#and staying up most of the night to get it done

[schitthappens]

Growing up Steve's parents hated all the tourists that crowded their little town so they vacationed elsewhere to avoid the rush. Steve went with them and adopted their hatred of tourists that took him away from his friends and his favorite place in the world.

Eddie loved the summers he got to spend with his Uncle Wayne, the energy of all the people, the late nights and slow mornings. Now that Eddie has graduated, he works part time at the plant with his uncle and gets the watch the town he loves transforms every summer into the lively hotspot of strangers. That is of course until he gets his heart broken one too many times by a tourist leaving at the end of the summer never to be heard of again.

The summer before Robin goes to college Steve begs to finally have a summer with her before she leaves for the year. And since the main house has already been rented out for the summer, Steve and Robin get a 2 month long sleepover in the guest house.

It's about a week into the summer when Robin drags Steve to the arcade. She's been showing him all the spots that are still present throughout the year but come alive in the summers. The ice cream shack only opened for the few months. The amphitheater with live music every weekend. The arcade that stays open later so all the kids are in bed and they can play without interruption. It's here that Steve first lays eyes on him. Long dark curly hair, thin waist and legs that go on for days. If only it wasn't summer and Steve could look at this man forever, but of course he's just here hogging the Skee-ball machine until fall rolls around.

Steve sees him again the next night and before he can say anything Robin is marching her way over to the group he's with. Steve misses any introductions trying to catch up with Robin and it takes him well into the night to put together the fact that he actually went to high school with a few of the guys and Robin knows them from band but Steve is sure he would recognize Eddie (it didn't him near as long to learn that bit of information) if he's seen him before.

In the following days their little group continues to meet up most nights. Steve and Eddie couldn't be more different but end up inseparable. Robin would be hurt that Steve was ditching her for a new friend on their first summer together if he wasn't making sure she was always included, which might actually be hurting Steve's chances.

"I think Eddie thinks we're dating" Robin says to Steve on a night they decided to stay in and have a 'girls night'.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Well only if you were waiting for him to make a move".

Steve sputters at that, "Wha- why would you think I'd want Eddie to make a move? We're friends and the summer's almost over anyway."

"Steve it's not even the 4th of July yet!" She rolls her eyes at him.

"So!"

"So have your fun while you can!"

"Robbie, you know why I can't do that!"

Robin can tell they're getting into dangerous territory and drops it "Fine. What color do you want your nails?"

"Red." and they move on from that conversation.

---

As the summer progresses, Steve and Eddie keep getting closer. Chrissy returns from her summer vacation and it's Robin that ends up ditching Steve once a week for date night. It's one of these nights that Steve almost kisses Eddie. If it wasn't for the sudden fireworks, Steve would have done it and then there'd be no saving his heart from the eventual heartbreak that would be sure to come at the end of the summer. He's already dreading it enough not need to add kissing (or anything else for that matter) to the mix.

Steve pulls back and tries his hardest not to be alone with Eddie, especially late at night, curled up on a blanket, under the stars, but it gets harder as the weeks go on.

Eventually Robin starts packing for college, Steve's parents are due home in a few weeks and Steve doesn't know what's gonna happen when the summer ends. Whenever Eddie brings it up Steve avoids the question or changes the subject not wanting to hear how far away Eddie will be and how he'll try to keep in touch it won't last past Halloween.

The whole group hangs out less and less as one by one people leave for the summer until it's just Steve and Eddie. A few times Steve thinks Eddie is gone for good without saying goodbye until he's there the next week at the arcade playing Skee-Ball with Steve or they're seeing a movie together.

It's the middle of September when Steve finally kisses Eddie. They had gotten burgers and milkshakes together and walking through the quit town together. Not another tourist in sight and Steve can't take it anymore.

"Umm what was that?" Eddie sputters after Steve had pulled away.

"Sorry did I misread this?" Of course Steve was making it all up in his head like he always does.

"No but why now?" Eddie looks so confused. "Why kiss me now when you're just going to leave soon?"

"Leave?" Now Steve is confused.

"Yeah summer is over. Don't tourist go back home at the end of the summer?"

"I'm not a tourist"

"But you're renting that fancy guest house!"

"From my parents.."

"And you said it's your first summer here!"

"but I've spent every fall, winter and spring here since I was born."

"So why didn't you kiss me earlier?" by now Eddie is exasperated.

"Because YOU'RE a tourist and you're going to leave me!"

"Maybe at one time I was, but Steve I've lived here for 3 years now!"

Of course they each had a million other questions to ask each other but now that they knew neither one was going to leave any time soon Steve pushed Eddie into the nearest alleyway against the brick wall and kisses him like he had wanted to all summer.

Robin just rolled her eye when Steve called to tell her the news.

Steve and Eddie meet in a cute little tourist trap of a town. They go all summer dancing around their feelings for each other, but both of them have strict "no dating tourists" policies--- no point in getting attached to someone who already has a return flight booked.

They spend all summer dreading the day the other one heads home. It takes them damn near til Halloween to realize--- neither of them is a tourist.

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Vincent, fem!reader

WARNINGS/TAGS: Parental yandere, light infantilization, fem+afab reader, periods, period comfort, embarrassment from periods, non-sexual nudity, reader implied to be younger, cuddles, Vincent doting on Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the other part of a commission that was done with Octavian!

You're sure you've never felt as miserable as you do now; your cramps feel like they're going to kill you, you've been nauseous all morning and you just want to stay curled up in bed all day, hiding under your covers.

Unfortunately for you, however, today Vincent is off work. Normally you'd love that, because then you could spend more time together. But right now, it feels like a curse; because how else are you supposed to hide this from him?

You're not ready to deal with it, nor do you want to.

To seem as least suspicious as possible, you try not to clutch your stomach as you descend the stairs towards where he sits, drinking his morning coffee.

Vincent looks up at you with a warm smile. "Good morning, sweetie."

Despite everything going on inside of your body and mind, you force yourself to return his greeting. "Hi."

You walk past him and quickly gather some cereal for yourself. You can tell Vincent notices, because he watches you with curiosity. "What's wrong? No 'good morning, Dad'? Just 'hi'?" He chuckles, but you can tell he's going through a million different possibilities as to what's wrong.

Instead of answering verbally, you shrug, pour yourself a bowl and grab a spoon. Then you make your way over to where he sits, taking a seat beside him instead of across.

Maybe that way his gaze won't be fixated solely on you.

Unfortunately, your plan fails, because he's still staring at you when you glance over.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted pancakes or waffles," he says finally.

"Nah, its fine, I'm alright with cereal this morning," you reply.

Vincent raises a brow, raising a hand to feel your forehead. "Are you sick? Getting a fever?"

"No, no," you stutter. "Nothing like that. I just, um, didn't sleep well last night..."

"Really?" Vincent asks. "Did you have any nightmares? Anything you want to talk about?"

Great. Now you're cornering yourself and lying even further than before. You're pretty sure part of him can tell you're lying, because he's so used to working with other liars. He reads people better than most could, which is probably part of his profession.

Knowing that just makes you more anxious.

For all you know, he probably sees through your facade completely and is waiting to call you out on it.

"I dunno... maybe? I don't remember my dreams," you say quickly.

"Hm." His expression shows that he's not entirely convinced by your answer.

You try changing the topic to distract him, and hopefully yourself. "Do you have anything specific planned for the day?"

Vincent blinks, then smiles fondly at you. "I'm going to leave it up to you. If you want to go shopping or go out to eat, that'd be fine with me. Or we could have a lazy day watching movies together. Anything you like, princess."

You feel nervous at his choices of options, considering you'd prefer not leaving the house today if you can avoid it. Maybe watching films together sounds nice, though even that gives you anxiety.

"I guess some movies would be nice," you mutter.

Vincent smiles, much to your relief. "Sounds good to me. Why don't you pick one for us to start with?"

So you do.

You get settled down on the couch after turning off the lights in the living room and opening the curtains for maximum viewing experience, snuggled tightly beneath a large fleece blanket. Vincent joins you moments after setting things up.

He wraps a strong arm around you, pulling you closer to his side.

Throughout the movie, he glances down at you occasionally as if checking up on something. Which makes sense since he seems worried about you for whatever reason. You pretend to pay attention to the screen while your mind races on elsewhere.

Every now and then there's a painful twist in your lower abdomen causing you to flinch slightly, although you try hiding these reactions from Vincent.

About halfway through the film, you start getting fidgety, wanting to switch positions constantly.

When you decide to curl up into a ball and bury yourself deep within your blankets once again, Vincent shoots you another glance. "(Y/n)?" he asks quietly.

"Huh?"

"What are you doing, honey?"

"Oh..." You look down embarrassedly. "Just getting comfy."

Vincent pauses for a moment before continuing. "Are you sure nothing is wrong? Nothing you want to talk about with me?"

