyemin was a girl and he was a boy and their father liked to bring it up at family gatherings like it was a running joke. The older Dongmin got, the less funny he found it.

Growing up, Hyemin and him were playmates and mischievous partners in crime. Sometimes he felt like it was just them against the world. They shared toys, secrets, hideouts and everything with each other. They weren’t just siblings, they were best friends. But whenever something went wrong, it was always Dongmin who was blamed. Hyemin just cried pretty tears and suddenly it was Dongmin’s fault. For the longest time he thought that it was because she was a girl, their parents’ princess but then he realized that there was a favourite child in the family and it just wasn’t him. It got more and more evident as competitiveness overshadowed their school years, sucking the last of childhood joy and innocence out of them.

High school changed a lot of other things too.

Hyemin became instantly popular; a favourite among teachers, a delight to have in class and classmates fought for her attention because she was pretty and smart. In the meantime Dongmin became a loner, actively avoiding being in the center of attention if it wasn’t for his grades. He knew that his sister’s high scores weren’t just out of luck or because she was some kind of genius, he knew exactly how hard she studied, how long she spent hovering over textbooks to memorize everything but no matter his efforts, he only ever placed right beneath her on the rankings.

Then, you came into their lives and Dongmin hated you right away. Okay, maybe not immediately but almost and hate might have been a too strong word but he was definitely wary of you. You were just one of their classmates of many, so you shouldn’t have been anything special but suddenly he wasn't Hyemin’s secret keeper anymore. It almost happened overnight, you and Hyemin becoming best friends after attending advanced Biology classes together, and he hated that. Especially because you met him first as he was holding the door open for you and you thanked him with that shy smile on your face but you still chose Hyemin over him. It was petty and didn’t make sense at all because it wasn’t even a competition but lately everything was. It just felt like you took a good look at the two of them and decided to befriend Hyemin instead of him. Of course you did, everybody did.

Hyemin got her first boyfriend in secret at the end of freshman year and if he was any pettier, Dongmin would have told on her because there weren’t supposed to be any boyfriends or girlfriends until university according to their parents. He only found out because Hyemin lied she would be studying with you but he found you in the library alone, the golden hour light hitting you softly as you hunched over your study notes. He thought about it then, ruining Hyemin’s perfect daughter image but then she came to him at home behind closed doors and told him about Youngdae in that high pitched lovestruck tone of hers and eventually instead of messing it up on purpose, it was him who gave The Talk™ to the guy. Their parents still to this day don’t know about that ex.

Dongmin was seventeen when he got his ears pierced. It was Hyemin’s idea to do something together for their birthdays. She was so excited, she chatted his ears off on the way to the salon she had looked up previously. Once in the chair, she grabbed his hand and squeezed so hard that Dongmin was sure his circulation stopped for a minute. (He didn’t ask but she held his hand anyways while he got his own ears done.)

They left the parlor with a pair of sparkly studs in Hyemin’s lobes and simple loops in Dongmin’s. He thought it would be okay because his sister wanted it and she was so proud, showing the jewellery off to their parents first thing when they got home but of course, it wasn’t that easy. Nothing was when it came to him.

“What were you thinking, son? A man shouldn’t wear something like that,” his father scolded him the moment he saw and told him to take the earrings out immediately.

Hyemin came into his room that night with you in tow, since you were invited over to celebrate her birthday, and apologized as if it was her fault and not their old-fashioned parents’. Even when she left, you lingered by his doorstep a little awkwardly.

“I think it’s cool. That you got them,” you said quietly, briefly making eye contact. “I was always too afraid of the pain.”

Dongmin didn’t say anything but he had never got rid of the earrings, instead he grew his hair out long enough to cover them. It was his first act of teenage rebellion, a quiet protest.

You were there during one of those times too when he got once again berated at the dinner table for coming only second in the school rankings. Right after Hyemin. He felt like breaking his chopsticks in half when his father pointed out the two points difference.

“The Maths questions this time were actually really hard,” you spoke up and Hyemin quickly agreed. 

Dongmin looked up at you, disbelief washing over his face, his tight hold over the chopsticks slipping. He didn’t want your pity since it left a festering wound in his ego, stirring something uncomfortable in his chest. Yet, he didn’t say anything because he had never felt as seen as he did when you glanced back at him over the table.

Then you all graduated. Hyemin got into SNU Med as expected and he made it to KAIST’s software engineering program, the best in the field of the country yet somehow even that wasn’t enough for their parents. Because KAIST wasn’t a SKY university like SNU was, its campus wasn’t even in Seoul or anywhere near. Because according to his parents, computer science was the laziest engineering job of all, and whose life will he change by sitting in front of a laptop all day anyways? But Dongmin had already been familiar with the feeling of being a disappointment by then, so the hurt this time felt more hollow.

