#and also it's like. because of where i was when i watched it but the main draw and thing that i really took away from it was wow that guys

[inseobts]

Idk if u do request but can you do Scary reader x One piece men? Law, Shanks, Sabo, Ace, Croc, The monster trio & whoever else you want! Basically the reader is really scary but {{char}} finds their scariness attractive.

Attractive Scariness

a/n: sorry but at some point I got out of ideas lmao

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace, shanks, sabo and crocodile

words count: around 0.4k - 0.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You’re used to fear.

The wide eyes, the shaky hands, the people stumbling over themselves to get away, etc. It’s always the same. Ever since you ate your Devil Fruit, people have called you a monster. Even when you’re not fighting, your presence alone makes people nervous.

So when you land on this island and step into a small village, you already expect the usual reaction.

And you get it.

The streets clear as soon as you walk in. The market stalls empty. Even the shopkeepers pretend not to see you.

You sigh.

“Again?” you mutter “I just want some food…”

You’re about to turn around when someone doesn’t run. A boy in a red vest and a straw hat stands right in front of you, grinning like he doesn’t even notice how scary you are.

No. He notices. He just doesn’t care.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, eyes shining “You’re super strong, huh?”

You blink “What?”

“I can tell!” He nods, completely sure of himself “Strong people have this feeling about them. And you feel really strong!”

You stare at him. That’s… new. No “stay away from me” or “please don’t kill me.” Just pure excitement.

Luffy tilts his head “What’s your power?”

You hesitate. Usually, this is the part where people scream. But he’s looking at you like a kid waiting for a magic trick.

You raise your hand. A shadow swirls around your fingers, shifting like smoke. The air around you grows heavy, dark, unnatural.

Luffy gasps.

“That’s so cool!”

“…Huh?”

“You can control shadows? Or darkness? Or... wait, is it nightmares?” He’s practically bouncing “Can you do giant shadow hands? Or make yourself super big? Or—”

You blink at him “You’re… not scared?”

Luffy grins wider “Why would I be? You’re awesome!”

This has never happened before. Ever. You don’t know what to do.

Then Luffy grabs your wrist “Hey, join my crew!”

Your brain short-circuits “What?”

“I’m Luffy! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, and I need strong people on my crew. And you’re really strong!”

You open your mouth, then close it. You look at him, at his bright, careless smile, at the way he’s just standing there, holding onto your wrist like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like you’re just a person.

Not a monster.

“…You’re weird” you say.

Luffy laughs “People tell me that a lot.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in forever, you smile.

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll join you.”

Luffy cheers, throwing his fists in the air “Yes! This is gonna be awesome!”

You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. But for once, you don’t feel like a nightmare.

You just feel like you.

Years have passed since you met Luffy. Since he grabbed your wrist, called you strong, and changed your life without even trying.

Back then, you weren’t sure what you were getting into. Now, you know.

Being with Luffy means chaos. It means waking up to find him hanging upside down from the ship’s mast, laughing like it’s normal. It means fighting beside him, watching him charge straight at danger without fear—because he trusts you to have his back.

It means love.

A love that is loud and wild, but also simple. Easy. Because Luffy has never been afraid of you. Not then, not now.

Right now, you’re on an island, sitting in the shade while the crew runs around. The villagers are keeping their distance, just like always. Even after all these years, people still fear you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because across the field, Luffy is waving at you, smiling so wide it makes your chest feel warm. He doesn’t care that people avoid you. He doesn’t care that you’re “scary”, to him, you’re just you.

He runs over, plopping down next to you with a grin “Whatcha doin’?”

You raise an eyebrow “Sitting.”

Luffy gasps dramatically “No way. That’s crazy.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder. He just laughs, leaning against you without a care in the world.

For a while, you sit there together. The sun is warm, the breeze is nice, and Luffy is… Luffy. He hums a little song under his breath, playing with your fingers like he’s fascinated by them.

Then, he says “You know, you’re kinda scary.”

You pause “Oh?”

He nods “Yeah. Like, super scary. When you fight, people freak out. Even Zoro said you’re the last person he’d wanna fight seriously.”

You wait for the usual words to follow. Monster. Freak. Too much.

But instead, Luffy grins and squeezes your hand.

“I love it.”

Your heart stops for a second.

Luffy keeps talking, like he hasn’t just turned your entire world upside down “It’s awesome! You’re so strong, and you do that cool shadowy thing, and when you get serious, even the bad guys look like they’re gonna cry.” He laughs, eyes shining “It’s really cool.”

You don’t answer right away. Because what is there to say?

For so long, your power was a curse. Something that made you different. Something that made you alone.

But here, with Luffy, it’s just another part of you.

“…You’re an idiot” you mumble, looking away.

Luffy laughs “Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes “Unfortunately.”

He gasps “What?!”

You shove his face away, and he just laughs harder, wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. He clings to you, laughing and warm, and you sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

But the truth is, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Because you are strong. And scary. And Luffy loves it.

And that is more than enough.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro knows strength when he sees it.

He can sense it in the way people move, in the way they breathe. Some fighters hesitate, some carry doubt, but you don’t.

From the moment he meets you, he can tell. You don’t just fight. You hunt. And for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off you.

It starts on an island known for its warriors. The crew stops to rest, but Zoro wants a challenge. A real fight. So when he hears rumors of a swordsfighter so deadly that even bounty hunters avoid them, he doesn’t hesitate.

But when he finds you, it’s not what he expects.

You’re not some old master or a towering brute. You’re just… you. Sitting under a tree, sharpening your blade like you have all the time in the world.

Zoro stops a few feet away, arms crossed “You’re the one they’re all scared of?”

You glance up. Your eyes are sharp, your aura heavy, and for a second, it’s like the temperature drops.

Zoro grins. Oh, yeah. This is gonna be good.

You sigh, standing up “You here to fight me too?”

He smirks “Yeah. Unless you’re scared.”

Something flickers in your gaze, something dark and dangerous. Then you smile, slow and sharp “You’ll regret that.”

And then you move.

It happens fast. One second, you’re standing still. The next, your own blade is inches from his neck. Zoro barely blocks in time, his instincts the only thing keeping his head attached.

His blood rushes.

You don’t fight like normal swordsfighters. Your movements are smooth, calculated, but there’s something more. Something predatory.

Zoro grins “Not bad.”

You tilt your head “Not bad?”

And then you attack for real.

The clash of steel echoes through the trees. Zoro meets each strike, but he can feel the difference in the way you fight. You don’t waste movement. You don’t test him. You go straight for the kill.

Most people would find that terrifying.

Zoro finds it hot as hell.

His smirk widens “You don’t hold back, huh?”

You don’t answer, but there’s something in your eyes... curiosity, maybe. Like you’re testing him.

Good. He likes a challenge.

The fight goes on, fast and brutal, but in the end, neither of you go all out. It’s just a taste, a promise of something more. When you finally lower your blade, Zoro does the same.

You study him for a moment, then nod “You’re not bad either.”

Zoro huffs a laugh “High praise.”

You sheath your sword and turn away “I’m going back to town. You coming or what?”

He watches you go, smirking to himself.

Yeah. He’s definitely interested.

Years Later – Zoro should probably be concerned that his partner is one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met.

But he’s not.

In fact, it just makes him like you more.

Right now, you’re standing on the deck of the Sunny, staring down a group of bounty hunters dumb enough to challenge you. You haven’t even drawn your sword yet, but the way you look at them, sharp, unreadable, deadly, makes them hesitate.

Zoro leans against the railing, watching with amusement. He already knows how this will go.

One of the bounty hunters shifts nervously “Y-you gonna fight or what?”

You tilt your head, smiling faintly “You first.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then they charge. Big mistake.

Zoro watches as you dodge effortlessly, your blade a blur. The fight lasts seconds. By the time you sheath your sword, your opponents are on the ground, groaning in pain.

Silence. Then, Luffy cheers from the mast “That was awesome!”

Zoro smirks. Damn right it was.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow “You just gonna watch?”

He shrugs with a smirk “I was enjoying watching... and didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You walk over, stopping in front of him “You’re getting lazy.”

He scoffs “Oh yeah?”

You lean in, voice low “Yeah. Maybe I should fight you next.”

Zoro feels a familiar rush of excitement. His hand twitches toward his swords “You sure you can keep up?”

You smirk “Try me.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Lost in you, in the fight, in the thrill of having someone who meets him blow for blow.

You’re terrifying. And beautiful. And stronger than hell.

And he wouldn’t have you any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has seen all kinds of people. Beautiful women, powerful warriors, even actual monsters. But he’s never met anyone like you.

You meet in a quiet, dimly lit tavern. The crew stops for a meal, and Sanji, always on the lookout for interesting faces, notices you immediately.

You sit in the darkest corner, barely touching your drink. Your posture is relaxed, but there’s something wrong about it, like you could strike at any moment. The air around you feels heavy.

People glance at you and quickly look away. A group of bounty hunters at a nearby table seem tense, whispering among themselves.

Sanji watches as one of them inches toward the door. His hands are shaking.

That’s when he realizes, they’re afraid of you. A lot.

Sanji takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Interesting.

“Hey cook, what are you doing there, standing like an idiot.” Zoro says while they all sit at a table.

He’s about to turn back to his crew and reply to that marimo when the bartender makes a mistake and accidentally spills a drink on your sleeve.

The entire tavern stops breathing.

The bartender goes pale “I—I’m so sorry—”

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. Just slowly, carefully, you pick up a napkin and wipe your sleeve.

The silence stretches.

Sanji almost laughs at how scared everyone looks. What, do they think you’re gonna kill him for a drink spill?

The bartender swallows “Please, let me—”

“It’s fine” you say.

Your voice is quiet. Smooth. Too calm.

The bartender flinches anyway.

Sanji watches as you set the napkin down, push your drink away, and stand. You turn toward the door, and the crowd parts around you, everyone desperate to get out of your way.

Sanji, curious as hell, does the exact opposite.

He steps into your path, smiling “Leaving so soon?”

You stop and lift your gaze, as everyone there gasps.

Most people can’t meet Sanji’s eyes for long. His confidence, his sharpness, it makes them squirm. But you?

You stare right through him.

For the first time in a long time, Sanji feels his heart skip.

“…Who are you?” he asks.

You tilt your head slightly “Does it matter?”

That voice. Calm. Slow. Like a knife dragging against silk.

Sanji exhales smoke, smirking “I’d like to think so.”

You study him. And for some reason, he feels like he’s the one being hunted.

Then you smile, small, unreadable “See you around… cook.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

Sanji stands there, heart pounding as he thinks, oh, I’m in trouble.

Years Later – Sanji likes to think he doesn’t scare easy. He’s faced warlords, monsters, and the wrath of Nami’s fist.

But nothing terrifies him more than the way you just appear.

“Sanji.”

“GAH—!”

He jumps, nearly dropping the plate he’s holding. You’re suddenly right next to him, quiet as a shadow.

He clutches his chest “How do you do that?!”

You blink “Do what?”

“That!” He gestures at you wildly “I didn’t hear you at all! You just—just materialized!”

You tilt your head, amused “I walked in.”

“No, you haunted in.”

You hum in thought “Maybe you should pay more attention.”

Sanji groans, running a hand through his hair “You’re gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun,” you say, smirking slightly “I’d miss this.”

Sanji pauses. Then, with a slow, dramatic sigh, he pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen at first, but he’s patient. He knows you’re not used to softness.

When you relax, he kisses the top of your head “You’re cruel, y’know that?”

“Am I?”

“You make my heart stop every damn day.”

You smile against his chest “Good.”

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law prides himself on being composed. No matter the situation, he never loses control.

But then he meets you, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something close to unease.

It happens on a stormy night. The Heart Pirates dock at a quiet island, and Law sets off alone, drawn by rumors of a dangerous individual hiding in town. Some say you’re a ghost, others call you a demon.

He doesn’t believe in superstition. But he believes in threats.

So when he finds you in the ruins outside of town, standing perfectly still, eyes dark and unreadable, he watches you carefully.

“You’ve been causing trouble” he says, testing your reaction.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The wind howls through the ruins, but you remain as still as a statue.

Most people shift under his gaze. But you? You don’t even blink.

Law narrows his eyes “Who are you?”

Finally, you tilt your head “You already know, don’t you?”

Your voice is calm. Steady. Wrong.

It reminds him of the quiet before a scalpel slices skin.

Law tightens his grip on Kikoku “What’s your ability?”

You step forward, and the ground cracks beneath your foot. A shadow flickers at the edge of his vision, stretching unnaturally.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

Law doesn’t flinch. But something deep in his chest tightens.

Because he knows that feeling. The quiet hum of danger.

And yet, instead of fear, he feels something else. Intrigue. He's actually really attracted and he can't deny it.

It takes Law a while to notice. To really notice.

Because you’re fearless in battle. You fight like a force of nature, silent and merciless, the kind of presence that makes enemies pray they don’t cross your path. You don’t just win fights, you end them.

And yet, when you’re with the crew, you’re… different.

Law catches it in small moments.

The way you ruffle Bepo’s fur when you think no one’s looking. The way you always make sure Penguin and Shachi get extra food after a long day. The way you quietly fix things around the ship before anyone else notices they’re broken.

And he feels it most with him. Like when you sit beside him in the submarine’s dimly lit halls, comfortable in silence, just existing next to him without expectation. Or when you lean against him after a rough mission, exhaustion making you a little softer, a little less guarded.

Or, most obviously, when you think he’s asleep.

He catches you once, fingers brushing against his hair, barely there, like you’re memorizing the shape of him.

He should say something. Call you out. But he doesn’t.

Because for some reason, the realization that the person who terrifies even seasoned killers, is so unbelievably gentle with him?

It does something to him.

Something dangerous.

Years Later – Being in a relationship with you comes with some complications.

Like right now.

“Sit still, damn it” Law mutters, pressing bandages against your side.

You sigh “It’s just a scratch.”

Law glares at you “It’s a stab wound.”

You shrug “Same thing.”

He clenches his jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him “I swear, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

You smirk “And yet, I’m still your favorite.”

Law groans, but he doesn’t deny it.

Because despite everything, your terrifying strength, your eerie presence, your complete disregard for injuries, he can’t help but be drawn to you.

You are the only person who unsettles him. And somehow, you’ve also become the one person he trusts the most.

He huffs, finishing the bandages “Try not to die.”

You grin, leaning in “Worried about me, doctor?”

“Tch” He flicks your forehead “Shut up.”

And despite himself, he smiles.

The next time you get hurt, Law doesn’t even bother hiding his frustration.

“You’re reckless,” he mutters, tightening the bandage around your arm “One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You watch him, amused “Would you miss me?”

He scowls “Shut up”

You smirk “You would.”

Law clicks his tongue, looking away. He hates how smug you sound. Hates it even more because you’re right.

Instead of answering, he sighs, finishing the bandage. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he presses a hand against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re lucky I like you” he mutters.

For the first time, you freeze.

Then, slowly, you smile. And Law knows he’s in so much trouble.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

On a nameless island, a pit stop for pirates and criminals alike, Ace hears the rumors first, stories about a lone warrior, someone so deadly that even bounty hunters won’t go near them.

He thinks it sounds like fun.

So when he walks into a bar and sees everyone stiffening at the mere sight of someone sitting in the corner, he knows he’s found you.

You sit alone, idly spinning a knife between your fingers. Your expression is calm, unreadable, but the tension in the room is thick.

Ace grins, making his way over “Mind if I sit?”

You don’t look up “Do what you want.”

He plops down across from you, resting his chin in his hand “Y’know, people are real scared of you.”

Silence.

Ace watches you carefully. You don’t move like a normal fighter. There’s something off about the way you breathe, the way your presence lingers like a shadow stretching too far.

It should probably freak him out.

Instead, it makes his blood rush.

“So,” he continues, smirking “What’s your deal? You a bounty hunter? Are you here to fight?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your gaze is sharp, calculating, like you’re dissecting him without lifting a finger.

"I was just curious who everyone was talking about, turns out it was you."

“…You’re not scared of me?”

Ace grins wider “Should I be?”

The knife in your hand stops spinning and or a split second, the air feels heavy.

Then, slowly, you smirk “Maybe? You tell me. That's what you came here for, isn't it?”

Ace laughs. Loud, bright, genuine.

And just like that, he decides that he actually finds you very attractive, and isn't letting you go so easily.

Years Later – Ace still remembers the first time he saw you fight.

He has always been the kind of guy who laughs in the face of danger.

He doesn’t hesitate to charge into battle, doesn’t flinch at the thought of death. He’s faced warlords, marines, even entire armies.

But when he saw you fighting? For the first time in his life, he felt like prey, even if you weren't fighting him.

How you moved like a phantom, striking fast, silent, merciless. How your enemies barely had time to scream before they hit the ground.

Everyone calls you terrifying. A monster. A nightmare in a human form.

And yet, right now, curled up against him, grumbling sleepily as he wraps his arms around you Ace can’t help but laugh.

You groan “What? You going crazy now?”

“You,” he teases, resting his chin on top of your head “You’re supposed to be the scariest person alive, but look at you.”

You swat at his chest “Shut up.”

Ace just grins, pulling you closer “Nah. I like reminding you.”

"You're always so annoying..." you say turning to not let him see you blush.

Because despite the way you fight, despite the way you terrify your enemies, Ace has seen what no one else has.

How you tuck into his blankets when you're alone. How you always make sure the crew eats before you do. How you fuss over him when he pretends his injuries don’t hurt.

You act all tough, all sharp edges and killing intent.

But Ace knows the truth.

You’re soft. At least, with him.

And that makes him fall for you even more.

He turn your head so that he can see you and with a smirk he says "Don't worry you're hot both ways, I don't mind your soft side at all"

Then he kiss your forehead and you try to hide again, making him laugh softly.

── .✦ Shanks:

Shanks has seen a lot in his life.

He’s fought warlords, crossed paths with the most dangerous men on the seas, and stared death in the face with a grin.

But when he meets you, he realizes he’s never met someone who could scare him and turn him on at the same time.

It happens in a crowded port town, where pirates and mercenaries walk side by side, tension thick in the air. Shanks and his crew are enjoying a round of drinks when Benn nudges him, nodding toward a shadowed corner of the bar.

“Oi, I found out that one’s got quite the reputation.”

Shanks follows his gaze and sees you.

You sit alone, posture relaxed but too still. There’s something about you... something in the way the people around you refuse to meet your eyes, in the way the bartender serves you with hands that tremble, scared to even do his own job.

The crew isn’t easily shaken, but even they seem wary.

Shanks just grins. Because if there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s a challenge.

“Think I’ll go say hi.”

Benn sighs “Of course you will. Never doubted it.”

Shanks strolls over, drink in hand, and slides into the seat across from you without asking.

You don’t react. Just lift your gaze and meet his like you’re peering into his soul.

He whistles “You’ve got quite the stare.”

“You’ve got quite the nerve...” you reply smoothly.

Shanks chuckles “I get that a lot, actually.”

Silence stretches between you. He expects you to get annoyed, to tell him to leave, but surprisingly you don’t.

You just watch him. Measuring. Calculating. And damn if it doesn’t send a thrill up his spine.

Finally, you speak “You’re not scared of me.”

Shanks smirks, tipping his drink toward you “Should I be?”

Your eyes glint with something sharp. Dangerous. Interested.

“Maybe not, but who knows.”

Shanks leans forward, grinning “I like my odds.”

"I can see it..."

Years Later - “You’re doing it again” Benn mutters.

Shanks blinks “Doing what?”

Benn nods toward you. You’re across the deck, casually sharpening a blade, the crew giving you a very wide berth.

“You’re staring like a love-struck idiot” Benn sighs.

Shanks laughs “Can you blame me?”

Because despite years of being with you, despite knowing exactly how terrifying you can be, Shanks still finds himself completely captivated whenever you're fighting or not.

He’s seen you end fights with a single strike, watched entire battlefields fall silent at your presence. You are ruthless when necessary, the kind of person who doesn’t waste time with threats, just action.

And yet when you think no one’s watching, he sees the little things.

How you make sure the younger crew members eat first. How you adjust someone’s coat when they’re not paying attention. How, late at night, when exhaustion weighs heavy, you let yourself lean into him.

And Shanks?

He eats it up.

Because out of everyone in the world, you choose to be soft only with him.

Later that night, as you both sit on the deck watching the waves, Shanks stretches, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes but don’t push him away.

He grins “Y’know, for someone so scary, you’re kinda sweet.”

You turn, raising a brow “Wanna say that again?”

Shanks chuckles “Not if I value my life, and I do.”

You smirk, leaning against him just a little.

And that small, rare gesture is worth more to him than any treasure. He's totally in your hands, can you believe it? Because even he something looks at himself and shake his own head at the thought, but at the end who cares? He's with the most attractive person out there.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo isn’t the type to scare easily.

He has fought world nobles, infiltrated enemy territory, and stared death in the face more times than he can count. Fear isn’t something he entertains, it’s something he’s learned to push aside, to control.

But when he meets you?

For the first time in a long while, he actually hesitates.

It happens in a revolution-friendly town, the kind of place where people whisper about rebellion but fear retaliation too much to act. Sabo’s here on business, but what he doesn’t expect is to hear a name spoken in hushed, almost fearful tones.

A name that isn’t a government official or a bounty hunter, but yours.

“Who are they?” he asks a local, intrigued.

The man pales “Someone you don’t want to cross.”

Sabo just smirks “Is that so?”

He should probably be cautious. Should probably listen to the fear in the man’s voice.

But instead, he just wants to meet you more.

You’re exactly as the rumors say. You're cold, calculating and dangerous.

When Sabo finds you, you don’t attack him. You just watch him. Still. Silent. Your presence alone feels heavy, like the weight of an unseen blade resting against his throat, daring him to make a wrong move.

Most people would crack under it.

Sabo just grins “Heard a lot about you.”

You don’t react “Likewise.”

He hums, studying you. Most would be unnerved by your unwavering stare, the cold calculation in your eyes. But Sabo finds it fascinating. Finds you fascinating.

He hums, studying you “And? What’s your verdict?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, assessing him like he’s prey “Too early to tell. I don't judge based on rumors.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, a quiet tension settling between you. Sabo knows he should be cautious, he knows he’s facing someone whose strength is being feared even among revolutionaries.

But all he can think is — Damn. They’re kinda hot.

Years Later – It’s funny.

Everyone fears you. The Revolutionary Army sees you as a force of nature, one of their strongest, deadliest members. You’re efficient in battle, merciless when necessary. People whisper about you in the same breath as high-ranking officers, speaking of you like a phantom, something to be respected, but never approached.

But Sabo sees more than just the deadly aura that makes people tread lightly.

He sees the way your eyes gleam with amusement when a mission goes exactly as planned. He sees the way you tilt your head in interest, studying your enemies as if they’re puzzles to be solved before being discarded. He sees the way you move, every motion precise, effortless, a dance with death that you never lose.

And he loves it.

Loves the sharp edges, the lethal grace, the way you make his heart race, not with fear, but with something far more intoxicating.

And yet, he also sees the moments no one else does.

You, sitting beside him late at night, absentmindedly tracing circles against his palm.

You, making sure Koala doesn’t overwork herself, leaving her favorite snacks on her desk without a word.

You, rolling your eyes but still letting Sabo pull you into a hug after a long mission, even though your reputation could probably shatter just from being seen indulging him.

“You know,” he teases one night, tilting his head, “for someone so scary, you’re kind of a softie.”

You give him a flat look “Take that back.”

Sabo laughs, eyes gleaming with challenge “Nope. Never gonna happen.”

You grumble something under your breath but don’t pull away, and he counts that as a win.

Because out of everyone in the world, he knows you’re only ever like this with him.

And as much as he adores every part of you, it’s that razor-sharp danger in your eyes, that power in your every movement, that makes his blood sing.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

And damn, does he love you for it.

── .✦ Crocodile:

Crocodile has met aaaall kinds of people.

Cowards who grovel at his feet. Fools who think they can challenge him. Liars who smile while plotting his downfall.

But you? You don’t fit into any category.

Because when he first meets you, standing over the broken bodies of bounty hunters, face calm, eyes cold, he doesn’t see fear. He doesn’t see arrogance.

He sees power.

And for the first time in a long while, he’s interested.

When in Rainbase, long after the fall of Baroque Works, Crocodile has been rebuilding, regaining influence, cutting down anyone foolish enough to think he’s lost his edge.

And then you show up.

A ghost in the desert, they call you. A storm without warning. The kind of person who doesn’t make threats, just leaves bodies in their wake.

Crocodile hears the whispers. He almost ignores them.

Until one of his men ends up dead.

Then it's when he decides it’s time to meet you himself.

He finds you in a back alley, wiping blood from your blade.

You don’t look surprised to see him.

“You’ve been causing many problems” he says, exhaling smoke.

You tilt your head, unconcerned “That depends on who you ask.”

Crocodile’s lips curl into something amused. He’s used to people trembling in his presence. But you? You just stand there, watching him with the same detached intensity one might give a corpse.

It should irritate him.

Instead, it makes his blood thrill.

“I don’t like loose ends,” he says “So tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?”

For the first time, you smile.

Not kind. Not warm.

Just sharp. Cold. Dangerous.

“You could try, I'm happy if you try.”

The air shifts.

Crocodile’s grip on his cigar tightens. His instincts, honed from years of surviving the worst of the worst, tell him that fighting you would not be easy.

And he likes that.

Years Later – Most people don’t look him in the eye.

Most people don’t speak without permission, don’t challenge his decisions, don’t dare to stand too close.

You do all of that.

And Crocodile lets you.

Because unlike the weaklings who grovel before him, you don’t need protection. You don’t need his power to survive.

You’re strong. Cold. Unshaken by blood or war.

And that makes you the only person truly worth his time.

One night, you’re both on the balcony of his hideout, looking down at the city below.

Crocodile exhales smoke, glancing at you “Most people would rather die than be in my company.”

You don’t even blink “Most people are weak.”

He chuckles, low and dark “That so?”

You finally meet his gaze, and in your eyes, he sees something sharp. Something dangerous.

Something that matches him.

He smirks.

Because finally, after years of dealing with fools, liars, and cowards, he’s found someone who is exactly his kind of monster.

[beomiracles]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ And you don’t know why you took a step forward, why you let your hands brush against his, why you didn’t stop when you saw the bewilderment on his face. You don’t know why you leaned in closer, when you should be pulling back. — And you don’t know why you couldn’t look away, why you couldn’t tear your gaze from the flames dancing across his eyes. 

You don’t know why you kissed him. ⸝⸝

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 25.5k ་༘࿐

𝓹airing bully!beomgyu x fed-up!reader (f) 𝔀arning friends to enemies to lovers, bullying, implied violence, violence, beomgyu's a dick, reader's also mean at times, college au, kissing, fingering, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex + pullout, angsty confessions, hmm um um what else, I have no clue..

#serene adds ✎... HAPPY BEOMGYU DAY !! (because it's still the 13th here) ⎯ and oh my god have you guys been waiting for this fic... how long has it been, 6/7 months? maybe even more... I have no words. I feel like this fic is a little all over the place, you might notice the inner monologue changing and so on, but that's because I've been writing it over 6 months roughly, my view on the story has changed with each month... I hope it'll still be worth your while >.< happy gyu day, my love <33 - rain says I need to mention her

This story is a sequel to, The Redemption of Choi Yeonjun ⎯ It's advised that you read said fic beforehand !

People change for the stupidest of reasons. At least Beomgyu thinks so. He’s been told that his view of the world is narrow, that change is something good, something that everyone goes through. That change is important. What a load of bullshit. Look what change had done to his best friend. — Ever since Yeonjun had gotten together with that stupid nerd he’d changed. Changed for the worse. And it seemed as if Beomgyu was the only one who could see it. 

He glares at his classmates, but his once sharp gaze seems to have lost its touch. They whisper, talk, murmur, gossip, they speculate about him. Because everyone knew that something had happened between The Choi’s, that something was no longer the same. — But why him? Beomgyu wasn’t the one who’d changed, they changed, not him. Yeonjun was the one who…He was the one who became infatuated with that good for nothing nerd, and Soobin he…he just accepted it? 

Beomgyu almost snorts at the thought. Fine. If they wanted to give everything up just like that, they could, why should he care? But the lingering glances he receives as he pushes through the crowded hallways are near impossible to shake off. So what if he was walking alone? He didn’t need his friends, they weren’t his friends anymore, they were just side pieces in a much bigger pictur– 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going freak!” He seethes as a small boy crashes into his chest, a freshman probably. Beomgyu’s eyes narrow as he seizes the kid. The younger male swallows as he scrambles to gather his belongings, clearing his throat awkwardly as he pushes his glasses further up on his nose. — “I-I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going and I..” 

What a pathetic being. Beomgyu grimaces at his petty apology, “stay out of my way next time, alright? You weak piece of–” 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” 

The voice is familiar as it pierces through the crowded hallway and suddenly the previous buzz of students surrounding him diminishes as Beomgyu’s gaze flickers past the small boy in front of him. — You. 

His teeth grind together at the sight of your cocky figure, that smug grin you always wore, as if you were better than everyone else, as if you were better than him. What a joke. Ever since him and his friends broke apart, you seemed to have been actively plotting against him, singling him out now that he was alone. — Beomgyu would die before admitting that your schemes ever proved successful. Because if there was one thing he hated, it was people who meddled in his business. And you seemed to know nothing else. 

The young freshman scurries off before Beomgyu has the chance to grab him and he bites back a frustrated groan. Instead his attention shifts to your approaching frame. With the small squeak of your sneakers against the floor, you stop inches from him, your eyes near level with his. — Blood rushes within his body like never before, anger soaring through him at the mere sight of your pestering face. 

“Pick on someone my own size? And that would be what, you?” He scoffs, eyeing you with disdain. The grin on your lips only widened further and he refused another grimace. Then it clicks, and Beomgyu has to hold himself back as he feels his jaw twitch. — “You.” The acknowledgement is a short huff of air, it hits your face and you squint as your eyes pierces his. “You’re the one who’s been running their mouth about me all week.” 

Suppose you had been mentioning his name a little here and there. A few comments, nothing crazy, nothing that wasn’t true. It wasn’t exactly unwarranted either. Choi Beomgyu was a nuisance. And without his friends to protect him, you were finally able to sharpen the knife that had been so diligently resting behind your back for three years. — You had longed for an opportunity to get back at him for all the shit he caused you through freshman and junior year; and finally, the universe presented you with one. 

You glance over at him, it would merely take a small raise of your heel for your eyes to become leveled perfectly with his. Without that tall friend of his, looming behind his back, or Yeonjun’s authoritative status, Choi Beomgyu was really nothing. — That didn’t change the fact that you absolutely loathed him. And you would be sure to have him know. 

“Why, has something interesting caught your ears?” You drawl, feeling the grin on your lips threatening to bloom into a smirk. Beomgyu’s face morphs into a scowl, undoubtedly familiar with the rumors of him you’d conducted during the past weeks. — “You must think you’re so smart, sitting on your ass all day and spewing nonsense”, he grits as he takes a charging step forward, chest colliding with yours and you almost stumble backward. 

It takes some effort but you manage to remain fairly unfazed as you eye him with indifference. It only serves to make him angrier. Beomgyu was like an open book, a book in which you only had to read the paragraph on the very back to understand exactly how it would end. He was predictable, and without his friends, he was an easy target for someone who’d been studying him for so long. 

“I do”, you chirp, hands clasping behind your back as you sway on the spot. Beomgyu scoffs, giving a small roll of his eyes before his firing gaze centers on you again. “Just stay out of my way.” — His attention drops to the uniform you wore, the one school handed out at the beginning of each year, much different from the designer one he had tailored each semester. It was subtle, but different, and Beomgyu’s grin widened as his eyes raked across your worn out shoes and old bag. “Think you’ve got other things to worry ‘bout.” 

Without another word, he continues down the hallway, though not before giving your shoulder a harsh shove. — Your lip twitches into an uncomfortable grimace and with a small huff you readjust your backpack. Fucking asshole. Your tongue prods against your teeth, tsking slightly as you watch him disappear. 

⸝⸝ 

“Oh come on, do you really think it’s that bad of an idea?” You whine as your cheek rests against your forearm, eyes trained on the words being written out on the paper before you. — “I do”, Taehyun states without lifting his pencil from the sheet, brows slightly furrowed as he focuses on his work. 

With a small huff you peer up at him, the glasses on the bridge of his nose are crooked and you resist the urge to snatch them from his face. “And what does Mr. Class President presume I should do then?” You sarcastically wonder; though the question makes him raise a disbelieving brow as he glances toward you. “I suggest you stay out of trouble.” — Just as you open your mouth in objection, does he cut you off; “and not spread rumors about him.” 

Your expression contorts into one of disagreement but you remain silent. In a way, you suppose you should feel thankful for him. Taehyun was your only friend, if friends were even what one could call you. — The mutual acquaintanceship consisted of you sharing the latest events of your quite dull life, recapping the drama you’d picked up on your way to the school cafeteria, and most importantly; Choi Beomgyu. 

Though he was originally opposed to the friendship, Taehyun had begrudgingly come to accept your persistent presence as you lingered by his desk between classes. And by your senior year, he knew everything that was to know about Beomgyu and why you so loathed him. — “Shouldn’t you let go of him? We’re about to graduate next year”, he states, his voice monotone as always but you could clearly decipher a hint of pleading as he urged for you to stop fawning over the guy. 

“Let go?” You scoff, sitting up a bit straighter as you eye him with a frown, “I do not need to ‘let go’, I need revenge, besides, Christmas break is coming up, I need to act fast.” — Seemingly unimpressed by your enthusiasm, Taehyun merely shakes his head as his focus returns to the piece of paper in front of him, scribbling down a few lines before he sighs; “and how exactly do you plan on doing that?” 

The way your face lit up was unmistakable and you could practically see him regret his words as you shuffled closer. “Well, I happen to have a plan–” But before you can finish, the classroom door swings open and your professor enters. With a small scowl, you lean back in your chair as Taehyun immediately disregards you, turning his full attention to the lecture about to take place. Jeez, what a try-hard.

History was far from your favorite, but the mention of a group project sparked your interest. Your professor was old, a tall and lanky man, and as he announced the presentation you were to hold regarding a historic event, the class groaned. — Immediately turning to Taehyun with hopeful eyes, you’re met with a small glare before he sighs and nods, announcing that the two of you could partner up. With delight you open your mouth to thank him when your history teacher’s raspy voice suddenly interrupts you. 

“Though seeing as your parallel class is taking the very same course, I thought it’d be a good idea to merge the two of you. – It’ll save me some time when grading as well”, he huffs as a small grin tugs at his wrinkled lips. — It doesn’t take long for the room to be drowned in a chaotic murmur. Your brows pull together in a confused frown and you twist in your seat, “what’s that supposed to mean?” — Taehyun merely shrugs as his eyes flicker between you and your professor by the board, and for once he seemed equally lost. 

A quiet cough makes your gaze snap back to your old teacher as he rummages through his bag for a small piece of paper. “Now I know you aren’t too acquainted with the other class, so I’ve taken the liberty of pre-arranging partners for you.” His statement is met with another wave of complaints and displeased groans as students leaned back in their chairs and shook their heads. 

“Wait, does this mean we won’t get to work together?” You wonder to which Taehyun gives a small nod, “most likely.” — You felt your heart drop at least ten floors as you watched your old teacher fasten the small piece of paper to the board. The sound of chairs scraping against the hard floor fills the classroom as everyone scurries toward the front, eager to see who they’d been partnered up with. 

Without thinking you, too, rise from your desk as you pull Taehyun by his arm, yanking him toward the board. It takes a few shoves to get through the crowd that had formed, but soon enough, you’re standing in front of the list. — Your eyes fervently scan the names, going over the rows at least twice before you find yours. It was as if all air had been sucked from your lungs, your throat uncomfortably dry as you eye the jagged scribbles. Next to your own name was ‘Choi Beomgyu’. 

Behind you, Taehyun lets out a short huff, his lips pulling into a menacing smirk as he eyes your expression. — “Was this also part of your ‘plan’?” 

⸝⸝

“I’m doomed!” You exclaim, hands feverishly tugging at your hair as you cling onto Taehyun’s shoulder. Met with a shrug from your friend who trudges forward, you pout, jutting your chin out as you whine in his ear. “What do I do?” — Taehyun sighs, pushing his glasses further up on his nose as his eyes scan the nearly empty hallway. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t have gotten on his bad side”, he scolds and you huff. 

“Come on now”, you mutter as you release your grip on him, “a rumor here and there has never hurt anyone.” — “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be taking my side?” You finish with a small frown, the crease on your forehead only deepening when he doesn’t say anything. “You told everyone that he threw up in one of the school bathrooms”, he then states and you snort, a small grin seeping onto your face. “So? He might’ve.” 

Taehyun shakes his head, “my point is, you’re already off to a bad start.” — His statement makes you slow down, the shift in your pace causing him to nearly stop as Taehyun turns to you with a confused look. “You’re talking as if I’m the one who should watch myself. – Tae, he’s an asshole, if anything, he should feel ashamed.” 

Your friend bites his lip as his gaze flits between the floor to the books in his hands, and you wondered if you had said something wrong. Choi Beomgyu had earned himself quite the infamous reputation at your college along with the other Choi’s, everyone knew that they were bad news, so why did no one speak against it? — Why did Taehyun cower at the name? 

You couldn’t possibly understand their unreasonable fear. 

But you don’t have to ponder for long, because mere moments later, an all too familiar voice calls out. — “Hey, class president!” Beomgyu’s nasty drawl echoes off the desolate walls as he nears you. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his expensive uniform, and he walks with an allude of confidence. 

Upon hearing his name called, Taehyun freezes beside you as he hesitantly turns to face the source of the voice. Stopping mere inches from your friend, Beomgyu leans forward with a smug smirk and Taehyun hastily blinks under his glasses. You watch their small exchange with a puzzled expression. — “You got my essay?” Beomgyu asks as he quirks a brow in the shorter male's direction. His essay? 

Taehyun nods as he reaches for the bag swung over his shoulder, undoing the zipper as he rummages through its contents. Beomgyu watches him with a look of nonchalance, seemingly unaware of your presence as he focuses on your friend before him. — “Here”, Taehyun murmurs as he hands him at least four pages worth of paper, neatly stapled together. 

Beomgyu scans through it leisurely before giving Taehyun’s shoulder a harsh pat, making the shorter wince. “What’s the meaning of this?” You spit, unable to help yourself as you witnessed the person you so loathed go after your only friend like that. Finally, he seems to acknowledge you as Beomgyu’s eyes snap in your direction, his hand falling from Taehyun’s shoulder as his face contorts into a small scowl. 

Despite the lack of his friends, he still made do with the reputation he had left. Your rumors seemed to have made an insignificant dent in the power he held. But…Taehyun? Of all people, he wouldn’t possibly… Your gaze flits down to the essay in Beomgyu’s hand and over to your friend who avoided your gaze as he urged for you to come with him without causing a bigger scene. 

“Why don’t you stay out of my business.” Beomgyu sneers as he eyes you with distaste. “Business? You call this business?” You frown as you shrug Taehyun’s hands from your arm, stepping between your friend and the menace before him. — Your nose could practically graze his as you let out a short breath of air, meeting his furious gaze with one of your own. 

“Bullying people into doing your work? How do you expect to make it outside of college?” The comment makes his already angered expression flare up and you catch his hands curling into fists by his sides. — “Worry ‘bout yourself won’t you?” he scoffs, ready to push past you.. until your next words catch him off guard. 

“Well that’s going to be difficult, seeing as we’re partners now.” 