Your heart pounds faster than normal and butterflies swarm your stomach. Your fingers tighten their grip on your sleeves as you answer: "Positive."

"Okay."

The movie continues playing, but neither of you speak anymore during the remainder of it. At certain points you catch Vincent giving you concerned stares again, especially whenever your hands wander absentmindedly underneath the blanket to press against your belly. When the credits roll around, however, he breaks the silence.

"I don't buy that."

You laugh nervously. "You love buying things," you attempt to joke.

He usually always finds amusement in your jokes, even the bad ones, but now he just looks frustrated. Its a rare expression on him, and definitely not one you like. "I'm serious."

You shrink back. "Sorry..."

Vincent's expression goes from stern to guilt-ridden immediately at your scared reaction. "I'm not mad. I'm just worried about you. Please talk to me."

"There's nothing to worry about." Your voice shakes as you say those words.

"(Y/n)." His tone sends shivers throughout your body. "You're lying to me." A pause. "Please don't lie to Dad."

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously. "...I... I don't wanna talk about it... please." Your voice cracks. Tears build in the corners of your eyes.

Vincent coos at you, pulling you into his lap. You bury your face in his chest as you cry softly. He rocks you gently, kissing your head every few seconds.

"Its okay, it's okay, sweet girl. Shhh..." Vincent hushes you soothingly. He keeps rocking and swaying slowly. One hand rubs calming circles along your upper back. His other cradles the back of your neck tenderly.

After a couple minutes of crying like this in his arms, he leans away slightly to lift your chin. With a thumb, he wipes the tears streaming down your face away carefully.

Then he smiles brightly down at you. "Hey there, kiddo."

You hiccup and sniffle. "Hi." Your voice quavers. "I feel so gross."

Vincent grabs a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table, using it to clean off your runny nose and damp cheeks. "Much better now, huh? Crying is healthy for the soul. Even if it breaks my heart to see you cry, I'd rather you cry than hold it in. Just means I get to comfort my baby." He teasingly squishes your cheeks, which manages to bring a smile to your face. "There it is," he chuckles fondly. "How's about I go draw you a nice bath?"

That sounds appealing, honestly. "Yeah... sure," you agree.

"Perfect. Up we go." He hoists you into his arms and carries you upstairs, setting you on the counter in the bathroom.

He rolls up his sleeves before leaning forward and switching the faucets to get the perfect temperature.

You watch as the water fills up the tub, making little splashing noises when it hits the ceramic.

Once he gets satisfied with how full the basin is, he turns the knobs off.

Vincent hums as he searches through various cabinets, grabbing some scented bubble bath bottles. "Orange mango or watermelon?" After you give your answer, he tosses the opposite bottle back into the drawer, pouring the other into the bath. He stirs it in, letting the suds rise. "Let me know if it should be warmer or colder, kiddo."

He turns to grab shampoo and conditioner, giving you the privacy to step in. It feels nice, easing your cramps ever-so-slightly.

"Feels great," you sigh dreamily. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anything for my favorite daughter," he sing-songs.

"Your only daughter," you snort.

He laughs at that, placing the shampoo and conditioner in convenient reach. "Still true." He grabs a cup. "Now tilt your head back so I can..." he trails off.

You're quick to realize why. The water is a brownish-red hue.

To your relief, Vincent doesn't freak out. A look of realization spreads across his face, only after the initial shock. He chuckles in relief. "Oh, thank God. It's just your period." His expression turns to serious again. "Right? You aren't injured, are you?"

"No," you squeak out. "It started this morning. I'm sorry."

He holds his hand to his chest in further relief. "I was just a few minutes away from calling a doctor, you know that?" His expression softens. "Why would you hide this?" His voice seeps with genuine confusion and worry.

"...'cause..." You pause. "Because its embarrassing." You hug yourself anxiously. "And gross."

Vincent looks heartbroken. "Princess... you know periods are natural, right?" When you shrug, he frowns deeper. "(Y/n), I promise its okay." He rubs your shoulder. "Its nothing to be ashamed of. I'd never judge you for anything, let alone this."

"Thank you," you murmur. "It just feels so awkward."

Vincent laughs softly. "I've been preparing for this conversation for a while. Not really a fan of how we ended up here, but I'm just glad you aren't hurt." He sighs fondly. "I'll order you some pads, and when bathtime's done, there'll be a heating pad with your name on it."

You smile gratefully. "Thanks."

"Of course. My little girl is not allowed to suffer," Vincent says lovingly. "No, sirree. None of that allowed under my roof. Got it?"

"Got it," you laugh back. "Um, can we continue our movie marathons after I'm done washing up?"

He smiles warmly. "Of course. Since I'm such a good dad, I'll even let you pick one extra movie."

"Only one?" You groan dramatically. "All your movies are boring."

"They are not."

"They absolutely are. They're either the same 80's comedies over and over again, or the same superhero action movies over and over again."

"You're just saying that because you're a baby with a baby brain, and I have good taste." He sticks his tongue out playfully, showing he isn't actually upset. "Real movies, made for people who know good cinema."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you roll your eyes. Your face softens. "Thanks, Dad. For being not-awkward."

He beams proudly. "Anytime, kiddo. I'm just cool like that."

You roll your eyes.

[fullsunstrawberry]

pairings: Brother Best Friend Haechan x Virgin Reader (hints of Jeno x reader and Sungchan x reader)

summary: When you sets out to finally lose your virginity, your mission is simple—until your older brother’s best friend steps in, vowing to be your personal chastity belt. After a fight he makes it his mission to get his revenge... by blocking every hookup attempt you makes. But the more he interferes, the more complicated things get and suddenly, the line between rivalry and something more starts to blur.

content warning: It's okay to be a virgin this was just for the plot (im literally still a virgin), drinking, talks of cheating but no actual cheating, heavy make-outs, grinding, jealousy, haechan cockblocking twice, virgin reader, experienced haechan, reader being a brat, condom mentioned (shout out! wrap it up), cunninglingus, use of the words 'heat' 'breast', overall fluffy vanilla smut.

word count: 20.4k (im sorry-)

authors note: posting this before my 21st birthday tm! (3rd) <3

Mark had finally done it, he graduated college. You felt a mix of pride and relief. Watching him walk across that stage was huge for your family, but part of you couldn’t help but feel...free. The constant hovering, the big brother act—it was over. At least for now.

You weren’t just Mark’s little sister anymore. It was your turn to live.

Sophomore year was your fresh start. No more rules, no more curfews. You could go out, stay out, party, drink—and maybe even lose your virginity. You weren’t rushing, but it felt like the right time to start making memories that were actually yours and not just stuff you’ve read in fanfics.

When Mark decided to travel after graduation, his apartment opened up. He offered his room to you to help with rent. At first, you weren’t sure—but it made sense. More freedom than a dorm, and you already knew the guys that frequently hang out there: Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung. Mark’s best friends. Your honorary older brothers. They always made you feel welcome, even if they were just as protective as Mark.

Haechan, Mark’s roommate, was the best one to live with out of the his friend group—party guy, always out, kept the shared space clean. As long as your noise canceling headphones worked, living with him didn’t seem like a bad deal.

Before leaving, Mark said, “If you need anything, my friends are around. They’ve got your back.”

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t need a babysitter. But you knew it came from a good place. They all cared, whether Mark said it or not.

So, you moved in. The apartment was way better than your old dorm. Spacious, cozy, and most importantly yours. Your room had a big window—that you could actually open, unlike the school “anti suicide” protection ones—

Those first few weeks of settling in were exactly what you’d hoped for. Late nights, new people, freedom. No one checking in, no one to tiptoe around. Just you, your own schedule, and finally, a life that felt like it belonged to you.

It was everything you hoped for!

You’d been out with friends, as usual—drinks, dancing, laughing—but when you came home, something felt off. You walked into the apartment, expecting it to be quiet, but there was a light on in the living room. Haechan was sitting on the couch, his face serious as he looked up when you entered.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice calm but with a weight to it.

“We need to talk.”

You froze for a moment, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You were tired and your head hurt, already exhausted with how much socializing you just did.

“What’s up?” you asked, your tone already on edge. You could tell this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation.

Haechan patted the seat next to him, his expression serious. “Sit down. This is important.”

You reluctantly dropped your bag by the door and plopped onto the couch, crossing your arms.

“You’ve changed,” Haechan said bluntly, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “You used to be so quiet, so reserved. You liked staying in, reading, gaming, and just hanging out with a small set of friends. But now? You’re out every night, partying, getting home at God knows what hour. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

You felt a jolt of anger rise in your chest at his words. You hadn’t expected this. Sure, you’d been out a lot lately, but was it really that big of a deal? You weren’t doing anything wrong.

“I’m just living my life, Haechan. What’s your problem with that?”