On the day of the dorm move-in, their parents were too busy taking Hyemin to Seoul, so he headed to the train station for a train to Daejeon alone. Hyemin hugged him close before he left the house and threatened to hunt him down if he ignored her text messages. Dongmin loved her despite all the resentment building up during the years, but deep down he was glad that he was going to a place where he wasn’t in her shadow.

He didn’t even know you got into KAIST as well until he saw you on the train platform. You caught his eyes and then it would have been awkward if you didn’t acknowledge each other. The silence still felt a bit stilted after he helped you with your suitcase and sat next to you.

“Hyemin told me you got into CompSci, that’s really impressive,” you broke the silence tentatively as if you weren’t sure how he would react. But Dongmin just hummed, not having it in him to tell you that you didn’t need to say that just because you were friends with his sister.

“What about you?” He asked instead because he genuinely had no idea why you weren’t on your way to the capital city together with Hyemin, ready to take on SNU. You have been going to all the same extracurriculars as his sister, so he expected you to do so.

“Ah, I didn’t get into SNU, so Biochem it is. At least there’s less blood,” you crooked a smile and Dongmin found himself staring at you a bit harder than it would have been polite. He wondered how your parents reacted after spending a fortune on those preparation classes, how you felt after all the effort you had put in only to be rejected. You didn’t look really disappointed but maybe you were just as good as wearing a neutral mask as he was.

University treated Dongmin well enough. It was freeing, not being constantly compared to his twin, it really was the clean slate he desperately needed. The campus was big enough to lower the chances of running into you but even when he did, he didn’t mind it as much as he thought just because you reminded him of high school. On the contrary, your presence, the familiarity seemed to ease the homesickness he didn’t even realize he felt until a few weeks in. Because Dongmin was fine alone, he liked going on with his days unnoticed but he missed the small things: hearing Gwangju dialect, home cooked meals, even Hyemin’s constant yapping.

Maybe it was written all over his face and that was what made you stop in your tracks when you accidentally made eye contact in the busy coffee shop near the campus. Dongmin was already on his second iced americano and had a half-finished coding project in front of him on his laptop but stopped to stretch a bit and you must have caught the movement in the corner of your eyes. You were in the line, waiting for your turn at the counter while occasionally tapping on your phone. Once he noticed you, Dongmin couldn’t shake off the feeling of your presence no matter how much he tried to focus back on his project. At first, he thought maybe it bothered him, that he was laughably self-conscious because of what you might tell Hyemin who then would proceed to tell their parents but then realized it was just the usual awkwardness whenever the two of you interacted without Hyemin there. He didn’t know how to treat you outside of the context of being his sister’s best friend and you probably had a similar feeling.

Still you walked up to his table with your latte in hand and pointed at the seat across him.

“Hi! Can I…?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, making more space on the table for your things. It would have been unreasonable to say no, especially when there were barely any seats left in the shop.

Then silence embraced your duo as he went back to his project and you started revising your notes, highlighting and underlining certain parts in your notebook while frequently checking on the time. it was nice, the cozy quiet shared between you and it somehow became a habit whenever you met in the same coffee shop even if it wasn’t busy. You sat at the same table, did your own things, sometimes engaged in small talk. On some rare occasions you walked to the dorms together or back to the university building. It was sort of a routine that came naturally.

Soon enough spring break arrived and Dongmin had been pressured into going home, something he managed to postpone until he couldn’t anymore. You must have known about it, of course Hyemin must have told you, if not outright complained about his lack of presence back home with excuses like assignments and clubs he didn’t actually have. But it still didn’t explain nor prepared him for you asking if he wanted to go back to Gwangju together. When did you become those kinds of friends, he wondered. Unless it was out of pity. Or a weird sense of responsibility. Or…

“We don't have to hang out just because of… you know,” he pointed out and while the reason was obvious (or so he thought), it felt weird saying it out loud. It felt too self-conscious, too ridiculous.

Dongmin wasn’t about to embarrass himself in front of you but then you blinked rapidly, almost panicky and slid your chair backwards to stand up abruptly. The sudden creaky noise gained unwanted attention in the coffee shop and Dongmin’s skin crawled.

“Oh. Sorry. I… I didn’t realize I was bothering you,” you apologized hurriedly, not even looking into his eyes as you reached for your things on the table to shove them into your tote bag and probably look for another seat or another coffee shop entirely. Dongmin wanted to facepalm himself because he didn’t want to make you feel bad about it and now he felt shitty for implying something like that.