He stops, dark eyes snapping back to yours within milliseconds and you feel Taehyun’s hand urgently tug at your arm as he silently pleads for you to back down. — “What?” The word comes out as a mere hiss and you can’t help but feel a triumphant grin pull at the corner of your lips. Ah, so he didn’t know yet. 

“Haven’t you heard?” — You let your head fall to the side, an amused expression flashing across your features as you take in his puzzled and angered state, so predictable. “Mr. Brown’s class, the history project, we’re partners, you and me.” The dread that had previously consumed you seemed minimal when you with satisfaction watched Beomgyu’s face practically explode in a multitude of enraged questions; none of which you were planning on answering. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He spits, a look of disbelief presenting itself across his otherwise arrogant face. You shrug, letting Taehyun pull you back as you send him a small wave, “that we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other I suppose.” — Before you can get another word out, your friend has pulled you down the hall in a most hurried manner; scurrying to get away from Beomgyu's piercing gaze as he leans against the wall with a small huff, eyeing you with a mixture of fury and intrigue. 

“What the hell was that?” Taehyun grumbles as he drags you along, walking with determined strides. You merely roll your eyes as you let yourself be swayed down the long corridors. — “I should be asking you that”, you counter, still not over the fact that he had written an entire essay for the scumbag. 

Not late to catch on, Taehyun bites the inside of his cheek as he fiddles with the glasses on his nose. “Nothing you should worry about”, he mutters, intent on disregarding any further questions. “Nothing I should worry about? What are you, his slave?” — “Don’t say it like that”, he groans and you frown, stopping completely as you break yourself free from his grasp. 

With an exasperated sigh, Taehyun turns to you as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Listen, it was a one time thing and..” — “That’s how it always starts”, you huff, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “Soon he’ll be asking you to write his exams for him as well”, you exclaim, throwing an accusing finger down the hall. 

But Taehyun only shakes his head as he waves his hands in front of him in denial. “I’m just helping him out..!” — Your gaze narrows down on your friend, helping him out? Sure Taehyun was many things, friendly? – was not one of them. And to think that he was willingly helping one of the Choi’s with something so trivial… 

“Does he have something on you?” You ask, watching as Taehyun’s eyes widened, “is that why you’re slaving away like this?” — “No I..” He begins but quickly seals his lips in a tight grimace, “you don’t understand.” Like hell you didn’t. Why on earth would anyone stoop to such a level. For over two years you had watched as the Choi’s ruled your school, and to say that you were sick of it would be an understatement. 

Perhaps your hatred for the small trio was rooted deeper than your peers. Especially your hatred for Choi Beomgyu. — Because you hadn’t always hated him, in fact, at one point, you think you might’ve even liked him. 

⸝⸝ 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” 

The voice is warm, kind and friendly. It makes you blink as you tear your gaze from the small pile of nail polish that had accumulated on your desk, your nervous habit of picking at the paint evident. — First day of freshman year, first day of college, that had been the day. 

With a small nod, you motion toward the chair next to your own. He takes the seat, grinning from ear to ear as he studies you with curiosity. “Nervous?” He wonders as he tilts his head to the side. “Yeah..” Your quiet whisper is near inaudible but he still seems to pick up on it as his lips stretch further. “Me too”, he says and you can’t help but frown, he didn’t look nervous in the slightest as he comfortably leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the collar of his shirt leisurely. 

He was way out of your league. — Yet he reaches a hand out, eyes darting from yours and down to your own intertwined fingers. His palm is soft and warm against yours, his grip unwavering as he shakes your hand. “I’m Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu”, he smiles, it’s a kind smile, and your heart flutters at the sight. 

Choi Beomgyu. What a pretty name. 

You spend your first week with him, it was nice to have someone you could call a friend. Someone who made you feel less alone, and Beomgyu did, the two of you were friends, you think. 

You ate lunch together… 

“Tofu’s the best when grilled”, Beomgyu hums as he shoves a forkful in his mouth, barely swallowing as he loads yet another one. You giggled as your gaze returned to your own plate, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. The cafeteria was both crowded and loud, you had dreaded the days you would spend alone in here. 

But as Beomgyu found a nice and secluded table for the two of you, even pulling your chair out with an over exaggerated bow to which you rolled your eyes, you felt hopeful. — Perhaps college wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

And you studied after school…

“If 9 is the value of ‘x’ then all we have to do is replace the variables with such”, you say as you scribble across his notebook. Beomgyu’s frown was nearly dented into his forehead, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. “But how does nine become ‘x’? Isn’t nine a number and ‘x’ a letter?”He wonders to which you shake your head. 

“Not in this case”, you state before drawing a small ‘x = 9’. Scratching the back of his neck dumbfoundedly, Beomgyu gives a deflated sigh as he slumps against his chair. — “I’m never graduating.” 

You even saw one another outside of school…though only once.. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here..” You quietly mumble, eyes flitting across the expensive looking furniture. The restaurant was small but reeked of wealth, the meals here were surely out of your budget but Beomgyu had insisted on you joining him one friday evening. — “What?” He exclaims in bewilderment, “Are you kidding? This is the best place in town!” 

True to his word, he paid for your meal, not hearing you out on trying to pay him back in the near future. — “Spending time with you is more than enough”, he says as a matter-of-factly, arm wrapping around your shoulders as you walk down the empty streets. 

Not to forget that one time he’d asked for your number… 

“I mean it’s just… I think you’re cool and..” He clears his throat, sending you a sheepish smile before continuing. “Just y’know, for staying in touch and things..” — The timidness of his request made your heart flutter as a grin spread across your lips. 

“Of course I’ll give you my number, silly!” 

The relief immediately flooding his face was palpable as he sighs, eagerly fishing his phone up for you to put the digits in. He made sure to add a pink heart next to your name, promising to be at your every beck and call should you ever need him. 

It was friendship, right? 

Doing stuff together, noticing things about each other, like the cute little mole on his left cheek, accentuating his already endearing grin. Or his habit of pushing his hair from his face with the help of his pinky, carefully touching up the dark strands, almost absentmindedly. 

You wondered if Beomgyu noticed things about you too. Did he see things you didn’t, and did he like them? Did he like you? Perhaps you would’ve gotten answers to all of those questions, had things turned out differently. 

It was inevitable, of course, you were all enrolled in the same class after all, they were bound to bump into one another soon enough. But things changed when Beomgyu met Choi Yeonjun, changed for the worse. And it didn’t take long for him to become someone completely different, someone unrecognizable. 

Slowly he stopped showing up to your study sessions. More often he’d make excuses to not walk you to class. You began eating lunch alone, and before you knew it, Beomgyu was no longer part of your life. — Except he was, just as someone else. Someone cruel, someone who didn't care about what others felt, someone who only lived to make others suffer. 

His new friends were no different, and together they earned themselves an infamous reputation as the school’s bullies. It hurt. Seeing them act so nonchalantly when toying with others, with people who’d done nothing to upset them. — And as you catch him in the hallway one day, a much smaller student hoisted up by the collar of his shirt, Beomgyu’s grip unwavering as he spits insults in the younger’s face. 

It was then you grew to loathe Choi Beomgyu. 

��⸝ 

Your finger hovers over the block button as you lay in bed that night. Back then, just as you applied to switch classes, as you tried to get as far away from him as possible, you had rid yourself of his number too. Part of you thinks you should’ve deleted the old chats along with blocking him, but something held you back. It felt…oddly comforting, re-reading the old messages between the two of you, a glimmer of what you’d once had, of what he’d once been. How pathetic. 

With a small groan you let your phone fall down onto the mattress next to you, shifting to lay on your side as you prepare to let sleep overtake you. He would have to bring it up, because there was no way in hell that you were unblocking and texting first. — “Fucking piece of shit”, you tiredly murmur, letting yourself fall into a very uncomfortable slumber, plagued by the thoughts of your upcoming weeks. 

Beomgyu did not text you first. In fact he didn’t text you at all. The whole weekend goes by, and not a single word. Taehyun on the other hand, had been paired up with some stuck up bitch, he’d told you her name, something on M…M, M, M… Ah yes, Mimi. She’d dated one of the Choi’s, until he left her for that shy nerd, served her right. — But even the two of them had already gotten together to get working on their presentation. 

You had until Christmas break, but that was a mere three weeks away, and at this rate, you’d be lucky to get done by graduation. — Finally, your gloomy reality sets in, and you heave a loud sigh as you drag yourself down the hallway. History classes had become optional, and without your partner, there was little to be done. You spend the hour roaming the third and second floor, sneakers squeaking against the uneven tiles. 

Upon passing that one peculiar little red door, your ears are met with the muffled sounds of what could only be someone getting their guts absolutely plowed. Your nose wrinkles in disgust, ‘room 291’, you could only imagine how many girls had lost their virginity in there. — Shaking your head, your gaze returns forward, but instead of continuing your eternal journey down the long corridors, you freeze. 

The object of your affection was standing right there. You thought he’d skipped. Anything to avoid the project at hand you’d supposed. But Beomgyu’s eyes meet yours, and though he’s all the way down the hall, you still catch the disgust lingering in them. His lip twitches, jaw clenching for a split second, and then he’s turned on his heel, marching down the hallway faster than you could blink. 

You scramble to catch up, upping your pace to a light jog as you call for him. “Hey asshole!” But he isn’t listening, nor is he stopping. In fact…Was he walking even faster? What a dick. “Hey wait up!” Fuck, was he really going to make you chase after him? How immature. — Thankfully having made the girl’s football team in seventh grade seemed to have paid off, and you managed to reach him soon enough. 

Fingers clasping around his forearm, you yank him backward, making him spin around on the spot as he collides with you. The crash makes you wince and you retreat, blinking to regain focus before turning your attention to him. Beomgyu was already watching you, his lips curled into a nasty scowl as his brows furrowed. “What?” He spits, his voice barely above a hiss.

Suddenly, you realize just how close the two of you were standing, chests nearly grazing one another, and the scent of his cologne invades your senses; it was the same one he’d worn for all of college, at least that hadn’t changed. — You clear your throat, quickly scanning the empty hallway before you turn to him, plastering on the sternest of expression you could muster. “The project”, you say, subtly straightening your back. Beomgyu raises a questioning brow as his hands dig into the pockets of his uniform.

You frown, and only when you add the word “history” does he seem to catch on. “Oh yeah, that one”, his features relax, lips pulling into a small grin, “how’s it coming along?” Your mouth opens and closes again. “Excuse me?” You huff, the anger in your words palpable. Still running with his act of obliviousness, Beomgyu shrugs, it was clear that he enjoyed the easy rise he was getting out of you. How you would practically explode over his mere existence. You think he liked making you like that, perhaps it made him feel in control. 

Well he wasn’t. Not anymore. 

“It’s a group project”, you state, folding your arms across your chest, “there’s no way I’m doing this alone.” — Beomgyu looks almost as if he's considering your words, his lips pursed and head tilted to the side. “So ask your little friend to tag along, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to”, he jeers, flashing you a nasty smirk. Was he talking about Taehyun? Your Taehyun. The same Taehyun that he’d made write his essay. 

Your feet move on their own as you take a quick step forward, jabbing an accusing finger to his chest and Beomgyu’s face contorts into a small scowl at the action. “You’re hilarious if you honestly think I’d let you off the hook this easy, that I’d just let you sit back and take credit for my hard work.” You move to shove him backward but his hand is already clasped around your wrist, restraining any movement. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me”, he spits, yanking you from his chest with a force that was near bruising. — “Why? Scared that I’ll dirty your expensive attire with my grimy hands?” You retort as you gesture toward his clothes. Beomgyu sneers as he shakes his head, his long hair falling in front of his face before he pushes it back again. “You’ve already tarnished my reputation with that dirty mouth of yours”, he barks, eyes flickering with malice, “got nothin’ better to do than spreading shit about me, do you?” 

He shifts on the spot, his gaze wandering down the hall briefly, as if checking for witnesses before his attention returns to you. “I’m not stupid, I know it’s you, and I know you’re behind this whole group project too.” — Woah there, way to get ahead of himself. You scoff, arms falling to your sides as you regard him with disbelief. “You think I set this up on purpose? As if I’d want to be anywhere near you-”

 “Well you sure act like it”, he cuts you off, gesturing toward the two of you and the empty hallway you were currently occupying. “Chasing after me like this, trying to get me alone, and the rumors”, his face flashes with something akin to contempt, a spark of his usually crude and mean demeanor simmering through his facade of hate. “I mean come on, it’s obvious.” 

Your jaw could practically sweep the floor at this rate and you almost wanted to laugh at the near comical situation. “Whatever it is you’re implying, I can assure you, you’re way off”, you huff, quick to defend yourself. His fingers are still locked around your wrist, an almost tingling sensation spreading through your arm. Upon trying to tug yourself free from his grasp, Beomgyu’s hand only tightens around yours, dark eyes boring into your own as he scoffs: “Cut the crap. You’ve been chasing after me for years.” 

The blunt accusation makes you pause, and for a moment every single comprehensive thought completely evaporates from your head. Chasing after him? No. You’d been trying to make his life a living hell, so what if that included knowing his entire schedule and who he hung out with? It was all part of a much bigger picture, a picture his tiny brain failed to comprehend. — But then again, Beomgyu had always had an ego made out of steel. It wouldn’t be the first time he would twist and turn a situation entirely in his favor. 

“What’s it that loser friend of yours said? To let me go?” He chuckles, warm breath hitting your already flaring face. How did he know about that? Just how much had Taehyun told him when doing his essay? — Your usually sharp mind can’t seem to conjure a single witty remark, and you’re left biting the inside of your cheek as you send him a bitter glare. 

His hand lets go of your wrist, and Beomgyu takes a step back. “Perhaps you should listen to Mr. Class Pres, it might do you good.” With a final cruel smirk, he shoves past you, shoulder slamming against yours as he ventures down the hallway with his hands leisurely stuffed into his pockets. 

You want to scream, throw something at him, possibly advocate for murder, but you do nothing, nothing but watch his retreating figure as he disappears down the corridor. Fucking asshole. 

⸝⸝

That night left you in a flammable state. Anger gnawed at your very being as you paced the small space of your dormitory. Who was he to speak to you like that? And how would you ever make this project work? Talking to him was useless, a complete and utter waste of time. — Then it hits you. Like a small lightbulb being turned on over your head. Talking to him was pointless, you knew that. But what if you just didn’t speak? 

The cafeteria is as packed as it could get that following Tuesday, and you have to paddle through the large ocean of students, all eager to find an empty seat. You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less for today’s plain lunch menu, and instead of searching a clear table, your eyes scan for the most crowded one. 

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. Surrounded by a heap of what you could only assume to be acquaintances, Beomgyu sits perched on a table in the center of the room. Conversation flows around him but his gaze is glued to his phone in his hand, mindlessly swiping across the screen in a bored manner. You wondered if he even knew the names of those surrounding him. You guessed not. Beomgyu had a.. unique way of making friends, if friends were even what they were. They looked more like tokens, perhaps he used them to appear less alone. 

His attention suddenly shifts from the device in his hands and you follow its direction, eventually landing on a table not far from his. — Occupied sparsely by a mere three students, three students whom you easily recognized. Choi Yeonjun leans forward, his arm wrapped around a girl you recognized as his girlfriend. He looks to be in deep conversation with the third of their small party, Choi Soobin. 

They used to be friends, Beomgyu and them. You remember it clearly. The harsh words, the glares, the distaste on their faces whenever they passed you by in the hallway. But something had obviously happened, a small rift in an otherwise unbreakable circle. And you’re not late to pick up on the way Beomgyu continues to glance their way, even when surrounded by at least a dozen others. You recognize the look in his eyes, the longing. It was the same way you’d been looking at him for the past two years. 

Perhaps he had a weakness after all. 

Your fist slams against the firm surface of his table, making everyone around you snap their heads in your direction. Their eyes boring into you suddenly made you waver, but you shake it off, turning your attention to your target, now only inches from yourself. — Beomgyu glances up from his phone, brows immediately furrowing as his lips part. Surely he had an insult waiting on his tongue, but you cut to the chase by shoving a small piece of paper in his free hand. 

His confused gaze flickers down to the note as he begins unwrapping it, only to be stopped by your hand on his as you shake your head. You mouth the words “not here”, and he scoffs, though shoving the paper in his pocket. — His token friends all burst out into “oooo”s as they wiggle their eyebrows suggestively. 

Beomgyu pays them little mind as he rolls his eyes, instead he watches your retreating figure as you push past the crowd in which you had emerged from. A subtle smirk playing on his lips as he mindlessly fiddles with the note in his pocket. 

⸝⸝

You had no idea if your plan was even going to work. Would he show up? Or had he thrown the paper in the trash at the first opportunity he got? — Running a frustrated hand through your hair, you sigh, casting a quick glance at the time on your phone, 5:27 pm. He still had three minutes. 

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you start to reconsider the choice of bringing him to your dorm room, was it really such a good idea? Though it was hardly like he’d show up anywhere in public with you. This was your best bet, you think.. 

The minutes tick by and your anxiety levels only rise, heart hammering in your chest as you pace the small space of your dormitory. By 5:47 you realized that he was a no-show. A weird mixture of disappointed relief floods you, it’s strange, you had expected the disappointment but why did you feel relieved? Did the idea of spending time alone with him scare you? No. That was impossible. 

Flopping down onto your bed, you emit a small sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as you replay today’s scenario in your head. Scared? What a joke, Beomgyu didn’t scare you, he was nothing but an immature, selfish, rude piece of–

Knock knock. 

Your body jolts forward, flying off the bed like a deer in headlight as your head snaps in the direction of your door. He came? He actually came. You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh as you gingerly got up. — As you head for the door, you stop by the small mirror by your clothes drawer to check your reflection. Quickly running a hand through your hair, your eyes scan for a lip balm. You catch yourself mid-act, almost cringing at the way you tried to appear presentable. What the fuck were you doing?

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you twist the handle as the door glides open, revealing no other than Choi Beomgyu on the other side. He’s still wearing his school uniform, and his gaze quickly lands on the loose t-shirt and plain sweatpants you’re dressed in, a glimmer of distaste overshadowing his otherwise expressionless face. You ignore the silent insult as you clear your throat, “You’re late.” 

Beomgyu scoffs, his eyes darting down the hall either side of him before pushing past you as he steps inside. “You’re gonna nag me about that too?” He drawls, hands digging into his pockets as he saunters about, taking in the small space you resided in. You notice that he hasn’t brought along any study materials, and you internally groan. “Yes, I am. If this is going to work out then we’re going to have to work together”, you state, folding your arms across your chest as if to prove your point. 

Your partner merely hums as he fiddles with the papers scattered across your desk. “Cute room you’ve got”, he comments as he points to the entirety of your dorm. Your jaw slacks as you blink dumbfoundedly. Did he just give you a compliment? No, you catch the smugness in his voice, and the small glimpse of a smirk as he turns back to your desk. Asshole. 

“I’m serious”, you huff, “this project is important to me, we need to do well on it.” One thing you couldn’t afford to screw up were your grades. Not that they were anything spectacular of the sort, in fact you were flunking French. But as long as you did well in a few of your best subjects… History being one of them. 

Shoving the pen he was previously twirling between his fingers back into its container, Beomgyu turns to you with a sneer. “If it’s so important then I reckon you’d do better by yourself, I might just slow you down.” He regards you with an apathetic expression, almost as if he was waiting for you to snap, to lash out on him and to yell. You suppose it must surprise him when you instead only shake your head, dragging yourself over to your bed as you flop down with a heavy thud. 

“Let’s just get started”, you mutter, pulling your computer out as you power it on. Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow in your direction but doesn’t say anything as he leans onto your desk, hands returning to their default position in his pockets. — “How about one of us gathers information and the other one writes it down onto a powerpoint?” you suggest. He looks to be considering your words as he scratches his chin thoughtfully. 

“Fairs.” He shrugs as he pushes himself off the table and before you know it, the mattress dips next to you as he sits down. Your whole body tenses up, your eyes remaining glued to the computer screen in front of you as you avoid as much as peeking his way. You weren’t scared of him. But a part of you felt so oddly on-edge whenever he was around, you couldn’t quite place the feeling. 

His body radiates warmth, a warmth that spreads over to your own, a bead of sweat accumulating on your forehead as you swallow. You weren’t scared of him so why did your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest? — The smell of his expensive cologne, usually sickly strong as it tickles your nose, now only feels nostalgic as you breathe in. He’s so close that your hands are on the verge of touching, his pinky inches from yours. 

Beomgyu on the other hand seems unfazed as he peers over at your screen. “I’ll do the research part”, he states as he leans back against the headboard, “sounds less demanding.” You silently exhale in relief as he creates a safe radius of distance between the two of you, nodding as you hum in response. 

The two of you work like that, side by side in silence for a good while. At first you’re so engrossed in your work, doing anything to distract yourself from the fact that Beomgyu was quite literally less than three inches away, on your bed, in your dorm. But as time goes by, you finally dare to tear your gaze from the screen in front of you, and sneak a small peek at him. 

It felt almost surreal. Two years of being strangers in the halls, two years of constant insults, two years of hatred. Yet here he was, so close to you, just like he had been before everything changed, before he changed. 

But now, the two of you were doing something so mundane together. 

Your gaze lingers on him, even though it probably shouldn’t. But you can’t help the way your eyes trail across his seemingly relaxed expression. From the small, almost unnoticeable, furrow of his brows, the subtle pout of his bottom lip and the natural flush of his cheeks. Your attention strays by his dark eyes as they move along the words on his screen when reads. If you tried really hard, you might’ve been able to forget about everything that had happened, if only for a few minutes. 

Maybe. Just maybe. 

Suddenly, you want to reach out and touch him. To run your fingers through his long and unkempt hair, feel the skin of his hand in yours. And you almost do. Until you remember. — Things weren’t like that anymore, they hadn’t been for over two years. You almost recoil at the slip of your thoughts; for having allowed yourself to fantasize like that when reality was far from it. The Beomgyu before you wasn’t the Beomgyu you knew back then. No. You didn’t know this Beomgyu, and it’s with a bittersweet taste in your mouth that you accept said fact. 

You think half an hour might’ve passed when you notice that something’s off. Thirty minutes of radio silence from his otherwise enthusiastic mouth. And as you peer over your shoulder, you find him leisurely swiping across his screen, eyes glued to something that looked far from the information he was supposed to gather. — “What’re you doing?” The question slips from your lips without you actually thinking it through. Beomgyu’s head turns in your direction and he watches you with an expression that said, ‘what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?’

“I thought we agreed on working on the project”, you say as you point a finger toward your open laptop. Beomgyu merely shrugs, his eyes flitting back to the phone in his hand. “I’ve done my part”, he sighs and your brows knit together in confusion. A small tap of your finger leads you to the first slide of your powerpoint, in which he’d copied and pasted in what could only be pages worth of information. 

Seemingly noting your flabbergast expression, Beomgyu huffs, “Why, you can’t expect me to seriously read all of that?” — “So you’re saying we should just cheat our way through it?” The disbelief in your voice is palpable but he doesn’t seem to pick up on it as he gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not cheating. The information is out there to be used, doesn’t say how to use it”, he states. You have to bite your tongue in order to not let your words slip as you stare back at the computer screen with a puzzled face. 

He did have somewhat of a point. But you’d rather die than admit that. Besides, his ways would surely land you a ‘barely passed’ at most. And you wouldn’t have that. — Grumbling out a quiet, “whatever”, you turn back to the powerpoint as you begin sorting through the paragraphs pasted in there. You quickly become immersed in your work, and fail to notice how Beomgyu discards his phone on the bed as he glances around your room with curious eyes. 

You swallow a groan as you re-read the same paragraph for a third time, seemingly unable to focus with him around. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you should’ve just bit into the lemon and done this project on your own. — “Fuck, you kept this?” Beomgyu’s almost taunting voice snaps you from the text you were so close to giving up on, and you turn to him with a confused frown. 

Though your eyes quickly widened as they landed on the bracelet Beomgyu was holding between two fingers. Suddenly your heart is racing and your breaths are coming in short. The already thick air feels even heavier and you emit a shaky exhale. The brown leather, interlaced with streaks of blue, immediately sends your mind to places you hadn’t allowed it to wander for nearly two years..

⸝⸝

“A friendship bracelet?” you question as you eye the small piece Beomgyu had just handed you. The fine leather felt expensive and you wondered just how much he’d spent on this. It was braided together with a thinner blue thread, the cold shade a stark contrast to the warm brown leather, and your thumb slowly traces its outline as you bring it to your face. 

Beomgyu coughs into his hand, shaking his head as he rocks back and forth on the sole of his shoes. “When you put it like that it sounds childish”, he mutters, the tip of his ears radiating a warm pink and you feel your lips tug into a grin at the sight. — “It’s more like..” He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze strays by the bracelet in your hands: 

“Like a piece of me.” 

Your eyes widen when he suddenly takes a step forward, reaching for the accessory as he plucks it from your fingers. “So that, in a way, I’ll always be with you”, he says as he wraps the leather around your wrist. — It’s impossible to refrain from smiling and your cheeks heat up as he carefully fastens the bracelet around your arm. — Then your curious eyes suddenly fall on the leather around his own wrist, a darker and cooler brown intertwined with a warm red. 

A weird and tingly sensation spreads throughout your stomach as you swallow. And before Beomgyu can withdraw his hand again, do you stop him, fingers clasping around his wrists as you bring them together. — The blues and the reds, they remind you of the friendship necklaces you wore back in elementary school. Two halves of a heart, a childish but sweet promise to be what makes the other one whole. 

Was it childish? Probably. But it was Beomgyu, and you found that you did not care for such matters when he was around. In fact, you think you might even like it. — No, you did like it. You liked everything Beomgyu did, you liked everything about him. And though you were too shy to even admit it to yourself, you probably liked him too. 

“It’s okay right?” 

His sudden question snaps you from your train of thought and you blink as your gaze returns to his warm eyes. He looks…nervous? You’d never seen him like that. Beomgyu was always so adamantly prideful, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him waver. But you decide that you like this side of him too, the bashful and almost cute one. 

“I love it.” And you do, you really do. You love it so much that you keep it even when he stops wearing his. Even when he no longer represented your other half. You keep it for two years, tucked inside the top drawer of your bedside table where it resides, waiting for the day where you might finally be able to look at it without bursting into tears. 

⸝⸝

“Where did you get that?” Your tone is harsh and snappy but it barely makes him flinch as Beomgyu leisurely twirls the bracelet between two fingers. — You reach for it, but you’re too slow, and can only helplessly watch as his whole fist envelops the leather. “I expected a lot from you, granted that you’re still running your mouth about me and all”, Beomgyu drawls as he leans back against the pillows. “But you even kept this piece of shit?” — “I mean come on, it’s pathetic.” 

His words stung. Pathetic? Did he really think of your time together as that? Did he think of you as that? Of course he did, you idiot, get that through your thick skull. You hate Beomgyu. One half-successful study session in the privacy of your dorm didn’t change that and it never would. 

He probably threw his out, it would make the most sense if he did. Perhaps you should’ve too. You switched classes, blocked his number, and avoided him as best as you could in the halls. So why had you kept that? Why did you cling to something so insignificant? Why did it bring you comfort to feel the cool leather against your palm? 

“Just give it back”, you groan as you meekly try and pry his closed fist open. Beomgyu looks as if he’s going to put up a fight, say something nasty back, but he doesn’t. Instead he lets you untangle the bracelet from his fingers, watching as you snatch it back before throwing it on your bedside table once more.  — An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you, weighing down like dark clouds on a previously sunny day. You wait for him to say something, but he never does. He only watches you with that nearly permanent half-smirk of his, brows tugged slightly upward as his eyes flicker across your flustered frame. 

“I think we’ve done enough for today.” The statement sounds monotone and gray as it falls from your lips. And even now, you expect a reply. Foolishly so, for Beomgyu merely shrugs, swinging his legs over the mattress as he gets up from your bed. — You don’t dare look up as he rounds your bed, your gaze stays by your discarded laptop. The sounds of his footsteps suddenly vanish and you carefully crank your head in the direction of your door. 

With one hand on the handle, Beomgyu looks back at you, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite decipher. His lips twitch into a full smirk, and for a moment, you think he might spit another insult on you. He doesn’t. — “See you in class, yeah?” Is all he says before twisting the doorknob and vanishing down the hall. 

And as the door slams shut behind him, you’re left in an unbearable silence. Carefully you reach for the bracelet, only to find it torn in half.  

⸝⸝

Beomgyu shows up to class after that. It takes you by surprise, and apparently everyone else too as heads turn in his direction when he pulls out the chair next to you. And though his work effort is minimal, he’s still there. You hate the satisfied feeling that blooms in your chest at the accomplishment. And you hate the fact that a small part of you has started looking forward to history class. But you would never tell him that, you would never tell anyone that, not even Taehyun… 

“Come on, it’s just one tiny little essay!” You complain in a distraught tone, dramatically kicking at a few stones on the road in front of you. The small rocks clash together as they roll down the gravel pathway that takes you around campus. — Taehyun squints against the bright sun that shone despite the cold December air. He shakes his head, exhaling a small cloud of condensation.  

“It’s less than fourteen days until Christmas break”, he argues as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of the large coat he wore. “Well that’s exactly why I need your help!” You whine, throwing your frozen hands in the air. — “With everything going on, you know the history project and all, I’m going to seriously flunk French at this point Tae..” You sigh, turning to him with the biggest eyes you could muster as you stick your bottom lip out into a pathetic pout. 

“Please Tae, isn’t that what friends do?” 

Taehyun merely spares you a quick side glance before his focus returns ahead. “You can’t pull the ‘friend card’ whenever you’re falling behind”, he huffs. Biting the inside of your cheek, you think of another way to persuade him. “But if we study together? Then I’m bound to learn!” You suddenly exclaim, causing Taehyun to flinch due to your unanticipated outburst. 

“Fine..” He begrudgingly agrees, though quickly groaning as you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. “I knew I could count on you!” You cheer before carefully letting him go again. — It’s when you pull back that you notice the figure by the benches a few paces away. You frown, gaze narrowing down on its hunched posture. It was odd for any student to be outside between classes during the cold and harsh winter months, let alone sit perched on one of the usual summer hangout spots. 

“Who’s that?” You question, your footsteps coming to an abrupt halt on the rough gravel. Taehyun groans as he turns to see where you might be looking, a small noise of disapproval passing his lips. “No one important, let’s go back inside”, he says as he pulls you along once more. — But in the bright light of the early afternoon-sun, the black hair atop the lonesome shadow’s head seemed awfully familiar. 

“Is that…Beomgyu?” Your inquiry is met by yet another groan from your friend. Taehyun tsk’s as he shoots a sneer in the direction of the lonely figure. “Wouldn’t that be even more reason to go back inside?” — Despite his greatest efforts, you ignore him as you venture off the small path and over the grass. Taehyun calls out for you, conflicted as his gaze flits between you and the entrance not far away. 

With a small roll of your eyes, you stop to wave him over. But Taehyun promptly shakes his head. “Fine, then go on inside, I’ll be right with you”, you say as you readjust the bag on your shoulder. He looks puzzled for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he regards you with a concerned frown. “What are you going to do?” He asks, albeit somewhat hesitant. You merely smile, and though it didn’t quite reach your eyes, Taehyun chooses not to pry further when you say: “I’m just going to ask about the project.” — He gives a curt nod before disappearing down the graveled path, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

Your footsteps crunch against the frosty grass and they fill the crisp winter air. The closer you get the more certain you become. It was Beomgyu. Sitting on the wooden table, his feet rest on the accompanied bench. He’s not wearing a jacket, only the blazer he had gotten personally tailored. If he was freezing, he didn’t let on to it as he remained still, his eyes focused on the ground below him. 

The real question was, why was he out here alone? Surely he should be spending the lunch break in the cafeteria with his friends, and not on a cold bench outside in the middle of the winter. — You stop in front of him, so close that your worn out shoes break the circuit of his limited vision. He knows that you’re there, you can tell by the subtle twitch of his jaw, and the way his fingers curl against one another as his hands mold together. 

“Hey.” 

You greet him. It’s polite, and when you think about it, you can’t recall ever uttering the word ‘hello’ to him, not for the past two years at least. It takes him a moment to finally look up, and when he does you immediately notice how sunken his eyes are, the almost grayish color of his cheeks and the pink tint to his nose. — He looked like shit. 

Part of you wants to say something about it, to finally jab back at him for all the crude comments he’d made about you. But you can’t. And suddenly, you don’t know what to say at all. Why had you even approached him in the first place? The two of you hadn’t spoken in private since… Well since the bracelet incident. Thankfully he had yet to bring it up again, but you didn’t know if you could trust him not to. It was already awkward between the two of you. 

Had you just made things worse? 

Beomgyu looks too tired to bite back himself as he lets his gaze leisurely drift across your frame. “What are you doing out here?” — Fuck, that wasn’t the question you were supposed to ask. Fucking idiot. But you couldn’t deny the curiosity that lingered around you. What was he doing out here? 

“That’s none of your business.” He spits, lips curling into a small scowl, but you can tell that it’s taking him a great deal of effort. And for some reason, you care. You hate that you do. Because you should feel anything but concern. You should be celebrating his downfall. This was what you had been waiting for. So why did it feel so bittersweet? 

You think it must have something to do with the afternoon spent on your bed. Almost an hour of complete silence, no bickering, no insults thrown. You blame yourself for getting too caught up in the moment. For letting yourself view him in a different light. — You hate Choi Beomgyu. And he hates you. That’s how it was supposed to be. 

When you don’t reply, he lifts his head once more. His eyes are dark, lifeless. He frowns, and for a second he looks almost irritated. “Why do you even care?” He grunts, a flicker of disgust tracing his features, as if the mere thought of sympathy from you was enough to have him gagging. It was nice. It felt familiar. It felt like the Beomgyu you knew. 

“I don’t.” You simply shrug, letting your bag fall from your shoulder as you heave yourself onto the bench next to him. He doesn’t move, but you can feel his gaze on you as he studies you intently. — You don’t dare look at him, instead you keep your eyes set forward. Despite the cold and chilly temperatures, snow had yet to fall. And the naked trees now only looked dystopian as you glance around the campus grounds. 

“Where are your friends?” You suddenly ask, the question coming out light, just like any other. You don’t expect an answer, not from him. In fact you’d prepared yourself for him to get up and leave. But he doesn’t. — Beomgyu is silent for a second, you hear him draw in a slow breath, holding it for a moment before letting go. “What friends?” He then says, and this time he actually sounds tired. 

Your stomach twists in an uncomfortable way, a way that was nowhere near satisfying. “What about the ones from the cafeteri..” — “Don’t be daft”, he cuts you off, his voice gaining a sudden sting. “You’re not stupid. Don’t pretend that you are. It’s unattractive.” He jeers, fingers twisting against one another, as if he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. 

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” He huffs, shuffling to the side as he creates a cold metaphorical wall of distance between the two of you. “To poke fun at me? To shove it in my face?” He sounds almost distressed, and before you can reply, he turns to you. “You think it hasn’t been already?” — For the first time since you approached, he’s looking entirely at you. And when you return his wide gaze, it feels like you’re looking at a shell of who he used to be. 

You tell yourself that it’s the cold air. That it’s the already depressing surroundings of the dying nature around you. But Beomgyu looks just as malnourished as the trees, as pale as the sky and as beat as the frozen grass you walk on. It was easy to take pity on him like that. It was almost like he was begging for it. Begging for someone to sympathize with him. You can’t imagine that anyone ever did. 

“That’s not why I’m here”, and your statement is true. You don’t know why you’d come here, but you knew that it wasn’t out of malice. Because even if you did hate Choi Beomgyu, you don’t think you could ever say it to his face. — He didn’t know that of course. Part of you wished he did. Beomgyu scoffs, his gaze returning to the frosty ground as he bites the inside of his cheek.

You’re scared that you might pity him forever. That things might never change. That the two of you might just be stuck in an eternal loop of hatred and unspoken feelings. — You don’t know what you want, but you know that it is not that. Perhaps this history project was the start you had been looking for. Maybe… 

“Are you free friday?” 

⸝⸝

Your study sessions became regular after that. Beomgyu appeared to have nothing better to do with his time, and to be frank, neither did you. And though you were far from friendly with one another, none of the insults lingered. You studied in silence, him by your desk and you on your bed, as far away from each other as you could get. It was quiet, so quiet that you sometimes forgot that he was even there, save for the occasional sigh or click of his tongue. 

At first, he would bring his phone, checking it every other second, like he hoped for something, for someone, to be there. But after four days, he stopped. And your curiosity only grew. 

Now a mere week remained until christmas break. You and Beomgyu had been studying together for the past six days, without fail. Your presentation was nearly completed, and part of you thinks this might be amongst your last sessions together, if not your very last. — It felt strange, almost melancholic. Would you miss him? Or would you miss the company? Taehyun was your friend, sure, at least that's what you called him. But as soon as the bell rang, as soon as class ended, it was only you again. 

So was it really so wrong to look forward to a bit of company after school? Even if said company was a grumpy and quiet Beomgyu who did his best in ignoring you whilst he was there. Maybe. — Maybe it was the slight urgency of losing the temporary comfort these quiet hours had provided you that led to the act of stupidity you were about to perform next. 

The sun had set hours ago, casting your room in a dim glow provided by the small lamps on your bedside table and desk. You and Beomgyu had been working quietly for the past while. Now that the information was gathered and all that remained was for you to edit the last paragraphs, he used his time to decorate the powerpoint, adding relevant pictures and messing with the fonts. It wasn’t hard work, but the fact that he did something, made your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way. 

“Are you busy next week?” You wanted to ask him if he would like to practice the presentation together. But Beomgyu kills your last glimmer of hope with a small huff, “Yeah.” He doesn’t turn to look at you, his eyes steadily fixed on the computer screen in front of him despite the fact that he was now only aimlessly flipping through the slides. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refrain from asking if he was busy all week. You would most likely only receive a half-hearted ‘yes’ anyway. Instead your gaze flickers down to your keyboard, your nails quietly tapping against the keys as you think of something to say. Every second spent in his presence only seemed to pull even more questions from your already curious mind. There was so much you wanted to ask him about, even though you knew it wasn’t your place. 

Just let him go. 

You can hear Taehyun’s voice in the back of your head, pleading for you to not pry, to keep your eyes down and mind your business. It wasn’t that easy. He didn’t understand. He didn't know. He didn’t know Beomgyu like you did, like you thought you did. 

“Are you sure you don’t have time to come by and practice?” You can’t stop yourself, the question slips out anyway, and you watch as Beomgyu’s shoulders tense before relaxing again. “I told you I’m busy”, he repeats in the same monotone and tired voice he’d been using for the past week. — “Right…” You hold your tongue, fingers brushing over the keys on your keyboard, hovering above the space button. Your lips part, then they close, and then they part again. 

“Are you meeting Yeonjun?” 

You shouldn’t have asked that, you know it. Yet you did. Perhaps you wanted a reaction from him, perhaps you wanted to hear him raise his voice for the first time in over a week, perhaps you wanted him to get angry, to insult you, because it was the Beomgyu you knew. 

His shoulders go rigid this time, and though you can’t see his expression, you can still catch the twitch of his jaw. He’s stopped swiping through the presentation slides, now stuck on the first one as he gazes ahead. For a minute, everything’s quiet, you think he might not say anything at all. But when he speaks up, he doesn’t raise his voice, instead he lowers it, until it’s nothing but a low drawl of his tongue. 

“You think this is funny?” The cold words send a shiver down your spine, and even though he isn’t looking at you, you felt as if you were being judged under a microscope. “I… I’m sorry..?” You squeak, your voice nearly inaudible but Beomgyu catches it. — He chuckles, pushing his chair back as he turns to you. 