Haechan didn’t back down. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s not about you living your life. It’s that you’re changing into someone you’re not. I’m just worried you’re losing yourself. You used to be so different, and now you’re pushing yourself into a life you don’t even seem to want. You’re not the same Y/n I used to know.”

Frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t a little girl anymore. Yeah, you were more introverted than most people. You liked staying in and finding different hobbies like reading, cross-stitching, knitting, and playing board games. But you don’t see a problem with trying to branch out and make some experiences. You haven’t even kissed someone in years!

“I’m not changing, Haechan,” you shot back, your voice getting louder. “I’m just doing what I want for once. I’m in college now. I can go out and have fun. I’m not hurting anyone or myself, so why does it matter?”

“It matters because you’re pushing yourself into this wild party girl persona that isn’t you,” he argued, his voice soft but earnest. “You don’t need to change who you are to have fun. You don’t have to lose yourself to experience college. You’re better than this.”

His words stung. Was he right? You don’t even care, who is he to tell you who you are! You felt the anger bubble up higher in your chest, and before you knew it, you were standing up, pacing the small space in front of the couch.

“You think you know me so well, don’t you? You think just because I’m going out and having fun, that means I’m ‘losing myself’?” You shot a pointed glance at him. “Maybe I’m just finally doing what I want to do. Mark or you don’t get to decide who I am or who I should be!”

Haechan stood up too, frustration flashing in his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying! I just don’t want you to regret this, Y/n. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t throw away everything that made you... well, you.”

You could feel your pulse racing, your heart pounding in your chest. He was trying to tell you what you should be doing with your life, and you weren’t about to let him dictate that.

“You don’t get it! I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything. Maybe I’ve just been stuck in the same box for too long. Maybe I just want to have some damn fun for once without everyone treating me like a baby!”

There was a tense silence between you two, the air thick. Haechan’s face softened a little, but you could see the hurt in his eyes. “I’m not judging you, Y/n. I’m just trying to look out for you. I’m your friend, okay? I care about you. But I can’t just watch you spiral into something I don’t recognize.”

You shook your head, feeling a tight knot form in your throat. You didn’t want to hear this. “You’re Mark’s friend not mine!” You snapped, your voice almost a shout.

You stood there, staring at him. You could feel your heart racing, the adrenaline still rushing through your veins. But as Haechan’s expression faltered, something in you twisted—something unfamiliar, something you didn’t want to deal with right now.

His eyes widened, lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out. The silence between you two felt loud, thick, and uncomfortable, making the air around you heavy.

You stood there, your hands clenched by your sides, unwilling to back down. You had said what you needed to say, hadn’t you? Haechan was just your brother’s friend, right? That’s all he was, no matter how much he tried to play the protective older brother role. You didn’t need him to look out for you. You didn’t need anyone but yourself.

But then you saw it, something you hadn’t expected. The hurt that flashed in his eyes. The quick, sharp breath he took, like he was trying to process your words, like you’d just physically hurt him. It made something inside you twist painfully.

You wanted to take it back. You wanted to apologize, to say that wasn’t what you meant. But the pride in you wouldn't let it happen. Instead, you just stood there, the anger still lingering inside of you.

Haechan opened his mouth again, his voice quieter now, as if unsure of what to say. “Y/n, I—” But he stopped, his words dying before he could get them out.

You didn’t say anything back. There was nothing left to say. You had made it clear where you stood, and now, there was a silence between you both, almost unbearable.

He swallowed, his jaw clenched tightly as his eyes dropped to the floor. You could see the frustration in his body language and the way he folded his arms across his chest like he was trying to protect himself from the words you had thrown at him. And yet, there was still this undeniable hurt that lingered in his expression.

Haechan took a slow, steadying breath before looking up at you one last time. His eyes were distant now, but the hurt was still there. His lips pressed into a thin line, and without another word, he turned away, walking toward the hallway, his footsteps heavy against the floor.

You stood frozen, the knot in your throat tightening again as you watched him leave. Your heart felt like it had been split in two—one part of you was still angry but the other part of you, the quieter part, regretted what you had just said. Knowing deep down he was right.

But Haechan didn’t turn back. He didn’t say anything else. He just left, disappearing into his room without a single glance in your direction.

You remained standing in the living room, the weight of the silence pressing down on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, not yet, because you knew if you did, you’d have to face what you’d just done.

And right now, you weren’t ready to do that. So you stayed there, alone in the quiet, wondering if you’d ever be able to fix this.

Weeks turned into a month, and with each passing day, the tension between you and Haechan only seemed to grow. You avoided him, doing everything you could to sidestep those awkward, silent moments when you’d inevitably cross paths. Which was a lot, you two live together!

But you didn’t know how to fix things, didn’t know how to admit you were wrong. The pride that had kept you from apologizing in the first place now felt like a heavy weight on your chest, crushing you.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to talk to the others. You’d still spent time with Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung—though it was different now. They could all sense it. The moment you and Haechan were in the same room, the air would go thick, filled with an undeniable awkwardness. Everyone seemed to feel it, and no one ever quite knew what to say.

Things had taken a turn after Haechan finally told the guys about the fight. You had noticed it right away. They had become distant too. Maybe they were angry at you, maybe they were just upset because they were caught in the middle of it. Either way, they didn’t talk to you like they used to. They didn’t look at you like they used to. And that made you feel even more isolated.

But the worst part? The worst part was Haechan. You barely saw him anymore.

He either wasn’t home—probably at some party getting drunk. Or he spent his time locked away in his room, just like you did. You’d occasionally hear him laughing or talking with the other people, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t normal anymore. And every time you heard that, you felt like something inside you was breaking—like you were losing your friends.

The apartment had felt weird lately...too quiet, too still. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been until the familiar sound of laughter echoed through the hallway, followed by a knock at your door.

Lisa burst in first, tossing her bag on the couch like she owned the place. Jaemin trailed behind, grinning as he scanned the room.

“Okay, so this is your version of living your best life?” Lisa raised a brow, glancing around at your cozy setup. “I expected a little more....”

You laughed, the sound feeling strange in your own space. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Jaemin dropped onto the couch beside you, arms stretched wide as he let out a relaxed sigh. “I’ll take it. Better than Lisa’s place, where everything’s freakishly neat. Move one thing and she goes full psycho.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and chucked a pillow at him. “You love it.”

Their banter filled the room with a warmth you hadn’t felt in weeks. The air felt lighter, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so weighed down.

Lisa, always too observant for her own good, shot you a sideways glance. “So... sleepover. And since we’re here, you’re gonna spill. What’s really going on with you? You’ve been sulking and dodging us for weeks.”

Jaemin nodded. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. You’ve been off.”

You swallowed the knot that had been sitting in your chest for days. “It’s... Haechan. We got into a fight. Things have been tense ever since.”

Lisa’s curiosity sparked. “Weird how?”

You hesitated. “We argued... and I said some things I didn’t mean. He made some comment about me changing, and I just snapped. I told him he wasn’t my friend—just Mark’s.”

Jaemin winced. “Damn. That’s cold.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Oof, that’s a low blow. But, seriously, you both probably said some dumb stuff in the heat of the moment.”

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as you stared at the ground. “Yeah, I regret it. I didn’t mean it. But I just... I was so frustrated. And then, after that, we just avoided each other. It’s been like walking on eggshells around him, and honestly, this was supposed to be my year.”

Jaemin frowned, glancing at Lisa, who was now looking at you with a mixture of concern and something else—something playful.

“Okay, okay,” Lisa said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “Maybe I’m just gonna throw this out there, because you know I have no filter—which you love—but what if the real reason you exploded like that is because you’re so pent up?”

You blinked at her, confused. “Pent up?”

She grinned, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. You know... because you’ve been holding onto your... frustrations for so long. Maybe it’s all this repressed energy that made you lash out. Like... you've been a little too focused on being the ‘good girl,’ and now you’re overcompensating.”

Jaemin chuckled, clearly intrigued by where this was going, and leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I see where this is going. So, you’re telling me that you’ve been, what stressed because of the whole ‘virginity thing’?”

You shot Lisa a disbelieving look. “What? That’s ridiculous. That’s not the problem.”

Lisa laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “I mean, it’s not just that, but come on. You’re in college now. You’re out partying, meeting people, and you’ve got all this new freedom. Maybe you’re just... figuring some things out. But hey, I’m not saying that’s the only reason.”

You snorted, a small laugh escaping despite yourself. “So, you’re saying I lashed out at Haechan because I haven’t gotten laid yet?”

Lisa shrugged, still grinning. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe there’s a little frustration there, building up, and Haechan just happened to be the unlucky target.”

Jaemin, always the more level-headed one, cut in, “I think Lisa’s just trying to make you laugh, Y/n. But seriously, maybe she’s onto something. You’ve been putting so much pressure on yourself to be perfect, to do everything right. Maybe you just need to let go a little. Not everything has to feel like a Rom-Com” 

You nodded, “Maybe you're right, I just need to hurry up and lose my virginity! It’s not a big deal anyways.”