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant. I just…” Frustrated, he spoke up without knowing how to explain. All he knew was that he wanted to stop you from leaving before he could tell you about it, so it was almost an unconscious push that made him reach out and curl his fingers around your wrist, successfully halting your jittery movements. Your skin was warm under his cold fingers and your eyes widened at the sudden touch. You stared at him, waiting and Dongmin looked away, letting his hold on you slip. Then teeth gritting and throat tight, he pushed through. “I’m not Hyemin.”

And he could never be. He knew because he had tried all his life.

Silence. Not really because the coffee shop was full of mindless chatter and spoons clattering with glass but your lack of reaction made it seem like it. Dongmin looked up slowly only to find your earnest eyes on him already.

“I know you are not,” you said, very softly and seriously after your frown smoothed out. “Sure when I first saw the two of you in freshman year, I thought you were really similar. Like you couldn’t have denied that you were twins. Then I realized just how different you are.”

Of course, you did, Dongmin thought bitterly, a snort almost escaping him. Hyemin was the golden child after all. She was pretty and smart and effortlessly popular. Dongmin on the other hand was just a wannabe, a try hard, always second place, keeping everybody at an arm's length before they could realize how much of a disappointment he was.

“Both of you are so smart and hardworking and look so confident that it used to make me envious,” you continued, voice shy but genuine and Dongmin couldn’t tear his gaze away from you because he never heard anybody tell him that.  “But when it comes to attention, I always thought Hyemin was like the sun and you were like the moon.”

Dongmin gulped, feeling suddenly very transparent, very seen. But of course who wouldn't have liked to bask in the sunlight rather than be lit by the hollow moonlight?

“It's hard not to get caught up in Hyemin’s world when she shines so bright,” you attempted a small smile and for the first time Dongmin wondered how it made you feel, to have a best friend like Hyemin. Did students come up to you as well in hopes of getting close to Hyemin? Did her achievements ever make you feel insignificant, like you weren’t doing enough? “But I don’t think of you as her replacement if that’s what you think. I… I would have liked us to be friends before too, I just never knew how to approach you.”

Dongmin blinked, the sincerity in your words punching all the air out of his lungs. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. You took his silence as enough of an answer.

“I’m really sorry that I made you feel like that,” you whispered and fingers twitching, you reached for the last of your things.

This time, he didn’t stop you and just watched as you turned towards the exit. You had already taken two steps away by the time he made up his mind.

“Let’s go back together. To Gwangju,” he called after you and that started a whole new tradition.

Dongmin only went back home for holidays and when he had to. Gwangju had reminded him of a lot of things he would have rather forgotten. It was also easier to avoid the questions he didn’t have a good enough answer to like this. Sharing train rides on the way there and sometimes back to the campus made it more bearable. He wasn’t sure why, what made your presence so calming, what had changed ever since you had explicitly told him that you didn’t see Hyemin in him. Or maybe it was that you knew him for years, so you wouldn’t have unrealistic expectations that he could shatter? Or that he could dismissively complain about a tough assignment and you wouldn’t put it down and call him whiny, instead you would wish him luck and call coding magic anyways. The first time it happened, Dongmin almost cracked a smile because of the way you said it with a scrunched nose and furrowed brows after one look at his laptop screen. Not that he understood any more of the chemical equations on your papers or all those Latin words you had to memorise.

He spent spring break mostly in his room or out with Hyemin. Although he didn’t miss being compared to her, he did miss spending time with her. They used to be closer than just siblings or friends and he could feel that connection thin but he still knew that if something happened they would call each other first. But of course, Hyemin wanted to spend time with you too, so sometimes he caught the sight of you in the house but that was it: brief eye contact and unsaid acknowledgement before you were whisked away by Hyemin.

At least the spring break was short enough to get over with it quickly, the summer not so much. Hyemin insisted that Dongmin and you should visit her in Seoul, so she could show you around as if it didn’t make more sense for her to come to Daejeon if she wanted to hang out. But it wasn’t Seoul, she reasoned and Dongmin could hear the superiority in her voice and the way she was used to getting what she wanted. He knew you agreed easily but he was more reluctant, a part of him too proud and too afraid that he would envy Hyemin’s life in the big city too much. It was you who told Hyemin that Daejeon wasn’t boring either, that she should visit one day, so eventually both trips were arranged.

Seoul was fine, lively and new but it didn’t make Dongmin regret choosing KAIST. He was certainly not impressed by the overpriced cafés Hyemin dragged him to. During the picnic at Han river he pretended to sleep when Hyemin asked you about boys and told you about all those SNU boys she could set you up with. He didn’t care, he shouldn’t have, but the feeling in his chest when you said you weren’t interested was suspiciously like relief. He reasoned it was because if you had a boyfriend, there would have been no more quiet café study sessions and he would miss those. Yeah, only that.