The fiery brown in his eyes is long gone, replaced with an ashy looking color, like he was drained of all life. His lips, usually pulled into either a scowl or a menacing smirk, remain just as unreadable as the rest of his face. — “Do you enjoy this?” He asks, but it hardly sounds like a question. 

You gulp, fingers pressing so hard against the keyboard that you have managed to insert a whole paragraph of nonsense onto the powerpoint. Quietly shaking your head, you think of a way to salvage the toes you’d accidentally stepped on. “No I, I’m sorry…” You swallow once more, “I just…I don’t know what happened between you…I..” 

Beomgyu’s loud scoff cuts you off, and you watch as he gets up from the chair, kicking it back against the desk. With two long strides he reaches you by the edge of the bed. Though he was barely an inch or two taller than yourself, he somehow managed to appear menacing as he loomed over you. “Has it ever crossed your mind that it might not be any of your fucking business?” He says, his tone remaining indifferent as he glares down at you with those empty and dying eyes. 

You bite your tongue, refraining from intervening and saying that practically everyone at school knew it. Though you were sure he already knew that too. — Beomgyu huffs out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “Every single fucking day”, he mutters, his eyes narrowing as they linger by your slightly sheepish expression. “Every day, people like you, stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

The way he spoke, grouping you together with the other students, it shouldn’t have made your chest churn the way it did. “People like me?” You repeat the words, tasting them on your tongue, and finding that you don’t like them. Beomgyu, on the other hand, merely sends you a small look of distaste, the only emotion that had managed to pass his features in a whole week. 

“What? You think you’re something else?” He jeers, frowning when you get up from the bed, straightening your back as you come face to face with him. — “I know I am”, you say, forcing your voice to remain steady. You knew that you weren’t the only one who’s thoughts lingered in the past. You knew that he must still think of the two of you from time to time, even if only for a brief moment. 

Beomgyu finally seems to catch on, his brows rising on his forehead when he does. He looks like he’s about to burst into laughter, you think that he might. “Oh that’s right”, he muses, “You think you’re special because I was nice to you back then, because I took pity on you.” He pushes a strand of dark hair from his face with the help of his pinky, “Bet it was the first time something like that happened.” 

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, that it had been the first time someone had ever gone out of their way for you. That it had been the first time someone had ever gifted you something, apart from your own family, that it was the first time someone willingly sat with you during lunch. But your mind gets caught on that one word he’d used. Pity. 

Was that all it was to him? A game of play-pretend, a chance for him to play hero? You shake your head, it couldn’t be, it wasn’t. — For two years, you had blamed Choi Yeonjun. You had blamed him for taking Beomgyu away from you, for turning him into someone you couldn’t recognize, for ruining your only chance at an actual friendship, perhaps even something else. 

It was easy to blame Yeonjun, you didn't like him, you never had. But you could never bring yourself to actually blame Beomgyu himself, because that would mean he was a bad person, and you didn’t want him to be. You wanted him to remain the perfect version you had created in your head, the version you thought you liked. It became clear now, that he wasn’t. 

“You’re a liar.” 

You state, fingers twitching by your sides as you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. Beomgyu’s expression morphs into one of confusion, then he scoffs. “A liar?” He asks, his voice hollow: “Do you hear yourself talk? You sound fucking crazy.” — “If you think for a second that what we have is different from any other piece of shit person in this school, you’re wrong.” He spits, eyes flaring up for the first time in so long, a small fire igniting within them. 

He continues to list reasons, reasons to hate you, reasons to hate him, reasons to hate everything. You weren't listening. All you see is his eyes, burning with rage, with life. 

It’s unexplainable, the feeling that surged in your chest, that pounds against your ribcage and pulls on your lungs as it sucks the air from them. And you don’t know why you took a step forward, why you let your hands brush against his, why you didn’t stop when you saw the bewilderment on his face. You don’t know why you leaned in closer, when you should be pulling back. — And you don’t know why you couldn’t look away, why you couldn’t tear your gaze from the flames dancing across his eyes. 

You don’t know why you kissed him. 

But you did. 

And now it was too late to ever go back. — Though you're not sure you want to. 

His lips feel soft against yours, not that you had ever stopped to think about how it would ever feel. Yet this somehow seemed right. You don’t open your eyes to look at him, you don’t think you could bear that. Still, you’re surprised when he doesn’t immediately jerk backward, when he doesn’t push you away. — Beomgyu hesitates. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do.  

The moment lasts forever, and somehow it seems to have vanished within the blink of an eye. The bed squeaks when you crash against the mattress, you can still feel the flat of his palms on your shoulders as the force he’d used to shove you away from him lingered. 

When you peer up at him, you find him already watching you. The flames in his eyes seemed to burn even brighter now. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists by his sides as he struggles to keep his composure. — Your lips part, but no words come out. What was there to say? Sorry? But you weren’t. I hate you? But you didn’t. 

Beomgyu speaks before you get the chance to, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. “You’re fucking insane.” It’s all he says, not waiting for a response as he turns back to your desk. He shoves his laptop in his bag with such force that you thought its seams might break.

Then he heads for the door, reaching it in four long strides. He doesn’t turn to look at you, not like he had that day. He rips it open, ignoring the squeaking sound it made when he slammed it shut behind him. 

The silence that follows echoes through your small dorm. And you remain on your bed, motionless, staring ahead as your fingers reach up to touch your lips. — Still burning with the fire he’d igninited. 

⸝⸝

That night was a quiet one, your dorm room basked in the eerie glow of the moon. Nothing but the soft sounds of your hushed sobs filling the confined space. Your pillow is wet, stained with your tears as you cry into the cotton. It was pathetic, really. In fact, you didn’t even know why you were crying. — But as soon as the door had slammed shut, and you had been left alone with nothing but your lingering thoughts, everything had become too much to bear. 

The events of the past few weeks finally catching up to you, breaking the dam of pent of tears you’d been so carefully keeping at bay. It felt as if it would never stop. You didn’t know whether you felt humiliated, rejected or just straight up insulted. Part of you just felt stupid. What the fuck were you even thinking? Kissing him like that. The image itself makes you grimace, and with a heavy sigh you pull yourself into a sitting position. 

After fumbling in the dark for a few moments, your fingers manage to grasp your phone. The bright light of its screen blinds you, and you squint as you scroll through your ridiculously short contact list. — The line rings for almost a whole minute, all the while you anxiously bite on your short nails, chopping the last bits of green polish from your nail beds. And when he finally picks up, it’s silent, save for the deep breaths he emits as he waits for you to speak.

“Taehyun?” 

Your voice comes out a lot more hoarse and strained than you had anticipated, causing you to immediately clear your throat. Taehyun groans, and you hear him shift slightly as he mutters something incoherent. “Do you know what time it is?” He finally asks in a groggy, sleep-laced tone. A spark of guilt blooms in your chest, and you throw a quick glance toward the time on your phone, showing that it was well past midnight. 

“I’m sorry…I just”, you bite your lip, hesitating for a moment. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Taehyun, it was just different. You and Taehyun were different. Part of you thinks he won’t understand, that he might judge you, no you know he will. Still, he was the only one you could turn to. — “Taehyun, I think I messed up.” 

He doesn’t answer right away, but you know he’s still there. You sit in silence for a while, just listening to his breaths, and for a moment you wonder if he’s fallen back asleep. But then he speaks, this time he sounds more awake. — “How bad?” He asks, and somewhere in the background, you think you can make out a light being flicked on. 

“Really bad..” 

⸝⸝

You had never been to Taehyun’s house before. Two years of so called friendship and you would think that you’d progressed further. But as you heave the last step leading up from the subway, you stop in order to relocate yourself. The neighbourhood looked average, yet inviting. Its quaint little houses, lined up along the dimly lit street, all reflected one another. 

Number 14, that was the one you were looking for. Your worn out sneakers hit the asphalt with heavy thuds, and a small cloud forms when you exhale out into the cold December air. With your fingers stuffed deep in the pockets of your duvet jacket, you make a slight turn, coming face to face with house number 14. 

It looked just like the rest, a small mailbox by the fence gate, its white paint chipped in places. You push it open, stepping up the small graveled path taking you to the doorsteps. Taehyun told you not to ring the bell, but to quietly knock. He didn’t live alone, you knew that much. — He shared the small flat with one of the juniors, you think his name might be Kai. 

You knock once, proceeding to wrap your arms around yourself as you wait anxiously for him to open. It takes him a mere thirty seconds, and when the door swings aside, you're met with the still sleep-laced figure of Kang Taehyun. — He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of checkered sweatpants and a black t-shirt, the glasses he always wore nowhere to be seen. He looked far different like this, it takes you a moment to even recognize him. 

Your silence must’ve been unusual, because he soon cocks an eyebrow, stepping aside as he motions for you to get in.  

Taehyun’s place looks nothing like you’d imagined it. It was far messier. With clothes hanging off the kitchen chairs, lecture material spread over the round table and piles of books crowding the already small countertop. Still, he doesn't seem to mind the slight chaos as he reaches up to fetch two glasses from the cabinet, not saying anything as he fills them both with water from the tap. 

This eternal silence covers you both like a thick blanket, enveloping you in a false sense of ignorance, like the fact that you were currently in his kitchen, at 3am no less, was completely normal. — Taehyun remains quiet as he walks past you and into the joint living room, you trail behind him, eyes lingering on the discarded guitar that rested against the wall. 

The large green sofa takes up a good third of the room, and Taehyun sets your glasses down on the wooden coffee table in front of it as you take a seat. — “Do you play?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, not a ‘Hello, sorry for bothering you so late at night and barging into your home.” But you can’t help yourself, somewhere in the back of your mind, you hear Beomgyu, clearly remembering the day he’d told you about his love for music, no less the guitar. 

But Taehyun merely shrugs, and when he speaks, his voice is groggy. “Kai does.” The statement doesn’t leave room for further questions, and you thought it was probably wise to not bother him with more small talk. 

Reaching for the glass, your fingers wrap around its cold surface as you bring it to your lips. You sip slowly, prolonging the inevitable confession you were to make. And as the refreshing water slides down your incredibly dry throat, you sneak a glance in his direction. It felt odd, seeing Taehyun outside of school like this. 

Your gaze lingers on his bare arms, something his uniform never allowed even as much as a glimpse of. He leans against the soft cushion of the couch, mindlessly fiddling with a small string which you had no idea where he’d gotten it from. — It might’ve been the late hour, or the change of scenery, hell it might’ve even been the fact that you’d probably made the biggest mistake of your life not even eight hours ago. But had Taehyun always looked this… Good wasn’t the right word… At least you didn’t think it was. 

You suppose he looked… Ordinary. He looked far more relaxed than he ever did at campus, in class or in the cafeteria. This Taehyun resembles little of your class president, right now he just looks like, well him. 

“Why are you here?” His sudden question snaps you from your trance and your eyes immediately snap toward the water in your glass, the clear liquid swirling around slowly. Why were you here? Because you were alone, because you were scared, because you didn’t have anyone else to turn to. — “I… I messed up”, your deflated sigh rings out in the living room. 

Taehyun continues to fiddle with the small string, twisting it around his thumb. “The presentation?” He asks, but you can tell that was not what he’d actually meant. Still, you nod. “Well that one too, that’s for sure..” You didn’t even want to think about having to face him next Tuesday, much less going through with that presentation together, in front of everyone. 

“It’s about him, isn’t it?” 

The question was hardly needed, and you mumble out a quiet ‘yes’ as you set your glass down. Taehyun hums, his eyes trained to his hand. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Biting the inside of your cheek, you inhaled slowly. It was better to get it out right away, wasn’t it? Besides, there was no way you could sugarcoat it, no way for you to lie yourself out of this. You wanted to be honest with Taehyun, because it was easier to be honest with him than with yourself. 

“I kissed him.” 

There. You said it. So why didn’t the lump in your throat ease? Why did your chest still feel tight and your palms sweaty? Why couldn’t it all just go away, you did what you were supposed to, you confessed. Was that not enough? — Taehyun doesn’t look surprised. In fact he looks almost amused. As if he was betting with himself, ultimately ending up winning as you said what he’d already expected you to. 

“I think he hates me even more now. No - I know he does.” You can’t stop the words from flowing, all your pent up emotions rolling off your tongue in one swift motion. “I don’t think he’s ever going to talk to me again. And I’ll probably have to do the presentation alone. But I don’t reckon he’ll tell anybody, I’m sure he’s embarrassed about being associated with me. Fucking entitled asshole.” The last part comes out with slight distaste. 

“Don’t you agree?” You turn to Taehyun who’s been listening quietly. Finally, he glances up from the string he’s fiddling with. He sighs, “I think you should’ve stayed away from him just like I told you to.” — His words made your chest tighten even further, but they were not surprising. You knew what his response would be, you had known before you even picked up the phone to call him. Still, you did it. Because even if he told you what you’d already heard so many times before, it was something, and something was better than nothing. 

“Why did you do it?” You quietly ask him, your question coming out nearly inaudible. “Hm?” His dark eyes, the ones you used to watch behind the thick lens of his glasses, shift over to you. — “Why did you write his essay?” Your sudden change makes him pause, his fingers stilling around the thin thread he’d been twirling for the past minutes. Taehyun looks at you, but you can tell he’s not actually looking at you. 

“What do you mean?” It takes him almost a whole minute to reply. That had never happened before. Holding your tongue, you consider your next words carefully. You’d been wanting to ask him about that day in the hallway for so long now, it had been pestering you for weeks, like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. Because if it was one thing you couldn’t understand, it was why someone like Taehyun, would do something like that, for someone like Beomgyu. 

“Does he have something on you? Is he bullying you?” 

Taehyun shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he discards the thread between his fingers. “No”, he finally states, his voice firm. He was lying. He had to be, right? — “Then why?” You knew you were pushing far, too far, but you wanted, no, needed answers. But he only averts his gaze, his attention fixed on something far ahead. You try to follow his line of sight, your own eyes landing on the crowded bookshelves. 

Books. Your lip twitches at the sight of pages worth of study material. But as you survey the shelves closely, you find that they’re neatly organised, unlike the chaos that spread through the rest of the house. From different subjects, all neatly categorized, yet one book remained alone, separated from the rest. You didn’t recognize its cover. 

“Latin.” 

Taehyun’s thoughts seem to align perfectly with yours as he, too, eyes the lonesome book. “I didn’t know you took latin..” You murmur, still not tearing your gaze from the shelf. Beside you, Taehyun hums before going silent once more. That silence lingers for another thick and heavy minute. The darkness of his living room closing in on you, the sounds of your quiet breaths remaining the only signs of life. 

“Hardly anyone picks latin”, he then adds, nodding toward the book on the very edge of the shelf. You nod, even though you don’t exactly understand where he’s going with this. Taehyun sighs, and he sounds tired, “Picked it ‘cause I felt bad.” — “The professor would hardly have a class to teach this semester if it wasn’t for me.” 

You frown, shifting back to him as your lips part in an unspoken question. But Taehyun doesn’t need to look at you to know what goes on inside your head. — He shrugs, “You asked me why.” 

The silence that follows his last words did not feel as heavy as the others. It merely felt…confusing. Your gaze drops to your hands, placed neatly on your lap. Exhaling through your nose, you begin picking away at your already chipped nail polish, watching as the red flakes fell to your knees. Latin… He picked it out of pity? Not because he enjoyed it but because he felt bad? 

But what did Latin have to do with… 

“Did you want to do it?” Taehyun suddenly asks, and it felt weird, because he hardly asked questions about you, and especially not about Beomgyu. — The lump in your throat bounces back twice as big this time, and your fingers still. “Yes.” If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that. You wanted to kiss Choi Beomgyu, and you had.

“I don’t…” You begin but quickly trail off. Taehyun is patient. He waits for you to continue, he waits for two whole minutes, until finally, you say: “I don’t regret it.” — “And I wish I could tell him that.” 

Taehyun shifts on the green cushion, turning so that he’s now facing you. His gaze isn’t the narrowed and sharp one you’d grown so accustomed to. This one’s gentle, almost soft. — “So why haven’t you?” 

⸝⸝

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

The voice is sharp, and you think you might recognize it. It makes you halt, stopping just as you were about to round the corner taking you to the dormitories. With your back now pressed against the cool wall, you freeze, listening to the conversation taking place. You had mindlessly been returning to the place you called home after a long day of classes, when suddenly two arguing voices caught your attention. 

“My problem?”, Beomgyu spits, his tone harsh and defensive, “Fucking hell man, have you even seen yourself lately?” 

The other voice, which you now recognize as Yeonjun's, cuts back with an equal bite. “Oh come on, just admit that you have something against her. – It’s not like you’ve ever tried to hide it.”

Beomgyu remains quiet, the air feeling dense and heavy with unspoken feelings. “I don’t have anything against her.” He pauses and you wonder what his face might look like right now, furious, deflated? He exhales, “It’s you, okay? You’re the issue here.” 

You could almost hear the surprise as it radiated off of Yeonjun, and you manage to get a glimpse of one of his arms as he shifts on the spot. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He sounds confused, agitated almost. 

“It means..” Beomgyu begins, though quickly cutting himself short as he inhales. “It means you’ve changed, alright. — And I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you but you..” He trails off, the frustration at not being able to say what he wants, what he feels, is palpable and you shift uncomfortably against the wall as you hold your breath. 

Yeonjun scoffs, it sounds almost like laughter. “Oh, so I get a girlfriend and suddenly can’t hang anymore?” — “Yes.” Beomgyu immediately responds. “You and that fucking good for nothing ner-” 

Thud. 

It sounds almost as if one of them had shoved the other against the wall and your eyes widened as you resist the urge to take just a single step forward, to round the corner and see for yourself. — Yeonjun is the first to speak. “You fucking watch your mouth!” He snarls and you can make out Beomgyu’s low groan as he splutters against what you presumed to be Yeonjun’s chokehold on him.

“Or what?” He counters in a strained voice, the teasing edge evident, the one he used to mask how hurt he was.

The sound of Yeonjun’s fist connecting with what could only be Beomgyu’s face echoes through the otherwise empty hallway and your heart drops to your stomach. But Beomgyu merely chuckles. “She ruined everything”, he grumbles, merely adding fuel to the fire. 

“Shut your mouth.” 

Beomgyu snickers, and Yeonjun’s frustration bounces off the walls. You’d heard enough, and you certainly weren’t going to risk staying and ending up in the middle of it. So you turn around, and just as quickly as you had come, you retreat again. 

⸝⸝ 

You nervously pace your room, mumbling the words to yourself over and over, trying your hardest to memorize them. It had dawned on you that you would be doing this alone, and now what remained was to learn everything. But no matter how many times you circled your bed, you always found yourself off track, needing to double check your laptop over and over. 

You were slowly becoming desperate. Nothing seemed to work in your favor. — You curse yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you. For being naive, for thinking that he actually felt something, anything for you. Had you just restrained yourself, had you just held back… You wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

Anxiously gnawing on your nails, your teeth scrape their beds as you re-read the paragraphs written on the powerpoint for the fifthteenth time. The sentences had started to blur, the words merging with one another slowly. — You shake your head, willing yourself to stay focused, to not let your emotions get the better of you, again. 

But then there it is. A loud, almost frantic, knock at your door. — Knock! Knock! 

Your head jerks in its direction, the presentation long forgotten about as your eyes narrow on the dark oak. You throw a glance at the time, 8:29 pm, what could anyone possibly want you at this hour? — But the knocking persists. 

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

It’s loud, flaring like thunder through your dormitory and it makes you jump. Naturally, you do the only thing that comes to mind; you approach, with both curious and wary steps. Your hesitant hand reaches for the handle, the other one twisting the lock as you pull the door open. — The sight that greets you on the other side is nothing you could’ve ever imagined. 

Beomgyu looks even worse than he had a week ago. The bags under his eyes were a permanent look now, dark and sunken in. His long hair falls in uneven sections down the sides of his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, covered in a sheen layer of sweat. Even his expensive uniform was messed up, tie hanging loosely around his neck and his white shirt torn by the seams. 

You can only make out half his face, the rest shielded by his unkempt and dark hair. But what stood out was the large and angry bruise covering his cheek. Its blue and purple hues were a stark contrast to his honey-like skin. You knew where he’d gotten that. His breaths come out ragged, shallow, like he’d ran here. Perhaps he had. Your lips part, but before you can get the question out, he’s barging inside, slamming the door shut behind him. — “Beomgyu what..” Your words fall short as he pushes his hair from his face, revealing his dark eyes to you. 

They were burning with the same fire they had been that night, the night you kissed him. The flames dance across his bottomless irises. You think that if you got too close, you’d end up burning yourself. Another part of you thinks it’s too late to take cover. That you had already walked inside and sealed the door shut behind you, and now you would burn with him. 

He takes a step forward, the fire drawing in closer and you squint against its flames. His chest heaves, it clouds your narrowed vision as he backs you up against the nearest wall. Something had happened, something had made him like this, because this was not the Beomgyu you knew. The Beomgyu you knew would be repulsed to even as much as near you, to even breathe the same circuit of air as you. 

He is not the Beomgyu you know. Because the Beomgyu you know would never kiss you. 

But this one does, and it’s without hesitating that his hands reach for your face, cupping both cheeks in his blazing hot palms as he brings your face to his. — Your eyes widen, alarm bells going off in your mind, screaming for you to push him back, to demand answers from him. So why don’t you? Why do you let him kiss you, why do you let him toy with you like this? 

Beomgyu did not like you. He hated you. That was a fact. Not because he’d said so himself, or because he treated you like he did. But because it was the reality you had been feeding yourself for so long. It put you at ease, knowing that he hated you, because if he did, then he at least felt something for you. You weren’t just another face in the halls, your time together wasn’t just a figment of his or your imagination, it had been real. The two of you were real, and the resentment and hate was a confirmation of just that. 

So when his lips press against yours, warm and wet, his tongue slips inside your mouth without waiting to hear your startled yelp.. The reality you had built for yourself suddenly starts to crumble. Everything was wrong, this was not how it was supposed to be. — You had allowed yourself a slip up last week, a moment of weakness. You had kissed him. For a brief, short and awfully painful moment you had let your own desires consume you. And you had paid the price. 

This time Beomgyu was acting on his desires, not yours. And that scared you. 

His chest is flush against yours, his grip on your face unwavering as he forces your lips to meet in a searing kiss. You don’t understand. You thought you had him all figured out, this wasn’t supposed to happen, why is he… — “Beomgyu, stop!” Your nails dig into his shoulders, tearing him off of you with all your might. He separates from you, if only an inch, the kiss coming to an abrupt stop as you’re left panting. 

His lips are coated in saliva, a small string connecting the two of you before it breaks just a second later. You barely recognize him. “What’s going on?” The question is accusing, your voice laced with confusion and anger. 

Beomgyu remains silent, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he exhales a final heavy breath. His jaw clenches when he swallows, and his dark eyes flicker down to your lips once more. — “Shut up.” It’s all he says, but there’s no malice in the way he does. It sounds almost like a plea. And the fire within his eyes seems to burn even brighter as his gaze meets yours. “Please just shut up.” 

You did not want to shut up. You wanted to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. You wanted to show him just how it felt when he rejected you just days prior. You wanted to tell him that he was ‘fucking insane’ and slam the door shut in his own face. — You did none of that. 

The next kiss is initiated by you, not him. It’s soft, and it reminds you of the one you’d given him last week. Slow, hesitant, but tender. And Beomgyu’s hands reluctantly drop from your face, gently sliding down your arms and sides before settling on your waist. — You had known for a long time now that you felt empathy for him. That you pitied him. Perhaps it was why you let him use you. 

Tomorrow he would not speak of this. He would act as if it never happened, he would bury it as deep as he could. He might think that this is his only solution today, that this will be his solace for whatever might’ve set him off. But it isn’t, and when this night morphs into dawn, he will realize that. — You don’t want him to. 

You should tell him to stop right now. He’ll only end up hurting you, not that he cares, he never had. But you, you should care. So why don’t you? 

Your fingers tug his already loose tie off, letting it slip from his neck before you work on his shirt, hastily unbuttoning it. Beomgyu follows in your tracks, letting you shrug the torn garment from his shoulders before he reaches for the pajama pants you wore. — You stop him, your hand on his wrist. “On the bed, please”, you whisper against his lips. 

His nod is barely noticeable before he hoists you into his arms. The sudden action startles you and you cling to him in shock as he gently places you down onto the mattress. He just about bothers to shove your laptop to the floor, muttering something incoherent about being able to get you a new one if it broke. You can’t find it in you to care, not when he climbs on top of you, the bed squeaking beneath his weight as he does. 

You feel warm, fuzzy, intoxicated even. Bleary eyes finding his as he hurriedly presses his lips against yours again. It was almost as if he was trying to drown out whatever thoughts plagued his mind as his hands grabbed at whatever part of you he could access. — His fingers hook around the waistline of your pajama pants, attempting to tug them off once more, and this time he succeeds. 

The air of your dormitory is cool against your naked skin, causing goosebumps to flare across it as Beomgyu slides your clothes down your body. He was moving fast, almost too fast. For some reason you let him, even though you know you probably shouldn’t. He was being selfish right now, wasn’t he? Using you like this, only to quiet his own worries, to soothe his own pain. He didn’t care for your feelings and he never would, not even now as his hands hover above your panties, fingers tracing their lining with eagerness. 

Or perhaps you were the selfish one? He clearly wasn’t thinking straight. The Beomgyu you knew would never stoop to this level, he would never go for someone like you, and you would never allow it.. Right? — Were you selfish for using him in this state, for egging him on even when you knew that the two of you were to regret this in the morning? 

Maybe. 

You don’t care. 

His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your pantines, running between your folds, circling your clit once as he pulls a shaky gasp from you. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the skin there, leaving crescent like shapes in their wake. — He doesn’t wait, doesn’t drag the process out. You can tell that his mind is set on one thing. That’s okay, so were yours. Right? 

You cry out when he pushes two fingers inside of your aching cunt, curling them meticulously as his lips trail down your jaw. Your hips arch off the bed, meeting his movements as you wordlessly beg for more. — “Beomgyu, we… we should..” You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, the feelings swirling within your chest were difficult to convey. 

But he won’t have a word of it. “Shut up”, he grunts, the palm of his free hand pressing against your pelvis as he shoves you back against the mattress. He’s rough, surprisingly so. You’d always taken him for a little bitch. But his strength startles you, as well as sending a shot of heat through your stomach, making you clench around his fingers. 

If he notices it, he doesn’t bother to comment, which is unusual for him. Something bad must’ve happened, that’s all you can think. Something so bad had happened that his only resolve was you. The thought of him using you to get over whatever had hurt, it should upset you. It should make you feel small and insignificant, but it never did. 

Beomgyu tugs your panties down, throwing them over his shoulder as he parts your already spread legs. — Your hands glide over the apex of his shoulders, and you blink up at him expectantly. He doesn’t return your gaze. That hurt. 

Instead he focuses on the zipper of his uniform pants, undoing it with a harsh tug before slipping hand down his pants. His low groan pierces the thick and hot air, the sound is one so sinful, one you could have never imagined coming from his lips. — Your eyes dart down to his cock when he pulls it free, tongue subconsciously darting out to wet your lips as you regard the way he languidly strokes himself.

“Touch yourself”, he says, his voice low and gruff as he eyes your dripping cunt. — Surprised, you hesitantly comply as you reach a hand down between your thighs, fingers experimentally dragging across your core. The small moan that slips off your tongue makes your face heat up as you avoid his gaze. 

You push two fingers inside of your pleading cunt, not even bothering to put on a show for him as you let yourself become immersed in how it feels, how good it feels. In fact everything felt good, a little too good, when you know it shouldn’t. — You watch him through the corner of your eye, catching the bead of precum that slid down his veiny shaft. And your stomach flutters uncontrollably when he squeezes around himself, letting his head tip back with a strained moan.

When he’s evidently had enough, he pushes your hand away, ignoring your cries as you lose any semblance of pleasure. Though your loss is soon replaced by the head of his cock as he slides it between your folds. It bumps against your clit, making you shudder as your fingers twist in the bed sheets. — Your lips part, but Beomgyu’s hand covers them again. 

“Don’t.” He grunts, his attention focused on the way his thick cock gently eases itself inside your warm cunt. Your eyes widen, a small and muffled noise of pleasure leaving you as you squirm beneath him. — “Don’t say anything”, he nearly pleads, his dark and burning gaze flickering to your face for a brief moment. 

Your chest contracts, you didn’t understand.. Yet you complied, sealing your lips off to anything that wasn’t a cry or a moan. — Beomgyu’s pace is rough, leaving no room for you to argue as he snaps his hips against yours. The bed frame rattles against your wall, and you briefly worried that the sound would carry into the next room. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care. 

His hand slides off of your lips, resting on the mattress just inches from your face as he hovers above you. — Stifling a small whimper, you reach up to touch him, any part of him that you could. This was your chance, no? 

You can feel every twitch of muscle as you drag your fingertips along his arms, letting your hands glide across his tense shoulders. Beomgyu shudders when you reach the nape of his neck. — He complies when you pull him down for another kiss. This one starts out slower, but quickly morphs into something that could easily match the pace he was keeping. His teeth pull your bottom lip into his mouth, biting down with a force that startles you, a surprised moan ripping from your throat. 

He made you feel nearly delirious, like you didn’t exist, nothing felt real. But at the same time, you could feel everything at once. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been to you. Not even back then, back when you considered him your friend. Not even then did it feel like this.. Raw, scorching hot, burning and most importantly, alive. 

Your chest is already hurting, already mourning the loss of him that was to come. Why couldn’t you just allow yourself to live in the moment, to give in to your desires completely, even if they were beyond what you knew to be possible. This was real, he was here, with you. For now, for tonight, everything was different, and you should let it be just that. 

“I love you.” 

The confession slips past your lips. It carries out into the dim room, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears and pounding against your ribcage. Beomgyu stills inside of you, his dark eyes immediately landing on yours as they narrow. — Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that. Did you even mean it? Or had you let your flimsy emotions get the better of you once again. 

But this wasn’t just a small peck on the lips. Something you could pull back from, something you could wipe off your mouth and forget about. This was you baring your heart to him. This was you showing your most vulnerable self. — This was you being selfish. 

Beomgyu’s face twists into a scowl, the way it did whenever he tried to mask how hurt he was. Because that’s what he was tonight. Hurt. It’s why he’d come here. To use you. To let himself forget. He’d begged you to be quiet. — And you had done the exact opposite. 

“You don’t.” His statement is cold, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “You don’t know what you’re saying”, he grunts. And his expression hardens when you insistently shake your head. 

“I do”, your lips press into a thin line, determination flickering across your features. That was a lie. You did not know if you loved him. But you knew that you pitied him, that your heart ached for him. It was like every punch to his gut went straight to your heart. — Perhaps the hurt was so strong that you had confused it with love. Maybe your empathy for him got mistaken for real feelings in your mind.  

How should you know? It wasn’t like you’d ever felt it before. 

And he hadn’t either. You were sure of it. 

“I know what I’m..” — “I said you don’t know anything!” Beomgyu’s voice cuts you off, it sounds like a scream. Ear-piercing and deafening. Beomgyu was yelling at you. And it scared you. 

He shifts above you, elbows digging into the mattress and you suddenly remember that his throbbing cock is nestled within your cunt. You think he might pull back, that he will get up and leave. That’s what he should do. But he doesn’t. — Instead he jolts back into action, snapping his hips against yours with newfound force, his jaw clenching as his dark eyes bore into you. 

“You’re confused”, he jeers, and you choke back a wanton moan when his thumb circles your clit. “Lot of girls get confused when they’re stuffed with cock”, he scoffs, “And you’re no different.” — Beomgyu was back to his old self, the cruel and menacing one. The Beomgyu that fronted whenever he tried to hide his true feelings, when the real him was feeling weak. You should’ve seen it coming, really. But his words still hurt, they always did. 

He rams himself into you, making your thighs quiver as they meekly wrap around his chest, drawing him even closer. You screw your eyes shut, not wanting to see him for as much as another second. He doesn’t seem to care, in fact he hardly seems to care about anything at the very moment. 

His fingers are harsh against your clit as he drinks in every moan you emit. And when you finally finish around his cock, your cunt fluttering around him, he doesn’t say anything. You pant, still refusing to look at him as you catch your breath. His thick cock makes you wince as it continues to push into you with demand. 

Beomgyu pulls out wordlessly. Hissing out into the quiet air as he cums all over your spread thighs, his sharp intake of air pounding in your ears. His release is warm, a sickening contrast to the cold sweats that had broken out on your body. It nearly makes you shiver. 

A new kind of silence follows after that. One full of knowing. Because you both knew that what had transpired tonight, was not something you would ever talk about again. The unanswered questions would never be brought to discussion. And you were supposed to be okay with that. You were supposed to be okay with this. 

You don’t know if you ever will be. 

⸝⸝ 

The bed was empty that following morning. The only trace of Beomgyu were the rustled sheets where he’d slept. And you spent nearly an hour tracing their patterns with the tips of your fingers, following every crease of duvet carefully as you memorized the shape of him. 

You knew that this was how it was going to end, as nothing more but yet another mistake. Another reason for him to hate you, and you him. Which is why you shouldn’t feel this melancholic. He sure as hell wasn’t. So why should you suffer? Yet it takes everything in you to drag yourself out of bed that day. 

The water is scorching hot against your skin, and you lean against the cool tiles as you close your eyes. But no matter how hard you scrubbed, how many layers of soap you covered yourself beneath. The feeling of his hands never went away. You almost thought you could see them, the faint outlines of his hands, all over your body. And as soon as you let your mind wander, even for just a second, you could feel him on you again. 

With a shudder you shake your head, promptly turning the water from flaming hot to an icy cold. The warmth reminded you of him, of the fire in his eyes and the burn of his touch. Cold water did not remind you of anything, that was better. 

Part of you had thought, almost hoped, that he would come to you, that he would beg of you to keep quiet, to not utter a single word about the night that had been. But he never did. Presentation day comes, and it passes again. It wasn’t very dramatic, in fact, it was like nothing had changed at all. 

Beomgyu showed up. He didn’t look you in the eyes when he took his papers from you. He didn’t look at you during the presentation, he kept his gaze ahead, fixated on the rest of your joint classes. He didn’t speak to you before, during, or after it. Not even a simple, ‘well done’ or even a ‘thanks’ when you’d offered to take his papers and throw them away for him. 

His indifference hurt the most. Perhaps the night had meant nothing to him. It had been just as you suspected, a way for him to forget. Forget whatever it was that had happened with Yeonjun that afternoon. — It had worked. Beomgyu seemed to have forgotten, but you remembered, you remembered far too much. 

Winter break began a mere three days later. 

A different kind of excitement lingered in the air. No matter how old you got, the joy of Christmas never seemed to dull people’s spirits. Almost three weeks to spend with family and friends, three weeks away from the tortuous hell that was college. Except you would stay right where you were. 

This would be the third Christmas you spent on campus. And while the school offered the remaining students to gather in the cafeteria for present unwrapping and long movie marathons, it was never the same as the warm embrace of home. — But home has long since lost its meaning to you. And Christmas no longer felt like a holiday. 

Taehyun had left as well, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts to reconcile with. Suppose it was during the holidays you realized just how lonely you were. That hurt, of course. — You would spend your days doing mundane things, like reading, writing, drawing… Anything to get your mind off of the almost depressing reality you faced. It usually only worked for an hour or so. It was like a constant loop of distraction, one where you chased the comfort that slowly slipped from your fingers. 

But you were tired of chasing. 

⸝⸝

Your worn out sneakers make an awful squeaking noise against the polished floors and the sound rings in your ears. It��s all you can hear, which serves to quiet your thoughts for a moment, proving to be quite the distraction. 

The long hallways are eerily empty and quiet, it gives them an almost uncanny feeling. Campus no longer felt like campus, more like a shell of its former self. You knew that it would change as soon as break was over of course, but for now you were forced to make your way down the vacant halls all alone in order to get to the cafeteria and have dinner. 

It was for these exact reasons that the sudden tap to your shoulder made your heart drop. 

With a quick spin of your heel, you come face to face with the person you’d least expected to see. — His dark hair is nicely done, and his eyes glimmer with a kindness that two months ago would have had you doing a double take. Snow had melted on the shoulders of his jacket, and the tip of his nose was a bright red. An almost gentle smile is splayed across his rosy lips, and he gives a nervous chuckle. You almost didn’t recognize Choi Yeonjun. 

“Hey uh..” He scratches the back of his neck rather awkwardly, his eyes darting around the empty hallway. “You don’t happen to know if there’s someone with keys to classroom 017? - My girl forgot one of her books in there before the break you see..”  — You remain silent. You don’t think you’d ever had a decent conversation with Yeonjun, ever. It had all been mean and crude comments, nasty smirks and awfully childish pranks where you became a laughing stock. 

So to say that it felt a little weird to be approached by him like this, well that would certainly classify as an understatement. Your first instinct was to walk away, to leave him hanging like he deserved or perhaps you should belittle him on his obliviousness, did he not know all keys were held in the lobby? You refused an eye roll. — For the first time since your night with Beomgyu, a different kind of emotion blossoms within your chest. 

Anger. 

Your mind easily recognizes Yeonjun as the one who’d taken Beomgyu from you two years ago. It was him who you’d blamed for the way Beomgyu turned out, it was him who was at fault. It was him… He… 

You swallow, giving him a small nod, “Think there should be someone up by the lobby.” The polite words sting on your tongue, your fingers itching as they clenched and unclened. Yeonjun on the other hand, smiles, his grin stretching wide as he thanks you. What had changed? 

“I best head there then.” With his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jeans, he turns and begins his journey down the lifeless corridor. You watch him, eyes trailing over his figure for a moment before you call out. — “Hey, wait!” 

He pauses, turning back to you with raised brows. You march forward without giving yourself the chance to think it over once more. The sounds of you sneakers squeaking against the floors becomes almost deafening but you disregard it as you come to a halt before him. Straightening yourself up, you hold his confused but intrigued gaze. 

“You were friends with Beomgyu, right?” It wasn’t a question, but you phrased it like one anyway. The smile immediately falls from his face upon hearing your words, and for a split second, the old Yeonjun, the face you recognized in the halls fronted. His lips twist into a small scowl and his dark brows furrow. “What’s it to you?” His voice had grown sharp, almost snappy, perhaps you’d hit a sore spot. 

Something had happened. 

Yeonjun studies you for a moment longer, his brown eyes drinking in your frame. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, and he looks almost thoughtful. Then he huffs a short breath, it sounded almost like a laugh. — “Oh, yeah that’s right. I know who you are.” He stated it like it was an insult, like your name weighed heavy, and for all the wrong reasons. 

You can feel the confusion evolve on your face, he can too. “Why, I bet he’s told you everything. Bet he came running to you like a bitch.” Yeonjun’s menacing sneer is far from unfamiliar and your chest twists at his words. What was that supposed to mean? — “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was true. You had no idea what had happened between the two of them. 

It’s silent for a moment, and Yeonjun studies you closely, as if searching for lies. When he finds none his shoulders visibly relax. He lets out a short breath, averting his gaze, as if the confrontation of the subject made him uncomfortable. — “He’s an immature bitch, what do you want me to say?” He doesn’t hesitate as his eyes snap back to you, this time with something akin to fury. 

“Couldn’t accept my girl so why should I accept him. – But come on now, he’s told you that already.” 