“I mean mine was awful but it got rid of my nerves with the next girl,” Jaemin nodded along. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way they were talking about it so casually. Jaemin’s bluntness always had a way of making even awkward topics sound less serious.

"Wait, your first time was awful?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was Sixteen. Clueless. Awful,” he said flatly. “But it’s like a rite of passage, right?”

Lisa snorted. “College is the perfect time to get your awkward phase out of the way.”

You nodded slowly. “You know what? You’re right. 2025 is the year I lose my virginity.”

Jaemin burst out laughing. Lisa threw her hands up in mock celebration. “Yes! New Year’s resolution: lose the V-card!”

“Just don’t treat it like a movie or a book,” Jaemin added. “It’s probably gonna be weird. But hey, at least it’ll be real.”

You groaned. “Ugh, you’re ruining the fantasy. Can’t I just pretend it’s gonna be magical?”

Lisa slapped your leg. “Oh, come on. You’ve read enough fanfiction to know better.”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it. “Do not bring up the kind of smut I read!”

Lisa howled with laughter. “You’re blushing!”

“Shut up,” you muttered, hiding your face. But you were smiling.

Jaemin smirked. “With how much smut you read, you might as well go out and live it.”

You threw him a look, but your cheeks were burning. “You two are the worst.”

Lisa leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Tell us one thing. Do you still have that folder labeled ‘study material’?”

You groaned. “Can we not talk about my smut collection?”

Jaemin laughed. “I mean the amount of smut you read, you might as well be a slut…”

You shot Jaemin a playful glare, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "Oh my god, seriously? You two are horrible," you muttered, covering your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment.

Lisa smirked, clearly loving every second of teasing you. "Come on, don’t be shy. We know you're into the good stuff, Y/n." She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.

You flopped back on the couch. “Conversation over.”

Lisa grinned. “What? You used to read us your favorite fics, remember?”

You buried your face in the pillow. “That was when we weren’t in my apartment. It’s different here!”

“Is your roommate here?” Jaemin asked, glancing around.

You nodded. “Exactly. Haechan’s down the hall. Can you imagine if he heard all this? I’d die.”

The three of you burst into laughter, the kind that filled the apartment and pushed the heaviness away for a while. The sleepover didn’t last long—they both wanted to sleep in their own beds—but in those few hours, you felt a little less alone.

The next morning, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, waking you up. Sunlight came through the blinds, warming the room. You stretched on the couch, your neck sore from sleeping there, and reached for your phone. A message from Lisa was waiting.

Lisa Pookie: You passed out on us. We didn’t want to wake you, so we headed home. Hope you survived the night after all our teasing. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, the loneliness that had been sitting so heavy in your chest no longer there. But there was still something missing that you didn’t want to admit. 

With a sigh, you checked the time—it was almost noon. The apartment was quiet, not surprising. Haechan probably was still sleeping. 

You made your way into the kitchen to start making some coffee, still replaying the events of last night in your mind. The conversation with Lisa and Jaemin had made you realize just how stressed out you'd been, how much you’d been holding in. It felt like a release, but now, the weight of what had happened with Haechan was still lingering in the back of your mind. You knew you had to face him, but you had no idea how or when that would happen.

Just as you were about to pour the coffee into your mug, you heard footsteps behind you.

“Morning,” Haechan’s voice came, surprisingly calm.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Your first instinct was to turn around and walk away, but you held yourself steady, trying to keep your composure. “Oh… hey, Haechan,” you said, your voice much less casual than you intended.

You hadn't expected him to speak to you after everything that happened. The argument, the cold silence… you assumed you’d both continue to tiptoe around each other. So why was he suddenly talking to you again?

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his usual laid-back expression replaced with something softer. “Lisa and Jaemin left already?”

“Yeah, they left yesterday night. They were… just here to hang out.” You fiddled with the coffee filter, unsure how to act around him.

A brief silence stretched between you two. You felt the awkwardness from the night before still hanging in the air, thick and heavy. You didn't know how to break it.

Haechan cleared his throat, looking at the coffee machine like he was trying to figure out what to say next. “Listen, I... I know things have been weird between us lately, and I’m not great at talking about stuff like this. But, I wanted to clear the air.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, what?” you said, still facing the coffee machine, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t… I don’t really know what you’re trying to say.”

Haechan's voice softened, and you finally glanced over at him, noticing how his usual cocky demeanor had shifted to something more sincere. “I know I messed up too,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did. But I was worried. I guess I was trying to look out for you... I’ve just been caught up in my own head too.”

You stared at him, taken aback by his words. For so long, you assumed he was angry with you, that he’d shut you out because of everything that happened. But this… this was different. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you murmured, your own guilt creeping in. “I was mad, and I didn’t know how to… deal with all the stuff that was going on in my head. I guess I just… took it out on you.”

Haechan gave a slight nod, his eyes softening. “I get it,” he said quietly. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. I shouldn’t have made it worse by trying to control you. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get hurt or… change in ways you didn’t want to.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, realizing that despite how hard you’d pushed him away, Haechan was still looking out for you. He wasn’t trying to control you, but protect you. It wasn’t easy to admit, but you could see that now.

“I’m sorry, Haechan,” you whispered, the knot in your chest loosening just a little. “I didn’t mean to push you away like that.”

Haechan’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. We both said things we didn’t mean. It happens.”

The tension between you two seemed to finally ease a bit. There was still an unspoken understanding of what had been said and done, but the air felt a little lighter, less suffocating. You grabbed your mug, finally turning toward him fully.

“Do you want some coffee?” you offered, unsure if it would be weird, but it felt like a small step toward rebuilding things.

Haechan nodded, his smile widening. “Sure. I could use some.”

As you handed Haechan his cup of coffee, you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed more at ease now, his usual playful attitude returning bit by bit. He took a sip of the coffee, nodding in approval before setting the mug down on the counter.

“So,” Haechan began, leaning casually against the counter again. “Since we are on good terms again, how about we invite the others over for a game night tonight?” Haechan grinned, tapping his fingers on the counter as if he was already mentally planning the evening.

 “It’s been a while since we all hung out together. We could order some takeout, play a few games—maybe a couple rounds of Mario Kart, Monopoly, or something.” His eyes sparkled with excitement that you hadn’t seen in a while.

You hesitated for a moment, considering the idea. It would be nice to have everyone over. You missed those nights when you all just kicked back and had fun together, no pressure, no awkwardness. But then you remembered the last few weeks—the tension that had built up between you and Haechan. Would it be weird, to bring them over and act like everything was normal again?

Haechan must’ve sensed your hesitation because he quickly added, “It’ll be fun. I promise it won’t be awkward.”

You hesitated for another second, but the idea of good food and the mess of game night started to sound more and more appealing. After everything that had happened recently, you realized that maybe this was exactly what you needed—an evening with your friends to reset everything.

“Okay,” you agreed, finally giving in with a small smile. “That sounds good. We haven’t had a game night in forever.”

Haechan grinned, his smile contagious. “Great! I’ll text them. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the details. You just get ready to lose badly to me in Mario Kart.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling softly. “We’ll see about that. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s going to beat you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, nudging your shoulder playfully. “I’ll text the guys now. I’ll let you know when they’re on their way.”

He pulled out his phone while you took a sip of coffee, feeling a bit better. Maybe it was the thought of seeing your friends, or just how relaxed Haechan made things feel, but it seemed like everything might be okay again.

A few hours later, the sound of footsteps and the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

“Game night!” Chenle grinned, holding up a bag of snacks like a prize. “I brought chips, popcorn, and like, fifty sodas.”

Renjun held up a board game with a sly smile. “I brought Monopoly,” he said, wiggling his fingers like it was some kind of secret weapon.

“You brought Monopoly?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want us to fight?”

Jisung walked in last, looking the most unsure—like he’d just sat down with two divorced parents. “Maybe we shouldn’t play that…”

You and Haechan shared an amused glance as everyone settled in, setting out snacks and games. For the first time in a while, the tension between you and Haechan was gone. The usual noise of friends joking, arguing over what to play, and debating pizza toppings filled the room.

“Alright,” Haechan said with a grin. “Let’s make this interesting. Loser cleans up. Deal?”

You leaned back on the couch, smiling. “You’re on. Just don’t cry when you lose.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he said, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Everyone burst out laughing, and for the first time in weeks, things felt normal. Whatever happened before didn’t matter tonight. You were with your friends and everything felt right.

After a night where you finally felt like yourself again, it was time to step back into your college life. Sitting on your bed, journal in hand, your phone buzzed beside you. Lisa’s name lit up the screen, and you quickly answered.

“Y/n! How have you been?” Lisa’s voice rang with excitement.

You smiled, lying back on your bed as you relaxed into the call. “Honestly? Amazing. I finally made up with Haechan. It's no longer awkward… thank God. I don’t think I could’ve handled one more day of him looking all sad and mopey.”