Back in Gwangju, Hyemin wanted to go to a club on their birthday and celebrate with high school friends and what Hyemin wanted was what she got. Dongmin had no interest in spending money at a shady place with terrible music and too many drunk people but he didn’t want Hyemin to be there without somebody to stop her if she had gone overboard. He knew you would have been more responsible but with how timid you were, especially when it came to your best friend, he didn’t think you could have stopped Hyemin from making bad decisions. So he sighed and agreed to go, making his sister promise they wouldn’t stay out too late.

On the day, he didn’t put too much effort into ‘making him look presentable’ (Hyemin’s words, not his) because he wasn’t ‘looking for fun’ (her words, again). He just put on washed out blue colored jeans and tucked in a plain tee, carrying a jacket with him in case it got chilly later that night. He was already waiting in the hall, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, by the time you descended from the upper floor, Hyemin deeming you ready for the night. Dongmin glanced up at the approaching footsteps but then he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He had never seen you like this before. Not the dress, not the makeup. You looked older and different; he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Hyemin insisted,” you explained bashfully, clearly uncomfortable with the skirt length and Dongmin looked away, staring at the wall.

“You don’t have to always do what she wants. She will live even if you say no,” he grunted, somehow angry in your place when he had no right to be. In his periphery he saw that you nodded, considering.

“I know but it’s her birthday.”

Her birthday, of course. Dongmin swallowed back the words scratching his throat about your boundaries because he would have been a hypocrite calling you out.

Hyemin skipped every other stair as she excitedly rushed down and looked at her outfit, glittery makeup and curled locks, and Dongmin could tell she indeed went easy on you. She merely clicked her tongue after evaluating his outfit and teased that it was only his handsome face that saved him which made Dongmin roll his eyes and usher her to put on her shoes.

“Fine, fine. Mom, dad, we’re leaving!” She yelled loud enough for their parents to hear which earned a muted ‘have fun’ answer.

Dongmin didn’t test the theory but he was pretty sure that if it wasn’t Hyemin wanting to go out, their parents wouldn’t be so permissive about it. If only they knew that out of the two of them it was the girl on her third drink of the night, dancing with strangers not much later while Dongmin sat in their booth, sipping on his Pepsi cola. Catching up with former classmates wasn’t that bad and seemingly you also opted for talking with two girls instead of dancing. A few hours and one too many silly drinking games later, Hyemin was already dozing off on your bare shoulder, so she didn’t put up too much of a fight when Dongmin suggested going home. On the bus ride, he threw his leather jacket to cover you and Hyemin up and didn’t take it back until you tucked his sister into bed.

The house was quiet except for the sound of water running and the noises the refrigerator made. Dongmin dug through the medicine cabinet in the kitchen but then closed it with a frustrated sigh. Why did he even bother? Rubbing a hand over his face, he climbed upstairs to shut himself inside his room but you came out of the bathroom right then, freshly showered, dressed in the pajamas you had always worn at their place during sleepovers, all soft like he was used to seeing you.

“Hyemin?” He asked quietly, just to fill the void.

“She’s sleeping,” you whispered back and Dongmin thought that would be it, so he turned with an acknowledging hum but your next words stopped him. “Wait a bit.”

You quietly slipped into Hyemin’s room and came back, tentatively closing the distance between you and him, with his black jacket in one hand and a small something in the other, handing both over.

“I made this for you. Happy birthday!” Your voice was so quiet as if something could break if you talked any louder. Dongmin stared wordlessly at the crocheted black cat keychain on the palm of your hand and felt something press against his chest.

“Oh,” he mumbled dumbly, not sure what to say. He didn’t expect you to give him anything, he didn’t even expect you to wish him happy birthday despite sharing it with Hyemin and the fact that not only you did that but also prepared with something that took time and effort unlike the gift card his parents had given him made his throat close up.

“Sorry that it’s not good. I only started crocheting as a way to de-stress after high school, so I’m not very good yet,” you rambled, clearly nervous and before you could have gotten too self-conscious about it, Dongmin grabbed the keychain and folded the jacket over his arm.

“No, it’s… Thanks,” he cleared his throat. He was used to being just an afterthought in Hyemin’s shadow, so he didn’t know what else to say but based on your shy smile this much was enough. He slipped the box of painkillers into your hand before going into his room.

The next day he found out that you didn’t give an identical keyring to Hyemin, that it was only for him. He couldn’t name what it made him feel.