You don’t answer. Your fingers nervously fiddles with one another as your hands rest by your sides. What was he talking about? What was there for you to know. — Your silence seems to make the pieces fall together in his mind, finally assembling a large puzzle and Yeonjun’s face lights up. “Oh shit”, he huffs, “He hasn’t told you anything at all.” It’s a statement, one that makes your heart drop. 

He runs a hand through his dark hair, a near sinister grin playing on his lips. “Fucking hell.” — He glances down the hall, which was ironic considering how blatantly vacant it was, then he turns back to you. “I thought– I mean I”, interrupting himself only to clear his throat, Yeonjun looks to be fighting back yet another laugh. “I mean I thought you guys were…” 

Shaking his head, he drags the flat of his palm across half his face. “Fuck, I guess not. That’s sad. Really.” — You want to object, tell him that whatever assumption he was currently making was wrong. You wanted to tell him that you and Beomgyu were exactly that. But that would be a lie. And you’d had enough of those. 

“Do you not miss him?” 

The question takes him by surprise, and Yeonjun pauses as he glances back at you. For a moment he looks offended, taken aback by your bluntness. His lips curl into a small scowl, the one he used to wear in the halls, not anymore though, now it was reserved for only one person, Beomgyu. — “Don’t think that’s any of your business, no? – I mean you guys aren’t even..” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a disappointing manner. 

“Just stay in your own lane”, he then adds, giving you a quick one over. “You’re better off without him anyway. – He’ll only bring you down with him.” 

Without another word, Yeonjun walks away. And you don’t stop him. For some reason, his words hurt. They were never directly targeted your way, so why did it hurt to hear him talk bad about Beomgyu? — Why did you feel the need to take on his pain as well, why did you feel the need to carry a burden that was never yours. 

The walk to the cafeteria feels even heavier than usual, and you barely get any food down that evening. 

⸝⸝

The days sort of blend together when you have nothing to do. They’re rolling on a loop, one after the other, and each one would follow the same mundane pattern. With only a day to spare before Christmas, you finally drag yourself off campus grounds, determined to at least make an attempt at lifting your spirits. 

Stores are beyond crowded, and you get shoved left and right as you swim your way through the large masses. God, had none of these people done their Christmas shopping with at least a little margin? — Supposedly not. 

You didn’t know what you wanted, hardly anything seemed to catch your eye. Still, you scour the near empty racks, even when nothing appeals. A small cry to your right diverts your attention in said direction where a young girl clings to her mom. — “I want this one!” She whines, her tiny feet stomping against the hard ground. Her mom sighs but eventually complies, shoving yet another toy in their already full cart. She looked exhausted.   

Your gaze lingers on the tired moms who rushed about with bags stuffed full, on the dads who checked off lists, on the workers who wiped sweat from their forehead as they tried to get through the long line of customers waiting to pay. 

All this commotion for a single day of the year. As much as the thought itself made you want to snort, there was also an undeniable sense of longing that filled your chest. You, too, wanted to rush about, you wanted to have to worry about what to get people for Christmas. You wanted to stay up late and wrap presents, you wanted to see the joy on their faces, hear their laughs. 

You didn't want to be alone. 

Walking was nice. But it becomes tiresome after a while. With your coat wrapped snugly around your body, you stroll the campus grounds absentmindedly. The cold air made your nose freeze and your cheeks sting, but you refused to return to your dorm just yet. There was something so comforting about being swallowed by the shivers running down your spine, or perhaps it was just numbing, like medicine, only it would never cure you. 

The frosty grass crunches beneath the sole of your shoes, and you trudge forward with heavy steps. There was but a thin and crisp layer of snow, one that could be erased with the swipe of your foot. So much for a white Christmas, you thought with a bitter scoff. — Your fingers are on the verge of falling off, but you clutch the small bag in your hand anyway, swinging it back and forth in tune with your casual strides. 

You pass a most familiar bench, now coated in a thin blanket of white but undoubtedly the same. Without thinking twice you come to a halt, feet melting into the ground as they force you in place. Furrowed brows press against your narrowed eyes as you peer over at the very same spot where you had seen Beomgyu sitting not long ago, all by himself. 

Everything seemed to remind you of him, even when all you wanted was to forget his mere existence. You look away, blinking the hurt from your eyes as you glance toward the entrance leading back inside, leading to warmth and to safety. You should go, you should go there now. But it’s impossible to get yourself to move forward, your legs refuse to carry you and you feel your knees buckle. 

With one harsh shake of your head you pull yourself from the small trance. And finally you move, but it is not the entrance you approach. — The old bench squeaks under your weight, and with the help of a gloved hand you dust the worst snow off. 

Sigh. Everything looked different now, yet it was as though nothing had changed. You close your eyes, and for a second you could almost imagine him as he sat beside you, sharing a laugh and perhaps even melting the cold away with your hand in his. The image pains you just as much as it warms you. 

Had it not been for the cold, the moment out on the bench might have even been tranquil. But the harsh winds soared through your body, chilling you to your core as it forced you to huddle in on yourself. You suck in a sharp breath, the cold air slicing down your throat as you force your almost numb lips together. 

Arms wrapped around yourself and fingers digging into your forearms, you’re so busy keeping the cold out that it takes you almost a whole minute to recognize the soft patter of frozen grass crunching beneath feet. But when the sound does reach your ears, your head jerks in its direction. 

There, on the other side of the once grassy field, without as much as a uniform or school bag in sight, is Beomgyu. You’re taken aback by his casual appearance, much so that you almost completely disregard his even more unusual visit. But only almost. — What was he doing here? He had a lot of people to spend Christmas with, no? What business did he have on campus? 

You shift on the old bench, the squeaking noise of the wood however, catches his attention. You swallow when his dark eyes find yours, even from across the field. For a split second you think that he might just keep on walking, to continue his act of nonchalance, as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you, and that you were crazy for even suggesting such a thing. 

But Beomgyu’s gaze doesn’t harden, nor does it lessen. In fact his expression remains completely impassive, though his actions speak for him. He puts one foot before the other, and it’s not until he’s gotten about halfway across the field that you realize where he’s headed. Your stomach drops as you watch him push his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped as he approaches. Your gaze flickers to the bag in your hands, swallowing nervously as you tune in to the sound of his footsteps nearing. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything when he sits down beside you, and you listen to the squeaking noise the bench makes in protest to yet another element of weight. You peer at him through the corner of your eye. His hair was shorter, the dark strands no longer reached the nape of his neck but stopped just below his ear. Even the bruise on his face had begun to fade, now it was a mere light purple, with splotches of red coating its edges. Lastly, the tip of his nose, which was an uncharacteristic shade of pink, one you found to be almost endearing. 

Your attention travels to the clothes he wore, the jacket looked expensive, undoubtedly more than you could afford even if you saved all your money’s worth. Funnily enough, he doesn’t seem to care for it as his fingers lazily pick at its seams. Beomgyu took a lot of things for granted, you could tell. — Things you could only dream about. 

The silence surrounding you is thick, hugging you tight and keeping you from moving. Your lips part as you attempt to break said silence, despite how dry your throat feels. Beomgyu however, is quicker than you as he heaves a sigh. 

“Why are you out here?” He asks, his gaze still fixed far ahead as his fingers give his jacket a small break. You had expected a ‘hello’ perhaps even a ‘how are you?’, maybe you would even have been content with a sharp glare or a ‘fuck off’. But Beomgyu leads the conversation in a completely different direction. 

When your silence becomes deafening he turns to you. His eyes are filled with something you can’t quite place, something unlike his usual self. He searches your face, as though looking for clues with the help of a magnifying glass. “It’s cold”, he then adds, as if the obvious could not have been made any clearer. 

You scoff, shaking your head as you fiddle with the bag in your hands. “I’m dressed for it”, you mutter without looking at him. Beomgyu hums, and for a second it sounds as though he’s about to say something else, only to stop himself. — The thick silence returns, this time it feels almost claustrophobic. You wanted to ask him about that night, you wanted to ask him about Yeonjun, you wanted to ask him about the two of you, you wanted to ask him…

“Why are you out here?” Your quiet whisper is nearly swallowed by the whirling wind but Beomgyu manages to catch it as his attention jumps from the naked trees and back to you. There were a thousand thoughts swimming within his eyes, things that were just waiting to be said. So why didn’t he? 

“It’s Christmas”, you add, watching as his lip twitches in amusement. — You could not remember the last time you’d made Beomgyu laugh. He shakes his head, tongue prodding against his cheek. “It is”, he nods in agreement, his gaze dropping to the bag clutched in your hands. “Present?” He asks to which you slowly nod. 

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you exhale a deflated sigh, “A stupid one.” You didn’t want to admit that you had bought it for yourself, considering the fact that it would be the only gift you were to receive this year, again. It’s quiet after that and you desperately hoped he would drop the subject again. 

Beomgyu shrugs, “Isn’t that the whole point of Christmas?” When you only frown, he continues, “I mean, wrapping things up and giving them away.” He scoffs as he runs a hand through his dark hair, “Using gifts as condolences, it’s quite materialistic don’t you think?” 

You wanted to argue that it was not, but as your gaze flickers over the expensive clothes he wore, you realized that he didn't seem even a tad grateful for them. Perhaps they had been just that, condolences. — Your thoughts are interrupted by Beomgyu as he shifts on the bench and his hand reaches into the pocket of his coat. 

“I’m not much better”, he murmurs when pulling out a small box. It fit perfectly in his palm, enveloped in silver wrapping with a tiny bow on top. You eye the tiny present with intrigue, your stomach flipping at the sight. — He inhales sharply as he twists the box between his fingers. “Reflecting, repenting all that bullshit..” He mumbles as his brown eyes meet yours, “Suppose that’s what I’m trying to do here.”

Confused, you open your mouth to speak but before you can get as much as a word out, he hands you the gift. His eyes look near pleading as he silently begs for you to accept it, as if it would mean you accepted his apology. Perhaps it would take the guilt off his shoulders if you did. — The frown on your face only grows, but you set your own bag down before reaching a hesitant hand out to grasp the present. 

It feels light in your palm, almost weightless. “Open it”, Beomgyu encourages beside you, his warm breath ghosts across your cheek and you hadn’t even realized just how close he was. — Shrugging your mitten off, your free hand carefully plucks the lid from its container. You can feel his gaze on you, watching intently as you gently tug the rustling paper aside. 

Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen tenfold when they fall on the familiar piece of leather. It was the same warm brown, and the contrastingly dark navy blue. The bracelet which you had cherished for so long, the one you had clung onto in the hopes that his matching part would still exist somewhere. 

“I…” You breathlessly begin but Beomgyu quickly cuts you off. “I.. I’m sorry, yeah, that’s what I was…”, he trails off, shrugging as he averts his gaze sheepishly. It’s weird to see him like that, it reminds you of a time long ago, a time before everything. 

The reality of his words slowly sank in, Beomgyu was apologizing. 

You had spent countless sleepless nights, tossing and turning in bed as you prayed and hoped for a time like this. Was it selfish for you to wish for things to be the way they had been? You wanted to bring back someone who no longer existed, a version of him that was but a mere memory, remembered and kept alive only by you. 

Yet here he is, doing just as you had hoped, and for so long. But you hate Choi Beomgyu now. That was a fact. And he hated you too. So this didn’t make sense, no, it wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be apologizing. He should have brushed it off, acted as if nothing had ever happened and given you a shoulder cold enough to bring back the ice age. 

“This is wrong.. — I mean, you can’t just-” Biting back a frustrated groan, you twist uncomfortably in your seat as you avoid his reluctant gaze. You can sense his confusion, and it only fuels your frustration. Did he not understand that he couldn’t just undo everything with a simple ‘sorry’ and a gift. 

Beomgyu swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing against his throat. “What?” He asks, his gaze dropping to the untouched gift still in your hands, “Do you not like it? — I can get you something else.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not about the gift, Beomgyu.” — He frowns, “Then what is it?” 

“Everything.” 

You’re looking at him now, your heart hammering in your chest as you fight your nerves. “It’s everything, okay? You, me–” You motion between the two of you, “Yeonjun, the presentation, us.” It wasn’t just something you drew a line over, something you blurred and pushed back in the depths of your mind as you tried to forget it. 

“But, why does any of that matter?” He wonders with a confused frown, his bottom lip slightly jutted out as he regards you with caution. You have to hold back a scoff, your fingers curl around the small box, knuckles turning white as you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Because it does! You might not get that, but it hurt me.” 

Beomgyu groans as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, I already apologized what more do you want from me?” His anger matches yours in a way that instantly reminds you of just how bad you could be together, of how deeply he made you feel. — “What difference does it make?” You snap, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Everything.” 

“It changes everything, alright?” His chest heaves when he exhales, his eyes flaring with the same fire they had that night, the night when he wasn’t thinking straight. He probably wasn’t right now either. — “Because”, he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he regains his composure. “Because I don’t know how else to change things.” 

He drags a hand across his face, like he didn’t know what else to do with himself. “You act like I’m the biggest asshole to walk this earth and next thing I know you’re kissing me. It confuses me and it angers me. But even when you’re mean you’re nice, and I hate how it makes me feel. — I hate that it’s you I want to go to when shit goes wrong, and I hate that I did. I hate how you let me use you that night.” 

He’s barely taking breaks to breathe in between sentences, and you catch the subtle flush to his cheeks as he speaks. “I fucking hate the fact that you’re always on my mind, much more do I hate that I never even try to will those thoughts away.” Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, chewing on it for a good five seconds before letting it go as he sneaks a glance your way. “But I…” He sighs as he finally comes to a conclusion after his long battle with himself. — “I don’t hate you. I want to, but I can’t” 

You swallow, your hand still hugged by the mitten feels clammy and sweaty. Your heart races and your mind jumps between his jumbled words with little coherence. You don’t think you’d ever heard him say so many things at once, and certainly not like that. His usual mean and crude self had completely drained from his system and left was a shell of the Beomgyu you thought you knew. 

It was then, you think, that you realized Choi Beomgyu wasn’t so different from you after all. Your gaze drops to the small gift still in your hands. What had once weighed so little now felt heavy in your grasp, like you were holding all of him, all at once. The bracelet fills you with hope, something you’d long since given up on entirely. 

You glance toward him. His jaw is clenched tightly as his narrowed eyes peer ahead, intent on avoiding you it seemed. His apology was complete and total shit, his reasoning even worse. But Beomgyu was quite shit at most things. So were you. — Your gaze lingers on his pink nose, bitten by the cold. Your own nose stings too, for the both of you had been out here far too long. 

In the pale winter air it became clear. Beomgyu was lonely, just as lonely as you. The slump of his shoulders and the defeated look on his face surely matched your own. You imagine how the two of you must look from afar. It would have to be quite a pitiful sight. How could one be lonely in the presence of someone else? Only two jackasses must manage something like that. 

But you didn’t want to be a jackass anymore, and neither did he. — So you shift on the bench, ignoring the squeaking noise it makes as you turn to Beomgyu. “Do you want to watch a movie?” 

⸝⸝

It’s awkward at first. 

The soft rustle of bed sheets, the untouched bowl of popcorn between you, the flimmer coming from the Tv screen as a cheesy romcom movie plays. Beomgyu, who was usually more than at home in your dorm, was now stiffly sitting on his side of the bed, his back straight as he pressed against the headboard. He appeared almost nervous. 

You weren’t faring much better, in fact your hands were dripping sweat as they remained tightly clasped together. Neither of you had touched the large bowl of popcorn, and they had long since gone cold. — Despite the freezing temperatures outside, your small dormitory seemed to be burning up. 

None of you had said a word since the movie began playing, and before that you had been communicating with fast and hushed murmurs as you avoided each other’s gaze. — Never had you imagined that you would be spending Christmas with Beomgyu, much less on the small and squeaking bed in your dorm. 

Did this mean that things were starting to look up between the two of you? 

Your heart practically leaps to your throat when you feel him shift on the mattress. Everytime he moved, even if it was just a mere centimeter, you tensed up. But the dramatic beating of your fluttering heart was only increased when he suddenly appeared even closer to you. His body feels warm, scorching hot inside the already airless room. 

He doesn’t say anything, and when you steal a glance his way, you find him watching the Tv. His expression would be relaxed if it weren't for the subtle twitch of his jaw when he felt your eyes on him. — Your attention drops to his hands, they were placed on the bed either side of him, his fingers moving absentmindedly against the sheets as he fiddled with them. 

Your lips pulled into a small smile, and oh how you had missed smiling. 

Beomgyu frowns when you suddenly climb off the bed, leaving behind an empty spot that radiates your sweet scent. He looked as though he was about to say something, one of his hands reaching out before stopping himself again. — He watches as you reach for the same bag you’d been clutching so tightly out on the bench, the one that had been completely disregarded in the end. 

You clear your throat, standing awkwardly by the edge of the bed as you hold it in two hands. “I…” Your throat feels parched and your lips dry as your tongue wets them, “I want you to have this.” You reach the bag out toward him and Beomgyu's frown only deepens. — “But it’s yours..” He murmurs as his eyes flit between you and the bag in your hands. 

“I want you to have it. — Besides”, you shrug, “You’re not the only one who’s been an idiot here.” 

His brow raises at your words, a small grin tugging at his lips as he gratefully accepts the token of an apology from you. You take the moment of him peering inside the bag to retake your position next to him on the mattress. Eagerly you watch as his frown deepens, only for it to ease up as he realizes what he was looking at. 

“This is..” He begins, one of his hands reaching into the bag as he pulls out the small bracelet. Beomgyu’s jaw slacks as he turns the cool and brown leather in his fingers, thumb caressing the warm and red embroidery. “You…” He cuts himself off, whether that was because he did not know what to say next or did not dare to. 

Your gaze flickers to the small box placed on your bedside table, perhaps you weren’t complete jackasses after all. 

“Why did you…” He swallows, and though he never finished his sentence, the question swirling within his eyes was obvious. — You shrug, nibbling on your bottom lip as you regard the bracelet in his hand. “It just… felt right.” 

There was no other way to explain it. For as you had trudged forward on tired feet, with heavy and droopy eyes, you had stumbled upon the very thing that had haunted you for so long. 

It has been a small stand, hardly making itself known amongst its competitors. The handmade jewelry however, immediately caught your eye. You recognized the leather, eyes widening even further as they caught glimpse of the warm red braided into it. 

Your stomach had dropped, just the way it would on a rollercoaster before its drop. That was undoubtedly the very same bracelet he’d worn, the one that had wrapped around his wrist so delicately, a constant reminder of what you had once lost. 

“That one,” You had said as you pointed to the accessory. Why? Because it felt right. Words would never even come close to describing the pull you felt, the immense need to have it. — But now, as you watch it lay in Beomgyu’s open palm, his lips parted as he regards the very bracelet, you understand perfectly. 

Things were exactly how they were supposed to be. 

Beomgyu’s hand suddenly drops, and he twists in his seat as he turns to you. The touch of his fingers against your cheek makes your eyes widen, the subtle reaction not passing him by unnoticed as a sly grin pulls across his lips. “What are you doing?” Your brows knit together, the soft confusion on your face only amusing him further. 

His breath is warm against your lips as his own hover above them. The tip of his round nose brushes against yours, the small contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. “What I should have done from the start”, he murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. 

⸝⸝

The agonizing noise of violent video games fill the open spaced living room. Continuous shots are fired, easily drowning out the sound of the doorbell. Completely immersed in his game, Yeonjun doesn’t look up until he feels the cushion beneath him shift as somebody takes the seat next to him. He doesn’t turn his head and look, he already knows who it is. 

“How did you get in?” He asks in a somewhat monotone voice, his eyes still glued to the Tv screen in front of him as he taps the controller in his hands. Beomgyu, who occupies the other half of the cough, shrugs as he spreads himself out on the soft furniture, just like he had so many times before. — As though nothing had changed. 

“Your girlfriend let me in”, he simply states as he, too, tunes in on the violent game. Yeonjun on the other hand frowns, his face morphing into confusion as his thumbs slow down on the buttons. At last, the game comes to an end and he tears the headset from his ears. — “Oh, so you talk to her now?” He retorts, his tone snappy and sharp as he tosses the control onto the coffee table. 

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, his gaze still fixed to the ‘New Game’ flashing on the screen. “I do”, he hums, fingers absentmindedly toying with one another. Yeonjun scoffs as he throws a glance in the direction of his supposed friend. — “Any particular reason?” He queries to which Beomgyu swallows. 

There’s a momenteral silence following his question as the two of them remain quietly seated on the couch. Neither of them move, the air feeling heavy yet filled with a sense of anticipation. Finally, he clears his throat as his anxious fingers come to a halt. “I’ve been acting like an asshole..” Beomgyu murmurs as he pushes a hand through his now short hair. 

Yeonjun looked as though he was biting back a snarky remark, his gaze flickering between the other and his own hands. “No shit”, he mumbles under his breath, unable to hold the comment back as he sucked in a sharp breath. His gaze jumps from his hands and over to Beomgyu’s as he nervously fiddles with the seams of his jeans. He can’t help but notice the oddly familiar bracelet around his wrist. 

It takes him a good minute, but soon the pieces fall into place. His lip twitches as his eyes stray by the bracelet. — “I’m sorry”, Beomgyu quietly adds. It seems apologies were becoming a new habit of his. It took Yeonjun by surprise, making his eyebrows rise on his forehead, all the while Beomgyu avoided his gaze. 

“I haven’t been too good either, I suppose.” Yeonjun reluctantly admits as he gives a small shrug. Beomgyu doesn’t reply but still nods as he purses his lips. Another thick silence follows, it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not one either of them want to linger in. Yeonjun is the first to break it when he clears his throat. 

“I missed you man”, he says, his words light and filled with sincerity. 

Beomgyu finally finds himself looking at his friend, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Yeah?” He asks, the ghost of a grin playing across his lips. Yeonjun scoffs as he leans further into the couch, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” But it’s already too late, for Beomgyu was smirking as he leaned over to grab the discarded controller. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he drawls as he presses ‘New Game’. 

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[keferon]

(Apocalyptic Ponyo Au)

I see your “Mer saves their humans from leviathan creature thing” and it’s good I enjoy, but now with the addition of poacher deadlock I raise you “mer being saved by human”

Deadlock in my mind has a modified tugboat. You ever watch timelapses of big cargo ships or ferries move around canals and ports and things? And sometimes they’re accompanied by little tiny boats? Those tiny boats are the tugboats. They are ridiculously strong for their size. (And also usually have firefighting capabilities, do with that information what you will)

Anyway where was I going with this. I’m just thinking of deadlock damn near single-handedly taking down one of those leviathan things using his boat. He’s a mer poacher too right? He’s used to big things recognising him as a threat and putting up a fight. His tugboat (built to push and pull around much larger ships) can take that strain

I don’t have a specific scene in my mind?? Nor do I have the skill to write it, but some (a lot) of my inspo is that scene from Avatar The Way of Water, where the humans hunt the tulkuun (big fucking armoured whale). It’s brutal, and downright cruel at times, and I wonder how ratchet and hotrod would react to seeing deadlock kill something in that manner with the amount of skill you only gain by immense practice.

Bonus bit of description of the boat that I couldn’t fit in anywhere is that the boat has these. Harpoon/ crossbow things. Idk how to describe them. Think the scorpion bolts from Game of Thrones except built to be used by only one person

This is all over the place and I apologise. Do you see the vision though

OH I SEE THE VISION I SEE IT YES 👁

Drift is a lot of things and one of them is being absolutely feral when it comes to battle. Doesn’t matter if he uses a regular gun or a harpoon gun. His aim is amazing and his strategy is “win or die but never surrender” (thinking about that idw moment when he got mind controlled and when he realised he couldn’t fight it his response was to. Uh. Let’s say put his sword through his own chest.)

So yeah! I can absolutely see him fighting a giant sea monster!

Imagine if Ratchet watches him taking down the beast and has this little moment of cold creepy shivers because HUH. That human is DANGEROUS despite being smaller and weaker physically. That human looks like a sad wet kitten half the time but he used to hunt creatures much bigger than him and was doing that regularly. Fighting monsters was a part of his job. Not an emergency only thing. A fucking routine.

[momentomori24]

I may just be insane about this but does this feel like foreshadowing to anyone else. In this scene we see her trying to replicate the skill of someone else (her mother) and failing to achieve the same results that they would. That feels really specific and it's driving me insane.

Like, we see this come back again in the aftermath of the trial. Diana has repeatedly voiced her admiration for Wolfgang's ability to speak and inspire those around him in the darkest of times, saying she wished she could do the same. We see her pour her heart out and give her own speech to inspire the others-- except the reaction that she receives is cold and miserable, far from the newly kindled warmth and hope Wolfgang was able to create every time.

Diana is a chameleon. Her whole thing is to reflect, to replicate and to adapt. Do you think that this small scene where she tries to make a butterfly out of her hairclips-- a butterfly, an animal associated with transformation and change-- and the end result looking nothing like what she wanted it to be is a metaphor for her future character arc? She has declared that she wants to follow in Wolfgang's footsteps, wants to become something new, but do you think that by the end she ends up being the furthest thing from him? Do you think that by the end she will be left distorted, fundamentally wrong? Do you think that if she could see what she will become in the future, the only emotion that she can muster is horror as she gazes at a stranger that's supposed to be herself? That by the end, she won't be able to recognise herself, because there's no "her" left anymore?

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part six)

warnings ; oral (f recieving), handjob kinda, lowkey breeding kink at one point, unprotected sex (18+)

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; wow!!!! part 6… the final part :( guys i am SO sad about this. this is my first series for a bts member and the community that you guys have formed in my comments, all your love and feedback, mean the WORLD to me. thank you so much <3 with that being said, please enjoy this chapter, it was so fun to write. psa! under the taglist is a surprise.. my inbox is open ;)

playlist here

series masterlist here

There’s no official conversation about it, no moment where you decide, Yes, I’m going to spend every waking hour at Jungkook’s house, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while he heals.

It just… happens.

And he lets it happen.

Because somewhere between making sure he eats, fluffing his pillows, sitting beside him on the couch as he watches races he’s too injured to compete in, somewhere between all of that, something shifts.

It’s in the small things. Things that should feel normal, should feel harmless, but don’t.

Like the way you absentmindedly fix his hair, your fingers running through the messy strands without a second thought.

It happens the first time when you’re both sitting on the couch, him scrolling through his phone, you flipping through a book. His hair is falling into his eyes, and without thinking, you reach over, brushing it back, smoothing it down with gentle fingers.

Your hand lingers for a second too long, fingertips brushing the warmth of his skin before you realize what you’re doing.

Your eyes widen, pulling back quickly. “Oh. Sorry.”

But Jungkook just stares at you, his lips twitching slightly, before he hums.

“Nah.” His voice is low, unreadable, and thens softer: “I liked it.”

Damn him. Because that’s when it starts, like a landslide that was long overdue.

Then, there’s the hand thing.

Apparently, Jungkook has developed a habit of grabbing your hand whenever you walk by him. The first time, you think it’s an accident. The second time, it’s not.

You’re walking past the couch, heading toward the kitchen, and suddenly, warm fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging lightly. You stumble slightly, glancing down at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

Jungkook just shrugs, gaze too casual, too innocent.

“Dunno.” His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist, barely noticeable, but you notice. “Just wanted you closer for a second.”

You swallow hard, the warmth of his skin buzzing against yours, and then you can’t remember why you were going to the kitchen in the first place.

There’s also the way he watches you when you cook.

It starts with little things, like him sitting on the counter, swinging his legs like a child, stealing pieces of whatever you’re chopping.

Then it turns into something else entirely.

One night, you’re standing in his kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta, and you feel it. The weight of his gaze. You turn slightly, meeting his eyes across the kitchen island, and your heart is in your throat.

Jungkook isn’t just watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon, like he’s never seen anything—anyone—more captivating.

You try to play it off, clearing your throat. “Why are you staring at me?”

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“Because you’re cute when you cook,” he says simply.

Your hands fumble on the spoon, nearly dropping it into the pot. You glare. “Shut up.”

Jungkook laughs in response, soft and warm.

Despite your best efforts, despite the walls you’ve built and the sharp edges you’ve wielded like armor, you feel it. The way your pulse stumbles every time Jungkook looks at you like that. The way your mind stops moving when he leans in too close, his voice curling around your spine like smoke. The way your hands clench into fists, desperate to feign control when all you want to do is give in. And really, there’s no denying anything after the moment that shatters your last defense.

You’re half-asleep, stumbling into the kitchen early in the morning, yawning and stretching as you open the fridge. You’re not thinking, noteven remotely aware, until you hear, “Baby.”

Your blood runs cold. You turn slowly, only to find Jungkook sitting at the kitchen table, completely still, eyes locked onto you like you just did something illegal. And that’s when you realize you are wearing his hoodie.

Not just any hoodie. His favorite hoodie.

Oversized, drowning you in fabric, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing against the middle of your thighs. It was the first thing you found in the dark of his room yesterday as you were going to bed.

Your face erupts in flames. “I—”

Jungkook just leans back, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, eyes dark and unreadable. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmurs.

You squeak, turn around, pretending to be extremely invested in the contents of the fridge, because you are not equipped to deal with this right now. Jungkook just laughs, shaking his head as he sips his coffee.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The movie is playing, yet neither of you are watching.

The volume is low, voices murmuring from the screen, but the real story—the real gravity of the moment—is here, on the couch. Jungkook is stretched out, his head resting in your lap, his body completely at ease beneath your touch. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady, like he could drift off at any second. Your fingers are in his hair, lightly threading through the dark strands, brushing against his scalp in soft, lazy motions. You’re not even thinking about it.

It’s automatic now—something so natural, so easy, that it barely registers.

"You like taking care of me, huh?" His voice is low, teasing, and you feel it vibrate against your thigh where he’s resting.

Your fingers freeze mid-motion. You scoff, shaking your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

"You wish," you mutter.

Jungkook grins, his eyes still closed, completely unfazed by your weak attempt at denial.

"You do," he hums, tilting his head slightly. "I can feel it in your hands."

Your fingers are still in his hair, but now they’re trembling slightly. His smirk grows, but he doesn’t push further. Instead, he sighs, stretching slightly against the couch.

"You should be working," he muses. "Not playing house with me."

You huff, finally snapping out of it, rolling your eyes. "You’re making it sound like I’m skipping work entirely."

"You’re here a lot."

You pause.

He’s not wrong.

You’ve been here every day since the hospital. And the thing is, it hasn’t even felt like an inconvenience. It’s just where you want to be.

Still, you try to play it off.

"I’m still working," you insist. "I answer emails, take calls. Plus, Jisoo’s been covering a lot of my work. It’s fine."

Jungkook hums, like he’s not fully convinced. "You should quit and take care of me full-time."

You snort, flicking his forehead lightly. "Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Becoming Jeon Jungkook’s personal assistant."

"You already do everything for me anyway," he murmurs, voice dropping slightly. "Might as well make it official."

You roll your eyes. "Shut up and watch the movie."

But Jungkook doesn’t watch the movie.

In fact, he opens his eyes and his gaze finds yours, deep, dark. His smirk fades, his expression softening just slightly, like something unspoken is hanging between you both.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you realize you’re still touching him, still stroking his hair, still so close.

Jungkook notices it, too. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip, and your eyes catch on the silver ring piercing through the skin.

Your stomach flips. Your heart pounds. And before you can stop yourself, you lean down and kiss him.

The moment your lips meet, Jungkook goes completely still. For a second, you think you’ve ruined everything. For a second, you panic, about to pull away, and then Jungkook reaches up, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, and pulls you deeper.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, filled with everything you’ve both been holding back since the hospital.

It’s soft at first, like you’re memorizing the way he feels, the way his lips move against yours. Jungkook sighs into your mouth, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin, and it’s hungrier, needy, dangerous in the way it completely ruins you.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, the sensation sending shivers down your spine, and Jungkook must noticebecause he groans softly, pressing closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You don’t know how long it lasts. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime. All you know is neither of you want to let go.

When you finally pull away, breathless, wide-eyed, Jungkook’s gaze is locked onto yours, his lips still parted, swollen, pink, wrecked.

"Shit," he breathes, chest rising and falling too fast.

You don’t know what to do. Your pulse is a war drum, relentless and deafening, each beat crashing against your ribs like a tidal wave. The world around you blurs, drowned out by the rush of blood roaring in your ears like the aftershock of something unstoppable, something you can’t take back. and you don’t know if it’s from the kiss or from the realization that you just did that. You kissed him first.

Jungkook: your friend, your maybe-something-more.

He just stares at you, his lips still parted, still pink and wrecked from your mouth, like he’s trying to figure something out.

His head tilts slightly, his dark eyes tracing every inch of your face, and his voice comes out soft, teasing, but careful. “Did you just kiss me because you feel bad for me?"

You blink, stiffening, “Excuse me?"

Jungkook’s lips twitch, and you immediately recognize the mischief forming in his expression.

"I mean," he hums, stretching slightly, lazy and smug, "I am injured. It’s possible you’re just doing a good deed, you know? Kissing the wounded, lifting morale—"

Your face erupts in flames. “Jungkook," you hiss, shoving at his shoulder.

He laughs, tilting his head back against the couch, completely unbothered, and you want to die.

You bury your face in your hands. "Oh my God."

"Don’t be shy now," he grins. "You started it."

You groan. Technically, he’s right. You did start it. You kissed him. And even worse? You don’t regret it, not even a little bit.

Still, you struggle to recover, clearing your throat as you attempt to calm the wildfire spreading through your chest.

"When do you stop being annoying?” you mutter, shaking your head.

"Never."

You glare, but your face is still burning, and you know he can see it.

His grin softens, the teasing flickering into something warmer.”So, what is it then? Why’d you kiss me?"

Your stomach twists, a knot pulled too tight, unraveling something you can’t control. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that betrays you. And for once, you have no words, because the truth is, you don’t know when this happened. You don’t know how it happened.

All you know is that it did. Somewhere between the stolen glances and the sharp-edged banter, between the push and pull, the lines blurred. And now it feels like the ground beneath you is cracking, like the world you built so carefully is crumbling at his feet.

All you know is that Jungkook is in every part of your day now. That he’s the first person you think about when something funny happens at work. That you check your phone more times than you should, waiting for his name to pop up. That being around him feels easy, but missing him feels unbearable.

So when you finally speak, the words fall out of you before you can stop them. “I don’t know when I started needing you in my life this bad."

Jungkook stills completely, his expression flickering, his eyes searching yours.

Silence. Hanging between you like a thread stretched too thin. Your chest is rising and falling too fast, your heart pounding so loudly it’s all you can hear.

He’s just staring at you, like you just said something that knocked the breath out of him.

You panic. Because what the hell did you just say?

"Oh my God," you blurt, words tumbling out too fast, your brain unable to stop your mouth from running. "I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not like that—not in a weird way. I just— I don’t know when it happened, okay? I wasn’t planning on it, it just—God, I don’t even know why I’m talking so much right now, I just—"

Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He’s just watching you with that stupidly fond, breathtaking expression, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I mean—shit." You run a hand through your hair, completely spiraling now. "I don’t know when it happened, okay? I don’t know when I— when I started wanting to be around you all the time, when I started waiting for your texts, when I started feeling weird about you hanging out with other girls. I don’t even know why I agreed to go on that stupid date because the whole time, I was thinking about you—"

Jungkook’s grin stretches wider. You don’t see it, too caught up in your spiral.

"And I know you’re bad for me," you continue, voice rising. "I know you’re reckless and impulsive and you drive too fast and hang out with models who have legs for days, and I don’t—I don’t do that. I don’t do guys like you. I’ve never done guys like you—"

Jungkook just hums, tilting his head. "Like me?"

You groan, exasperated, flustered, absolutely losing it. “Yes! Like you! Stupid race car drivers with tattoos and piercings and, and who flirt with me when I’m trying to eat cheese!"

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

You want the ground to swallow you entirely. Your entire body is on fire.

"Forget it," you say immediately, shaking your head, embarrassment consuming you whole. "I’m leaving—"

But before you can even attempt an escape, Jungkook moves, sits up, grabs your wrists, pulls your hands away from your burning face.

Then he grins, sowide, so sudden, it could split his face in half. “You want to leave?"

You groan, immediately hiding your face in your hands. "No."

Jungkook laughs, a low, delighted sound that hits you like a slow-moving car crash.

"Baby," he murmurs, soft, warm fingers cupping your face, tilting your chin up until you have no choice but to look at him.

It’s ridiculous, really. One stupid word, rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, turns your spine to jelly and your brain to static. Baby. Soft, easy, like he doesn’t even think twice about it, while you’re over here barely holding onto the last functioning brain cell you have left. Every time he says it, warmth floods your veins like a slow burn, creeping up your neck, curling into your chest, making your knees feel just a little too weak for comfort.

It’s infuriating. Unfair.

And if he doesn’t stop soon—if he doesn’t quit with that lazy smirk and the way he drawls it out like he knows exactly what he’s doing—you’re going to collapse right here, dignity be damned.

His eyes are burning into yours, intense, overwhelming, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

He kisses you. But this time it’s different. No hesitation from either of you, no fear, no holding back anything anymore.

It’s slow, deep, and sure, the kind of kiss that takes its time, the kind that says you have me, you’ve always had me, I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.

And when he finally pulls away, when his forehead rests against yours, when his thumb brushes over your cheek like he never wants to stop touching you, he smiles.

“I’m crazy about you." He murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You exhale sharply.

"Since the first day I met you in that stupid VIP box."

You pull back slightly, blinking. "What?"

Jungkook grins, his fingers still cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. “I was pretty much a goner for you the moment you ignored me."

Your lips part, heart skipping a beat.

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "You were standing there in your little corporate suit, sipping wine and nibbling on cheese. And I—" He exhales, tilting his head, eyes scanning your face like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. "I was hooked. Right there."

You just stare at him. He’s dead serious. He’s not teasing, not flirting just to get a reaction.

"You…" You swallow. "You were really into me back then? It wasn’t some plot to get in my pants?"

Jungkook scoffs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Baby," he murmurs, voice low, smooth, his hands still holding your face like he’s afraid you’ll run if he lets go. “I’ve been obsessed with you since day one."

You thought you were in control. You thought you could keep this contained, keep whatever this thing was locked behind a confinement in your brain, something you could observe from a safe distance without ever letting it touch you. But you were wrong.

Somewhere along the way, he seeped into the cracks. Slowly, insidiously, until there wasn’t a single part of your life untouched by him. He was in the way your mind wandered at the worst possible times, in the way your pulse quickened at the mere mention of his name. He was in the spaces between your thoughts, lingering like an unfinished sentence, a song you couldn’t stop humming.

Maybe, just maybe, you denied yourself because you thought you didn’t deserve it. Because somewhere deep down, you convinced yourself that happiness wasn’t meant for people like you—people who built their lives on control and ambition, who never asked for more than what they could handle.

But now, sitting here, with the weight of everything crashing down on you, you realize the truth.

This is so much bigger than you ever let yourself see.

And you think you’ve been obsessed with him, too. For a very, very long time.

The words settle between you, heavy and certain, like they belong there, like they’ve always belonged there. You swallow hard, eyes flickering down to where his thumb brushes slow circles against your cheekbone.

"You—" Your voice is barely above a whisper, the syllable trembling in your throat. "You have not."

Jungkook huffs a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think I’m lying?"

You nod, because what else can you do?

Jungkook is Jungkook. Gold medals, renowned driver, flashing lights, fangirls screaming his name. You are none of that.

Jungkook watches you for a beat. Then another. Then he leans in again, his nose brushing against yours, his lips just barely grazing the corner of your mouth.

"You really have no idea," he murmurs, voice like gravel and honey, "how deep I’m in this, do you?"