“I knew you two would fix it!” Lisa cheered. “I’ve missed you guys being friends. Everything’s more fun when no one’s beefing. I can stop pretending I don’t see him on campus.”

You laughed. “Yeah, and I don’t have to constantly stress that I ruined half my friendships.”

There was a brief pause, then Lisa’s tone turned playful. “Sooo… now that the drama’s over, it’s time to celebrate. You, me, and Jaemin TONIGHT. There’s a frat party, and you know it’s gonna be crazy.”

You raised an eyebrow, already grinning. “A frat party? I haven’t been to one of those in forever. Not since me and Haechan had our fallout.”

“Exactly!” Lisa laughed. “It’s the perfect excuse to let loose. And the perfect place to do all the things we’ve been talking about. Sooo?”

You hesitated for half a second but then shrugged. “Why not? I’m in.”

“YES!” Lisa squealed. “Jaemin and I will pick you up at nine. Oh and please dress slutty!”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, okay! I’ll see you then.”

Ending the call, you sigh and head to your closet, Lisa’s words echoing in your mind. Something slutty… You pause. Do you even own anything she’d call slutty?

You dig through your clothes—everything feels too plain or safe. Then your hand stops on a dress you borrowed from her a while ago. She never asked for it back: a very short black dress with lace details.

Taking a deep breath, you slip it on. It fits snugly, hugging every curve, the hem high enough to make you tug it down without thinking. You turn to the mirror and pause. You look...Sexy. It's different but in a good way.

You grab a pair of dusty heels from the back of your closet to complete the look. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjust the dress one last time. A nervous excitement builds in your chest. In this dress? Yeah—you’re definitely getting laid tonight.

You were about to check Jaemin’s location when a knock sounded at your door. You looked up, surprised. Opening it, you found Haechan standing there.

His eyes scanned your outfit, eyebrows raised. “You look nice. Where are you going?”

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “Me and a couple friends are hitting up a frat party.”

Haechan grinned, clearly amused. “A frat party, huh? Sounds fun. Mind if I tag along? I could use a night out.”

You blinked. “You want to come with us?”

He shrugged casually. “Why not? Unless… you don’t want me there?”

You hesitated—not because you didn’t want him to come, but because the question caught you off guard. His casual tone made it hard to tell if he was joking.

You laughed, trying to keep things light. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you there. I just didn’t think frat parties were your thing, thought you preferred bars and clubs.”

“Why wouldn’t they be? I get to show up with a bunch of ladies,” he teased.

“Two ladies and Jaemin,” you corrected.

“Still counts. And I’d love to see how you are at a frat party.” There was a glint in his eye you might have missed if you weren’t already paying attention.

You shook your head, smiling. “Okay, fine. You can come. But don’t make it weird.”

He placed a hand over his heart, mock offended. “Weird? Me? Never.”

You both laughed. For the first time in a while, it felt like the old Haechan was really back.

“So,” he said after a pause, “I’ll go get ready.”

You nodded. “Yeah Yeah, just finishing up.”

“Cool. I’ll be quick.” He shot you a grin before walking off down the hall.

You took a deep breath. You slipped on your shoes, checked your reflection one last time, and grabbed your phone. A new message from Lisa lit up the screen.

“Can’t wait to see how sexy you are! I’m on my way. Get ready to partyyy!!!”

You smiled at Lisa’s message and quickly replied: “Already dressed ;) Haechan’s coming too, by the way.”

Her response came almost instantly: “No way! That’s perfect. This is going to be so much fun. See you soon!”

You grabbed your jacket and headed for the door, only to bump into Haechan again—this time dressed casually, but still effortlessly hot.

“All set?” he asked, giving you an approving once-over.

“Yup. Lisa should be here any minute,” you said with a small smile.

He stepped aside, motioning for you to lead the way, and the two of you headed downstairs. Just as you reached the front door, you heard the sound of Jaemin’s car pulling up.

Outside, the cool night air brushed your skin as you walked toward the car. Lisa was already in the front seat, and her eyes lit up the moment she saw you.

“Ooh, look at you two!” she said, grinning. “You clean up nice.”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips. “Don’t start.”

Haechan just laughed, casually shrugging. “What can I say? I’m naturally this good-looking.”

Lisa laughed. “I’m glad you decided to come, Haechan. Now let’s go before they drink all the alcohol!”

You slid into the backseat, and Haechan followed, settling in beside you.

“All buckled up?” Jaemin asked, catching your eye in the rearview mirror with a playful wink.

“Buckled!” you said, the car pulling away as the night officially began.

The moment you stepped into the party, the energy hit you. The house was buzzing—people laughing, dancing, and talking over the loud music that vibrated through the walls. Dim lighting cast shadows and color across the room.

Near the entrance, you spotted Hendery, one of the frat guys, chatting with friends. His eyes lit up when he saw your group.

“Hey! You guys made it!” he said, flashing a wide grin that instantly made you feel welcome.

“Of course,” Lisa replied, giving him a quick side hug as she nudged past Jaemin. “Your frat always throws the best parties.”

“You’re too sweet. Let me know if you need anything!” Hendery replied before disappearing into the crowd to greet others.

You smiled softly and scanned the room. Haechan grinned beside you, casually slinging an arm behind Jaemin and Lisa.

“You guys don’t mind if I steal Y/n for a bit, do you?” he asked. His tone was light, but the way his eyes locked onto yours felt anything but casual—like a challenge.

Jaemin and Lisa raised their eyebrows and exchanged a look before giving nods of approval. With that, Haechan gently guided you into the crowd.

Your stomach flipped, though you weren’t sure why.

The music shifted into something bass-heavy, and soon you found yourself moving to the beat in the middle of the living room, Haechan never far from your side. He kept the mood light, joking and saying random things that made you laugh. You couldn’t deny how comfortable he made you feel—yet part of you started to notice how present he was. Every time you turned, he was there. Close. Watching.

Too close.

After a while, it became a bit much. You needed space, and more than that, you needed Lisa.

You nudged her side. “Come on, let’s go outside for a minute. I need some air.”

Lisa gave you a knowing look and smirked. “Yeah, same. Let’s go.”

The two of you slipped out into the hallway and stepped onto the small back porch. The cool night air hit your skin, refreshing after the heat and noise inside. The backyard was quiet, the music now just a low thump through the walls.

You let out a deep breath and turned to Lisa.

“Okay… I need to tell you something,” you said, fiddling with your jacket sleeve. “It’s about Haechan.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, leaning against the porch railing. “Spill it.”

You let out a breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t know what’s going on, but he hasn’t left my side all night. Every time I turn around, there he is—hovering like he’s guarding me or something. It’s driving me nuts, Lis. I can’t even breathe with him so close.”

Lisa’s expression softened with understanding, then shifted into a knowing smirk. “What if he’s into you? I mean… you do look sexy as hell right now.”

You scoffed. “Ew, no. And I’m pretty sure Mark already gave him the big brother talk. Sisters are off-limits, remember?”

Before Lisa could answer, Haechan’s voice cut through the night air.

“So… what’s all the whispering about?” he asked, suddenly leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous grin. “Did you sneak out here to hide from me?”

You turned to him with an exasperated look. “Haechan, seriously. We were just talking.”

“Talking, huh?” He raised a brow, clearly unfazed.

“Mind if I join? Or is this a no boys allowed kind of thing?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer, closing the space between you. You could practically feel the smirk radiating off him.

You rolled your eyes. “Haechan, I swear…”

Lisa glanced between you two, biting back a laugh.

You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at your lips. “He’s impossible,” you muttered under your breath as you turned to head back inside.

And, of course, Haechan was right behind you—still grinning, still too close.

The party was in full swing now—the kind people would regret in the morning. Bodies moved recklessly to the beat (more like off the beat), drinks spilling from red cups, and laughter bouncing off the walls. You tried to disappear into the crowd, to lose yourself in the music, but it was impossible to ignore the weight of Haechan’s eyes on you from across the room.

Enough was enough.

You spotted Lisa laughing with a group nearby and tugged her sleeve. “Come with me to the bathroom,” you said quietly. “I need to get away from him for a few minutes.”

Lisa gave you a look—half amused, half knowing—but didn’t argue. “Gotcha. Let’s go.”

You followed her down the hallway, slipping into the bathroom. The moment the door shut behind you, you locked it and leaned against the counter with a frustrated sigh.

“I swear, I’m going to lose my mind,” you muttered. “How am I supposed to get laid tonight if my brother’s best friend is shadowing me like some overprotective bodyguard?”

Lisa laughed under her breath, but her expression turned sympathetic. “Yeah, I get it. That’s gotta be frustrating.”