Then the new semester started and Dongmin usually spent commute listening to music and scrolling through social media all the same. Sometimes he tried to catch up on some reading he had to do for one of his classes. Lately he had been texting with this weird guy from Busan who just sat down next to him one day in one of his elective classes in the fall semester, saying that he wanted to be friends because he thought Dongmin ‒ quiet, loner, all black and white wardrobe Dongmin ‒ was cool. He had the habit of saying the most random things hence Dongmin could never be sure whether they would talk about university stuff or something deep like the possibility of life outside of Earth or the sea pollution.

He was nice, a bit weird but very fun to be around and while Dongmin was still navigating through having friends, friends who didn’t know Hyemin hence they couldn’t compare him to her, it was fine.

It also turned out that you shared a Biology intro class with Donghyun and got along well, so sometimes it was the three of you in the usual campus coffee shop hovering over your studies or sharing a meal in a nearby hotpot place. Sometimes Dongmin found you and Donghyun already there engrossed in a conversation by the time he arrived and it came as a habit, the fear of being a nuisance. It took some time to ignore and shut down this gut feeling because you still smiled at him when you saw him and Donghyun’s voice didn’t change at all as he kept talking, grinning wider as he patted the seat reserved for him.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad; having friends.

“Would you… come with me if I got my ears pierced?”

It was out of blue when you sprung this question onto him. He was walking you back to the dorm like he had done many times before in the semester but now you were hesitating before pressing the elevator button. Then you blurted this out and Dongmin looked at you, confused.

He remembered, barely at seventeen you told him that you were afraid of the pain. He wondered what changed, what gave you the courage and why you asked him instead of Hyemin. But eventually he decided that it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have changed his answer.

“Sure,” he agreed easily and even helped you find a decent parlor.

You were visibly nervous, fingers trembling slightly in your lap when you saw the needle, listening closely to the piercer’s instructions. Dongmin wasn’t sure what came over him when he reached out and held your hand. He told himself it didn’t mean anything, that he was just being a good friend. Later, when you had the simple but pretty earrings in and he had his hands in his pocket he asked what made you want to get them.

“I thought it’s time to face my fears. Starting with something small,” you replied with a shy smile and it made Dongmin wonder how many more fears you wanted to tackle and what he would need to get over his own.

Things slowly started to change after that. It was small and subtle at first but definitely there. Dongmin could tell it from the way you felt more comfortable around him, less awkwardness lingering in the air when it was just the two of you. It wasn’t even a question that you would go back to Gwangju for winter break together and Dongmin was actually glad to see you over at theirs for dinner. Hyemin mentioned that she had some news she wanted to share but he was more excited about your reaction to his gift even though he wasn’t yet sure how he would give it to you.

At least there was something keeping his mind busy while his parents lectured him about his lack of club activities at universities and nagged him about looking up internship options for the summer. Still, those remarks annoyed him like an old wound itching under the skin and it all built up over time, waiting to explode.

“So… I got a part time job! It’s just some administrative stuff but it’s the SNU Hospital! At this rate I might do my practice there!” Hyemin shared the good news with a proud smile albeit a bit nervously. Everybody congratulated her, even Dongmin meant it because it was a good workplace and good experience. It was all fine until their father didn’t turn to him.

“What about you, son? You shouldn’t slack off. We didn’t raise you to just laze around.”

“That’s right. You know how hard it is to find a job these days after graduation without any experience,” his mother also chipped in as if they knew anything about the current job market for fresh graduates. As if he didn’t have two more years until then, as if it wasn’t them who made faces when he took up a summer job at a pizza place to save up some money. But no, nothing he could do would be good enough for them.

Dongmin firmly pressed his lips together, staring ahead, the atmosphere around the dinner table freezing. He glanced at his parents, fingers gripping the chopsticks tightly. He counted to three and told himself to calm down like he had done so many times before.

“I know,” he gritted his teeth, forcing the words out to keep the peace, barely holding onto the safety pin of the detonator he felt like. This anger boiling inside him hadn’t just been festering there during the dinner or during the winter break. It had been years, all of his 21 years of existence. He had never said anything, he only ever just pressed this feeling down but that night, he felt like vibrating outside of his skin.

“Good. Then you should do something about it like you sister does. We don’t want the relatives to talk,” his father nodded at him, turning back to his plate as if it wasn’t an insult that felt like a slap across the face.

“You mean you don’t want to lose face because of how much of a disappointment I am,” Dongmin said dryly and stood up from the table, ignoring the calls after him about his disrespectful and ungrateful behaviour. He needed to get away.

With shaking hands he tore the entrance door open and stepped outside. Despite the December weather he didn’t even feel the cold. He was already shivering but it wasn’t because of the sub zero temperature. His eyes pickled but he refused to cry and his hands itched to hit something, to be hurt, to just do something to get rid of this pent up frustration and anger inside of him, so without a destination he turned down the street but he didn’t get far before Hyemin caught up with him.