Your pulse jumps, your fingers tightening slightly against his sleeves. “I—"

But your voice dies in your throat as he closes the distance again.

Another kiss. Completely consuming you. This one rougher, hungrier. Like something inside him snapped, like holding back isn’t an option anymore. His hands find your waist, grip tightening like he needs to feel every inch of you against him.

You fall into it, into him, clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his skin, because this time it isn’t just heat. It’s need. A craving neither of you know how to control.

You make a small, startled noise against his mouth, and Jungkook groans softly, deepening it, his fingers slipping into your hair like he never wants to let you go.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his skin, the way he kisses you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s claiming you, piece by piece, second by second.

And between kisses and shared breaths, he murmurs, “You were the first girl to ever make me feel something real.”

A soft press of his lips.

"And I wanted to ruin you for it."

A deeper, slower kiss, leaving you lightheaded.

"You were so shy, so put together,” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "and I wanted to see what you’d look like completely wrecked for me."

Your breath shudders, your entire body buzzing, warm, overwhelmed. Jungkook just smirks, because he can feel the way your heart is pounding against his own.

"Too much?" he teases, voice low.

You shake your head quickly, embarrassingly eager. "No."

His smirk grows, but his eyes are so, so soft.

"You don’t have to be shy with me, baby," he murmurs, pressing another slow, lazy kiss against your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

You whimper, gripping onto his shirt as he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper.

And between another breathless kiss, you whisper, “I don’t know what to do with you."

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, his thumb still stroking over your lip, his touch featherlight but devastating. The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement flickering in his eyes at your quiet confession.

"You don’t know what to do with me?" he echoes, his voice low, rough with something dangerous. His other hand slides down your waist, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. "That’s okay, baby."

His lips brush yours again, just barely, a teasing ghost of a kiss. “I know exactly what to do with you."

Your breath stutters, your fingers clenching against his shoulders as he tilts his head, his lips skimming along your jaw, down to your throat. His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver, just enough to make your knees weaken.

"You’re so sweet," he murmurs, his voice a silken taunt against your skin. His hand drifts lower, over the fabric of your shorts, his touch possessive. "So innocent.”

His fingers curl around your chin, tilting your face back toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his expression drenched in something dark, something hungry.

"But not with me," he whispers, his breath hot against your lips. "With me, you’re gonna let go, aren’t you?"

Your pulse pounds, your chest tightens, the heat in his stare making it impossible to breathe. You can’t think, can’t speak, can only feel.

His smirk deepens, his grip tightening just slightly as he speaks softly, “You wanna know what to do with me, baby?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his next words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me show you."

You don’t know what to do. Your mind is still a mess, still overwhelmed by all of this—the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body, the way he kisses you like he never wants to stop.

You pull away from him, cheeks burning, lips flushed, “I don’t want to—"

"Hurt me?" he finishes, amused.

You nod, because of course that’s what you mean. He was just in a car crash, for God’s sake.

But Jungkook just hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your jawline, his hands tracing soothing circles over your waist. “You’re cute when you worry about me."

You huff, but your fingers tighten slightly against his shirt. “I mean it, Jungkook."

"And I mean it too," he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck for a second before pulling back to meet your gaze again.

His expression shifts, turns serious, tender, something so unlike his usual teasing self that it makes your chest ache. “I’m fine."

You blink, hesitant. “You’re sure?"

Jungkook smirks, before suddenly, his hands grip your waist firmly, and you barely have time to react before he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your thighs now straddling either side of him.

Jungkook just grins, watching your reaction closely, his grip on your hips tight, warm, steady.

"See?" His voice is low, playful, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Totally fine."

You’re still too stunned to respond, completely frozen in his hold, hyper-aware of every inch of him beneath you.

"Though…" He tilts his head, pretending to think. "I might have been playing it up a little."

Your brows furrow, breath still uneven. “Playing what up?"

Jungkook’s hands slide down to your thighs, fingertips teasing the bare skin just beneath your shorts, and you shiver.

"My injuries," he admits, smirking. "Just a little."

Your jaw drops. “Jungkook—"

"I mean, come on," he laughs, completely unbothered by your glare. "Do you know how nice it’s been? You taking care of me? Fussing over me? Cooking for me? Sleeping in my apartment?"

Your stomach flips. “You— you lied?"

He shrugs, completely unapologetic. "Only a little."

Before you can respond, Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips again, pulling you closer.

Your irritation melts into something else entirely. The second you shift against him, you feel it. The undeniable truth that he’s wanted you for so long, for so, so long, and now you’re finally here, finally his.

"Baby," he murmurs, softer now, his voice dipping into something more real.

You swallow hard. "What?"

His eyes search yours, tracing every detail of your face, like he’s memorizing you, like he can’t believe you’re really here straddling him.

"You have no idea," he breathes, "how bad I want you."

Your heart stops in its tracks. Because neither did you—or well, you had convinced yourself you were delusional. Not until now. Not until this moment, until the weight of him beneath you, until the soft press of his hands against your skin, until the way he looks at you like you’re something out of a dream.

You don’t know what to do with that. So instead, you do the only thing you can.

You kiss him again. This time, you let yourself feel it all.

It’s overwhelming the way he wants you. You’ve never been wanted like this before. Never been touched like you’re precious and ruined all at once. And the way Jungkook holds you—fingers digging into your hips, lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, breath uneven as he tries to keep himself together—it’s undoing you completely. Because he’s not just any man. He’s Jeon Jungkook: reckless, untouchable, the best in the game, the kind of guy people worship from a distance. But right now, he’s under you, beneath you, pulling you in like he’s afraid to let go. Like he doesn’t just want you—he needs you. The thought of that, of him, the man who could have anyone, losing himself for you, it’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s something you never saw coming, but now you don’t know how to live without it.

You’re melting like putty in his hands, soft and pliant, your body responding to every single touch, every lingering press of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly into your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck, baby."

His voice is low, wrecked, like he’s losing control, like you’re unraveling him piece by piece. He’s always so composed, always the one with the upper hand, cocky, teasing, untouchable.

Now, he’s desperate. Now, he’s pulling you closer, his kisses getting deeper, slower, messier, his need for you spilling into every single movement. Now, he’s breathing your name like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You whimper softly, hands sliding into his hair, tugging slightly, just to see what he’ll do, just to hear that soft, low groan rumble in his chest again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, his lips moving against yours hungrier now, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been waiting for you.

Jungkook’s hands roam your body like he needs to memorize every inch of you, like he can’t believe you’re real. His fingers trail over your waist, gripping your hips before sliding lower, tugging at the hem of your shorts, his touch both reverent and desperate.

"Fuck,," he rasps again, his lips brushing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, feeling the heat of you, his movements slow, teasing.

And then he feels it.

The dampness pooling between your thighs, the evidence of just how much you want him, how much he’s affecting you without even having to try.

Jungkook lets out a groan, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his fingers tease along the seam of your panties, just barely touching, just enough to make you whimper.

"Shit, baby," he mutters, his hands tightening on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin. He tilts his head back, his dark eyes locking onto yours, pupils blown with something dangerous. “You’re soaked."

Your face burns, your breath catching in your throat, but Jungkook doesn’t let you shy away. His hands squeeze your thighs, grounding you, keeping you right where he wants you, on top of him, right against him, right where you belong.

"All this for me?" His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s something softer beneath it, something almost in awe, like he can’t believe you want him like this.

You nod, biting your lip, your hands gripping his shoulders as he presses you down against him, letting you feel just how hard he is beneath you.

"God, baby," he groans, his head tilting back, his lip ring catching the dim light as his hands slide over your ass, keeping you flush against him. His voice drops even lower, “You already feel so fucking good."

His fingers dip lower, playing with the waistband of your shorts, teasing, waiting. “Can I take these off?" he asks, his voice softer now, more careful.

The way he asks—so patient, so unlike the cocky playboy everyone else knows—makes your heart pound even harder. Because it’s him. Because it’s you. And because right now, there’s nothing in the world except the heat between you and the way his hands are shaking from how bad he wants you.

Jungkook doesn’t wait. The second you give the smallest nod—silent permission, quiet surrender—he moves.

One moment, you’re perched in his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body still trembling from how badly you want him. The next, you’re on your back, legs spread wide over the plush couch, your pajama shorts and underwear long gone, discarded somewhere neither of you care to find.

Jungkook kneels between your thighs, his big hands gripping them, spreading them wider as he settles himself lower, his dark eyes locked onto the sight of your glistening core.

And fuck, he looks wrecked.

His lips part, a quiet, almost awe-struck groan slipping past them as he takes you in, his tattooed fingers tightening around your thighs. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and you realize he looks hungry.

"Baby," he breathes, his voice thick, reverent, dangerous. He leans in, so close you can feel his breath against your slick folds, his nose barely brushing the inside of your thigh as he exhales a slow, shaky breath. "Look at you."

You whimper, your hips shifting instinctively, your body aching for his touch, for anything, but he doesn’t give it to you. Not yet.

Instead, his hands wander, sliding up your thighs, tracing the soft skin with slow, teasing strokes. His fingers spread you apart, just enough to make you squirm, his eyes locked on the way you glisten under the dim glow of the room.

"So fucking pretty," he mutters, almost to himself, almost like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His thumbs trace along your inner thighs, inching closer, teasing, torturing.

"Jungkook—" Your voice is a breathless plea, a soft, desperate sound, and his smirk deepens at the way you need him.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his lips hovering right there, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers press into your thighs, grounding you, holding you open for him. "I got you."

And then, without another word, he leans in. His tongue flicks out, the first slow, deliberate lick making your whole body jerk, your breath catching as a strangled moan slips past your lips. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you in place, pinning you down as he devours you, slow and deep and messy

Jungkook is relentless.

The second his tongue continually flicks against you, slow and teasing, a sharp gasp spills from your lips, your fingers flying to his hair on instinct.

He groans, low and deep, like he’s never tasted anything better, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you closer, buries himself between your legs. His tongue moves with purpose, savoring you, teasing you, then faster, filthier.

Your entire body jolts, a choked moan escaping you as you arch off the couch, hands yanking at his hair, but Jungkook doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes harder, tongue working you over, lips sucking, devouring every ounce of wetness you’re giving him.

"Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, his voice wrecked, almost feral, his fingers digging into your thighs. "You taste so good. So sweet, so messy for me."

You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in sharp, broken pants. No one has ever done this to you before, no one has ever made you feel like this, so completely overwhelmed, so utterly ruined just by their mouth alone.

"J-jungkook,” Your voice is a trembling plea, your fingers trembling in his hair, but he just smirks, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot, making your whole body tremble.

"Too much, baby?" he murmurs, his lips dragging against your skin, but his tone is mocking, almost cruel, because he knows you don’t want him to stop.

His lips wrap around your aching clit, a desperate, filthy pull that makes your legs shake, your back arch, a helpless cry spilling from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, too much, too fast, your vision blurring.

Jungkook moans against you, his hands spreading you wider, holding you there as he drowns in you, his tongue moving sloppier, hungrier, completely insane on the taste of you.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice thick with need, with something bordering on obsession. "Give it to me. Let me taste all of you."

You’re gasping, whimpering, unable to handle how good it feels, how intense it is. His tongue keeps working you over, lips sucking, his groans vibrating against your heat, dragging you through wave after wave of unbearable pleasure. You don’t think you’ll ever recover.

Jungkook can feel it, the way your thighs tremble, the way your body arches, the way your breath stutters like you’re teetering on the edge, right there, so fucking close. But he’s not done with you yet.

"Can’t get enough of you," he murmurs against your heat, his tongue flicking one last time before his lips part and, without warning, he slides two fingers in.

Your gasp is sharp, your body clenching around him immediately, and Jungkook groans, his fingers sinking deep, stretching you open as he feels just how tight, how warm you are.

"Fuck," he hisses, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh, his fingers stilling for just a second as his other hand grips your waist, holding you down. "So fucking tight."

You whimper, your hands flying to grip at the couch, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he starts to move, slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. You look down at him, watch the way his dark hair falls over his face, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

He curls upwards, and you’re certain he’ll have to peel you off his couch tomorrow morning.

"Oh!” The sound escapes you before you can stop it, your body spasming, heat flooding your veins as he finds the spot that makes you see stars.

Jungkook fucking smirks like the little devil he is. And you knew he’d be good, knew he’d be more experienced than you, but you don’t even care as long as he doesn’t stop.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, dangerous. His fingers work into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit, and you’re losing it, your legs shaking so bad you think you might collapse in on yourself.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he coaxes, his breath hot against your core, his lips right there, teasing, pressing soft, fleeting kisses against your swollen heat between every filthy thrust of his fingers.

You’re barely holding on, your mind spinning, the pleasure too much, but the way he talks to you, the way he touchesyou, the way his fingers move with such perfect precision, has you losing all control.

"I— I can’t, fuck, feels so good—" Your voice is wrecked, barely a whisper, your body fighting between holding on and letting go.

"Yes, you can," Jungkook growls, his pace relentless now, his fingers fucking into you with deep, slick strokes, his thumb rubbing your clit faster, harder. "Be good for me, baby."

He presses his lips to you again, tongue flicking in perfect sync with his fingers, sucking hard, and you break. A choked, helpless cry rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp, so intense, your entire body locking up before you’re shaking, your release hitting you like a tidal wave.

Jungkook moans against you, his fingers not stopping, working you through it, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your trembling body as you come undone beneath him.

Your chest heaves, your fingers weakly clutching at the couch, your skin burning as the aftershocks pulse through you. You can’t even think, can’t even process how good it feels, your whole body humming with warmth, satisfaction, something that makes you dizzy.

And then, Jungkook looks up at you.

His eyes are wild, his lips wet and swollen, his jaw tight as he drinks you in, your blissed-out expression, your shaky limbs, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

"Good?" he teases, his voice thick with pride, with something darker beneath it. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, watching the way you squirm, the way your cheeks burn as you try to look away.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your chin, tilting your flushed face toward his, his fingers still teasing you as he whispers, “Bet it feels even better to be inside you."

He stays between your spread legs, watching you like he owns you, like he’s still memorizing the way you look right now, completely spent, your body stretched out along the couch, your chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of what he just did to you.

With a low, deep exhale, he finally sits back on his knees, his hands moving to the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down in one smooth motion. His cock springs free, hard and aching, tip flushed and leaking, the very picture of desperation.

You swallow, your throat dry, your lips parting slightly as your wide eyes take him in. Jungkook doesn’t miss it.

"Like what you see, baby?" he murmurs, amusement flickering in his dark gaze as he wraps his tattooed fingers around himself, giving a few slow, deliberate strokes. A shiver runs down his spine, his head tipping back slightly, his breath coming out in a low groan.

Fuck, he’s mesmerizing. The way his muscles flex, the way his chest tightens, the way his lip ring glints as he bites down on his bottom lip. You can’t look away.

And maybe it’s the post-orgasm haze still clouding your mind, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so desperate to make it up to him, but before you can stop yourself, your voice comes out, soft and shy, “I can do it."

His eyes snap to yours, his hand stilling around his length as his breath catches, like he can’t believe you just said that, like he wasn’t expecting it from you.

"You wanna touch me, baby?" he asks, voice lower, rougher.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip, heat crawling up your neck as you shift to sit up slightly, your fingers hesitating in your lap before reaching for him.

Jungkook doesn’t make you wait.

He stands up, takes your wrist, guiding you, wrapping your soft fingers around his cock, sucking in a sharp breath the second you touch him.

"Fuck,” he groans, his head falling forward, his hand tightening over yours as he helps you set a rhythm, slow at first, letting you feel him.

You swallow, watching his expression, watching the way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

"Just like that, baby," he rasps, his voice strained, almost pained from how good it feels. His hand falls away, letting you take over, his head trained on your movements, his lips parting in a moan.

"Shit, you’re so good," he praises, his voice breathless. His fingers dig into his thighs, his stomach tightening as he watches you, his eyes burning in a way that makes your whole body shiver.

"Thought you were so innocent," he murmurs, his voice laced with something almost in awe, his breath coming out in sharp exhales as you continue stroking him, learning him. "And yet, you wanna take care of me like this?"

You nod, your fingers tightening slightly around him. Jungkook groans, his hand flying to your wrist, stilling you for a moment as he pants, “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me."

Your soft hands wrapped around him, your shy little glances up at him, your fingers trembling slightly as you try to please him—he’s never been this affected by anyone before. But he needs more.

With a sharp inhale, he stills your movements, his tattooed fingers wrapping around your wrist, gently pulling you away before he does something reckless like cum in your hand instead of inside you.

"Come here," he rasps, his voice rough, wrecked, his hands guiding you back down against the couch.

Your breath stutters, your body trembling as he hovers over you, his broad frame towering above you, his toned arms caging you in. His dark eyes flicker down, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your thighs part instinctively, welcoming him closer.

"You want to?" he murmurs, his voice softer now, more careful but beneath it, there’s still that same hunger and desperation.

You nod, a shiver running through you as you feel the thick, heavy weight of his cock drag through your folds, teasing, spreading your wetness as he positions himself at your entrance.

When he finally, achingly, pushes in, the first inch has you screaming. Your back arches off the couch, your fingers flying to grip his biceps, nails digging into the solid muscle as your body stretches around him, struggling to accommodate his size. “F-fuck, Jungkook!”

Jungkook groans, his head dropping forward, as he feels you, so tight, so warm, your walls squeezing him like you’re not used to this, like you’ve never taken anything like him before.

"Shit,” he grits out, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you in place as he forces himself to stop, his own body trembling from the sheer restraint it takes to keep from slamming into you.

"You’re—" His breath is uneven, his jaw clenching as he forces himself to be still. "You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Your thighs tremble beneath him, your hands clawing at his arms, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how intense the stretch is, from how full you feel.

"Jungkook,” Your voice is helpless, your chest heaving as you try to adjust, try to take him, but it’s too much, too big, your walls clenching around him so hard he nearly loses it.

"Fuck, I—" He stops, his body shaking as he hovers over you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. "I gotta—fuck, I gotta give you a second, or I’m gonna cum right now."

Jungkook has had experience, more than enough. He’s been wanted, worshiped, pulled into the heat of fleeting moments by women who knew exactly what they were doing. He’s kissed with confidence, touched with certainty, learned every unspoken language of desire and indulgence. He’s seen it all, had it all, lived it all. It’s stupid, really, how easily you unravel him, how the years of experience amount to nothing under the weight of this. Of you.

Your body pulses, your breath coming out in short, desperate whimpers as you struggle to breathe through it, your hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

Jungkook stares down at you, his expression torn between awe and agony, his cock twitching inside you, begging him to move, but he can’t, not yet.

"Baby,” His voice is strained, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face, his lips pressing against your forehead, trying to soothe you. "Breathe. Let me in, just a little more."

You nod, your body shuddering beneath him, your walls still fluttering around him, so tight it’s driving him insane.

And when he finally, slowly pushes in deeper, you both break.

The second he feels you start to relax around him, your walls fluttering, adjusting, he loses the last shred of control he had left.

"Fuck, sweetheart," his voice is low, guttural, completely wrecked as he pulls out halfway before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

The sound that escapes you is filthy, a high-pitched, gasping moan, your body jerking beneath him as the force of his thrust sends shockwaves through you.

He sets the pace, relentless, devastating. The wet, slick sounds of him fucking into you echo through the room, mixing with your choked moans, his ragged, heavy breathing. His cock drags against every sensitive part of you, the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the space, so loud it makes your face burn.

"Listen to that, baby," Jungkook groans, his lips hovering over yours, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“So fucking wet for me,” He grinds deeper, pulling another moan from you, "Making a mess all over my cock."

You can barely breathe, barely think, the pleasure so intense it’s turning your limbs weak, your nails clawing helplessly at his arms, his back, anywhere you can hold onto as he ruins you.

"You hear that?" he murmurs, his lips dragging along your jaw, his hips snapping against yours at a brutal pace. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, angling you just right so he can hit deeper, harder. "That’s all you, baby. That’s this pretty little pussy taking me so well.”

You let out a choked cry, your head tipping back, exposing your throat to him.

"Shit!" he groans, his lips latching onto your neck, sucking, biting, leaving marks he wants you to wear for days. His hand slips between you, fingers pressing against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles.

Your whole body shudders, your walls clenching so tight around him that he hisses, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he pounds into you harder, pushing you right to the edge.

Before either of you can catch your breath, he pulls out suddenly, completely, leaving you empty, a little gasp escaping your lips at the loss. But before you can even process it, he grabs you, his strong hands flipping you over onto your stomach, guiding your knees up, your body instinctively responding to him.

"Nah, baby," he groans, his voice low as he grips your waist, spreading you out beneath him. "Not done with you yet."

His hands drag down your back, fingers teasing along your spine before gripping your hips, tugging you up slightly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions.

He slides back in. The stretch is even deeper like this, his cock sinking in at a new angle that has you screaming into the cushion, your fingers clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook snarls, his head dropping back for a second, the tight heat of you making his entire body shake. "You’re squeezing me so tight.”

His hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he starts to move, his strokes slow, deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him, every ridge, every twitch.

"God, baby, could fuck you all day," he groans, his voice thick with something dangerous, something utterly possessive. His palm slides down, pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you down against the couch. "Taking me so fucking well, so perfect for me."

You can barely breathe, your body so wrecked from how deep he is. You swear you feel him in your stomach. You can hear the obscene mix of your slick and his movements, the wet sounds filling the space between his groans and your helpless little sounds.

"Jungkook,” You choke out his name, your voice muffled against the couch, your body shaking with every relentless thrust. “F-feels so good, please k-keep going,”

"Shh, baby," he coos mockingly, his grip tightening as he snaps his hips forward, dragging another high-pitched cry from you. "Let me take care of you."

His free hand grabs your jaw, turning your head slightly so he can watch your face, his other hand still pressing you down, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Too deep?" he taunts, a smirk in his voice, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the way your brows furrow, your lips parting, your body writhing beneath him.

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but your hips still push back into him, still chase the feeling of him splitting you apart.

"That’s my girl," he groans, rewarding you with a rough, slow grind, making sure you feel every second of it. His fingers tighten around your throat, his breath hot against your ear.

His body is trembling, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he slams into you, chasing his release with reckless, desperate thrusts. He’s so close, he can feel it, heat coiling tight in his gut, every nerve in his body burning with the need to let go.

"[Y/N]," he groans, breathless, his fingers digging into your waist as he pounds into you. He’s barely holding on, his control slipping with every second, every pulse of your tight, soaking heat around him.

"Where do you want me to cum, baby?" he grits out, his head dropping forward, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold himself back, to wait for your answer.

And when you give it to him—when you turn your head just slightly, lips parted, voice trembling, breath hitching— “Inside me."

Jungkook snaps. In an instant, he pulls out, his hands gripping your waist as he flips you over, not caring how weak your limbs are, how spent you already look. He needs to see you when he finishes, needs to watch your face, your expression, your body taking it all.

His lips crash against yours, messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth as he slides back in, groaning so loud it vibrates through your entire body. His hands grab your thighs, spreading you wide, holding you open for him as he thrusts into you, deep, perfect, his cock dragging against every sensitive nerve inside you.

"Yeah?” he groans, watching you, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. "You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Gonna let me fucking ruin you? God, I’m going to give you kids one day.”

You nod, barely able to speak, your voice coming out as a helpless little beg. "Please.”

Jungkook grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic, and you can feel the way he’s shaking, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking close.

"Can I finish too?" Your voice is so soft, so breathless, so utterly wrecked, and when he looks down, when he sees it—the cream collecting at the base of his cock, the mess of slick covering where you’re both connected, dripping down onto the couch— he’s a goner.

"Yes, baby, fuck, yes. Cum for me,” He babbles out, almost incoherent.

His entire body jolts forward, his grip on your thighs tightening as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release crashes over him, spilling inside you with a helpless groan. His head tips back, his body shaking, his fingers gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

He feels it, the way your walls pulse around him, milking him, pulling everything from him as your own orgasm rips through you, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him. There’s nothing but heat and skin and the dizzying rush of pleasure crashing through you both, stealing the air from your lungs.

The room is filled with the filthiest sounds—his breathless groans, your high-pitched cries, the obscene mix of both your releases between your thighs.

He just stares.

"Damn, baby” his voice is barely a whisper, his eyes blown wide, completely wrecked as he watches his cum spill out of you, seeping from between your legs, making an absolute mess of both of you. “So fucking pretty."

Jungkook eventually collapses next to you, his chest still heaving, his body still thrumming with the aftermath of what you just did to each other. His skin is flushed, damp with sweat, his muscles trembling from the sheer intensity of it all. But the second he catches his breath, the second his brain starts working again, he reaches for you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body, pressing you flush against his overheated skin. His lips find your shoulder first, soft and lingering, before trailing up the curve of your neck, then your jaw, then your lips.

The kiss is slow, tender, so different from the frantic, desperate ones from earlier. This one is filled with something else, something deeper. His fingers smooth over your back, up your spine, soothing you, keeping you close.

"Hmph," he breathes against your mouth, his voice raw, reverent. His hands roam your body, gentle now, no longer gripping, no longer taking, just feeling, holding. "You okay?"

You nod, still trying to find your voice, still floating in the haze of him. Your body is gone, your limbs weak, but with the way he’s touching you now, with the way he’s holding you, you could stay here forever.

Jungkook hums, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your temple. "You were so good for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, his hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. "Took me so well, baby. My perfect girl."

His words make warmth bloom in your chest, your face heating, your fingers instinctively clutching onto him, like you need to hold onto something real.

You melt into him, bury your face into his neck. You smell the scent of him, musky and sweet and familiar.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin, his lips finding your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. His fingers trail up your spine again, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your face up so he can kiss you again. “Don’t even know what you do to me."

You’ve never had a man want you like this before, and you don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else ever again.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next few days pass in a soft blur of stolen moments: whispers exchanged in the quiet of Jungkook’s living room, fingers brushing absentmindedly over each other’s skin, laughter spilling into the air delicately, something fragile but unbreakable.

You’re not dating, not technically. He hasn’t asked, and you haven’t said anything, and yet…

He still grins when you walk into the room, still pulls you into his side when you sit next to him, still leans in just a little too close whenever he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low murmur meant just for you.

You let him tangle his fingers through yours when you’re watching a movie together, let him play with the hem of your sweater when he’s feeling restless, let him kiss you, lazy and unhurried, in the middle of a conversation just because he can.

He’s letting you take your time, giving you the space to ease into this, to figure out what it all means.

God, you appreciate it.

Because with Jungkook, there’s no rushing. No expectations. No pressure.

Even though neither of you have said it yet, you know.

There’s a weight of his upcoming race, his comeback race, that lingers between you, unspoken but heavy, pressing against your chest like a storm waiting to break.

You know what it means to him. How much this race matters. How much winning it would mean for his career, for his legacy.

Yet, you can’t shake the fear coiling deep in your stomach, the memory of his last crash seared into your mind like a scar that refuses to fade. The sound of metal colliding, the gasps from the crowd, the way your entire world had tilted on its axis, throwing you into a free fall of panic and helplessness.

You don’t know if you can do that again.

You don’t know if you can sit in the stands, heart in your throat, watching him push himself to the very edge of danger, knowing that one wrong move could take him from you.

He knows. Even before you say anything, even before you have the chance to voice the tangled mess of emotions inside you, Jungkook notices. You catch him watching you when you think he isn’t, his sharp gaze softening whenever he sees the crease between your brows, the way your fingers absentmindedly fidget with the hem of your sleeve, lost in thought.

And then one night, while you’re curled up next to him on the couch, his voice cuts through the quiet. “You’re not gonna come, are you?"

You hesitate for too long, and that’s answer enough.

Jungkook exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, his jaw tightening for just a second before he looks at you again, eyes searching. Not angry. Not upset. Just… knowing.

"Baby," he says, voice quieter now, like he’s picking apart every thought racing through your head, "Talk to me."

You swallow, staring down at your lap. "I just— I don’t know if I can watch."

He doesn’t speak, waiting.

"Last time…" You inhale sharply, voice barely above a whisper. "Last time, I thought I lost you, Jungkook."

His eyes darken, his features softening in a way that makes your chest tighten.

"I know."

"You don’t," you murmur. "You don’t know what that felt like. Watching you crash. Not knowing if you were okay. Having to stand there, completely helpless, while everyone else ran to you."

Jungkook’s jaw flexes, his hands clenching into loose fists before he lets out a slow, measured breath.

"I get why you’re scared," he finally says. "But I need you there. I need you in my corner."

His words send a sharp pang through your chest, and when you glance up, you find him watching you so intently, like he’s trying to anchor you to him, like he’s trying to make you feel how much he means it.

"I know how dangerous it is," he continues, softer now. "I know what you’re afraid of. But I also know that when I look up from that track, and I see you there, nothing else matters. I race better when you’re there. I race smarter when you’re there."

Your throat tightens.

"You’re my good luck charm."

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Jungkook reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Please."

And how the hell are you supposed to say no to that?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(pause.. authors note.. turn on ‘the alchemy’ by taylor swift for this part. thank me later.)

The energy is electric, the kind of palpable excitement that sits thick in the air, buzzing through the massive crowd gathered around the track.

Engines roar in the distance, mechanics make last-minute adjustments, reporters weave through the pit area with cameras flashing, and yet, none of it matters.

Because all eyes are on you. Or rather, on Jungkook, and the way he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

The moment he spots you, draped in his jacket, his VIP lanyard with his name hanging around your neck like a permanent claim, something flickers in his expression. Something proud, you think.

Then he’s walking straight toward you, completely ignoring the cameras, the crew, the other drivers waiting for pre-race interviews.

His manager clears his throat. “Uh, you have press, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t even acknowledge it. He just reaches for you, hands settling firmly on your waist, his grip warm, grounding, and before you can even react, he kisses you. Loud. Unapologetic. Completely and utterly certain.

You’re melting into him, hands gripping his racing suit, your heart hammering as his lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to brand you into him before the race even begins.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, a cocky little grin stretching across his face. “You look so fucking good in my jacket. Can’t wait to get home and rip it off you.”

You swallow, dazed, heat blooming across your skin. “You should focus on the race.”

“I am,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “I’m gonna be thinking of you the whole time though.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone, disappearing into the pit area, leaving you completely breathless, your lips tingling, your heart somewhere on the track with him already.

You hear a low whistle behind you.

One of his crew members, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah, we’re just gonna start calling you his girlfriend now.”

You stammer. “I—I’m not—”

“Sure,” his manager cuts in, grinning, arms folded across his chest. “And I’m an astronaut.”

Laughter ripples through the pit crew, but before you can come up with some kind of defense, the announcement blares over the loudspeakers.

You’re with his crew, standing in the VIP pit box, his manager beside you, engineers monitoring real-time data, the pit crew ready for anything.

You’re also clutching onto his manager’s arm like your life depends on it.

“Relax,” he mutters, chuckling under his breath. “You survived the last one.”

You exhale sharply. “That was before I knew how dangerous this actually is.”

His manager glances at you. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”

You don’t respond, eyes locked onto the massive screen displaying the race track, the live coverage cutting between Jungkook’s car, the cockpit camera, the overhead shots.

Before you can prepare yourself for the impact, the signal goes off. The engines roar to life. And Jungkook is off.

Your heart jumps into your throat as his car flies forward, cutting into position effortlessly.

He’s fast—you always knew that. But watching him like this, seeing him maneuver through the chaos of the starting lap, weaving between other drivers with a confidence that borders on reckless, it’s something else entirely.

“You know he likes to push aggressive in the first few laps, right?” The voice beside you startles you. His engineer, watching the data on the monitor, tapping his chin in thought.

You nod. Of course you know.

Jungkook’s racing style isn’t just speed. It’s strategy, it’s unpredictability, it’s sheer talent that makes him one of the most feared competitors on the track.

Still, something feels off.

You bite your lip, eyes narrowing at the positioning of the cars ahead. The driver in third place is blocking the inside lane, forcing Jungkook to take a riskier approach.

If he goes outside, he’ll lose too much time.

But if he waits too long, he’ll lose the gap entirely.

You can’t stop yourself. “He’s not gonna make that pass on the outside.”

The engineer raises a brow, surprised.

His manager glances at you, amused. “Yeah?”

You nod, suddenly certain. “He needs to bait him into thinking he’s going wide, then cut inside at the last second. It’s the only way he’s getting past clean.”

The pit crew stares at you like you just grew a second head.

His manager laughs under his breath. “Damn. She really is his girl.”

And then, as if he heard you through the screen, Jungkook makes the move.

The driver in third takes the bait, moving to cover the outside and Jungkook cuts inside, passing clean, just like you said.

You exhale hard, your entire body untensing at once.

“Holy shit,” one of the crew members mutters, blinking at you. “You actually know your stuff.”

But you don’t respond, because you can’t take your eyes off the track, can’t take your eyes off him.

Jungkook is still in it, still pushing, still dominating the race, still looking absolutely unstoppable. For the first time since you got here, since you stepped into his world you finally realize: you’re not just watching anymore. You’re a part of this now.

The final lap feels like an eternity.

Your fingers are clenched so tight around Jungkook’s manager’s arm that you’re sure you’ve cut off circulation, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Your heart is slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in shallow bursts as the cars blur past the final turn.

He’s in first place but barely.

The driver behind him is closing in fast, their front wing nearly grazing Jungkook’s rear tire, and it’s too close, too reckless, too much.

Your nails dig into your palms, your legs swaying restlessly. You can’t stand still, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch, helpless and desperate, as he flies toward the finish line.

The crowd is screaming, his crew is yelling stats into the comms, but it’s all just noise, buzzing around the only thing that matters: him.

"Come on, Jungkook," you whisper under your breath, hands tightening around the edge of your jacket. "Come on, come on, come on—"

The checkered flag waves.

The moment his car crosses the finish line, the world tilts, the tension shatters, and your breath finally, finally releases.

You don’t even realize you’re grinning, shaking, nearly collapsing from the sheer relief and overwhelming joy of it all.

The stadium erupts the second Jungkook’s car flies across the finish line.

The sound is deafening—a rush of cheers, of voices screaming his name, of reporters scrambling to capture the moment. Confetti bursts into the air, flickering under the bright stadium lights like a million tiny stars. His pit crew is going wild, throwing their arms up, chanting, celebrating the biggest win of his career.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop for any of it.

He barely lets the car roll to a stop before he’s unbuckling, pulling his helmet off, his eyes already searching.

He sees you.

Standing in the VIP pit area, his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Suddenly, everything else fades.

His team? The cameras? The press waiting to get their headline? None of it matters.

All he can think about is you.

So, he runs. Straight past his team, straight past the cameras, straight past the screaming reporters, straight to you.

Before you can even say congratulations, before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, you’re in his arms.

He lifts you clean off your feet, arms tight around your waist, his laugh breathless against your cheek, giddy, boyish, unfiltered joy.

Then he kisses you. Right there, in front of thousands of people. In front of the flashing cameras, in front of the roaring crowd, in front of his crew and the entire racing world. He kisses you like there’s no one else but you and him.

It’s not careful. It’s not slow. It’s pure feeling, pure adrenaline, pure Jungkook.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, like he couldn’t have gone another second without making sure you knew.

Your fingers clutch at his racing suit, your heart pounding harder than it did during the race itself, your body sinking into his like it was meant to be here, like it’s the only place you’ll ever belong.

Somewhere in the background, you hear the cheers get even louder, hear the reporters frantically calling his name, hear the cameras capturing every second of this moment.

But none of it touches you.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, lips swollen, his forehead dropping against yours as he grins, bright, wide, unstoppable. “Told you I needed my good luck charm."

You let out a shaky breath, laughing softly, hands still gripping his suit. Still holding onto him like you’re afraid to let go. “Jungkook, that was in front of—"

"All of them?" He grins shamelessly, still so out of breath. "Yeah, I know."

You giggle, pressing your forehead against his chest for a second. "Oh my god."

"What?" His voice is teasing, his fingers toying with the hem of his own jacket wrapped around you. "You didn’t like it?"

You open your mouth, ready to fight him on it, ready to pretend like you weren’t just completely, devastatingly ruined by that kiss but the words don’t come.

Because when you look at him, really look at him, you realize you’re done pretending. Suddenly, it’s not scary anymore. Suddenly, it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You swallow. "So am I your girl now?”

His breath halts, his fingers tighten just slightly on your waist, and for the briefest second, you see it. The relief. The realization. The pure, undeniable certainty that he’s got the girl.

He exhales, grinning so wide it could split his face in half, and tugs you in for another kiss, this time softer, slower, like he’s sealing the moment between just the two of you.

"You always were."

And as the celebrations explode around you, as the cameras flash, as his crew cheers, as Jungkook beams like he just won something even bigger than this race, you know, deep in your chest, in your bones, in every fiber of your being, there is no escaping this man.

You realize something with absolute certainty. This was never just about luck. It was always meant to be him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

extra extra note!

i wanted to thank you all again for reading this story <3 this OC means so much to me. with that being said, i never want to leave you guys hanging, so i’ll be doing 3-4 epilogue drabbles/blurbs based off your guys’ requests (bc it’s no fun if im just doing whatever i please, duhh)

send in some ideas (smut, fluff, even some angst) of what you would want to see as epilogue blurbs and I’ll choose the ones that inspire me :-) click here to send em in!

love you all… catch ya on the next fic <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @yooniepot @bookstoread199 @pipipipiiiii @someonegoood @vintagemoonsstuff @kittisuuuuu @ttanniett @loonareads @jincapableoflove @jkxlvrr @taekrve @jenniebyrubies @senaqsstuff @somisarchive @somehowukook @mysjammy @busanbby-jjk @mimi1097 @mikrokosmosellen @indyuhhhhh @vantelover1306 @haru-jiminn @sky-23s-world @minimoninini @bighitfics

@outofworldvy @smartkive @dontcallmeelle @beomluvrr @tatamicc @seokout @ashslight @avawants2havefun @bjoriis @jjeonjjk7 @mar-lo-pap @parkinglot-nights @coletaehyung @mellyyyyyyx @magicalnachocreator @royalguk

[lbjeff]

The Bats noticed Danny poison his drink immediately because the thing he put in it is radioactive and it sent alerts to the Batcave’s system.

At first, they think Danny is an assassin has been hired to kill someone at the party. So, Tim and Damian come to talk with him to cause distraction while Bruce watching from a far, the others at the Batcave do the investigation on his background. But before they could figure out anything, Danny drink his own poisonous glass. So they think this guy may not even know what in his drink.

After drink his glass, Danny notices both Tim and his brother are looking at his glass: What’s wrong?

Tim: Oh, I just find out the color your drink look different from what the gala offer. May I try that?

Danny: Oh, that cause I add my medicine in it. You know, health problems. But it’s not for healthy (living) people

Damian: TT. And where did you get your “medicine”? It looks more like poisonous to me

Tim: Dami! Sorry Danny, but I kind of curious, too

Danny: It’s okey! I used to have an accident when I was 14, after that my heart rate and body temperature kind of slow and cold. So my godfather give me those medicine to keep my temperature normal (those poison make his heart race and raise his temperature, the normal people eat it will die like having a heart attack, no trace left).

Damian: Your godfather really “kind” to you

Danny: Yeah, he kind of an asshole the first time we met but after Dani leaving and Dan’s birth, he’s getting better

Tim: Oh? Dani and Dan, are they your siblings or your godfather’s kid?

Danny: Oh kind of, they are our children

He smiles and drink his glass, doesn’t know how his sentence makes Tim and Damian’s faces paled. Even Bruce, who stand far away but still listening to their conversation, lose the smile on his face for a second. Dick and Jason, who also listen at the cave, trade a worrisome look.