You crossed your arms, feeling cornered. “I need some space, Lis. A little freedom to actually enjoy myself. I’m still convinced he’s doing this for Mark.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, a mischievous look forming. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got an idea.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was letting you in on a secret. “There’s a guy over by the drinks table who’s been staring at you for the past few minutes.”

You blinked. “Wait—seriously? Staring how?”

Lisa grinned. "Like is undressing you with his eyes staring! And before you ask—yes, he’s hot.”

You straightened a bit, curiosity replacing your annoyance. “How hot are we talking?”

“Tall, dark hair slicked back, white shirt. Brooding. Definitely your type.”

You cracked a smile—your first genuine one of the night. “Damn. Okay. I owe you.”

Lisa winked. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Go talk to him. I’ll handle Haechan. Just keep walking, don’t look back.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves buzzing under your skin. A distraction sounded perfect right now. A hot, mysterious distraction? Even better.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go,” you muttered, working up the courage.

Lisa gave you a playful shove and a small smack on your ass. “That’s my girl. Now go work your magic.”

You laughed softly, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in your stomach as you opened the door.

Stepping back into the party, the music hit you again but your eyes scanned the crowd. And there he was. Just as Lisa said: white shirt, black slicked-back hair, standing by the drinks table.

And he was looking directly at you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you made your way through the crowd toward him. His gaze never wavered, and when you finally reached him, he offered a small, welcoming smile.

“Hey,” you said, aiming for casual, though your voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. “You’ve been eyeing me all night, haven’t you?”

His smile widened as he let out a soft laugh. “I could say the same about you.” He stepped a little closer. “I’m Jeno, by the way.”

“Y/n,” you replied, your nerves giving way to a flicker of excitement. His easy confidence was contagious.

“Y/n,” he repeated, almost like he was trying it on. His eyes swept over you with clear appreciation. “You look amazing tonight.”

You let out a small laugh, your boldness growing in the absence of Haechan’s constant hovering. “Thanks. I was just... wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me?”

Jeno didn’t hesitate. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

As the two of you turned toward the drinks table, you glanced over your shoulder—half-expecting to find Haechan’s gaze following you—but to your relief, he was nowhere in sight.

Jeno leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “So, what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a party like this? Looking to get drunk, or just letting loose?”

You smiled, playing along. “A little bit of both, honestly. It’s been a long night, and I needed a change of pace.”

He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Then I’m glad I could be your change of pace.”

Whatever tension you’d been carrying melted away as you kept talking. Jeno was warm, funny, easy to be around. Before long, your banter turned flirtier—light touches on your arm, lingering eye contact, small smiles exchanged between sips.

But across the room, Haechan had noticed.

He’d seen you at the drinks table, watched as you laughed at something Jeno said. Despite his usual teasing, playful attitude, an uncomfortable pang settled in his chest. He didn’t know why, but the sight of you getting so close to someone else made something inside him twist.

He tried to shake it off, turning back to the conversation with Lisa and the others, but his mind wasn’t in it.

At one point, Jaemin leaned toward him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, Haechan? You’re staring a little too hard at Y/n right now.”

Haechan blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He waved Jaemin off, trying to mask the unease tightening in his chest. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just… watching out for her. For Mark.”

Jaemin gave him a long, skeptical look. “She’s not a kid, man. She doesn’t need a babysitter. She’s allowed to have fun—same as you.”

Haechan opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He didn’t have a good comeback. Just a growing knot in his stomach and the uncomfortable realization that he cared a lot more than he probably should.

Back at the drink table, you and Jeno were getting even more touchy with each other. Both of his hands are on your hips, one of them dangerously close to your ass. While your hands were around his neck, playing with the hair on his neck as he was talking into your ear. 

“Why don’t we go and find a better place to talk.” 

You tilted your head back slightly to meet Jeno’s intense gaze, your lips curling into a small smirk. “A better place to talk, huh? And where exactly did you have in mind?” you asked teasingly, though the butterflies in your stomach betrayed how nervous you were.

Jeno smirked, his fingers lightly touching your waist as he leaned in. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. Maybe a bedroom? Away from all this noise.”

The idea of some alone time with him was very tempting. The night had already taken a surprising turn, and you figured there was no harm in seeing where it would lead. “Alright,” you said, your voice softer now as you stepped back, giving him a playful tug on his hand. “Lead the way.”

As Jeno guided you through the crowded room, you were starting to get nervous. Was this finally happening? And with a hot guy like Jeno too? The music and energy of the party seemed to fade into the background as you both stepped into a room that was unlocked. 

Jeno shut the door and turned back to you. “I've been dying to kiss you all night.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You teased back. 

Without another word, Jeno closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours. 

His touch was hot, every brush of his fingers against your skin sent shivers through you, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment with him. 

He backed up so he could sit on the bed with your lips still chasing his. As the kiss deepened, Jeno’s hands began to explore your body. Pulling you onto his lap and running his fingers up your back to push you further into him. 

Your body started to tense up, never getting this far with anyone before but you were so turned on. Jeno seemed to sense it too, his kisses growing more urgent as he trailed them down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and you froze in place. Your heart leaped into your throat as you quickly pulled away from Jeno, your breath hitching. The startled look you exchanged with him was all too telling.

Haechan stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face unreadable. His eyes moved between you and Jeno, and for a moment, the room felt smaller.

Scrambling off Jeno’s lap, you felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks. The embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position burned in your chest. “Haechan, what—” you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

He didn’t let you finish. With a sharp motion, he raised a hand, his voice low and cutting. “Stop.”

His attention shifted to Jeno, his jaw tight as his eyes narrowed. The weight of his stare seemed to pin Jeno in place. After an intense moment of silence, Haechan spoke again, his voice controlled but icy. “Leave.”

Jeno blinked, clearly misunderstanding what was happening. His face changed as he realized something—like he thought your boyfriend had caught him. Without saying anything, he stood up, avoided Haechan’s glare, and quickly left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence.

You turned to Haechan, your pulse still racing, only to find him... smiling? No, grinning. The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable as he leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Wow,” he laughed. “Can’t believe how fast he ran off. I said just one word!” His laughter got louder. “Okay, two words but still!” He held his side like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

You stared at him, completely confused. “What the hell is going on?” you asked, your face full of disbelief. Your mind raced to keep up with how weird things had gotten.

Haechan straightened up, still chuckling, and said with a smug smile, “Relax, I’m just getting back at you.”

“Getting back at me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“For what?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you lose your virginity while you’re living under my roof,” he said with a proud smirk, like he’d just won something.

You blinked, shocked. “What?”

“I heard you guys at your little sleepover,” Haechan said, his grin growing wider as he saw your reaction. “So here’s the deal: I’m watching you like a hawk. No chance of losing your virginity this year. Not on my watch.”

You stared, speechless, trying to wrap your head around how bold he was. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” he said casually, shrugging. “But you said I’m just Mark’s friend. Pretty sure he wouldn’t want his little sister making mistakes.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you finally said, shaking your head in disbelief. Haechan just grinned, the smugness in his expression making your blood boil. “Nope. Dead serious. Consider me your personal chastity belt.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “Oh my god, you are insufferable.”

He just shrugged, stepping further into the room. “Protecting your purity, looking out for my best friend’s baby sister.”

Your jaw clenched at the title. “I am not a baby! You don’t need to protect me!.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Then why are you acting like one? Running off with some random dude at a party? What if he was a creep?”

“He wasn’t,” you snapped. “And for the record, I decide who I hook up with, not you.”

Haechan let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. “And yet, here we are. That guy is gone, and you’re still a virgin.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His smirk softened just a fraction, but it was enough to make you hesitate. “If you did, you wouldn’t be blushing so hard right now.”

You let out an aggravated groan, shoving past him toward the door. “Whatever, I’m going back to the party.”

But before you could yank it open, Haechan’s hand shot out, pressing it shut. The sudden closeness sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, his voice lower now. Not teasing—just something else. Something quieter. “If you’re not careful, I might have to tell on you.”

Your breath hitched, just for a second. Then you forced yourself to scoff, pushing his hand away. “You wouldn't.”

He chuckled, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “You don’t know me.”

Rolling your eyes, you yanked the door open and walked out, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You stormed back into the party, your mind racing with frustration. The nerve of that guy. Haechan had always been a little shit, but this? This was a new level of infuriating. The way he had looked at you just now. It stirred something hot in your chest, but you didn’t have the time or patience to deal with it right now.

You needed a distraction.

Lisa spotted you instantly, slipping through the crowd to meet you with a smug smile. “So?” she asked, arms crossed. “That was fast, how was it?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was fine until he showed up.”

Lisa blinked. “Wait. Who?”

You shot her a pointed look. “Haechan.”

Her eyes widened before a slow smirk curled her lips.

“No way. What happened?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual: he ruined my night, embarrassed the hell out of me, and declared himself my personal guardian of celibacy,” you said, irritated. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to hook up while he’s around.”