“Dongmin, come on. They didn’t mean it like that. That’s just how they encourage us,” she grabbed onto his elbow but the boy shook her hands off him and spun around to face her.

“Really? So all these years you think that every time when they pointed out how much better you are, were they just encouraging us both?” He snorted, finding it ridiculous, especially because Hyemin’s earnest face told him that she really meant it.

“They sacrificed a lot to be able to send us both to good schools. This is the least we can do to pay them back,” she tried to reason but Dongmin had already run out of patience.

“And I’m trying! Can’t they see? Can’t you?”

“Dongmin, be more understanding wi–”

Maybe that was when something really snapped inside him. He wanted to shake his sister because he just couldn’t get why she was on their parents’ side so relentlessly. Did she really never consider how useless they made him feel? That sometimes all that comparison made him hate her?

“You don’t get it. You’re the favourite child! Have you ever noticed? How much more do they allow you? How do they support and compliment you while I only get asked why I’m not as good as you?” He spat like venom, poisoning the cold air around them, Hyemin’s breathing white and shallow at his harsh words.

“Do you think it’s easy for me? To keep up to their expectations?” She stepped back, defensive, pulling the coat tighter around her as if it could have protected her against Dongmin’s coldness too.

“I’m not saying it was easy for you either but you take it for granted. That they always take your side. That they take you to Seoul by car because you always manage to pack too much. That they rent out an apartment for you while I live in a dorm room,” the boy listed off just a few recent examples. Even though he never cared about living in the dorms, he was fine with it and he actually preferred quiet train rides with you over awkward car rides with his parents but the fact that it didn’t even occur to anybody that maybe asking or offering just once would have been nice made him feel so alone sometimes that the feeling gashed him from the inside. 

“I’m a girl, it’s safer,” Hyemin mumbled but it was less confident than before as if she noticed a crack in a perfect glass for the first time.

“Y/N’s a girl too and her parents don’t bubble wrap her,” Dongmin found himself saying even though he didn’t want to bring you into this argument.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for any of this,” Hyemin threw up her hands, getting frustrated and Dongmin knew her enough to know what was coming: blaming it on him. “And you could have come to Seoul with me. We could have shared all that!”

Shared, right, as if they were talking about toys they both knew were hers and she just let him play with them to have a playmate.

“Believe it or not, Hyemin, my world doesn’t revolve around you,” he sighed, suddenly very, very tired of trying to validate his feelings. “I don’t envy anything from you, really, but you don’t get to tell me how to feel about our parents when our perspectives are skewed.”

His sister stared at him, her frustration stiffening her body.

“Let’s talk about this when you calm down,” she said, giving up and for once, Dongmin felt like winning over her. It didn’t feel as good as it should have though. Not when Hyemin turned around and walked back into the warmth and safety of their home, probably getting consoled by their parents who still babied her.

Dongmin let out a shaky breath, letting the cold sweep through him but he couldn’t make himself move. He didn’t find it in himself to walk back there and look his parents into the eyes. He hung his head low, breathing swallow, knuckles turning red against his pale fingers in the unforgiving winter weather. He didn’t even notice how hard he was trembling until his shoulders were suddenly covered with something warm. Startled, he realized that it was his coat and behind him there was you.

“If you don’t want to go back, you can stay at ours tonight,” you offered quietly and Dongmin had so many questions about why you came after him, why you weren’t there with Hyemin telling her that she wasn’t wrong, why you were being so kind to him but he couldn’t find his voice. He just followed you four streets down, bowed his head politely to your parents, apologizing for intruding during the holidays. Your father just told him to help him with the  pull-out couch in the living room and your mother ushered him to take a shower before he caught a cold. He drank the tea you made him after in a sort of daze and felt a bit out of place when he was left alone with you in the dimly lit living room once your parents migrated to their room.

“Are you… feeling better?” You asked carefully as if you were threading over thin ice. He felt overwhelmed because he wasn’t sure he deserved kindness like this. He wanted to speak up, to tell you not to worry about him, to thank you but the words were choking him and somehow you must have known what he needed even before he did.

Your body was soft against him like a warm blanket. You pressed against his back, with your cheek resting on his blade bones while your arms circled around his stomach. It all happened slowly and carefully as if you expected him to push you away, as if you gave him a way out. But he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just let you hug him close and let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he could feel his anger melting away slowly and he could relax into your touch.