Danny, nearly finish his drink, look at his glass and says: Those drink used to be Dani’s favorite, she usually drink a little secretly whenever I didn’t pay attention. Sadly, she didn’t stay in the living world to try it again (she is traveling at the Ghost Zone)

Before Tim could dig more information, an middle age man comes near them, pull Danny’s hand and giving a toddler into his arm.

Vlad: Where did you go, Danny? Dan is looking for you.

Dan: Mom, Mom! Hug me!

Danny, giving Vlad his glass so he could hold Dan with both hands, look at Tim and Damian: I am making new friends, like you alway say. By the way, there are Tim and his brother, Damian. Tim, Damian, there is my godfather, Vlad. And there is our child, Dan

Vlad nods at them then look at the glass he just takes from Danny: Danny, what I said about drinking your medicine in public? At least not when Dan is around, he may try it like Dani, and he is too small to try anything new

Danny holding Dan, whose eyes is closed and ready to sleep: I know, Vlad. I will be more careful next time. Goodbye Tim, goodbye Damian, as you see, Dan is tired so we may leave the gala now.

Tim: It is okay. Hope I could see you the next charity party next week

Danny: Oh, I not sure I could go but thank for asking

Then he leaves with Vlad and Dan, look like a happy family of the elite

Later at the Batcave

Jason: So, run me through the information about the guy so I could shot him in the eyes

Dick: No, we won’t shot anyone, yet

Bruce: Hmn. Tim, what we can get about the Master’s couple?

Tim: So, apparently, Vlad is Danny’s godfather and his parents’s college friend. They first met when Danny is 14, not long after the accident Danny did mentioned. After his parents move to Europe to do their research and his sister left for study abroad, he is Danny’s guidance

Damian: A guidance that gives his poison for medication and two children?

Tim: Well, due to the birth certificates that I could find on government’s data, Dani was born when Danny was 15, before he live with Vlad. And Dan is few year after, when Danny was 17, after he lived with Vlad for a year

Jason: So we all agree to kill this Vlad guy, right? He sounds creepy

Bruce: Calm down, Jason. And that didn’t explain why Vlad want to kill Danny, after having their children

Tim: I think I know the reason. Danny has a heritage from his far relatives that he refused but that heritage will be given for his kids when their grow up. There are two possibilities. First, the poison was for the conflicts the first time they met but it didn’t work on Danny due to his accident in the past. Then Vlad got obsessed with Danny and now they live together as a family

Damian: TT. Then one of their children drink the poison her dad gives to her mom, died while her mom still has no idea about that? Why he still give Danny “medicine” if they’re good now?

Tim: Well, as far as I know, they didn’t have a marriage certificate, which means they’re just godfather and godson, no more obligation or rights. And if Danny die now, the heritage would be given to his only living child, Dan, who is 4 years old. And due to the law of Amity Town, a rare town that still have some significant rule that could apply for anyone born at it, the parents could be the representative for their under 5 year old child to accept, invest or borrow with no interest with their children’s heirloom.

Jason: So if Danny die, that scumbag could use his heritage through their child?

Tim: Yes. Which mean there may be a year for he to try killing Danny, if he figure out the poison isn’t working

Bruce: Hmn. Tim, are Dani 6 years old now if she didn’t died?

Dick: B, you didn’t mean..?

Damian: that Vlad kill his own daughter when she was old enough to decide what to do with the heritage she may get after her mom died

Tim: That could be possible! According to my investigation, Dani stoped show up in Danny’s album after her six year old birthday party

Dick: Do you think Vlad will do the same with his son if he get old enough?

Jason: Well, it isn’t too late to kill him now

Dick: Calm down Jason. We need more information than that to acting. And killing isn’t the answer.

Tim, look at his phone: Maybe we have less time than we think

Damian: What do you mean Drake?

Tim: Danny just sent a message to invite me and Damian to Dan’s 5 year old birthday party. And he suggested we shouldn’t bring anything sensitive cause he is having a third child, as his quote “Dani regenerate into his belly again”

Dick: So Vlad could kill his son, due to his age and may continue to kill Danny, after his child’s birth?

Damian: TT. That is if the child could be born. Don’t forget he drink poison as medicine for daily basis

Danny can't taste- DCxDP Prompt

The problem with being half dead is that so are your senses. While certain foods are still as tasty as ever they are relegated to food found on offering plates like bread, fruits, cheese and wine. But Danny just wants to eat a good burger and unfortunately, those aren't offered to the dead.

This has led to Tucker and Sam burning food offerings for Danny in the past, but there has been another solution.

Danny just adds copious amounts of extra stuff to his food to satisfy his numbed tastebuds.

20 sugar packages to his coffee, a flood of hot sauce on his burgers and anything else he could get his hands on.

One afternoon after class Danny ended up meeting Tim at the Batburger on campus. There Tim watched in horror as Danny filled a cup of Sprite, added blue raspberry sour Death Ball candies to it, added citric acid, added plutonium 9 hot sauce, and extra sugar. It was the most horrifying baby blue concoction Tim had ever seen. It looked like a normal soda but it was liquid death.

And Tim wanted to try it next.

(A drink that would cause a small Victorian child to disintegrate)

[zolass]

Lust and Envy Top Male Reader x Perv Male Best Friend Oc I don't know where I wanted to go with this but I'll probably drop a part 2 because I do have some ideas to continue ngl. Also I'm mostly experimenting with those TvT and yes they'll fuck bc I'll make em. content/warning: smut, p in v, does it count as dub-con?, cuckolding, protected sex, perverted best friend, toy and cum and lube, if there's more I'm sry.

1.6k words

You’ve been friends with Nathan for quite a few years, you also heard weird shit spewing from his lips or him asking you a few weirdish requests, yet never something remotely close to this.

“You want me to do what?” you asked in utter disbelief– he couldn’t possibly be serious. Your brows were furrowed together, your jaw working as you grind your teeth a bit in irritation. Nathan’s blue eyes looked slightly up at you, nervous at your reaction, “Well– I just want to see what it’s like to see–” your palm hit your forehead as your eyes closed and you counted down from ten, before you opened your eyes again. “Nathan sometimes I’m questioning why I’m still friends with you– fucking your girlfriend while you watch?” you repeated his request.

This was the with utmost certainty the stupidest thing your best friend ever requested. Nathan shrugged his shoulders, “You’re like the only one I could’ve asked–” “Nathan I’m not even interested in women like that, I wouldn’t even get a boner at seeing a pussy in front of me,” you said. Truth to be told, you did in fact already did something like this before– yet you were actually fucking the boyfriend while the girlfriend watched, to be fair you only did it after making sure you wouldn’t get any smoke from whatever might happen after the experience.

But with Nathan it was different, he wanted you to fuck his girlfriend, it wasn’t a random couple that you probably never see again, it’s someone,despite the many times you questioned yourself being friends with him, close to you. “What if you simply think it’s a guy– come on I’ll owe you one,” Nathan said, grabbing onto your arms while putting on the puppy eyes.

Closing your eyes, you sighed in defeat, “You look stupid with that look on your face,” you simply stated before opening your eyes and glancing down at Nathan, who had a goofy smile on his lips, “Where and when?” 

This was how you found yourself two days later on a saturday, early evening in your best friend's apartment. You stood in the bedroom with the couple, already naked. You looked at the woman standing across from you, before your eyes landed on Nathan who sat in a chair close to the bed, then back to Lexie.

Without a word, the woman kneeled in front of you and took your soft dick in her hands, giving it a few strokes while you tried really hard to imagine it was a guy. Already regretting saying yes, but Nathan this little fucker knew you rarely said no to any of his requests, but before Lexie could take your dick in your mouth you stopped her, “Let’s not– I’ll just do it or else it’ll probably stay limp for the rest of the night,” you said. The woman only glanced at you with a raised eyebrow before she shrugged and stood up.

You grabbed your dick and gave it a few strokes, added with a bit extra help of memories of your past hook-ups you got your cock to be semi-hard, you bit your lip as a grunt was about to leave you, before you opened your eyes and quickly grabbed the condom you took with you. As you glanced over to Nathan, you already saw he had his pants slightly shuffled down, and his dick hard against his stomach. 

Whatever flows one's boat.

You ripped the condom open with your teeth, before you made quick work on rolling it onto your length. The bed queked under the pressure of one person, as you looked over you saw Lexie’s ass facing you, so maybe she did know that you were gay or whatever, at least you didn’t have to see her face. When you took a few steps over to the bed, placing a hand on the curve of her ass, you lined up your cock up to her pussy before you pushed in you, trying your best to trick yourself that it was simply a guy. 

As you pushed in, you didn’t feel as much tightness as you thought, yet the moment her moan sounded, you grabbed her nape and pushed her face into the sheets before thrusting your entire length in. The muffled moan made it easier for you to forget that it was a woman, as you started to harshly thrust your hips while your eyes were squeezed shut. Small grunts started to erupt from you, as you picked up the pace, the light stimulation of the clenching while your mind was somewhere else helped quite well. 

It didn’t take long for a load moan to erupt from Lexie, as her body shuddered and her hole clenched around you as she came, you quickly pulled your dick out, even if you wore a condom, and all that her moans made it painfully obvious that she wasn’t a guy. “I’ll jerk off in the bathroom,” you spoke bluntly, before leaving the bedroom to go into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You didn’t want to be blue balled after all of this, so you took your hard cock in your hand and started to give it long strokes, before quickening the pace. Small groans left you, until you came in the condom. Resting your forehead against the cool wall, you shaky breaths as your orgasm welled down and the last spurt of cum landed in the condom before you pulled it off and tied a knot at the top and threw it in the bin. 

Before you tugged your cock back in, you cleaned yourself before stalking back to the bedroom where your pants, and other stuff was. As you walked inside the bedroom, you were rather expecting the two of them to go at it like jackrabbits, but both of them were in the same places they  were before you left the bedroom. 

Pursing your lips, feeling rather awkward and out of place now, you quickly put on your boxers, pants and shirt, before you grab all the necessities you brought wherever you go, you looked at your best friend, whose legs were spread with a white substance all over his shirt and stomach, you couldn’t help the slight snort escaping you gaining the attention of Nathan, “Seems like you really owe me one now, I’ll be going,” you said after putting on your shoes and ready to walk out, “Where’s the condom?” the stupid question came from your friend, to which you looked back at him with your eyebrows knitted together, “In the bin where the hell else?” “Oh–” a dumb smile formed on Nathan’s lips to which you only rolled your eyes, “Take care– both of you.”

With those words you were quickly out of the apartment on your way back home. Yea you were quite stupid for going along with your friend, a dry chuckle left you. Unknownst to you, it didn’t take long for Lexie to also leave her boyfriend’s apartment, saying something about a late ‘girl’s night weekend’, leaving Nathan alone.

Nathan had his head leaned back on the back of the seat, as he simply stared at the ceiling. He remembers clearly how you looked with your eyes closed, small grunts coming through your lips, a frown on your face as even with your eyes closed you seemed focused as you thrust your hips so vigorously. The loud clapping of skin hitting skin, had him wishing it was him underneath you instead of Lexie, just the thought alone of getting his asshole pounded into the mattress by you, had him climaxing.

Then he suddenly remembered the condom you had used, he bit his lip as he stood up before almost making a dash to the bathroom. As he looked into the bin, he saw the tied condom beside some papers you’d used, biting his lip he fished the condom out as he felt the blood rushing to his dick.

He swiftly walked out of the bathroom, to the kitchen in which he grabbed a pair of scissors, only to rush back into his bedroom to grab a box from underneath his bed, after he put the condom and scissors on the bed. Unlatching the handle and opening the top, only to reveal the pink dildo, which basically had the same size as your own.

Nathan bit his lip as he grabbed the dildo and put it on the bed, hastily undressing himself, he snatched the condom and the scissors before cutting the knot off and throwing the scissors into the box in which he hid the dildo. His hole clenched and unclenched in excitement while his cock was basically weeping, dirtying the sheets even further. Slowly he arched his back his ass sticking out, while he looked concentrated back as he slowly let a bit of the white liquid inside the condom drop onto his cheeks, feeling it run down his crack making his dick twitch, before he emptied the rest of your cum on the dildo lubing it up with it.

He couldn’t help but swallow as he simply threw the now almost empty condom somewhere, as he quickly grabbed onto the dildo, keeping it as steady as he could while he lined up his hole with the tip. Shaking with excitement, he basically plunged the entire length inside of his hole, like he did quite a few times before. Nathans back arched, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and a loud shameless moan rippled from his throat.

The tip pressed right against his prostate, as a spurt of cum shot out of his tip. Not wasting any more time, Nathan started to ride the toy with eagerness imagining it was you, all the while the knowledge of using your cum as lube, thrilled him. He pulled one orgasm out after the other, just wishing it was you ruining him instead of a toy, until he passed out on the drenched sheets with the dildo lodged in his ass. 

Nathan didn’t know how long he could continue, until the greed ultimately got to him.

[dailymothanon]

My TFP Soundwave ramblings (be warned cuz there are many words)

I was gonna draw today but the prospect of it felt overwhelming for some reason so instead I’m just gonna talk about TFP Soundwave’s alt mode (a UAV/ reaper drone) just cuz I was reading about it and I like how I could link stuff between how he is and how reaper drones are.

So basically, one of the first things I wanna mention is that reaper drones/UAVs are unmanned aerial vehicles (given the whole “drone” thing and what UAV even means) but to me that just sorta makes sense for Soundwave in regard to his more.. Unsettling, robotic/alien-like behavior and movements? As well as his silence and usual distance from the front lines and his lack of showing face/(social?) detachment from like everyone else other than Laserbeak (don’t ask, it just makes sense to me). Reaper drones were also made to work at first only in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance roles; but eventually additionally a hunter-killer role which you can kinda see in Soundwave’s character in the show (my best example is the scene where he retrieves Laserbeak from Ratchet, super cool creepy behavior from him, just waiting for something or someone to make any noise or any movement). When he has a mission, he’s most definitely getting it done, he stalks and lurks and takes action when the time is just Right; he’s very pinpoint accurate in Prime. 

Reaper drones were also made to provide “deadly persistence” capability, being able to fly over areas night and day waiting for a target to present itself, or to survey for LONG long amounts of time. Which to me correlates to how he’s able to stand still and do work and wait and listen and watch and do everything for So Long as he does in the show (and tolerate Starscream— or like everyone actually for so long 🙄). 

Reapers also utilize satellite communications for command and control (as in, they kinda literally have satellite dishes in them I think that’s what that is?), so that to me also easily parallels Soundwave's abilities with the space bridges and kind of his visor being computer-like as well (and that time he used an. Antenna satellite thing? To look for signals or whatever). They also use other multiple sensors to target and observe, which include optical (high resolution imagery for identification and target acquisition), infrared, and radar systems (enables the drone to locate and track targets regardless of weather conditions or visibility). Which imo links to how Soundwave is described as the “eyes and ears of the decepticons”.

They carry many weapons but I’m not really gonna get into that tbh cuz. Idk. Don’t wanna. Also TFP Soundwave doesn’t fight often anyways and when he does it’s mostly just straight hands (and data cables). And this is as far as my not the most accurate of ramblings most likely but just one I wanted to make because there’s just a Lot from so Little of TFP Soundwave I just love to think about it. Was I geeked out writing this? Maybe, so what 😒

[rottingghosty]

The Ghostling of Space | DC X DP

i’m working on the next part of the realms pr au trust me i am but i got this tiktok my fyp and suddenly i’m thinking of a NEW au for dc x dp. video is at the end i came up with this at 2am (like usual) so there will be errors

prompt: Danny’s the Ancient of Space, he spends most of his time floating around space because he’s on a vacation by his council to enjoy his life as a baby ghostling and a young prince since he’s still too young to rule so he has someone as a regent (not sure who yet). So he’s just going around, passing various planets and solar system. He’s essentially swimming around because he looks more like a mer than a human.

Danny should’ve realized that someone was going to notice him at some point, he didn’t realize it’d be a few years after Clockwork had spat him out in this universe. He’d been enjoying his time witnessing the birth of stars, of nebulas being born and the death of a solar system. The universe he was in made his core thrum with life, he’s gotten to feed it heavily that it puts his main obsession on the back burner. He skims his finger tips through the stardust of a star that had been born, molding and shaping it until it joins its brethren to form a constellation for the planet he was curled around.

The planet had no life yet but he knew that would change one day, he could feel its core yawning and turning. It’d get its push once Life had the opportunity to focus on it and breathe into the core. He was balance, his essence seeping into the planet’s core as he does his part of aiding the formation of a baby solar system. His body twists as he swims languidly through the vaccum as he does flips and turns. Moving through space with his newly formed tail felt like he was in the ocean, the movement so naturally and freeing.

It’d been when he finally drifted away from it and towards the Earth that was so similar to his back in his own universe he could never return that someone picked up his presence.

It’d been when he finally shrunk from his rather large size to something relatively smaller as he curled around a moon near Uranus. Away from any prying eyes as he allows himself to drift off into sleep.

It’d take someone to had been looking at one of Uranus’ moons to realize that something was curled around one, something large and green.

Captain Marvel could only stare in awe at the figure that curled around one of the moon’s of Uranus. The figure was beautiful, pale green skin that seemed to glow before dimming and brightening again. They seemed eel like if the way they seemed to move their body to curl around the moon of Titania. Where legs would have started, instead goes into an void of darkness, with a green glow that was a sickeningly shade of bright green that dimmed and brightened.

It was beautiful as it was eerie. The glow seemed to start from the hips and continued down its sides and tail, the fins flaring every time the creature seemed to breathe. A fin from at the top of the spine and continued down the entire back until it reached a stop before the end of its tail.

Captain Marvel knew that the other members in the Justice League were in awe just as he is, something about this being screamed otherworldly. It screamed magic and it made him very being thrum with energy he’s never felt before. He wanted to say something, to speak about what would be the best course of action to take to see if this being was a friendly or a hostile. Before he could even say a word, Constantine released a curse.

“Why is there a bloody baby ghost of the Infinite Realms here?”

TLDR: danny is very much a baby ghost prince living his life watching everything in space and making new things. he’s basically the equivalent of a baby god playing toys (planets and solar systems) and has no idea that he’s giving the JL and JLD a heart attack because oh my god that’s a baby ghost. but also OH MY GOD THAT’S THE BABY GHOST OF THE HIGH KING. still unsure who takes on the role for danny, pandora? cw? frostbite? a random oc? i know people use jazz as a regent but shes like a teen and deserves to live her life without having to deal with ghostly duties.

now danny’s got these people wanting to care for him cause he’s just out in the open in space and they don’t want the high king to get upset if their son is hurt.

(clockwork finds it very funny because if anything, they have to worry about upsetting anyone who danny deems as his)

[babyblankyerror]

Based of this prompt I wrote a while ago

Stanford would still be mad at his brother because he thinks Stanley remembers what he did but he slowly warms up to him because that's his baby brother guys TToTT also because Stanley has a tendency to vent to his new animal friends and it breaks Ford's heart every time...

I like to think Stan's curse has moments where it flickers out when he remembers a thing- So the two scientists will just have to watch this child suddenly turn into a very scared and haunted adult for like a minute before he's back like nothing happened.

I imagine Stan imitates them a lot and they decide it's enough when they hunt and Stan tries to eat it raw like them💀

Fiddleford is the one to try help Stanley first properly, of course. He tries to get the boy to find help but Stan is too attached to Shanklin (2.0) and, frankly, Ford is too attached to Stan (he won't admit it).

So this is basically a "raised by animals" sort of Au :3

Thankfully said animals are smart and are trying their best-

[0wlettie]

sfw, jealousy & light angst, gege usage, dogboy!caleb thoughts cont. (pt. I), wc 3.4k

dogboy!caleb who you grow closer with as the weeks pass. he becomes the closest, most important person to you besides your grandma. closer than a friend but not really a brother, you decide that he’ll be your gege from now on; something that lights him up from the inside out when he hears you call him that, tail wagging so hard that you’re scared it’ll fall off. you do everything together like watch movies—both scary and not—and play games, go out for walks and to play at the park. you’re both attached at the hip, living in each other’s shadow. where one goes the other is sure to follow, and while it does kind of worry your grandma, she also realizes that this is better than you being lonely. you smile more; are quicker to laugh and joke rather than retreat into yourself. so despite her initial trepidation, she lets things play out how they will.

dogboy!caleb who greets you after you get home from school with snacks ready and a movie already paused on the t.v. some mishap with his paperwork forces him to wait some time until he’s ready to attend classes, so you’ve got plenty of time to spend together all on your lonesome; your grandma taking more shifts at a local pharmacy since caleb can watch over you now instead of your next door neighbors. sometimes he surprises you with something you’ve never seen before, and no matter how much you pester him on how he found the obscure movie, show or anime, he never says a word. it’s an exciting time for you, and you find that no matter what you do, he never seems to mind taking care of you. whether that means he has to coddle you because you wake up in a mood or if he has to deal with your clinginess, always wanting to pet his ears and tail, as well as playfully wrestle with him whenever he teases you too much. he’s just as eager to be around you as you are him, and it makes you feel special.

dogboy!caleb who transfers to your school a month and a half after coming home. your town is a bit on the small side, so they often combine some of the younger kids with some of the older ones, and your school happens to double up as both an elementary and a middle school. you’re ecstatic! he’s a little older than you so you don’t have the same classes, but you two get to walk home together. and, when he’s got free periods, he walks over to your class and your teacher allows you two to hang out! for once, you find school to be exciting to attend rather than something to be afraid of. for once, you don’t eat lunch alone and miserable.

dogboy!caleb who is unsurprisingly popular at school. it takes a little while for other kids to warm up to him—hybrids are rare in your town, and they’ve never been around a hybrid kid before—but in no time at all, they’re practically tripping over themselves to get close to him. something that initially doesn’t bother you as much, because you’re proud that your gege is so well liked! you get to show him off, and you soak up the jealous glares and awed looks you get when he walks you home, swinging your held hands together while you babble on about your day.

dogboy!caleb who quickly rises to the top of the social food chain; joining the basketball team, being nominated to be on the student council, having some of the top scores, etc, etc. He’s got loads of people and obligations vying for his attention, from his buddies from the team to the student council planning for school events to being asked to tutor in study groups. as weeks turn into months, you end up seeing him less and less as he gets busier and busier with his extracurriculars. you often have to wait for him in the library so you can walk home together, and it slowly begins to bother you when you're stuck there for hours and hours at a time. watching his classmates fawn all over him, laughing and joking, smiling without a care in the world. as pretty girls older than you giggle and twirl their hair, leaning in close to his face to layer compliment after compliment on him. while you’re left to sit in the corner, alone and brooding as he shoots you the occasional apologetic grimace.

dogboy!caleb who begins to notice that you’ve grown quiet on your walks back from school. you’re fine by the time you two get back home, and maybe you cling to him a little harder, but it’s nothing too out of the usual. but he can just feel something is off whenever the day starts again and the cycle back home repeats. And repeats. And repeats until even going to sleep doesn’t dissuade your pensive, almost angry mood. and he tries everything to make you smile, to make you happy but nothing really seems to work anymore. you give him the cold shoulder, reply to his questions with silences or curt words. you two don’t even watch movies anymore, and he gets progressively panicked the more and more you seem to drift away no matter how hard he tries to keep you in his hold. your grandma notices, because of course she does, but the you refuse to answer her questions, and caleb has none to give. she knows that you are a bit of a handful in terms of temperament; snappy and standoffish when you fall into one of your moods. she figures that this must be ones of those times, and she opts to wait just a little bit before she really puts her foot down.

dogboy!caleb who once again leads you to the library. it’s another study group this time. its supposed to be him and a few of his teammates, but when you two walk through the doors, it’s a lot…bigger than he expects. it's his a few of his team milling about the large table where their usual study sessions happen, as well as a whole bunch of girls from his class. he notices how your already sour mood worsens, and a low whine is building up in his throat before he forcibly swallows it back down. glancing at you, he offers a smile that screams out an apology. you hardly react, flicking over him with dark, unreadable eyes before you sigh and begin to shuffle away. your hair is down today, and he can smell the remnants of your vanilla shampoo once you sharply duck his outstretched hand. it stings something fierce when you shoot him a mean glare, but before he can possibly ask what’s wrong--what he did to make you look at him like that--you’ve already turned your back to him. you angrily stalk over to your designated corner, roughly tossing your bag down onto the floor; snagging a book from the inside before you bury your nose in the pages.

dogboy!caleb who ignores the call of his name, following after you without hesitation. your hide your face within the paperback held in between your small hands, and it causes a something heavy and painful to weigh down on his chest when you ignore his presence. his shadow casts over your form, and even though every hair is prickling along your skin at finally having his devoted attention on you, the spiteful part of yourself wants him to suffer a little more. it’s mean. petty and unfair, you know. but you hate the fact that you have to share him now. he was yours first. he was the first kid to accept you for who you are, flaws and all. you know him better than those annoying classmates of his, those insufferable girls who look at him with hearts in their eyes, those dumb boys who hog him on the weekends with their stupid sport. but he still gives them more attention than you. getting home from school is less like you two spending time together, and more like he’s busy studying or chatting on his phone with his friends. and you know he doesn't mean to exclude you, because when he does have any excess time, he spends it with you--as rare as that is nowadays. he even invites you out when he hangs outside with his friends. you always go because you just can’t help yourself, but the pit in leaves in your stomach when you sit on the sidelines and watch him have fun with others only gets worse and worse. caleb is yours; your best friend, your gege. but, it doesn’t seem like anyone ever picks up on it, least of all him.

dogboy!caleb who doesn't stop his hand from snatching the book away from your face. you make an angry noise, curling your fingers into fists as you place them in your lap--keeping your eyes locked onto your knuckles to avoid his burning stare. he rests his hands on the table, leaning down to try and catch your eye. but you stubbornly refuse, closing your eyes and turning your head no matter what angle he looks at you, staying silent in the face of his questions and concern. you hate to admit it, but it does warm you inside to see him try so hard to get your attention. but it also makes you feel icky and gross, hearing the barely bitten back whines, the growing desperation as he tries his best to stay calm. you waver, in the face of him trying so hard to figure out what’s wrong, so with one long sigh, you finally open your eyes and look at him. his entire body is tense, ears flattened to his head as he looks at you with furrowed brows and wide, almost hurt eyes. the sight immediately has you softening the frown on your face. you reach out to curl your pinkie around his, softly apologizing for being so mean.

dogboy!caleb who immediately relaxes at your touch, the tense line of his shoulders drooping into a semi-comfortable looking slouch while his ears perk up. his entire hand wraps around yours as he quietly asks you what’s wrong, peering at you with his shiny, dusk-purple irises. you pout, avoiding his gaze as guilt weighs heavy in your belly. he squeezes your hand and asks again, but the shame of your actions begins to catch up with you and you find you don’t have the words to explain yourself. you don’t know the nitty, gritty details of his early childhood, but you know enough to gather that he hasn’t really experienced a “normal” school life. if he gets a little caught up in the excitement of it all, then you shouldn’t be punishing him for it. that’s…that’s just cruel, and your gege is the last person you want to be cruel to. even if it makes you angry that he’s now others’ too, it’s something you’re gonna have to accept. if only to keep from hurting him further.

dogboy!caleb who relents when he sees the frustrated wobble of your lower lip. he knows that face, and he knows that it’s better to give you time to sort out your thoughts rather than push further. so he sighs and lets go of your hand, reaching over to lightly tweak your nose. you whine a little, swatting his hand away while trying your best to look annoyed. but how can you be when caleb is giving you the attention you’re so desperately craving. when he looks so relieved at having you speak to him.

dogboy!caleb who smiles at the sparkle of humor in your eyes, quietly promising to you that he’ll make you whatever you want once they get back home. but, only after you tell him what’s been going on lately. you bite your lip, but slowly nod at his imploring stare. you don’t like being mad at caleb. you hate it, in fact. it feels wrong to associate negative things with him when all he’s ever made you feel is accepted and happy. until now, at least. so you quietly agree, giggling when you can see the tip of his wagging tail peak over the edge of the table. that lovely sound finally puts him at ease, and feeling overwhelmed with relief and excitement, he leans over and nuzzles the tip of his nose into the top of your head. you giggle again, titling forward to brush your cheek against the front of his shoulder you can reach. he promises you that he’ll be done after an hour, which is a lot shorter than he normally stays. he pulls back, gently booping your nose with his finger. he asks if you can be patient with him, and feeling so much better now that he’s giving you the chance to explain, you eagerly agree with a real smile. seeing it makes that frantic energy inside of him calm. he doesn’t know what exactly he did, but it’s clear that it’s him that’s been making you so upset. or at least, what he’s been doing. it has been a long time since it’s just been the two of you outside of school work or meal times, and he feels like an idiot for just noticing it. if what really made you so upset was his busy schedule, then he can tweak it and spend less time out with others. anything to bring you back to him.

dogboy!caleb who jogs over to the study group, waving off their concerns with a practiced smile. he warns them that he’s on a time limit, and laughs off their disappointed but friendly ‘boos’. quickly, though, he gets into study mode and the group begins discussing their recent math quiz and what they did wrong on it. caleb sets a timer on his phone—one grandma had gotten him since you were still a little too young to have one in her opinion—and settles into his seat. he’s really only here to offer support, as he’s had no trouble at all when it comes to his classes. so when one of the girls from his homeroom asks for his input, he doesn’t hesitate to offer his help.

dogboy!caleb who casually leans over to peer at her paper, and you watch as the girl he’s helping flushes at his easy going smile and bright eyes. her own gaze flickers from his ears to his face and back again while he talks her through whatever her problem is, and your good mood vanishes. that familiar uncomfortable burn settles within your chest, and you dig your nails into your dress. you don’t like the way she’s looking at him, you don’t like it at all. it doesn��t help that another girl slowly inches her way over, and after he’s clearly done helping the first, the second seizes her opportunity and she immediately pounces. her voice is loud and whiny enough to carry over to your corner, and your eye twitches when caleb laughs and calms down her dramatic complaints, easily switching over to pay attention to her instead. on and on this goes as the hour ticks down slowly for you. you want to look away, you want to ignore all those girls who are so much prettier than you are. who are thinner and sweet and cute in a way you’ll never be. who get to spend time with caleb when you can’t; who get to steal his attention away when you barely have it despite living together. but it’s like your eyes are glued to the scene, like you’re frozen in place. that itching burn grows hotter and hotter the longer you look, until you suddenly just can’t take it anymore and you have to leave.

dogboy!caleb who, after forty-five minutes, gets some time to breath. he checks the time on his phone, idly planning on what you could possible want for dinner. he’s thinking up a few different options when he turns his head to peek at what you’re doing, only—you aren’t there. your seat is empty, your bag gone and there’s not a trace to be found of you. his heart drops to his stomach as his eyes frantically dart around the library, but you’re nowhere to be found. he’s trying to keep his head cool, but he can feel the panic in his chest grow stronger the longer he realizes that he didn’t even notice you leave. he quickly rises to his feet, ignoring the questions thrown his way as he tosses his bag over his shoulder. he doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find you. nothing else matters but you. nothing.

dogboy!caleb who hones in on your scent immediately. he'd memorized it, early on, and he's gotten plenty of time to adjust to the overwhelming smells staining the halls. it's no trouble at all to follow his nose out the library doors, not even bothering to acknowledge the concerned calls of his study group. his mind is focused on nothing but finding you. everything around him simultaneously goes sharp and blurry, eyes flicking around as your scent trails down the halls and out the front gates of the school. the energy building up beneath his skin sets him on edge, an unfamiliar kind of restlessness sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. how did he not realize you were gone? how could he have been so wrapped up in that stupid study group to not notice you leaving? he’s attuned to everything about you, at least, he thought he was. he clenches his jaw when, instead of going down their usual path, the vanilla-lavender-sea salt scent of yours trails down another. it’s a route you haven’t taken with him before; a route that leads you further into town rather than down the backstreets to their home.

dogboy!caleb who can’t stop his feet from moving faster, the rhythmic thud of his bag bouncing against his spine. the further he jogs, the stronger your scent gets. his heart pounds even faster inside of his chest, eyes focused and dark as he glances around the street he’s turned onto. it’s not like it’s a bad part of the neighborhood to be in, there’s even a park further up the street. but, there are a lot of older kids milling about the sidewalk. teenagers from the neighboring high school, judging by their uniforms, and it makes him nervous to imagine you wandering about by yourself. he sniffs deeply, head instinctively following the line of your scent as it leads towards the playground. he frowns as he approaches the edges of the park, noticing a small groups of high school boys hanging around a nearby bench. their eyes are drawn towards the park, but he’s a little too far from it to see what they’re looking at clearly. he sniffs again, his ears flicking as he instinctively listens in on their conversation.

‘who’s the kid?’

‘i don’t know man, when i walked up kai was just talkin’ to her.’

‘isn’t it kinda weird that an elementary schooler is hanging around at this hour?’

‘maybe he’s tryna figure that out? if he can, he’ll probably walk her home if she’s lost.’

‘yea, that’s true. you gotta admit though, she’s kinda creepy the more you look at her. i mean, cmon, she’s so gloomy, it’s making me sad just lookin’ at her. she looks like she could stare right through my soul, it’s freaky, bro.’

‘don’t be rude, man, she’s just a kid. what’s if she’s got something going on at home?’

‘maybe, i guess. but what kinda normal kid carries around a fuckin’ ghostface bookbag anyway? isn’t that like, a rated r movie?’

dogboy!caleb who pauses halfway through his step. there’s only one elementary school kid he knows who carries that kinda bag around. the blood in his veins turns to ice when he realizes the girl they’re talking about is you. in the presence of some unknown high school boy. his teeth itch inside of his mouth and he rushes forward without hesitation. he doesn’t care who the hell that other boy is, he’s not gonna leave you with him no matter how ‘nice’ he may appear to you.

*jazz hands* tada !! part two ! again, had to cut it off here cuz this shit was getting suuuuuper long like jeez i fucking yap too much i swear;;;; good news is, though, i won't leave you hanging for long ! i plan to put something out by tomorrow (and i promise i won't get distracted;;;;) so be on the lookout for part three if you're interested !

edit: if you want to keep up with this story, i have no issues tagging ! but if you do follow me and you don’t have an age in your bio i will block you, i’m sorry but im an 18+ blog despite the fluff and i don’t want minors following me; adding this because i’ve seen an influx of people and i guess they didn’t realize i’ve got rules ;;; so please, have an age in bio or you will be blocked !!

[luludeluluramblings]

I can't imagine Connor not rushing to Reader when they're giving birth. Or that he'd even miss it.

Like, imagine he's in a situation where he was originally being held hostage or something. But he hears Reader panicking and calling Alfred about them needing to get to the hospital for birth, and Connor turns into this machine of cold, calculative, determination. Uses every trick he's learned from the Bat Family under two different Robins. Just destroys all obstacles and threatens that he has to leave now. So either get out of his way or risk what it means when he doesn't care if you live or die. Breaks the sound barrier as he flies as fast as possible. Barely makes it in time to watch his baby being born and proceeds to allow himself to be used as a heating pad while guarding Reader and his new baby. While trying to do as much skin to skin contact as possible when Reader isn't holding them.

I don't think he'd allow Reader to go with the Bat Fam. Especially if it stresses Reader out.

But say he was off world for a quick mission again, and the baby was early? When he gets back, he's all confused as to why the Reader isn't at their apartment.

He then finds Reader, at the manor, crying from the stress of being a new mom while not even getting to use the baby things they picked! They're not in the nursery Connor painted for them! And the Bat Family won't. Leave. Them. Alone!!! They're going through heavy disassociation and depression. Cause being around all these people that they were sure hated them right before the baby was born? Makes Reader question if they only want them back because of the baby. It also makes Reader so broken.

How could they immediately love the baby, but couldn't ever bother with them?

Connor breaking the both out and flying back to the apartment.

This, this is getting too far ahead. But, it’s beautiful.

A fully yandere!Conner with a scared Reader that just had their newborn would be brutal and terrifying.

He wouldn’t kill anyone. That would just piss the family off more. But, they way he would cut ties with the family or anyone that sides with them would be done in such a cold buisness like manner, that they’d start doubting if they ever where actually friends with him.

Even Injustice!Superman had emotions.

But, Conner? That apathy is all Lex Luthor genetics shinning through. The part of him that makes it so easy to destroy those around him.

Though Conner is using it to defend his family, so he’s justified. But, it would be chilling.

Teammates would be paralyzed, and friendships shattered like some bones.

Do not fuck with his Reader or his child. And, God help you if you fuck with both of them.

As for the other part, I think that would make Reader have so many issues with motherhood if they were allowed to feel that way.

It’s so common for everyone to care about the baby and ask about the baby, when you’re basically at a physical low and exhausted.

I don’t think this would happen with Reader, thankfully. Being pregnant is a state that Reader was in to the family. A condition that bore results.

Some of the family, yes, would obsess with the baby right away. But, the big thing they the want is to watch Reader be themselves and a mother. They will ask, “Are you okay?” “Do you need something?” “Can I get you something?”

Those mommy issues are what’s triggering some of the absolute worst of their yandere tendencies. Anyone that intervenes on Reader being a mother to their child are a villain in the family’s eyes.

[cressidagrey]

The McLaren Matchmaking Disaster

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Sabrina Clarke (Original Character)

Summary:

Sabrina Clarke is sure Oscar Piastri hates her—he either ignores her, runs away, or responds like a malfunctioning robot.. In reality, Oscar has a massive crush… and is the most socially inept man on the planet. Enter Lando Norris, self-proclaimed matchmaking genius, and suddenly, all of McLaren is watching their disaster of a love story unfold. 

Warnings and Notes: 

Happy Race Weekend! To celebrate, here are 10k of socially awkward Oscar 😂 Warnings: Other than Oscar being an idiot and not being very nice...not really? Unless you count Lando being a menace.

(Also it's Lando (Car) because Ken's job is Beach. Get it? 😂)

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Running Tally of Oscar’s Most Awkward Moments Around Sabrina

(Maintained by McLaren Staff, because they are way too invested)

Sabrina: “Morning, Oscar!”Oscar: blinks three times, nods, walks into a doorframe. 

Sabrina sneezed. Oscar panicked and said “Congratulations.”

Sabrina asked if he wanted a snack from the media lounge. Oscar responded with “Thank you, you too.”

Sabrina tripped on a cable. Oscar, trying to help, tripped over the SAME CABLE. They both ended up on the floor.

Sabrina was filming content and asked, “Oscar, do you have a fun fact for the fans?” Oscar: “No.” (And then just walked away.)

Sabrina put a hand on his arm while laughing. Oscar’s brain fully rebooted. Lando had to snap in front of his face to get him to respond.

She handed him a water bottle during a shoot. Instead of taking it, he just… held out his hand next to it like a Sims character waiting for an animation to load.

Sabrina: “Hey, Oscar, can I ask you something?” Oscar: “No.” (Then realized what he said and immediately walked away.)

He got caught staring at her during lunch. When she asked what was up, he picked up a random spoon and said “This is nice.”

Sabrina: “How are you feeling today?” Oscar: “Yes.”

Sabrina: “Do you need anything before the press conference?” Oscar: “Uh… oxygen?”

Lando asked Sabrina to pass Oscar a clipboard. Oscar fumbled it so badly it ricocheted off the table and hit him in the stomach.

Sabrina: “Hey, Oscar, do you have a charger?” Oscar: “I have… no.” (He had one in his hand.)

She asked what he was listening to in his headphones. Oscar blurted out “the national anthem” for no reason.

Sabrina: “Oh, Oscar, you have something on your face.” Oscar, instead of asking where, just froze and stared at her like a deer in headlights until Lando wiped it off for him.