Lisa let out a loud laugh, covering her mouth. “No. No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” you muttered, grabbing her drink and taking a long sip. “He admitted he heard us at that sleepover and now he’s made it his life mission to keep me from getting laid for an entire year, until Mark is back.”

Lisa practically doubled over laughing. “Oh my god. That’s fucking funny.”

You groaned. “This is hell.”

“Or…” Lisa tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s a challenge.”

You frowned. “A challenge?”

Lisa shrugged, leaning in closer. “You really gonna let Haechan win?”

You opened your mouth to argue but faltered. The way he had looked at you tonight, the way he had inserted himself into your business like he had any claim over what you did—it had pissed you off. But even worse? It had gotten to you.

Lisa was right.

Haechan thought he had control over this little sick game. That he could mess with your head, keep you from doing what you wanted.

But if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was losing.

Your fingers tightened around the small red solo cup as a slow smirk pulled at your lips. “You know what?” you said, turning to Lisa. “You’re right.”

Lisa gasped. “Oh, I love where this is going.”

You glanced back toward the party, scanning the room for a certain cocky idiot. It didn’t take long to find him. He was lounging on the couch with a couple of people you didn’t know, a drink in hand, completely at ease. Like he hadn’t just ruined your night and enjoyed every second of it.

Fine.

If he wanted to play games, you’d play back.

Squaring your shoulders, you downed the rest of your drink and set it aside. “I’m gonna make his life miserable. ”Lisa clapped her hands. “Oh, this is gonna be so fun.”

For the rest of the night, you made sure Haechan saw everything.

You danced—a lot—letting your body move to the music, making sure he had a front-row seat. You laughed a little louder, leaned a little closer to guys when they spoke to you, let them put their hands on your waist, touch your hair.

And Haechan?

Oh, he noticed.

You caught his gaze more times than you could count. His eyes followed your every move, his relaxed demeanor slowly shifting into something else. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He wasn’t teasing you. He was just watching.

And when you caught him staring, you made sure to smirk. To let him know you knew he was watching. 

But the real moment of victory came when you leaned in close to some guy—you didn’t even know his name—and whispered something in his ear, leaving a small kiss just below on his neck. It was harmless flirting, really. But to Haechan?

It was you declaring war.

The moment you glanced back toward him, you saw it happen—his jaw tightened, his grip on his drink flexed, and then, just like that, he was up and walking straight toward you.

You barely had a second to react before he was across the room and his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you away from your nameless toy.

“What the—Haechan!” you hissed, stumbling after him as he led you out of the crowded room.

Haechan didn’t stop.

Not when you tugged at his grip, not when you shot him a glare, not even when you dug your heels into the floor, forcing him to yank you forward with more force. The people around you barely noticed—too caught up in their own drunken world.

But this? This was personal.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped, struggling against his hold.

Haechan ignored you.

Instead, with a sigh so annoyed it made your blood boil, he let go—only to grab you by the waist and throw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

Your breath caught as the room tilted and suddenly, you weren’t on solid ground anymore.

“What the—Haechan! Put me down!” You kicked your legs, smacking your fists against his back, but he didn’t even flinch.

“If you’re gonna act like a damn kid, I’ll treat you like one,” he muttered, adjusting his grip on the back of your thighs as he walked toward the front door.

“Haechan, I swear to—”

Before you could finish your threat, you felt a sudden shift—a cool rush of air against your thighs, a telltale sign of your dress riding up dangerously high from the way he was carrying you.

Your breath hitched.

Just as panic settled in, Haechan’s hand was there—gripping the hem of your dress, tugging it back down firmly, his fingers brushing over the bare skin of your thigh in a way that made your stomach flip.

The worst part? It was so effortless. Like it was second nature to him.

You froze.

Not because you were embarrassed—no, you had no shame when you drink. But because for a split second, just a brief moment, you had felt safe in his hands.

And that? That was dangerous.

The cold night air hit your skin as he stepped outside, finally setting you back on your feet near the front porch.

You barely had time to regain your balance before you were jabbing a finger into his chest. “You’re fucking crazy!! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Haechan let out a dry laugh, completely unfazed. “Oh, I’m the problem?”

“Yes, you!” You threw your hands up. “You just manhandled me out of a party like I’m some—some misbehaving child!”

Haechan crossed his arms, tilting his head. “If it walks like a brat and talks like a brat—”

You shoved him. Hard. “You so annoying—”

“Me?” He scoffed, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “You’ve been acting like a damn brat all night. You think I didn’t see what you were doing?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh? And what exactly was I doing?”

Haechan’s lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You were testing me.”

Your breath caught.

Because he was right.

You forced a laugh, crossing your arms to hide the way your hands trembled. “Don’t flatter yourself, Haechan. I was having fun.”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, so was I.”

The way he said it—low, amused, a little too smug—sent heat rushing up your spine.

Because suddenly, you weren’t so sure if you were still in control of this game.

Your professor dismissed the class and you quickly packed up your things, your mind already racing ahead to what you had to do next. You were relieved the lecture was over—today was dragging on longer than you'd hoped. Still feeling sick from the party over the weekend. But as you were gathering your notes, you noticed someone walking toward you from across the lecture hall.

It was Jeno.

He had that easy smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly confident he looked, despite the fact that you’d only met him the night before at the party. You weren’t sure what to expect.

"Hey, uh Y/n?” Jeno said as he reached your desk. "Do you mind if I sit for a second?"

"Uh, sure," you replied, a little caught off guard but trying to act casual. You gestured to the empty chair beside you. "What’s up?"

Jeno sat down, the energy around him just as laid-back as you remembered from the party. He looked like he could easily make a conversation with anyone, but something in the way he smiled at you made you feel like this was a bit different.

"So, I’ve been thinking," he began, his gaze focused on you, making you shift a little in your seat. "I never really got the chance to talk to you about the party, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch sometime?"

You blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected this so soon. “Uh, sure, sounds good.” You immediately cursed yourself internally for sounding so awkward.

Then, without missing a beat, you added, “But just to be clear, I wasn’t… you know, trying to lead you on or anything last night.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you hesitated, running a hand through your hair. "About last night—I just want you to know that Haechan is not my boyfriend."

The words felt a little odd coming out of your mouth, but you knew you had to clarify things. With everything that had happened, you didn’t want Jeno to get the wrong impression.

Jeno’s expression softened, and he gave a small, reassuring smile. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that he was. I mean, I could tell you two are close, but I didn’t assume he was anything more than that."

"Good," you said, feeling some relief wash over you. “He’s more like a big brother to me, honestly.”

“Aha, I see.” Jeno nodded, his expression lightening. “So, no need to worry about me stepping into some complicated territory, huh?”

You let out a small laugh. “Exactly. Haechan is just protective, and I figured I should clear that up so there’s no confusion.”

Just protective, god you wish. Would be easier than whatever this game you to are playing… 

Jeno chuckled, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Yeah, I was starting to wonder if I was doing something wrong." He grinned. "But now that we’ve got that all sorted out, lunch sounds perfect."

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” you said, smiling back at him. “So, where were you thinking?”

“Well, there’s this little café nearby that I’ve been wanting to try. You up for it?”

You nodded, feeling surprisingly at ease now. "Sounds good. Lead the way."

Jeno stood up, his easygoing energy still radiating, and offered his hand to help you gather your things.

"Alright, let's go."

The café Jeno picked was tucked on a quiet street, filled with the scent of fresh bread and soft chatter. Sunlight poured through big windows, casting a warm glow over the cozy wooden tables.

You and Jeno had settled into a corner booth, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you both exchanged stories and talked about class. It felt different, in a good way, than anything you’d ever experienced.

The awkwardness that usually came with first dates or getting-to-know-each-other moments was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a natural ease between you two—like you had known each other much longer than a single night.

"So, you’re telling me," Jeno said with a raised eyebrow, his lips curled into an amused smile, "that you got in trouble for sneaking out of your house when you were younger because your brother caught you trying to climb out of the window?"

You laughed, feeling a sense of familiarity that made the conversation feel comfortable. "It’s true! My brother is the worst. He’s such a stickler for the rules, always catching me when I tried to sneak out."

Jeno shook his head in disbelief. “Man, I don’t know whether to feel bad for you or your brother. You must’ve given him so much stress growing up.”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It wasn’t all bad. He’s just... protective. A little too protective sometimes.”

Jeno leaned in, his tone softening as he met your eyes. “I get it. Siblings are always like that, especially when you’re the younger one, right?”

Your smile faltered just a little as your mind briefly wandered back to Haechan’s overbearing presence at the party last night. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you found it hard to ignore the parallel. "Yeah," you agreed quietly, "a little too protective sometimes."

You were relieved when the conversation shifted again, back to lighter topics. It felt nice to be able to focus on Jeno, his presence reassuring in a way you didn’t fully understand yet.