He couldn’t remember when was the last time he was hugged. Like this, probably never. Sometimes he even wondered whether he was touch averse because he disliked the idea of people invading his space but he never had any problem with your shoulder brushing his on the train or Donghyun draping an arm over his shoulders. Maybe he just wasn’t used to accepting physical affection and a part of him wondered whether a hug from you was enough to break him because he had never felt any more vulnerable yet any more safe than right there in your arms. He had this innate urge to push you away, to isolate himself before he could disappoint you too but maybe he was actually touch-starved or maybe it was the way your heart was beating against his back, he couldn’t make himself.

Time passed slowly like thick syrup and his eyelids were growing heavy but your hold on him didn’t waver, not until your ringtone cut through the silence of the room. Yanked back into reality, Dongmin stiffened and stepped away.

This was it, he thought as he watched you check the caller ID on your phone and it wasn’t hard to tell that it was Hyemin. His shoulders raised in a tensed manner because he knew what was coming and wanted to brace himself for another figurative slap. You would choose Hyemin over him. Of course you would. She was your best friend after all and he was just… him.

Your fingers hovered over your phone’s screen and glanced at him, something unsure swimming in your eyes. Dongmin had to look away and pretend to busy himself with the blanket your mom had brought him. He closed his eyes, fully expecting you to walk away and take the call.

Then the ringing stopped and the sound of soft thud against the glass table top echoed in the living room. Dongmin opened his eyes.

“Would you like to watch something?” You asked and despite his non-committed noise of agreement, you switched on the TV and changed channels until it landed on an old, black and white movie Dongmin barely paid attention to.

You chose him. Over Hyemin.

Dongmin wasn’t sure how to feel about it or what to make of it, so he did what he was doing the best: he ignored it.

The next morning he got up early and slipped out of your home and back to his own. He grabbed his phone and bag and left without any further notice. He caught a train back to Daejeon and left Hyemin’s texts from the night before read but unanswered. By the time he made it back to the dorms, he got a message from you too asking how he was and saying that both you and Hyemin were worried. He texted back a brief explanation that he was back in Daejeon, nothing more.

He couldn’t avoid you anymore though when you were back in town a week later, not without acknowledging the reason. So he kept to the routine of meeting at the usual places in the usual times, hanging together with Donghyun all the same. However, exchanged words became scarcer and both of you looked away quickly when your gazes met. It was the quiet companionship that wasn’t that much different from the very beginning of these traditions but Donghyun was too observant for his own good.

“Wanna talk about what happened during break?” He leaned towards him over the coffee shop table when it was just the two of them. Dongmin fought the urge to look up from his laptop screen.

“What?”

“With Y/N,” Donghyun specified without beating around the bush. “You two have been acting weird lately.”

“We haven’t,” Dongmin deadpanned a bit too fast. Of course, Donghyun noticed but didn’t push.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it but I’m not blind, you know.”

The thing was, Dongmin wasn't sure what exactly changed but he could feel something unsaid press heavy on his shoulders. He kept finding himself lying in bed awake late at night and wondering whether his chest tightened whenever he saw you because he liked you or it was just shame and embarrassment. Or was he getting clingy and he was latching onto the first person showing any interest? Even if he did like you, what if it was just because you were the first person who made him feel worthy regardless of his twin sister? And worse, what if you actually only cared because of Hyemin?

Speaking of whom, the more time passed the more Dongmin felt like it had been unfair to pour all his frustration onto her. Sure, he had some resentment in his heart towards her, a thorn nested between tendons, but most of his anger was directed at their parents. Hyemin had grown up used to the attention and getting her way, clearly she didn’t realize that there was anything wrong with that. And to her credit, she tried to reconcile after he had left Gwangju. She kept flooding their chat with questions and telling him to text or call her if he was ready to talk it out. But Dongmin was still a bit bitter about what happened, so he just sent an ok. First he would have needed to come to terms with what he wanted. Then maybe he could talk it out with her.

You broke the mutual silence on a random Tuesday, Donghyun having to make a library run, leaving the two of you alone in a quiet corner of your usual coffee shop.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, gripping the pen in your hand with too much force and avoiding eye contact.

“What?” Dongmin muttered, utterly confused at the sudden exclamation.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. Back in Gwangju. After your parents…” You explained with a gulp but didn’t finish the sentence. Then you lifted your gaze, tentatively meeting his. “I just think it’s unfair. So unfair that they expect you to do everything Hyemin does and I thought that maybe you would need some comfort, some reassurance that you don’t need to do any of that. But it was arrogant of me to think you would need me for that, so I’m really sorry.”

“Stop,” Dongmin cleared his throat and this time it was him who looked away. “Stop apologizing.”

Why would you do that? Do you think of him as something broken now? Or like a wounded animal needing constant care? Was that why you walked on eggshells around him?

“Why are you doing this?” He gritted through his teeth because he didn’t want your pity.

“You’re my friend,” you said and belatedly he realized that this was not the answer he wanted to hear.