She walked into the room while he was drinking a smoothie. He immediately forgot how to use the straw and inhaled half of it into his lungs.

Oscar was tying his shoes when Sabrina walked by and said, “Hey, Piastri!” Oscar just… stayed crouched on the ground like a gargoyle until she left.

Sabrina: “You look tired, did you sleep well?” Oscar: “No thanks.”

Sabrina: “Oh, I love that hat on you!” Oscar: “You too.” (She wasn’t wearing a hat.)

She waved at him during the drivers’ parade. Oscar waved back but was so distracted he almost fell off the float.

During a McLaren team lunch, she asked, “Oscar, do you want ketchup?” Oscar: “I don’t know.” (?????)

He saw her struggling to carry some equipment and instead of offering to help, he just stood there stress-blinking until Lando stepped in.

Sabrina asked, “How’s your day going?” Oscar: “It’s Tuesday.” (It was Sunday.)

He walked into a doorframe because Sabrina smiled at him.

Sabrina: “Good luck out there!” Oscar, despite knowing how to form sentences, somehow responded with, “Yeah, you too!” (She was not driving.)

During a chaotic debrief, she passed him a pen. He took it, then immediately handed it back to her without using it.

Sabrina complimented his driving. Oscar panicked and said, “Thanks, I try to be fast.” (Oscar. You drive F1. That is the point.)

They accidentally reached for the same energy drink. Oscar let go immediately, then left to get a different one from the other side of the garage, as if the fridge had personally betrayed him.

He tried to be polite and open a door for her. Somehow ended up standing directly in the doorway instead, effectively blocking her path.

Sabrina: “Are you busy later?” Oscar: “Yes.” Sabrina: “Oh, with what?” Oscar: “I don’t know.” (SIR.)

Oscar tried to make a joke during a group conversation with Sabrina. He messed up the punchline, got flustered, and then said, “Never mind,” and fully walked away.

Sabrina: “That was a great race!” Oscar: “Thank you, you too.” (AGAIN, SHE WAS NOT RACING.)

He was standing near the coffee machine when Sabrina approached. Oscar: “Oh, do you want coffee?” Sabrina: “Yeah!” Oscar, despite standing closest to the machine: “Okay, cool,” and then just walked away without making her one.

***

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oscar would rather face a wet track on slicks than a conversation with Sabrina Clarke. Unfortunately, she was walking straight toward him, all sunshine and good intentions, and he was fresh out of exit strategies.

Oscar should have seen it coming.

He should have known the exact moment he stepped out of the McLaren motorhome that fate would betray him.

Because there, standing directly in his path, was her.

Sabrina, the McLaren Social Media Admin with the sunshine personality and way too much energy at ungodly hours of the morning. Sabrina, who always had a camera in his face and a teasing smile. Sabrina, who made his brain short-circuit every time she so much as said his name.

Sabrina, with sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair and a smile that made him forget everything. 

Sabrina, who Oscar was utterly, hopelessly, embarrassingly into.

Which was a problem, because every time she tried to talk to him, he went completely blank. Like an idiot.

He could already feel his brain preparing to betray him. Sabrina Clarke was too nice, too bright, too pretty, too much—and he was about to be too awkward, again.

Sabrina Clarke had the kind of energy that made people gravitate toward her. Oscar, meanwhile, was actively considering throwing himself into a bush, so he didn’t need to talk to her. 

He didn’t even have time to process it before—

"Oh! Hey, Oscar!"

—brain malfunction.

His heart did something weird. His palms went sweaty. His ability to form words? Gone. Completely erased.

Sabrina was smiling at him, completely oblivious to the fact that he was internally combusting.

Say something, say something, SAY SOMETHING—

"Move."

Sabrina blinked. "What?"

Oscar wanted to die.

"Uh—" he cleared his throat, staring anywhere but at her. "You’re. In the way."

(She wasn’t. Not even a little bit.)

Sabrina’s face immediately dropped. "Oh—sorry?" she said, stepping aside quickly.

Oscar didn’t even acknowledge it. He just walked past her. Like a complete asshole.

It took every ounce of self-control not to physically sprint away.

Behind him, he could hear her mutter, "Okay, what did I even do?" under her breath.

He hated himself.

And then—

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

Lando’s voice boomed from behind him, but Oscar refused to stop walking.

Lando, however, had zero intention of letting him get away.

"OI, PIASTRI, GET BACK HERE!"

Oscar sped up.

Lando broke into a jog.

"Why are you like this?!" Lando shouted as he fully started chasing him.

Oscar turned a corner—bad idea. It was a dead end.

Lando caught up in seconds, skidding to a stop, hands on his hips, staring at him like he was some kind of scientific anomaly.

"Dude. WHAT. WAS. THAT."

Oscar, still pretending he had any dignity left, shrugged. "Nothing."

Lando threw his hands in the air. "NOTHING?! You literally just behaved like the biggest arsehole this side of the Atlantic!"

"Lando, leave it."

Lando did not leave it.

Instead, he physically grabbed Oscar by the shoulders. "Okay, I let the last seven incidents slide, but THIS? Mate, you just bulldozed past her like she wasn’t a human being."

"I panicked."

Lando threw his hands up. "Oscar. Mate. Why are you like this?"

Oscar checked his imaginary watch. "Oh wow, look at the time. Gotta go."

Lando stepped in front of him. "Oh no, you don’t. You’re going to explain why every time Sabrina so much as looks at you, you lose all brain function."

Oscar pressed his lips into a thin line.

Lando’s eyes widened. "Wait—OH MY GOD."

Oscar knew exactly when realization hit.

Lando’s face lit up with the force of a thousand light bulbs.

"You LIKE her."

Oscar immediately attempted to escape.

Lando tackled him.

Well—not tackled, but he grabbed Oscar’s arm in a death grip.

"You actually like her. This is golden," Lando cackled, shaking him slightly. "You absolute idiot. Oh, I have to fix this."

"No."

"Yes."

"Lando, I swear—"

"Don’t care, already decided. Operation Get Sabrina and Oscar Together is a go."

Oscar groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. "I hate everything."

Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder. "No, you love Sabrina. And I’m making sure she knows it."

He closed his eyes. Oscar knew—deep in his soul—this was only the beginning of his suffering.

***

Sabrina stormed into the media office, tossing her iPad onto the desk with a dramatic sigh. She spun around in her chair, hands flung into the air.

"He hates me. He HATES me."

Her colleague and friend, Gabby, barely looked up from her laptop. "Who hates you?"

Sabrina let out an exasperated laugh. "Oscar! Piastri! Did you not just see what happened out there?"

Gabby frowned, finally paying attention. "Uh, no? What did he do?"

Sabrina turned in her chair so fast it nearly tipped over. "I was literally just walking to the garage—MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS—and he comes out of nowhere, and tells me to move. Because I am in his way. He makes direct eye contact, glares at me like I personally offended his ancestors, and then just—walks away. No words. Just pure, unfiltered hostility in his eyes."

Gabby blinked. "That’s… weird."

"RIGHT?" Sabrina threw up her hands again. "At this point, I feel like I must've wronged him in some past life. Like, maybe I cut him off in traffic when we were both pigeons or something, because there is no other explanation!"

Gabby let out a short laugh. "I don’t think that’s how reincarnation works."

"Well, something happened, because I have never seen someone so fundamentally allergic to my existence!" Sabrina groaned, dropping her head onto the desk.

"Maybe he’s just awkward?" Gabby suggested.

Sabrina lifted her head, narrowing her eyes. "No. No, he is actively avoiding me. Like I carry some kind of Oscar-specific plague. And today? Today was a new level! He looked pissed off! What did I do?!"

Gabby considered it for a moment before shrugging. "I mean, if he really hated you, he’d probably just be indifferent. Maybe he’s just bad at talking to people he doesn’t know well?"

Sabrina gave him a flat look. "We have worked in the same paddock for over a year. If he wanted to know me, he could just, oh, I don’t know—say words instead of burning a hole through my soul with his death glare!"

Gabby held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, you have a point."

Sabrina groaned again, leaning back in her chair and covering her face with her hands. "God, I swear if I find out I somehow insulted his entire bloodline without realizing it, I’m quitting."

Gabby smirked. "No, you’re not."

"Okay, but I’ll think about it dramatically," Sabrina muttered.

Gabby patted her shoulder. "I believe in you."

Sabrina sighed. "Well, someone has to."

***

Lucy (Engineer): Okay, someone PLEASE explain what just happened with Oscar and Sabrina in the paddock??

Jordan (Marketing): Oh my god, yes. I saw that. What was that???

Matt (Mechanic): He just… bulldozed past her like she was invisible.

Adam (Hospitality): No no, he looked directly at her, said ‘Move’ and WALKED AWAY.

Lucy (Engineer): ???????????????

Adam (Hospitality): I was standing right there. Sabrina just went “What did I even do?” and looked genuinely hurt.

Gabby (Social Media):  She thinks he hates her.

Jordan (Marketing): I mean… fair assumption.

Gabby (Social Media): Is Oscar beefing with our own social media team? Did we post something offensive about him?

Emily (PR): I NEED TO KNOW BECAUSE IF HE IS, THAT IS A NIGHTMARE WAITING TO HAPPEN.

Lando (Car): GUYS

Lando (Car): YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT I JUST DISCOVERED

Jordan (Marketing): Lando, if you’re about to say Oscar hates Sabrina, we already know.

Lando (Car): NO. THAT’S NOT IT. HE LIKES HER.

Matt (Mechanic): Sorry.

Matt (Mechanic): HE WHAT?

Emily (PR): Be so serious right now.

Lando (Car): DEAD SERIOUS. He has a stupid crush on her, and every time she talks to him, he just completely SHORT CIRCUITS.

Emily (PR): So what you’re saying is—he wasn’t just being an asshole for no reason today.

Lando (Car): CORRECT. HE WAS AN ASSHOLE BECAUSE HE IS A SOCIAL DISASTER WITH A CRUSH.

Matt (Mechanic): Wow. That is somehow worse.

Jordan (Marketing): So all those weird, awkward interactions we’ve been tallying up for the last month…

Matt (Mechanic): WERE BECAUSE HE LIKES HER???

Lando (Car): YES. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO FIGURE IT OUT.

Gabby (Social Media): Okay but. Someone has to tell Sabrina this because I think she genuinely believes she has committed a crime against him in a past life.

Jordan (Marketing): Lando. Do something.

Lando (Car): Oh don’t worry. I’m already matchmaking.

***

Oscar Piastri had a massive crush on Sabrina.

Unfortunately, Oscar also had the social skills of a malfunctioning toaster when it came to talking to her. The guy could navigate an F1 car at 200 mph with the precision of a machine, but the second Sabrina so much as looked at him? Catastrophe.

Which was exactly why Lando—being the helpful, selfless friend that he was—decided it was time to intervene.

Sabrina was standing by the McLaren garage, chatting with one of the engineers, her laugh carrying over the hum of activity. Oscar was approaching from the other side, completely oblivious to her presence.

Lando saw an opportunity.

"Oscar, mate," he said, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Come with me real quick."

Oscar barely had time to react before Lando was steering him directly toward Sabrina.

Oscar immediately stiffened. "Why are we going this way?"

"Because," Lando grinned, "you need to learn how to talk to her like a normal human being."

Oscar immediately started looking for an escape route. "Nope. No. Absolutely not."

But it was too late. They were already there.

"Sabrina!" Lando greeted cheerfully. "Oscar has something to say to you."

Sabrina turned, surprised. "Oh? What’s up, Oscar?"

Oscar’s brain blue-screened.

He stared at her.

Sabrina, smiling, waited for him to speak.

Oscar did not speak.

Lando nudged him, eyebrows raised. Dude, say something.

Oscar’s brain panicked. "I—uh—" He swallowed. "—nothing. It's fine."

Sabrina’s smile faltered. "Oh… okay?"

Lando blinked. "That’s not what you were gonna say, mate."

Oscar refused to make eye contact. "Nope, I’m good. I should—uh—go."

Sabrina’s confusion deepened. "Did I do something?"

Oscar whipped around, eyes wide. "What? No! No, you’re fine. It’s just—uh—" He struggled. "It’s me."

Sabrina hesitated, her expression unreadable. "Right."

Lando watched in horrified fascination as Oscar, now fully committed to fleeing, muttered a quick, "Okay, bye," and walked away.

Just like that.

Sabrina blinked after him. "Did… did he just leave?"

Lando dragged a hand down his face. "Oh my God."

Sabrina turned to him, exhaling sharply. "Lando. Be honest."

"Mm-hmm?"

"Does Oscar hate me?"

Lando choked. "What? No! No, he—" He stopped himself, then groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "Oh, this is so much worse than I thought."

Sabrina frowned. "I don’t understand. Every time I talk to him, he either ignores me, barely acknowledges me, or runs away."

Lando shook his head. "He doesn’t hate you."

Sabrina crossed her arms. "Then what’s his problem?"

Lando hesitated. Then, exasperated, he muttered, "He has a massive crush on you."

Sabrina laughed out loud. "No, he doesn’t."

Lando threw his hands up. "Sabrina, think about it. He’s fine with literally everyone else, but the second you show up? He turns into an awkward disaster and flees."

Sabrina gave him a deeply skeptical look. "That means he likes me?"

Lando nodded. "He is so down bad, it's pathetic."

Sabrina shook her head. "Or, he just hates me and doesn’t know how to tell me."

Lando groaned. "This is a nightmare."

Sabrina sighed. "Look, Lando, I appreciate the optimism, but from where I’m standing? Oscar Piastri despises me."

Lando desperately needed to fix this.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened the McLaren group chat.

***

Lando (Car): I have failed. Sabrina 100% thinks Oscar hates her. This is worse than I imagined.

Gabby (Social Media):  How did you fail?

Lando (Car): I TRIED TO HELP. I walked Oscar right up to her. I gave him the perfect opportunity.

Jordan (Marketing): And??

Lando (Car):  And he stared at her like a deer in headlights, muttered some nonsense, then WALKED AWAY.

Emily (PR): …Like just walked away?

Lando (Car): Just turned and LEFT. Like a weirdo.

Gabby (Social Media):  Oh my god.

Emily (PR): Does he think she’s Medusa or something? Why does he keep acting like she’s about to strike him down?

Matt (Mechanic): At this point, I’d believe it.

Lando (Car):  AND THEN Sabrina ASKED ME IF OSCAR HATES HER.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh no.

Jordan (Marketing): HE WHAT???

Lando (Car): I TRIED to explain but SHE DOESN’T BELIEVE ME.

Jordan (Marketing): I mean… can we blame her??

Lando (Car): GUYS. HE DOESN’T HATE HER. HE LIKES HER. HE LIKES HER SO MUCH IT HURTS TO WATCH.

Matt (Mechanic):  I need receipts. How do you know?

Lando (Car): HAVE YOU SEEN HIM AROUND HER? HE CAN’T FUNCTION.

Jordan (Marketing): I thought maybe he was just awkward in general, but no. He is specifically incapable of speaking to Sabrina.

Emily (PR): This is so embarrassing for him.

Lando (Car): RIGHT?

Gabby (Social Media):  So what do we do?

Lando (Car): FIX IT. We need to get them in a situation where Oscar CAN’T ESCAPE.

Lucy (Engineer): Like what? Lock them in a room?

Lando (Car):  …Not a bad idea.

Lucy (Engineer): HR would not approve.

Lando (Car): Ugh, fine. But we need a Plan B. I REFUSE to let Oscar fumble this forever.

Emily (PR): I’m just fascinated by the fact that Oscar Piastri—who is literally one of the most composed drivers on the grid—completely crumbles in front of Sabrina.

Jordan (Marketing): I KNOW RIGHT.

Matt (Mechanic):  Someone needs to record this for science.

Lando (Car): You guys don’t understand. He’s DOOMED. And she genuinely thinks he LOATHES her.

Lucy (Engineer): This is actually tragic.

Lando (Car): I AM TAKING MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh no.

Gabby (Social Media):  This will end in flames.

Jordan (Marketing): Can’t wait.

Lando (Car): Watch and learn, people. 🚨

***

Sabrina slumped into her chair, rubbing her temples like she was nursing the world's worst headache. Across from her, Gabby leaned against the desk, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

“So, let me get this straight,” Gabby said slowly. “Lando Norris—who is the human embodiment of chaos—just waltzed up to you and said Oscar Piastri has a crush on you?”

Sabrina groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Yes.”

Gabby blinked. “Oscar Piastri.”

“Yes.”

“The same Oscar Piastri who, just today, physically recoiled when you asked if he needed anything?”

Sabrina let out a hysterical laugh. “YES.”

Gabby whistled. “Wow. You’re right. He definitely has a crush on you.”

Sabrina shot her a glare. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

Sabrina threw her hands in the air. “How does that make any sense?! He doesn’t even look at me for more than two seconds. Every time I speak to him, he either ignores me, stares like I’ve just grown a second head, or runs away like I’m carrying the plague.”

Gabby hummed. “Yeah, that does sound like a man with a debilitating crush.”

Sabrina let out another groan and dropped her head onto her desk. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I believed Lando for even a second.”

“Did he at least have evidence?”

“His exact words were: ‘He doesn’t hate you, Sabrina. He likes you. He likes you so much he’s malfunctioning.’”

Gabby snorted. “That sounds like Lando.”

“Right?” Sabrina threw up her hands. “And when I told him Oscar’s actively avoiding me, he just went, ‘No, no, that’s just because he’s awkward and nervous.’ As if that’s supposed to be reassuring!”

Gabby tapped a finger against her chin. “I mean. That does check out.”

Sabrina gaped at her. “You’re insane.”

Gabby just shrugged. “I’m just saying—if I were you, I’d consider the possibility.”

Sabrina groaned dramatically. “Or, hear me out—he just hates me.”

Gabby gave her an exasperated look. “Sabrina, no one has ever hated anyone the way Oscar Piastri allegedly hates you.”

“Exactly!”

“No, I mean, if he did actually hate you, he’d be way more normal about it.”

Sabrina blinked. “What?”

Gabby smirked. “If he truly disliked you, he’d be able to talk to you just fine. People don’t act weird around people they don’t like. They act weird around people who make them nervous.”

Sabrina opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “...No.”

Gabby just grinned. “Yes.”

Sabrina scowled. “You and Lando are both delusional.”

Gabby shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you should test it.”

Sabrina narrowed her eyes. “How?”

Gabby’s grin widened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just… talk to him again. See if he spontaneously combusts.”

Sabrina huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But when I prove you wrong, you’re buying me coffee.”

Gabby chuckled. “Deal. But when I’m right—I get to say ‘I told you so’ forever.”

***

Sabrina took a deep breath. Okay. This time, it’s going to be fine. It was just a normal conversation. Nothing weird. No running away. No painful silence. Just… normal.

Just Attempt #376 of Sabrina Laurel Clarke trying to have a normal Conversation with Oscar Jack Piastri. 

She spotted Oscar standing by the coffee machine, looking at it like it had personally betrayed him. This was her chance. No escape routes. No distractions.

“Hey, Oscar,” she said, keeping her voice light and casual.

Oscar visibly flinched.

Sabrina hesitated, then pushed forward. “You okay?”

Oscar’s mouth opened, then closed. He blinked at her. Then, with the most robotic movement imaginable, he slowly turned back to the coffee machine. “Fine.”

Sabrina frowned. “Are you sure? You look—”

“I am fine,” he cut in, voice slightly too loud. “Totally. Completely fine. Nothing is wrong. Everything is great.”

Sabrina stared at him. “...Okay?”

Oscar jabbed a button on the coffee machine with unnecessary force. Nothing happened. His jaw tightened. He jabbed it again. Still nothing. Sabrina watched, mildly concerned, as he pressed the button three more times, increasingly frantic.

“Do you want me to—”

“No.”

“Oscar, I think it’s out of—”

“I said no.”

A beat of silence.

Then, because fate clearly had a sense of humor, the coffee machine sputtered violently—and exploded espresso directly onto Oscar’s shirt.

Sabrina gasped. “Oh my god.”

Oscar stared at himself, completely blank-faced, coffee dripping down his front.

Sabrina moved without thinking, grabbing a napkin from the counter. “Here, let me—”

But as soon as she stepped forward, Oscar jerked back like she was about to attack him. “I’M GOOD.”

Sabrina froze mid-motion, napkin in hand.

Oscar stood there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, coffee-soaked, absolutely radiating panic.

Then, before she could say anything else, he spun on his heel and speed-walked out of the room.

Sabrina stood there, napkin still raised, mouth open in disbelief.

And that was when she heard laughter.

She turned to see Lando, cackling into his hand, watching the whole disaster unfold like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

“He hates me,” Sabrina muttered, dropping the napkin.

Lando wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Nah, mate. He’s just in love with you.”

Sabrina gaped at him. “Are you—did you see that?! He ran away from me like I was a literal threat to his safety.”

“Exactly,” Lando said smugly. “That’s not hate. That’s terror.”

Sabrina threw up her hands. “SAME THING.”

Lando just grinned. “Trust me. It’s really not.”

****

Lando: Oi.

Lando: Mate.

Lando: OSCAR.

Lando: ANSWER ME.

Lando: YOU RAN AWAY FROM HER LIKE SHE WAS THE GRIM REAPER.

Lando: BECAUSE OF A COFFEE MACHINE.

Lando: DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INSANE THAT LOOKED.

Oscar: Leave me alone.

Lando: I will absolutely not.

Lando: You physically recoiled when she tried to hand you a napkin. A napkin, Oscar.

Oscar: I panicked.

Lando: NO SHIT.

Lando: She thinks you hate her.

Oscar: …

Oscar: That’s unfortunate.

Lando: UNFORTUNATE???

Lando: YOU ARE A DISASTER.

Oscar: I KNOW. STOP REMINDING ME.

Lando: Fix it.

Oscar: How?

Lando: Oh, I don’t know, maybe stop acting like she’s an apex predator every time she looks at you?

Oscar: That’s not helpful.

Lando: Neither are you, mate.

Oscar: I’ll figure something out.

Lando: You’d better. Because I swear, if you make her think you hate her one more time, I am personally locking the two of you in a room until you admit you like her.

Oscar: …

Oscar: You wouldn’t.

Lando: Try me.

***

Oscar knew—knew—that Lando was up to something the second he walked into the McLaren motorhome. The smug grin. The too-casual lean against the counter. The glint of mischief in his eyes that could only mean bad things.

Oscar didn’t have the patience for it today.

“What,” he said flatly.

Lando beamed. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking how tragic it is that you and Sabrina never seem to get much time together. What a shame.”

Oscar’s stomach dropped. “Lando—”

“So I thought,” Lando barreled on, ignoring him entirely, “why not fix that? Quality bonding time! No better way to build team spirit.”

Oscar took a slow, steadying breath. “Lando.”

“Which is why,” Lando continued, still smiling like a menace, “you and Sabrina are filming a ‘Try the Aussie Snack’ video together in five minutes.”

Oscar’s soul left his body.

“No,” he said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“You are doing it.”

Oscar’s eye twitched. “I refuse.”

Lando clapped him on the shoulder. “Too late! Already confirmed. Sabrina’s setting up the camera.”

Oscar stared at him, betrayed.

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” Lando corrected. “Now go. And for once, try acting like a normal person around her.”

Oscar considered running. But before he could even attempt an escape, Lando grabbed him by the shoulders and physically steered him toward the media room.

This was going to be a disaster.

Oscar could already feel the impending catastrophe brewing as Lando shoved him into the media room.

Sabrina was there, sitting cross-legged on the couch, setting up the camera with an easy smile. That was already a problem.

Because Oscar, despite all his best efforts, forgot how to be a functional human being the second she smiled at him.

“Hey, Oscar,” she said, looking up. “Ready to try some weird snacks?”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Lando, standing behind him, groaned. “Oh my god. Speak.”

Oscar managed a nod. A stiff, awkward nod that made Sabrina blink in confusion.

Lando sighed, already regretting everything. “Okay, I’m leaving before I get second-hand embarrassment.” He gave Oscar a pointed look. “Don’t screw this up.”

And then, just like that, he was gone.

Leaving Oscar alone. With Sabrina. On camera.

This was a nightmare.

Sabrina tilted her head, studying him. “You okay?”

“Yes,” he said too quickly. “Fine.”

She gave him a look, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press. Instead, she lifted the first snack—some kind of mystery Tim Tam flavor—and held it up. “Alright, first one up. Want to do the honors?”

Oscar nodded again, grabbed the package, and—

Immediately fumbled it.

The Tim Tams slipped right out of his hands, hit the table, and tumbled onto the floor.

Silence.

Oscar stared at them, horrified. Sabrina stared at him, confused.

Then, to make it worse, instead of just picking them up like a normal person, Oscar blurted out:

“I meant to do that.”

Sabrina laughed.

Like, full-on laughed.

And Oscar? He wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

Instead, he bent down, grabbed the fallen package, and shoved it back onto the table with unnecessary force. “Let’s just—let’s just get on with it.”

Sabrina was still grinning as she unwrapped the pack, clearly amused. “Sure, whatever you say.”

The rest of the filming went about as well as expected.

Which was to say: terribly.

Oscar stammered through half his sentences, nearly choked on a Wagon Wheel, and at one point, when Sabrina playfully nudged his arm, he nearly knocked over the entire table.

By the end of it, Sabrina must be fully convinced he was the strangest person alive.

And Oscar?

Oscar was fully convinced Lando Norris was going to die for putting him through this.

****

Lando (Car): 

Lando (Car):  I just did my best matchmaking work to date.

Emily (PR): Oh no.

Matt (Mechanic): Oh no.

Gabby (Social Media):  Oh no.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh no.

Lando (Car):  Why do you all react like that??

Emily (PR): Because your matchmaking has the success rate of a crashed simulator.

Matt (Mechanic):  What did you do?

Lando (Car):  I set up Oscar and Sabrina to film the snack taste test together.

Adam (Hospitality):  Oh no.

Lando (Car):  STOP SAYING THAT.

Adam (Hospitality):  And how did it go?

Lando (Car):  Not well.

Emily (PR): Define not well.

Gabby (Social Media): Wait. I just watched the footage.

Gabby (Social Media): The footage is completely unusable unless we want people to think Oscar is actively having a stroke.

Matt (Mechanic):  What did he do??

Gabby (Social Media):  He dropped the snacks, stumbled over every sentence, stuttered like 15 times, choked on a Wagon Wheel, and almost knocked over the table because Sabrina barely nudged him.

Matt (Mechanic): For fuck’s sake.

Gabby (Social Media): Sabrina literally came up to me after filming and once again was like, “I think Oscar genuinely hates me.”

Lando (Car):  HE LIKES HER. HE JUST DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO FUNCTION.

Adam (Hospitality):  This is the worst case of “boy failure” I have ever seen in my life.

Emily (PR): Can we salvage anything from the footage?

Gabby (Social Media):  I mean. It is funny.

Lando (Car): Post the choking clip.

Emily (PR): We are NOT posting footage of one of our drivers choking on a Wagon Wheel.

Lando (Car): Cowards.

***

Sabrina wasn’t sure why Lando had insisted she sit next to Oscar at the team dinner, but she should have known it was a terrible idea.

The moment she slid into the seat beside him, he tensed like someone had just threatened to light him on fire.

“Hey,” she tried, keeping her voice light.

Oscar didn’t even look at her. “Hi.”

It was clipped. Sharp. Barely there.

Sabrina blinked. Okay, then.

She tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe—

“Oh, Sabrina, you’ve gotta try this,” Lando announced, loudly enough for half the table to hear. He speared something off his plate and dropped it onto hers like he was a benevolent king bestowing a gift. “Oscar loves it. Right, Oscar?”

Sabrina glanced at Oscar just in time to see him staring at the food like it had personally offended him.

“…Sure,” he muttered, then grabbed his glass and took a sip of water like it physically pained him to be part of this conversation.

She hesitated. “I mean, if you like it, I’m sure it’s good—”

Oscar made a noise that was something between a cough and a laugh. “Yeah. Right.”

Sabrina froze.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Lando kicked Oscar under the table—Sabrina could hear it—but Oscar just shot him a glare and went back to stabbing at his food with a little too much aggression.

Okay. She’d give him one more chance.

Sabrina turned to him again. “So, uh, do you have any fun off-weekend plans?”

Oscar finally, finally looked at her.

“No.”

Then he immediately turned back to his plate.

Lando groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

Sabrina clenched her jaw.

She was done.

Every time she tried to talk to Oscar, he shut down completely. He either ignored her, barely acknowledged her, or treated her like she was a personal inconvenience.

And yet, for some insane reason, Lando kept pushing them together.

She shoved a forkful of food into her mouth, silently seething.

Lando was wrong.

Oscar didn’t like her.

Oscar Piastri hated her.

***

Lando (Car):  I GIVE UP.

Lando (Car):  I TRIED. I REALLY TRIED.

Lando (Car):  AND HE JUST SAT THERE LIKE A F***ING STATUE AND MADE IT WORSE.

Matt (Mechanic): What happened??

Lando (Car):  IT’S A DISASTER.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh no.

Emily (PR): What did he do this time?

Lando (Car):  Sabrina tried to make conversation. Asked about his weekend. Lando (Car):  And this idiot just said “No.” AND WENT BACK TO EATING.

Jordan (Marketing): 💀💀💀

Emily (PR): You’re joking.

Gabby (Social Media):  WHY IS HE LIKE THIS????

Lando (Car):  I DON’T KNOW. I WISH I DID.

Matt (Mechanic): What did Sabrina do?

Lando (Car):  She looked like she was seriously reconsidering her life choices.

Lando (Car): And I don’t blame her.

Gabby (Social Media):  We’re gonna lose her. She’s gonna quit and it’s gonna be Oscar’s fault.

Jordan (Marketing): What if he actually does hate her? Like, genuinely?

Lucy (Engineer): No way. I caught him staring at her like a lovesick puppy two days ago.

Lando (Car):  EXCUSE ME??????

Lucy (Engineer): Yeah. He was watching her across the paddock. Full-on, dazed, in a trance, staring.

Jordan (Marketing): So he likes her. But every time she talks to him, he malfunctions.

Matt (Mechanic): That’s what we’re saying, yes.

Lando (Car):  I am going to fight him.

Emily (PR): How are you gonna fix this?

Lando (Car):  I DON’T KNOW. HE WON’T LET ME HELP.

Gabby (Social Media):  Maybe stop helping.

Lando (Car):  NEVER.

***

Sabrina flopped down onto her bed with a deep sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “I think I’m actually starting to take it personally.”

Her roommate, Gabby, barely looked up from where she was scrolling on her phone. “What, the Oscar thing?”

“Yes, the Oscar thing,” Sabrina said, throwing an arm over her face. “It was funny at first. Like, ‘oh, haha, Oscar Piastri is awkward around me,’ but now—Gabby, I swear to God, I think he actually hates me.”

Gabby finally put her phone down. “He doesn’t hate you.”

Sabrina let out a humorless laugh. “He won’t even speak to me! Do you know what happened today? I asked him how his weekend was, and do you know what he said? No.”

Gabby blinked. “No?”

“Just ‘no’ and then he went back to eating like I didn’t exist.”

Gabby winced. “Ouch.”

Sabrina groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “And then Lando looks like he’s ready to kill him, and I don’t even know why! Like, am I missing something?”

Gabby bit her lip, hesitating. “…Well.”

Sabrina turned her head to look at her. “What?”

Gabby shifted. “Lando did say Oscar has a crush on you.”

Sabrina just stared at her for a second. Then she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.”

“That makes zero sense,” Sabrina argued, sitting up. “Who acts like that around someone they like? He actively avoids me! I feel like I’m in high school again and the guy I had a crush on would rather jump into traffic than have a conversation with me.”

Gabby sighed. “I know it’s weird, but maybe he’s just really, really bad at talking to his crush?”

Sabrina let out a small, sad laugh. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m kind of over it. I don’t like feeling like an inconvenience every time I open my mouth.”

Gabby gave her a sympathetic look. “Maybe you should just… stop trying?”

Sabrina flopped back onto the bed. “Yeah. I think I will.”

***

Sabrina had always prided herself on being professional. On handling things with grace. On not letting things get to her.

But tonight, Oscar Piastri had officially broken her.

She didn’t know why she even bothered anymore. She had spent months trying to be friendly, trying to smooth over whatever invisible tension sat between them, trying to convince herself that maybe—maybe—she was just imagining things.

But she wasn’t.

Because when she had reached out—again—to be nothing but nice to him, he had made it crystal clear how he felt about her.

It had been something so small.

She had only been trying to help.

They had all been standing around post-race, the energy in the McLaren garage a buzz of relief and exhaustion. She had noticed his water bottle was empty and, without thinking, had grabbed a fresh one off the table and handed it to him.

A normal, human gesture.

And then, Oscar—fucking Oscar—had recoiled.

Actually recoiled. Like she was something disgusting.

“I don’t need you to do things for me,” he had snapped.

Loud enough for people to hear.

Loud enough that Lando had blinked at him like he had lost his mind.

Loud enough that Sabrina had felt the words like a slap across the face.

It was the way he said it. The disgust. The finality. The absolute contempt in his voice, like she had committed some crime just by offering him a bottle of water.

Her fingers had gone numb around the plastic before she let it drop to the table, her throat so tight she thought she might actually choke on it.

For a second, she swore she saw regret flash in his eyes, but she didn’t care.

Because fuck that.

She had taken a step back, plastered on that bullshit little smile she had gotten too good at faking, and said, “Noted.”

Then she turned on her heel and left.

She didn’t stop until she was out of the garage, away from the noise, away from him, before her hands started to shake. Before the stupid lump in her throat finally won.

She had spent months trying to figure out what she had done to make Oscar Piastri hate her so much.

And now?

Now she was just done.

Sabrina barely made it around the corner before her breath hitched in her throat.

She had tried—God, she had tried—to keep it together, to swallow it down like she always did, to shake it off and pretend like it didn’t matter.

But it did.

Because she was so tired of this. Of trying, of second-guessing, of making excuses for why Oscar Piastri treated her like she was something he couldn’t stand to be around.

And tonight? Tonight, he hadn’t even tried to hide it.

A fresh wave of humiliation crashed over her, and suddenly, she was gripping the side of a metal barricade, blinking rapidly as tears burned in her eyes.

“...Sabrina?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her voice to come out normal before she turned. But one look at Gabby, her closest friend on the media team, and it all crumbled.

Because Gabby took one look at her face and knew.

“Oh, babe.”

That was all it took. The dam broke.

Sabrina let out a harsh, shaky breath, pressing her palms against her face as the tears finally spilled over.

“I don’t—I don’t know what I did,” she choked out, voice wrecked.

Gabby stepped in without hesitation, arms wrapping around her tightly, like she could shield Sabrina from the weight of it all.

“You didn’t do anything,” she murmured. “He’s just—he’s weird—”

“No, he hates me.” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, pulling back just enough to look at her friend. “I don’t—why does he hate me?”

Gabby’s expression twisted, like she was trying to figure out the right thing to say. But there wasn’t a right thing to say, because there wasn’t a reason.

Sabrina wasn’t stupid. She knew not everyone had to like her. But this? This was something else. Something cruel, something that made her feel like she was some idiot constantly trying to reach for a friendship that was never going to exist.

And maybe she could’ve handled that.

But what she couldn’t handle was how much it hurt.

How much it made her feel like she was the only one in the world who didn’t understand why she deserved it.

Gabby exhaled, tightening her grip on Sabrina’s shoulders.

“You need to stop trying,” she said gently. “Because if he’s too much of a coward to explain himself, then he doesn’t deserve to have you wasting another second on him.”

Sabrina let out a wet, broken laugh, swiping furiously at her face.

“I wish I could,” she whispered. “I really do.”

***

Gabby (Social Media): LANDO. I AM GOING TO KILL YOUR TEAMMATE.

Lando (Car):  …okay, so context would be great before I start panicking???

Jordan (Marketing): Seconded. What did Oscar do this time?

Gabby (Social Media): Oh, you mean aside from being a complete nightmare of a human being to Sabrina for MONTHS??

Lando (Car):  Look, I know he’s socially incompetent, but what happened?

Gabby (Social Media): HE MADE HER CRY.

Lucy (Engineer): OH WHAT THE HELL.

Matt (Mechanic): Wait, actually cry? Not just frustrated huffing and ‘I’m gonna scream’ kind of cry?

Gabby (Social Media): FULL ON. TEARS. Lando, she thinks he hates her. She literally just said, “Why does he hate me?” THROUGH TEARS.

Lando (Car):  …I’m going to kill him.

Gabby (Social Media): Not if I get there first.

Emily (PR): Oh my God. Sabrina is one of the nicest people here, what is WRONG with him??

Lando (Car):  You guys. He doesn’t hate her. He likes her. He just has the social skills of a damp paper towel.

Gabby (Social Media): OH REALLY? You wanna come tell her that while she’s sobbing into my shirt??

Lando (Car):  I—

Lando (Car): Okay yeah that’s really bad.

Adam (Hospitality): What the hell does he do to make her think he hates her???

Gabby (Social Media): Oh, you mean aside from looking like he’d rather walk into oncoming traffic than hold a conversation with her?? Or the fact that whenever she so much as breathes in his direction, he either ignores her or flees the scene like she’s a serial killer???

Matt (Mechanic): Tbf, he also does that when I ask him to sign merch for my niece.

Gabby (Social Media): THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

Lando (Car):  I swear he’s just a nervous wreck around her.

Gabby (Social Media): Well, congratulations, your nervous wreck of a teammate has finally broken her.

Lando (Car): Okay, okay, I’m fixing this.

Gabby (Social Media): Fixing it how??

Lando (Car):  Step 1: Yell at Oscar.

Lando (Car):  Step 2: Figure out Step 2.

Emily (PR): This is going to be a disaster.

Matt (Mechanic): Someone record it.

***

Oscar barely had time to react before Lando stormed into his hotel room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lando demanded, eyes blazing.

Oscar blinked, still in his McLaren hoodie, halfway through removing his shoes. “Uh—”

Lando cut him off. “Sabrina is CRYING, mate. ACTUAL TEARS. Do you understand how hard it is to make someone like Sabrina cry? You have to be horrible. And congratulations! You did it!”

Oscar’s stomach sank. “She’s crying?”

“Yes, you absolute moron!” Lando threw his hands up. “Gabby just texted the group chat saying she’s full-on sobbing because she thinks you hate her.”

Oscar swallowed. “I don’t—”

“I KNOW YOU DON’T,” Lando yelled. “But do you know what she knows? That every time she tries to talk to you, you look like you’re being held at gunpoint and then RUN AWAY.”

Oscar rubbed a hand over his face, guilt pooling in his gut. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Well, guess what? Intentions don’t mean shit if the person on the other end is crying their eyes out in a hotel room thinking you despise their existence.” Lando grabbed Oscar’s arm and yanked him toward the door. “You’re coming with me.”

Oscar dug his heels in. “Lando—”

“No. I don’t care if you combust from secondhand embarrassment. You’re apologizing to her.”

Oscar sighed, defeated, and let himself be dragged down the hallway.

Sabrina looked up when the door swung open. Her eyes are still red-rimmed, and when she sees Oscar standing there, she stiffened immediately. Gabby, beside her on the bed, narrowed her eyes.

“What is he doing here?” Sabrina asked, voice hoarse.

“He has something to say,” Lando announces, shoving Oscar forward before leaning against the door like a prison guard. “And he’s not leaving until he says it.”

Oscar’s mouth went dry. Sabrina crossed her arms, waiting. Gabby glared.

“I—” Oscar started, but the words catch in his throat.

Sabrina exhaled sharply. “Let me guess. You want me to stop bothering you? You think I should take the hint?” She shook her head, voice cracking. “I get it, okay? I got it a long time ago. You don’t have to do this whole awkward pity act.”

Oscar felt like the world had flipped upside down. “Sabrina—”

“No,” she interrupted, standing up. “You’ve spent months making me feel like I’m less than nothing to you. Like I’m some annoyance you can’t wait to get away from. And now, what? You’re forced to be here, and I’m supposed to pretend it’s fine?”

“That’s not—”

“Then WHAT is it?” she snapped, eyes burning. “Because I have tried, Oscar. I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve tried to talk to you. And every single time, you look at me like I’ve killed your dog before you run away like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me.” Her voice wobbled. “Do you have any idea how much that sucks?”

Oscar was frozen, heart pounding. Sabrina’s chest rises and falls unevenly, her fists clenched at her sides.

“I don’t hate you,” he blurted.

Sabrina lets out a bitter laugh. “You have a really funny way of showing it.”

“I don’t—” Oscar ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. “I like you, okay?”

The room went dead silent.

Sabrina blinked. “What?”

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut, then opened them again. “I like you,” he repeats, quieter this time. “That’s why I’ve been so—” He gestures vaguely at himself, expression pained. “Weird. I get nervous, and then I panic, and then I make everything worse.”

Sabrina just stares at him, speechless. Gabby’s jaw has dropped. Lando lets out an I KNEW IT under his breath.

Oscar shifted awkwardly. “I never meant to make you feel like I hated you. I just... didn’t know how to act like a normal person around you.”

Sabrina exhaled slowly, emotions warring on her face. Finally, she rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I cannot believe this.”

Oscar winced. “Yeah.”

Lando clapped his hands together. “Okay, well, I think this is a great development! Now that the truth is out, maybe we can all move past the months of absolute torture you’ve both inflicted on us.”

Sabrina glared at him. “Lando.”

“What?”

She sighed. “Shut up.”

Oscar was standing there like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Gabby, sitting on the bed, was looking between them like she’s watching the most fascinating TV drama of the year.

“You like me,” Sabrina repeated, like she’s trying to process the words in real time. “That’s why you’ve spent months acting like I have the plague?”

Oscar shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking thoroughly miserable. “Yes?”

Sabrina stared at him, then threw her hands up. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Lando makes an exaggerated ding ding ding motion with his hands. “That’s what I’ve been saying!”

Oscar shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

Sabrina pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaling sharply. “Do you know how much I’ve stressed about this? How much I’ve analyzed every single interaction we’ve ever had, trying to figure out what I did to make you hate me? And the answer was just this?” She gestured at him, looking completely exasperated. “You like me?”

Oscar winced. “I panicked.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, dropping onto the edge of the bed.

Lando leaned against the wall, looking far too amused by the situation. “I mean, at least we got to the bottom of it, yeah? No more crying, no more existential crises about why Oscar Piastri has been treating you like an actual curse.”

Sabrina glared at him again. “Lando.”

“What?”

“Go away.”

Lando blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This is your fault,” she said, standing back up and jabbing a finger in his direction. 

Lando scoffed, offended. “I tried! Do you know how many times I’ve told Oscar to stop being a complete weirdo about this?” He turned to Oscar. “Tell her! Tell her how many times I’ve told you to stop being an idiot!”

Oscar sighed. “He has told me.”

“See?” Lando gestured dramatically. “I tried to help, but noooo, someone just had to be emotionally repressed and incapable of functioning like a normal human being around their crush.”

Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lando, leave.”

Lando raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. But you both owe me after this.”

He strided to the door, pausing dramatically with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and just so you know? The entire McLaren staff group chat is losing their minds over this. We’ve all been waiting for this moment for months.”

Sabrina groaned. Oscar looks like he might pass out.

Lando grinned. “Okay, now I’m leaving.”

And with that, he walked out, whistling cheerfully.

Gabby gave them one look before following behind him. 

Once the door clicked shut, silence settled over the room.

Sabrina exhaled, looking up at Oscar again. “So.”

Oscar shifted uncomfortably. “So.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “What do we do now?”

He hesitated, then said, “I think this is the part where I properly apologise for being a complete asshole.”

Sabrina snorted, some of the tension finally easing from her shoulders. “Yeah. Probably.”

Oscar met her eyes. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like—like any of that. I was just so nervous all the time that I kept making things worse, and then it snowballed, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Sabrina watched him for a long moment, like she was deciding whether or not to accept that. Then she sighed. “Okay.”

Oscar blinked. “Okay?”

“I accept your apology,” she said, crossing her arms again. “But you really need to work on your people skills.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I’ve been told.”

She raised an eyebrow. “By Lando?”

“And everyone else.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “God. This is ridiculous.”

Oscar hesitated. “I, um. I get if this whole thing has been too much, and if you don’t want to—”

“Oh my god, just ask me out,” Sabrina interrupts.

Oscar stops. “What?”

Sabrina gestures vaguely. “You. Me. A date. Because if I have to spend one more week waiting for you to act normal, I will actually lose my mind.”

Oscar swallowed. “Would you say yes?”

Sabrina sighed dramatically. “After all of this? If I say no, I’d just be proving Lando right about us being a disaster.”

Oscar let out a short laugh. “So… will you go out with me?”

Sabrina rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Yes, Oscar.”

Oscar exhales, something warm settling in his chest. “Okay. Good.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“OH MY GOD,” Lando yells from outside the door. “I KNEW IT.”

Oscar groans. Sabrina bursts into laughter.

And just like that, everything finally made sense.

***

Lando (Car):  EVERYONE SHUT UP AND PAY ATTENTION. I HAVE DONE IT. I HAVE SUCCEEDED. I AM A GENIUS.

Lucy (Engineer): …What did you do.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh god, what did you break.

Adam (Hospitality): If this is about your fantasy football league, I’m muting you.

Lando (Car):  NO. IT’S EVEN BETTER. I HAVE MATCHMADE. I HAVE FIXED OSCAR PIASTRI.

Lucy (Engineer): That’s a bold claim.

Matt (Mechanic): That’s an impossible claim.

Adam (Hospitality): Fixed in what way? Like, emotionally? That feels out of your skill set.

Lando (Car): OSCAR AND Sabrina ARE GOING ON A DATE. I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS. I AM CUPID. I AM INEVITABLE.

Lucy (Engineer): …What.

Jordan (Marketing): No.

Matt (Mechanic): This is a prank.

Lando (Car):  ASK HIM. ASK HER. I DRAGGED HIM TO APOLOGIZE AND HE CONFESSED HIS CRUSH AND THEN SHE SAID YES AND NOW THEY’RE A THING.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh my god.

Adam (Hospitality): I feel like this should be impossible.

Emily (PR): Are we sure she’s not secretly plotting revenge?

Gabby (Social Media): Yeah, I feel like she deserves at least a week to recover from months of psychological warfare before making this decision.

Lando (Car):  NOPE. IT’S HAPPENING. I AM A HERO.

Lucy (Engineer): I don’t think that’s the word I’d use.

Adam (Hospitality): Did Oscar even want you to set them up?

Lando (Car):  LOL NO.

Matt (Mechanic): So you bullied him into a relationship.

Lando (Car): MATCHMAKING. NOT BULLYING. DIFFERENT.

Gabby (Social Media): Sabrina better make him suffer first, just on principle.

Lucy (Engineer): Yeah, she deserves to be emotionally compensated.

Emily (PR): Someone make sure Oscar doesn’t panic and ruin it before the first date even happens.

Lando (Car):  DON’T WORRY. I AM HIS DATING COACH NOW.

Gabby (Social Media): That is so much worse.

Matt (Mechanic): This is a disaster.

Lucy (Engineer): I’m getting popcorn.

Jordan (Marketing): Oh, absolutely.

Adam (Hospitality): We should start a bet on how long it takes before Sabrina realizes dating Oscar is harder than working here.

Lando (Car):  Y’ALL HAVE NO FAITH.

Emily (PR): Absolutely not.

Lucy (Engineer): None.

Adam (Hospitality): Zero.

Matt (Mechanic): We have seen him try to talk to her.

Lando (Car):  WELL NOW THEY’RE DATING. SO I WIN.

Gabby (Social Media): Bold of you to assume she won’t dump him out of frustration within a week.

Jordan (Marketing): Honestly, I give it three days.

Lando (Car):  Y’ALL ARE HATERS. I AM A LEGEND. OSCAR OWES ME HIS LIFE. Sabrina OWES ME HER HAPPINESS. THIS TEAM OWES ME A STATUE.

Matt (Mechanic): …

Lucy (Engineer): Muting him now.

Jordan (Marketing): Same.

***

Lando (Car):  UPDATE. THEY ARE ON THE DATE. I REPEAT. THEY ARE ON THE DATE.

Lucy (Engineer): Are you watching them right now?

Jordan (Marketing): Are we… stalking them.

Matt (Mechanic): I just wanna know how long until Oscar panics and spills his drink.

Lando (Car): I’M NOT STALKING. I’M JUST… MAKING SURE MY HARD WORK PAYS OFF.

Gabby (Social Media): You are literally sitting two tables away from them.

Lando (Car):  THAT’S CALLED SUPERVISION.

Emily (PR): This is deeply unethical.

Lucy (Engineer): Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re violating like five HR policies right now.

Gabby (Social Media): If HR asks, I was not here.

Matt (Mechanic): So what’s happening?

Lando (Car):  OKAY. So. Sabrina is talking. Oscar is nodding. HE HAS NOT SAID A SINGLE WORD.

Lucy (Engineer): Classic.

Jordan (Marketing): Sounds about right.

Lando (Car):  Wait. WAIT. HE JUST TRIED TO TALK. HE OPENED HIS MOUTH.

Lucy (Engineer): And?

Lando (Car): HE KNOCKED OVER HIS WATER GLASS INSTEAD.

Lucy (Engineer): Of course he did.

Gabby (Social Media): That’s our boy.

Emily (PR): Was it a full glass?

Lando (Car):  OH IT WAS VERY FULL. IT HAS NOW ENTERED Sabrina’S LAP.

Jordan (Marketing): Jesus Christ.

Lucy (Engineer): It’s over. She’s leaving.

Adam (Hospitality): There is no coming back from this.

Lando (Car): NO WAIT SHE’S LAUGHING.

Matt (Mechanic): What?

Lucy (Engineer): …Why??

Adam (Hospitality): Is she okay??

Lando (Car):  I THINK SHE JUST ACCEPTED THAT HE’S A DISASTER AND IS EMBRACING IT.

Gabby (Social Media): Honestly, that’s the only way this relationship survives.

Emily (PR): I have no words.

Matt (Mechanic): Is Oscar okay?

Lando (Car):  HE LOOKS LIKE HE WANTS TO CRAWL UNDER THE TABLE BUT SHE’S SMILING AT HIM. HE MIGHT SURVIVE THIS.

Gabby (Social Media): Sabrina is way too kind for this world.

Jordan (Marketing): Should we be worried about her decision-making skills?

Gabby (Social Media): Absolutely.

Lando (Car):  GUYS GUYS SHE JUST PUT HER HAND ON HIS ARM. THIS IS PROGRESS.

Matt (Mechanic): Do you think he’s gonna pass out?

Lucy (Engineer): 50/50 chance.

Jordan (Marketing): Do we have a medic on standby?

Adam (Hospitality): I bet he overthinks it and freezes.

Lando (Car):  HE’S JUST STARING AT HER HAND LIKE IT’S A COMPLEX MATH PROBLEM.

Matt (Mechanic): Yeah, that tracks.

Lucy (Engineer): What’s the over/under on him panicking and excusing himself to the bathroom for like ten minutes.

Adam (Hospitality): Already placing bets.

Lando (Car):  I AM SO PROUD. MY BOY IS ON A DATE. HE’S FLAILING BUT HE’S ON A DATE.

Emily (PR): This is the single most unhinged group chat I have ever been part of.

Gabby (Social Media): Agreed.

Matt (Mechanic): Not even top five, honestly.

Lando (Car):  I WILL UPDATE YOU ALL LATER. STAY TUNED.

Lucy (Engineer): God help us all.

Lando (Car):  OKAY UPDATE. OSCAR SURVIVED THE HAND ON ARM INCIDENT. BARELY.

Lucy (Engineer): Define “barely.”

Matt (Mechanic): Is he still breathing?

Lando (Car):  Yes. But he was so still for like a full 30 seconds that I thought he had short-circuited.

Adam (Hospitality): He probably did.

Gabby (Social Media): The man is a Windows XP loading screen in human form.

Lando (Car):  Anyway. They’re talking again. I can’t hear what they’re saying but Sabrina just tilted her head like she’s curious about something.

Emily (PR): Oh god. What did he say?

Lando (Car):  I HAVE NO IDEA BUT HIS FACE IS COMPLETELY RED.

Matt (Mechanic): He probably just apologized for spilling the water… again.

Lucy (Engineer): That’s fair. But also, is it too much to ask for him to just act normal for one date?

Gabby (Social Media): Yes.

Adam (Hospitality): Highly unrealistic expectations.

Lando (Car):  HOLY SHIT WAIT. HE JUST MADE HER LAUGH. ON PURPOSE.

Lucy (Engineer): No way.

Matt (Mechanic): That doesn’t sound right.

Adam (Hospitality): Are you sure she’s laughing with him and not at him?

Lando (Car): It looked intentional???

Emily (PR): Are you absolutely certain?

Lando (Car):  No.

Jordan (Marketing): Reasonable.

Lando (Car): BUT SHE’S STILL SMILING AND HE LOOKS LIKE HE MIGHT ACTUALLY BE RELAXING.

Lucy (Engineer): Impossible.

Adam (Hospitality): Sounds fake.

Matt (Mechanic): I won’t believe it until we see proof.

Lando (Car):  WELL GOOD NEWS. I HAVE FOOTAGE.

Emily (PR): Lando, please tell me you did not just record them on their date.

Lando (Car):  I may or may not have.

Jordan (Marketing): That is so creepy.

Lucy (Engineer): So send it.

Adam (Hospitality): Yeah, we need evidence.

Lando (Car):  SENDING…

(Lando has sent one video.)

Matt (Mechanic): …Wait. Is this actually real???

Lucy (Engineer): He did make her laugh.

Jordan (Marketing): She leans in a little too.

Adam (Hospitality): This is history.

Emily (PR): I hate that we’re all so emotionally invested in this.

Lando (Car):  GUYS WAIT—

Jordan (Marketing):: Oh no.

Matt (Mechanic): What?

Lando (Car):  HE JUST LOOKED AT HER LIPS.

Lucy (Engineer): 😳

Adam (Hospitality): 😳

Jordan (Marketing):: 😳

Matt (Mechanic): 😳

Gabby (Social Media): …Are we about to witness Oscar Piastri actually kissing someone???

Lando (Car):  I DON’T KNOW BUT HE IS THINKING ABOUT IT. I CAN SEE IT.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh my god.

Gabby (Social Media): Sabrina just tucked her hair behind her ear. That’s the universal “I like you” sign.

Matt (Mechanic): This is HUGE.

Lando (Car): GUYS HE’S GONNA DO IT. HE’S GONNA—

Gabby (Social Media): DON’T JINX IT.

Lando (Car):  OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE. HE JUST PANICKED AND LOOKED AWAY.

Lucy (Engineer): Oh my god.

Adam (Hospitality): This idiot.

Matt (Mechanic): The sheer whiplash.

Lucy (Engineer): This is painful to witness.

Emily (PR): Someone go shake some sense into him.

Lando (Car):  I AM SO MAD.

Gabby (Social Media): We were so close.

Lucy (Engineer): Classic Oscar Piastri.

Matt (Mechanic): What now.

Lando (Car):  I AM FORMULATING A PLAN.

Jordan (Marketing):: God help us.

Emily (PR): Please don’t make it worse.

Lando (Car): I will get these two together if it’s the last thing I do.

Gabby (Social Media): Let’s be honest, it probably will be.

Lucy (Engineer): R.I.P. Lando Norris. Cause of death: excessive matchmaking attempts.

Gabby (Social Media): We’ll put it on your tombstone.

Lando (Car):  YOU’LL THANK ME WHEN THIS WORKS.

Gabby (Social Media): Big if.

Emily (PR): Huge if.

Lando (Car):  You’ll see. 😈

Lando (Car):  OKAY. NEW PLAN.

Gabby (Social Media): Oh no.

Lucy (Engineer): Here we go.

Matt (Mechanic): I’m scared.

Jordan (Marketing):: We should be.

Emily (PR): Lando, I beg you to reconsider whatever you’re about to say.

Lando (Car): TOO LATE. I’M TEXTING OSCAR RIGHT NOW.

Adam (Hospitality): About what?

Lando (Car):  ABOUT HOW HE NEEDS TO STOP BEING A COWARD AND KISS HER.

Matt (Mechanic): …During the date?

Lucy (Engineer): Oh my god.

Jordan (Marketing):: He’s going to see you texting him.

Gabby (Social Media): Lando, no.

Lando (Car):  Lando, yes.

(Lando has sent a screenshot.)

Lando (Car):  SENT.

Matt (Mechanic): …“KISS THE GIRL YOU COWARD.”

Gabby (Social Media): That’s what you went with???

Jordan (Marketing):: Subtle.

Lucy (Engineer): Elegant.

Emily (PR): Deranged.

Lando (Car): Well, he just looked at his phone.

Gabby (Social Media): Oh god.

Matt (Mechanic): How’s he reacting?

Lando (Car):  He blinked. Like, twice. Real fast.

Adam (Hospitality): That means he’s panicking.

Gabby (Social Media): Yeah, that’s a full system reboot.

Lando (Car):  WAIT. HE JUST PUT HIS PHONE DOWN AND SAID SOMETHING TO HER.

Lucy (Engineer): WHAT DID HE SAY.

Lando (Car):  I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T LIP READ. BUT SHE’S SMILING.

Matt (Mechanic): HOLY SHIT.

Gabby (Social Media): If this works, I take back everything I said.

Lucy (Engineer): No you won’t.

Gabby (Social Media): Yeah, no I won’t.

Lando (Car):  HE’S LEANING IN.

Gabby (Social Media): OH MY GOD.

Adam (Hospitality): I’M GOING TO THROW UP.

Gabby (Social Media): IT’S HAPPENING.

Jordan (Marketing): SOMEONE RECORD THIS.

Emily (PR): DO NOT RECORD THIS.

Lando (Car):  I ALREADY AM.

(Lando has sent one video.)

Gabby (Social Media): HOLY SHIT HE DID IT.

Gabby (Social Media): I NEED A MOMENT.

Matt (Mechanic): HE ACTUALLY KISSED HER.

Jordan (Marketing):: I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS WORKED.

Emily (PR): Delete the video. Right now.

Lando (Car):  Absolutely not.

Matt (Mechanic): He’s still alive, right? Like, he didn’t just immediately short-circuit and pass out?

Lando (Car):  Barely.

Lucy (Engineer): I think we should all take a moment to recognize the true hero here.

Jordan (Marketing):: Lando?

Lucy (Engineer): Lando.

Matt (Mechanic): Lando.

Gabby (Social Media): Please don’t encourage him.

Lando (Car):  You’re all so welcome. 😌

***

[the-catmans-offical-2]

SHE WAS YOUR MAMA TOO AND YOU KILLED HER!!!

Fucking TAGAHAGA FROTHS

I think about this scene constantly. I sit there and stare, rewatch the scene because of Wrath's emotions. He's very emotional, he's been shown to get upset easily and to cry and to get angry - but this is genuine despair something that Edward fully understands.

Wrath just lost someone he deemed his mother, who he believed cared about him and was his mama.

And Ed killed her, he didn't veiw Sloth as his mother, as Trisha Elric, he viewed her as a burden to get rid of, to help ease his guilt.

But it didn't ease his guilt, it made him even more guilty - but not toward Sloth. Not nessicarily towards Al even though it was another situation that he called the shots on, against Al's wishes. His guilt is now toward Wrath. Because he starts to become frantic, he watched his desperation when he grabbed at Envy's leg and desperately pleaded with them to let them use Al to bring back Sloth (saying "you gotta to let me try, you have to!"); And this is basically what happened when Ed and Al first lost their mom. Ed became desperate but instead of begging and sobbing, he just stated that they were going to bring her back, that they had to.

And when Envy kicks Wrath and Ed catches him, only for Envy to walk off with Al, Ed is stopped by Wrath. And Wrath lashes out at him. But Ed doesn't stop him, sure he tries to duck and dodge, but he let's Wrath hit him. And then Wrath says "She was your mama too ans you killed her" He fucking freezes and Wrath lands a good punch and tackles him yo the ground, choking him and sobbing.

AND ED JUST TAKES IT. BECAUSE HE KNOWS HOW WRATH FEELS (Sure, Trisha originally wasn't murdered by someone in front of him, but he did watch her die right before his eyes just like Wrath did with Sloth - but unlike Wrath, Ed got to hold his mother's hand as she passed. He was allowed the warmth and comfort of her in her final moments while Wrath was rejected and had to keep a distance because she hurt him; Further implying that she didn't care about him, and the fucking "clean up after yourselves and take care of each other" directed at Ed and Al. SHE DIDNT SPARE WRATH EVEN A SINGLE GLANCE. And I bet that was heart breaking).

And then Izumi breaks it up and Wrath runs off but I also think about what Ed said after.

"He was.. Crying. While I can't even squeeze out a single tear, that poor kid's crying like a baby. Like he, like he was crying because I couldn't."

Wrath furthermore having been portraying the emotions Ed felt he couldn't express - as he had already mourned for Trisha, who was Sloth, and look where that got him? It made him loose his leg, loose his brother's body after he pushed Al into trying to bring her back - but the wasn't even focused on that now. He was more focused on Wrath, on his reaction, his outburst and sadness, his despair and desperation. All things he's felt before, and all he could do is watch as Wrath frantically ran off after Envy. After the chance to bring back the one he views as his mama - trying to attempt the same foolish deed that Ed had done!

I lost my fucking train of thought (´ﾍ｀；)

I dunno, I just think about this scene a lot and it makes me sob - their parallels and comparisons to each other's character... They're so alike yet so so different.

“She was your mama, too!”

[goldfades]

That post about Y/N and Joe parenting style was so perfect. I honestly believe Joe is also super stubborn and would 100000% get in a long standoff with Hayes over him refusing to eat his vegetables. And I think Hayes, ever the mama’s boy, would probably win that battle. And Y/N would absolutely feel the need to tell Joe that Hayes definitely got those qualities from him.

oh, absolutely. joe burrow is one of the most competitive people on the planet—there is no way he’s backing down from a battle of wills, even if his opponent is a three-year-old with chubby cheeks and a mop of curls. and hayes? stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it. the kid is relentless, especially when he knows he has you on his side. it’s that lethal combination of burrow determination and your charm—an unbeatable duo, really. so yeah, if joe tells hayes he has to eat his broccoli? that kid is digging in his heels. and joe, rather than letting it go like any normal parent, is treating it like the damn super bowl. no one is blinking. neither of them will surrender. it’s a full standoff. and of course, you, ever the observer, just sit back and watch it unfold because you know hayes is gonna win this one

it starts with a single piece of broccoli.

small, harmless, nestled between the mashed potatoes and tiny chicken nuggets on hayes’ plate. it’s nothing special—just one of the little florets you steamed earlier, cut up small so he wouldn’t even notice if he just ate the damn thing. but oh, he notices.

“no.”

joe sighs, already looking exhausted. “hayes—”

“no,” hayes repeats, shaking his head so hard his curls bounce. “don’t want it.”

“just one bite,” joe tries, tone even, logical. “you love green beans, buddy. this is the same thing.”

hayes looks offended. “it is not.”

you, sitting across from them at the kitchen table, hide your smirk behind your hand. joe shoots you a quick glare, but you just lift a shoulder, amused.

“one bite,” joe presses. “then you can have more nuggets.”

hayes, still holding his ground, frowns at his plate. he looks at the broccoli, then at his dad, then back at the broccoli. then, slowly, he crosses his arms.

joe sighs again, rubbing a hand down his face. “hayes.”

“no.”

you can feel the irritation rolling off joe in waves. the man doesn’t lose—ever. and now his toddler is serving him his first real defeat in his own damn kitchen.

“hayes.” joe’s voice drops into dad mode. that serious, no-nonsense tone he pulls out when he means business. the one that usually works.

hayes, completely unbothered, mirrors his father’s serious expression. the tension is palpable. this is no longer just about broccoli. this is a battle of principles.

you clear your throat. “hayes, baby, just one tiny—”

he turns to you, eyes wide and tragic. “mama, i can’t.”

you almost laugh. “why not?”

“it’s green.”

joe looks personally offended by the logic. “so?”

hayes stabs his fork into his mashed potatoes aggressively, like this betrayal is too much.

joe groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “this is ridiculous.”

you hum, amused. “wonder where he gets it from.”

joe glares at you again. “don’t.”

you just sip your water, smiling.

the standoff continues. minutes tick by. hayes doesn’t move. joe doesn’t budge. they’re both stubborn as hell. the only difference is, hayes has an out—he has you.

and you? well, you’re having too much fun watching joe suffer.

after a full ten minutes of absolute silence, hayes suddenly exhales deeply. then he shakes his head, slides his plate an inch away, and mutters, “i not hungry no more.”

joe throws his fork down. “are you kidding me?”

“nope.” hayes pops the ‘p’ dramatically.

you lose it. full-on, shaking laughter right there at the table. joe, unamused, shoots you a look.

“oh, come on,” he grumbles. “you’re on his side?”

“i mean.” you wipe a tear from your eye. “he is your son.”

joe scowls. “he’s your son when he’s like this.”

hayes, ever the opportunist, slides off his chair and makes a beeline for your lap. you scoop him up easily, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. he smells like baby shampoo and mashed potatoes.

“you’re ridiculous,” joe tells him flatly.

hayes just grins, curling into you. “mama don’t think so.”

joe shakes his head, defeated. then, after a long moment, he sighs. “fine.”

hayes perks up. “no broccoli?”

joe’s jaw clenches, but he nods. “no broccoli.”

hayes cheers.

you press your face into his curls to hide your laughter.

joe mutters something about never losing to a toddler again. but you both know that’s a damn lie.

[strrykais]

(❤︎) ── eyes are the window to the soul

after your break up with chan, things were okay until the semester started and now you cant seem to escape him, not that you really want to ..

𐀔𓂃 kais note: part 2 to these four walls! definitely not proof read! can also be read without reading these four walls! 3.1k words

warnings : unprotected sex (dont do that!), oral (m. receiving), nipple play, swallowing, chan slight sub! and anything i may of missed idk

back to library | req? yes / no

Nobody really ever tells you that mourning a relationship you never thought was gonna end, hurts like hell. Its been about two months since you and Chan stopped talking, after he refused to start a relationship with you. It hurt that he never gave you a true reason. 

It took you days to get his smell out of your apartment and it took you the whole summer to not purposely stay up waiting for him to magically appear. It was hard, hours upon hours stuck in this room where you shared fond memories but that was all they were.. Memories.

It was the start of your senior year of this magic school and you were excited to graduate and continue on your journey into becoming a professor. You clutched onto your books waiting outside the bathroom for a certain brown haired boy to walk out. 

“Han jisung, come on, we are gonna be late for potions.” shouting into the bathroom hoping he could hear you, when no response came out. You huff readying to march in there when you run into a hard chest. You froze, you know this smell it took you days of open windows and nights of washing to finally get this smell out of your mind. But chan’s smell always put you at ease, and that was the last thing you wanted to remember. Pushing yourself back from his arms you continue to face the ground, hoping it would swallow him up whole.

“You cut your hair.” Chan's voice was soft, almost like he was imagining you there. He slowly reaches out, wanting to feel like you are really there.

“What's going on?” jisung pops up startling you both, Chan clears his throat mumbling a small bye. Your eyes never leaving his figure till Jisung cleared his throat.

“Was that him?” 

“Yes.” you turn to head to your class, hoping jisung understood and wouldn’t question you more than you would like.

It's been about two weeks since you actually ran into Chan, you never had the heart to go up to him, and he never had the balls to try to talk to you. But you could feel it, the eyes watching you, waiting as if they were waiting for the right time to pounce. It was frustrating you felt him watching you, you knew it was him because no one's eyes made you feel all tingly from head to toe. 

It was one of those days where you felt him constantly around, you didn't see him but you definitely felt him. No matter where you looked you just couldn’t seem to find him. Sighing you quickly get out your chair making your way to the back of one of the book aisles hoping he would follow you. You hide behind a shelf, waiting till you see a familiar set of curly hair.

“Chan, why have you been following me around these days?” you pop up from behind him causing him to jump up a little. You try to cover your small smile with a cough, but Chan noticed. Ever since he saw you outside the bathroom, you never left his mind. In all honesty you haven't left his mind since that night 3 months ago. He has been trying to gather the courage to come up to you but every time he would try to take a step he could only remember the way your face fell when he told you he couldn’t have a relationship with you. The way hope of you two seeped out your eyes only for him to be the reason you no longer look like you once did. 

“I haven't been following you.” Chan scratches the back of his neck, an easy tell that you learned meaning he is lying. Now that you were catching him off guard, you finally had a chance to really look at him. He looked the same for the most part, his hair a little longer but still as curly and messy on his pretty head. You couldn’t really tell but it looked like he had been working out, if only you could see what was under that jacket. Wait, you shouldn't be having these thoughts anymore. Shaking your head to rid them, you finally looked up into his eyes. His eyes were always your favorite, no matter how many white lies he has told you, his eyes always told you the truth, which is why looking at them made your heart flutter. They always held the stars, they held everything that you wanted and more. And right now they held a sense of longing, a sadness that you wanted to wipe away.

“Stop following me if you have nothing to say to me. I can feel you all over. It's annoying when I'm trying to work.” you picked at the end of your sweater trying to keep your hands busy, too scared that they might reach over for his like they did all those nights ago. 

“I. ive been trying to find the right words but every time I think they are okay and enough for you I stop and think, am I enough for you? Can I ever be enough for you.” His voice was soft, almost like he never actually meant for those words to be said. Before you could answer him the clock tower bells rang out. 

With a breath of relief glad to literally be saved by the bell “bye chan.” you say as you gently push by him. 

You were upset the rain ruined your night out, now stuck inside instead of bar hopping with your friends, you just decided to curl up and watch a movie. Gathering some snacks and your blankets you set up camp in the middle of the couch. A few moments pass by when a sudden knock at your door gathers your attention. Pausing the movie you make to the door, swinging it open to reveal a rained soaked chan.

“Chan?” 

“I'm sorry. I don’t know how I ended up here.” 

You know you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t but the way he was shivering like a dog, and the way his eyes were practically pleading for you to let him in, made you side step pushing the door wider for him to come through.

Chan always felt your apartment was his second home, hell he liked it more than his actual home. He looks around, noticing the blanket mound on the couch and the movie on pause. He couldn't help but look around hoping that you didn't change anything since you two stopped talking. Chan was brought back to the nights you both would laugh in that same spot at some dumb movie you wanted to watch. He didn't mind it, just seeing your smile was enough to get him through the horrible plot.

“You know there's a spell to conjure up things… like I don't know, an umbrella?” Chan watches as you cross your arms over one of his band t-shirts, he gives a small smile towards you. He was glad you still had it actually. 

“The wet look makes me look more sad and pitiful, I'm pretty sure you wouldn’t have let me in if I was dry and had an umbrella.” you watch him as the corner of his lips come up in some sly way. Groaning, you head into the bathroom grabbing a towel and chunking it towards him.

 “Dry up, you are getting my floors wet. I think I have some of your clothes here from.. You know.” you rush upstairs trying to put some distance in between you two, hoping that this buzzing feeling will go away now that his eyes are off you. Rummaging through your drawers you quickly pull out some clothes, hurrying to get him dry as possible. 

Once chan was changed you both somehow ended up on opposite sides of the couch waiting on him to say something as to why he was here. Your body was aching to feel him, you really couldn't understand how this close proximity was messing with your senses. His scent mixed with the rain was making you feel like you were drunk. You kept your eyes closed trying to ground yourself when you heard chans whisper of a voice calling out.

“I'm sorry for the way I left. It was extremely douchey of me to not give you some type of explanation or even an excuse. It wasn't right of me to play with your emotions like that.” glancing over you already see him staring at you.

“If you're here to just give an excuse now chan you can leave, ive come to terms with it. Really. Im fine now” 

“No, I wanted to tell you that.. I.. um i” 

“I think you should leave.” you get up starting for the door when his hand reaches out grabbing at your wrist to stop you. 

“I miss you, and I'm not talking about the sex. I miss everything about you. Everything reminds me of you and I feel like I lost myself when I walked out that room. I lost so much sleep standing out your window trying to stop myself from popping in. YN i’m sorry, people got into my head, my parents got into my head. Telling me you would never be good enough for me, I would never be happy.” hand still holding your wrist he stands up cupping your face with his other, “i let it get to me and i let it make me lose the only true happiness i ever had. And then I realized, would I be good enough for her? Can I even make her happy? Can she truly love me for me?” he lets go of your wrist other hand reaching to cup your other cheek, mouth inching towards yours, his breath fanning over your lips. “Im sorry, and if you have it in your heart please, ill even get down on my knees, please forgive me and lets really try it. Let's date.” 

Chan didn't dare make a move, he watches you process everything from his words to his facial expressions. Chan was trying everything in his power to not kiss you, he didn't want to cross a line that he was scared you drew. 

You knew he wasn’t lying, his eyes said it all. He wanted you, he needed you. That was all it really took for you to press your lips onto him, chan wasted no time in kissing you back tilting his head to try to kiss you deeper. Chan hands are hot on your skin, one falling to your waist rubbing small circles into his shirt. And the other firmly at the nape of your neck. A soft moan leaves your mouth, giving chan enough access to lick inside. You pull away, panting out of breath as Chan takes this opportunity to kiss around your face, on your cheek, to your nose, a soft one to your forehead, and one below your ear. Chan knew that was a sensitive spot, he could feel the way your body reacted to it. His dick growing harder in his sweats. 

“Baby we should probably stop for tonight.” Chan pulls away, he knew he wasn't gonna have restraint towards you, he never did. 

You took this time to plant kisses onto his neck, sucking leaving marks all over the exposed skin, but it wasn't enough pulling back you reach for the hem of his shirt hoping he got the idea that you didn't care. You needed chan, badly. You needed him for months and your fingers and your toys could never manage to hit the spot you knew he could. With chans shirt off you kiss down his collarbone leaving small marks. Chan was letting out small groans letting his head fall back, enjoying the way your lips felt on him. Chan was caught off guard when you started to rub him from outside his sweats. A huge imprint of his dick formed so beautifully it had you foaming at the mouth. 

“Take them off and sit back down.” You said, Chan wasted absolutely no time in ridding himself of his clothes. Chan really never let you take the reins but the way he was looking at you with his lustful eyes was making you feel even more needy than you have ever been. You place yourself in between his knees watching him watch you gently rub your hands on his thighs. You watch as chans dick bobs up and down, dripping with precum, waiting to be touched.

“Baby please.” his voice was whiny, this was new chan never begged much less use this type of tone with you. It only filled you with more pleasure imaginable. 

“Please what baby?” you say reaching out one hand grabbing his shaft as the other continued to rub softly on his upper thigh. 

“Please your mouth, please use your pretty mouth.” his head rolled back as you slowly started to rub him. Leaning over you let your saliva drip out your mouth falling right on the tip of his dick, chan moans out. Hips thrusting up into your hand, needing some type of relief. 

“Okay baby.” you say before placing a kiss on his tip before wrapping your mouth around him. Chan missed this, missed you. A moan so sweet escapes his lips as he reaches out finding your hair, gripping to keep him from melting in an instant. 

The sounds of your lips wrapped around him, were so sinful but they were mixed with the angelic moans of chan. It only fueled you more to continue to push down taking in more of him. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down using your hand to pump whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. Chan started seeing stars when he felt your tongue lay flat on the bottom of his dick licking up and down against his vein.

“Baby” his grip on your hair tightens as he thrusts up trying to make your rhythm still letting you be in control. “Fuck baby.. If you… god if you keep sucking me like that im gonna.. I'm gonna cum.” his strained voice and moans fall short on your ears as you really wanted him to come in your mouth.

“Baby please, I'm not gonna last. You need to stop if you don't want it in your mouth.” he head flops to the side as he watches you pick up speed, spit falling out your mouth and tears running out your eyes, “fuckkk….” was all he could muster when you felt him push your head as deep as you could go, gagging when he pushing you farther down where your nose hit his base.

Chan releases you as your mouth makes a popping sound slurping up all his cum into your mouth. Chan takes you in with a dopey smile on his face. 

“Let me see.” you sit back on your heels, tilting your head back letting him see the mess he made in your mouth. “Okay swallow my pretty girl.” Chan sees your throat slightly move up and down then watches you open up to show you swallowed it all. “Good girl.” he reaches out, swiping the little bit on cum out the side of your mouth, bringing it to his lips and licking it away. “Should I show my pretty girl how much I miss her and what she does to me when she's being so good for me?” 

“I just need you to fuck me. Please chan.” you say standing up, chan helps you take off your shirt, leaving you in your underwear. As you reach down to take them all chan stops you. “No, keep them on, they are cute.”

“Im trying to fuck you and you are calling my underwear cute right now?” you straddle on top of him, slowly grinding your wet panties over his hard dick. You moan into his neck as he rubs his fingers over your wet spot, dipping his fingers inside your panties. 

“Did sucking my dick make you this wet? Such a naughty girl.” 

You felt your face get hot but you buried deep into chans neck inhaling him in. 

Chan pushed your panties to the side aligning himself with your hole, he turned to you pressing a kiss into your temple. “You ready baby?” he sees you nod into his neck, "I need words my love.” 

“Yes chan please.” you moan out feeling him drag you over the tip of his dick. 

Chan was definitely losing patience as much as he wanted to savor the way your walls wrapped around him like you were made for him, chan immediately started plowing straight into you, you squealed out by the sudden force but the pleasure was so palpable that you were letting out the most pornographic moans. You were thinking it was because you haven't been with anyone but chan, but you knew that wasn't the only reason. You felt this sort of connection with him, and it wasn't just during sex it was almost as if you were more than two people, almost like you were one. 

Chan didn't stop trusting in you at a relentless pace, hand gripping tightly at your waist as the other pushed up your bra, mouth immediately wrapping around your nipple, rolling around on his tongue. The new sensation was bringing you all sorts of pleasure, chan can feel you tightening around him signaling you were close. 

“Come on baby, i can feel you squeezing me so tight, fuck you feel so good.” 

“Chan.. im so.. Im so” your panting so hard trying to focus on your words.

“I know baby i know, just cum for me love.” Chan presses a kiss onto your shoulder before sinking his teeth into your soft skin.

You moaned out, as you felt yourself fluttering around his dick, chan groans spilling into you, his breath fanning against your skin cooling it down. Chan pulls you out his neck to plant a kiss on your lips. “You are so perfect and everything to me. Please don't leave me ever.” he watches as your eyes flutter open, showing the prettiest color in the entire world. Glazed over so filled with love. He never wanted this look to leave your eyes ever again, he would never let this look leave those eyes.

“If I remember correctly you left me.” you murmur out, lips holding a playful smile. Chan rolls his eyes pulling you into a tight hug, dick growing hard inside you. 

“Up for another round?” you laugh as he quickly lays you down onto the couch.

© strrykais ⋅ i tagged those who asked for part two! sorry if you wished to not be! i just wanted you to know its here finally !! >< please let me know if you want to be removed!

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