“Hyemin is your friend,” he corrected you harsher than intended and when he looked up from the table, you looked hurt. He hated that it was because of him.

“Believe it or not, I care about you. Not because of Hyemin,” you stood your ground and carried on, determined to prove it. “But because you held the door for me in freshman year. Because you explained Maths calculations to me when Hyemin was too busy. Because you didn’t let me be awkwardly alone in a city where I knew nobody. Because you even carry around that ugly crochet keychain I gave you. Because you held my hand while I got my ears pierced. Because I want to see you smile more even if it’s because of something ridiculous Donghyun said.”

To say the least, the boy was left speechless. He didn't expect a monologue like that from you. And the most unbelievable part was yet to come.

“I like you, Han Dongmin, and it has nothing to do with your sister,” you finished a little breathless and the silence that followed was deafening.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” he mumbled, still taken aback.

“That’s okay. Like I said I’m sorry if I was overbearing,” you said with a small forced smile, standing up, probably thinking that he needed some space. It felt like dejavu, reminding Dongmin of the day you had proposed to go back to Gwangju together.

“Wait,” he scrambled to stop you because he didn’t want you to leave, not like this.

Eventually you stayed, simply because he asked and he walked you back to the dorm.

Nothing much changed afterwards. You didn’t make a big deal out of him not saying anything to your confession but Dongmin found himself watching you more, trying his best to decipher his own feelings. He didn’t want to lead you on if his attachment didn’t come from a genuine place but he had no idea how he could have been sure about that. He wouldn’t have thought that the needed push would come in the form of his twin sister showing up at Daejeon unexpectedly.

This time Hyemin wasn’t as defensive as over the holidays and she said she had been thinking a lot about what he had said. She also said that because he often downplayed situations and seemed unbothered, she really thought he didn’t care about such things. Apparently, she told their parents not to come and get her in Seoul next break and that no, she didn’t need them to pick her up at the train station either. She might have lived in a bubble before but now that it burst, she could live with more open eyes. She wanted it to be him and her against the world again like when they had been kids. There was a long way to go but Dongmin appreciated her efforts.

“About my best friend, by the way…” Hyemin hummed, very clearly fishing for some kind of reaction, so Dongmin tried hard not to show anything on his face. “I think you would be good for each other.”

Her comment still made him widen his eyes, surprised.

“Did she tell you?”

“Is there anything to tell?” Hyemin teased, nudging his arm. “She just told me she confessed to her crush but she’s much more obvious than she thinks, so of course, I figured it out. I’m just waiting for her to tell me that it’s you.”

Dongmin might not have understood why you liked him but maybe he had to realize that such feelings didn’t have to make sense, they weren’t a Mathematical formula waiting to be solved.

“Look, I can tell you’re overthinking it. Stop. Just follow your heart,” his sister poked his chest with a bright smile and her usual optimism. Dongmin had always thought that that kind of attitude was reserved for people like her, people who breezed through life like it was a game they were meant to win, and he never allowed himself to feel like that, always too afraid of the consequences, of disappointment. But maybe some things were worth taking a leap of faith for.

No matter how sudden it could seem, it was anything but that. The way he showed up at your dorm unannounced, texting you to ask if you could come down to see him was a scenario he had run over his head many times.

And there you were in a cozy oversized sweater and messy bun, your doe eyes curious and searching. You looked a bit worried and Dongmin didn't even blame you because it was unexpected, him just showing up like this but he felt like he had to, that it was then or never. Because for once he followed his heart and it led him there.

“I have my answer,” he blurted out and he expected you to be confused but you knew what he was talking about right away. Maybe you were waiting for him. The thought made his chest feel tighter.

“You do?”

Instead of answering, the boy reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small jewellery box then he held it out for you. He was supposed to give it to you during winter break but then it was just collecting dust in his dorm room. Even when he had bought it, he wasn’t sure what it meant, he just wanted to get something for you, something small but meaningful.

You took the box from him and gingerly opened the lid to peer at the butterfly earrings inside. Your eyes widened and you glanced at Dongmin, words clearly on the tip of your tongue but he got there first.

“For me, it’s because you’re one of the bravest people I know,” he said, thinking of the determination in your eyes when you got your ears pierced or the certainty you held him with that one night. “Because you remind me of the best parts of home. Because you cared about me even when I couldn't fathom why anybody would do that. Because I don’t need to try to be somebody else for you.”

Maybe Dongmin didn’t know much about love but to him, being loved looked something like this: to be seen without walls, without armour. To be known and accepted without conditions, without expectations. To be listened to and understood without judgement, without comparison.

It was holding your hand and the way you smiled. Waiting for tomorrow to do the same and all the other days after that.