“So, tell me more about you,” you said, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “What’s your deal? What do you do when you’re not out at parties or flirting with random girls?”

Jeno grinned, clearly pleased with the shift in focus. “Oh, you know. I’m a professional at avoiding work,” he teased. “I’m actually pretty into cars, though. I spend a lot of time fixing up the car my dad bought when he was younger.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Cars? That’s pretty cool.”

He shrugged modestly. “It’s a hobby for now, but maybe one day it’ll be more than that.”

You could see the passion in his eyes as he talked about it, and for a brief moment, you were reminded of how nice it was to talk to someone who wasn’t caught up in your complicated family dynamics. Jeno made it feel easy, like you could be yourself without worrying about the world closing in.

But of course, just as you were starting to relax fully, the door to the café jingled, and you heard a voice you knew all too well.

“Y/n?”

Your blood went cold as you looked up, and there he was—Haechan. He stood in the doorway, his eyes immediately locking on to you, and his gaze was sharp, like a hawk spotting its prey. He looked... annoyed.

You swallowed hard, already feeling the shift in the energy of the room. Jeno didn’t seem to notice at first, but as Haechan made his way toward your table, his expression changed.

“Haechan,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out more like a question.

Haechan’s eyes flicked from you to Jeno, his lips curling into a tight, unreadable smile. "What’s this? Lunch?" His tone was casual, but there was something in his voice that made you tense. "Hope I’m not interrupting anything."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassment mingling with frustration. "What are you doing here?"

Haechan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a seat across from you without waiting for an invitation, eyeing Jeno with an almost unsettling calm look. "I was just walking by when I saw you two in the window." His gaze flicked back to you. "What? Did I miss something?"

Jeno shifted slightly, clearly picking up on the tension in the air. "No, nothing. Just talking," he said with a forced smile. "We were actually having a pretty good conversation."

Haechan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his attention focused entirely on Jeno now. “I see. A ‘good’ conversation, huh?” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it now. “Well, hopefully not the fun I like to have...Don’t want to have to call Mark.”

The tension in the air hung like a thick cloud as Haechan’s words lingered, leaving you unsure how to respond. The playful edge to his tone was hard to ignore, but it felt like there was more to it. You could feel Jeno’s shift in energy, his smile faltering just slightly as he turned his attention back to Haechan.

Jeno tilted his head, as if processing something. "Wait," he said, his eyes narrowing just a little as he looked at you. "Mark... Lee?" he asked cautiously. "Is that your brother?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question. "Yeah, that's him. Mark Lee," you confirmed, trying to keep things light, even though your insides were swirling.

Jeno’s expression seemed to soften for a moment, a look of recognition crossing his face. "No way," he said with a small laugh. "I didn’t put it together until now. I know Mark. We play basketball together."

Your eyes widened, and you looked between Jeno and Haechan, who was still watching with an unreadable expression. "You do?" you asked, trying to process the sudden turn of events.

Jeno nodded, his grin returning. "Yeah, we’ve played a few times. He’s pretty good." His gaze flicked back to Haechan, who was still eyeing him closely. "Never knew he had a sister at college, though."

Haechan gave a low chuckle. "You really didn’t, huh?" he said, his voice dipping into something a little more guarded. "Well, that changes things, doesn't it?"

Jeno shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his smile now gone, replaced by a more serious expression. "I didn’t mean to step on any toes," he said, meeting Haechan’s eyes briefly before turning back to you. "But I think... maybe I should just make this clear now." He hesitated, as though considering his words carefully. "I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue this."

Your heart sank, confusion rising in your chest. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Jeno looked at you, his gaze apologetic. "I can’t do that to Mark," he said softly. "I’ve got a lot of respect for him, and I don’t want to get involved in any of that. I wasn’t thinking about it like that last night, but now that I know he’s your brother... it just feels off."

The words hit you harder than expected, and for a second, you didn’t know what to say. You tried to keep your emotions in check, but something in you shifted. You nodded slowly, though there was a sharp sting in your chest. "I get it," you managed to say, forcing a small smile despite the disappointment creeping in.

"No worries, Jeno. I completely understand."

Jeno gave a small, regretful smile. "I didn’t want to make things weird, honestly. You seem like a great person, Y/n. But... yeah, I think it’s better we leave it at that."

Haechan, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally spoke up, his tone light but sharp. "Well, it looks like you two have it figured out," he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Guess I’ll let you guys finish up now."

You could feel the weight of the moment, but you didn’t know what else to say. The conversation had shifted again, and though discomfort lingered, the air lightened as Jeno stood and gave you a small nod.

“Take care, Y/n. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

As Jeno walked away, the silence that settled felt suffocating. His words still stung in your chest, but something sharper quickly took hold. You glanced over at Haechan, lounging back with that smug, knowing look that only made your irritation grow.

Breaking the silence, Haechan’s voice was casual, almost playful. “Mark sure had a lot of friends here,” he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your cool even as frustration bubbled up. “Don’t act like you know everything, Haechan,” you snapped. You do things your way, sure—but don’t think you can just sit here and act like you’ve got it all planned out.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Oh? Getting worked up already?”

Crossing your arms, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Worked up?” you scoffed. “You think you’re going to win this? News flash you can’t be around me all the time. I’ll be alone at one point and I do not care who it’s with anymore.”

Haechan’s eyes flickered with playful challenge as he leaned forward, clearly loving how riled you were. “So, what then? Are you gonna storm off in a huff, or actually do something about it this time?”

You met his gaze, determination hardening in your voice. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Well, here’s the thing, Haechan—you’re wrong. I don’t need your permission or your approval to make my own choices. I’ll do what I want, when I want, and if you think you can control that, you’re in for a surprise.”

Haechan’s smirk wavered for a moment, his eyes narrowing, clearly processing your words. But instead of backing off, he leaned in, sensing the challenge in your stance. “You really think you can?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Oh I know I can.”

The words hung in the air between you two, the tension thickening with every passing second. Haechan’s smirk was gone now, replaced by a look that bordered on both surprise and respect.

Haechan was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, but the challenge had been thrown down. He wasn’t used to people pushing back like this. Especially not you. 

Finally, with a small sigh, he stood up, stretching casually. “Alright, Y/n. You’ve got some fight. Let’s see if you can actually win it.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. You weren’t about to let Haechan walk all over you. This was your game now.

There’s a beat of silence before Lisa practically screams into the phone.

“Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, glancing toward your door as Haechan’s voice rises. “I just… need to get out of here. Haechan has been driving me crazy all day.”

Lisa laughs, the kind of laugh that says finally. “Oh my god, yes! I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. You better not bail on me.”

“I won’t. Just… pick me up before I change my mind.

“Done,” Lisa says, practically buzzing with excitement. “You’re gonna regret this—in the best way possible.”

You hang up just as Haechan’s voice explodes with curses at his monitor.

Yeah, you definitely made the right call.

You tiptoe around your room, careful to be as quiet as possible. Haechan’s door is cracked just enough for the rapid clicking of his controller and the occasional muttered curse to seep out. Perfect—he’s too focused to notice.

You slide the closet door open slowly and wince when the hinge creaks. You freeze, holding your breath. Nothing — just button mashing and Haechan’s frustrated shout, “Bro, you’re absolutely dogshit at this game!” from his room.

Satisfied, you carefully pull out your outfit, laying it on your bed. You skip the heels— no way you’re risking the sound of those clicking on the floor— and pick boots instead. Quietly, you slip into your clothes. 

Your makeup bag is another challenge. Every zipper and brush feels like it sounds too loud, but you manage to get ready with only one small eyeshadow palette dropping to the floor. You freeze again, heart racing— but all you hear is Haechan yelling at his game.

“Dude, I carried the whole team, what are you even doing?”

Rolling your eyes, you grab your purse and phone, slipping toward the door like a shadow. Just as you reach for the handle, you hear Haechan’s voice rise again.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

Panic flashes through you as you freeze. 

“YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY, GO RIGHT ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!”

You smirk, shaking your head as you slip out the door. Safe.

The club is packed, the music blasts through the walls, lights flash quickly, and people move to the beat, lost in the moment. You take a sip of your drink, scanning the room with a purpose. Tonight isn’t about dancing with Lisa or drowning in overpriced cocktails. Tonight, you have one goal— to find someone, anyone, to take your mind off everything. Off your week, off your annoying roommate, off him.

Lisa leans in close, grinning like she already knows. “So,” she teases, “are you searching for someone to take your virginity?”

You laugh, but you don’t deny it. “That’s the plan.”

Lisa practically squeals, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the dance floor. “Come on! I’ll help you find someone.”

It doesn’t take long. A few songs in, you spot him — tall, dark hair that falls just right, and a lazy smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s been watching you too, and when you meet his eyes, he doesn’t look away.

“Go!” Lisa urges, practically shoving you forward.

You make your way over, moving through the crowd until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and smooth. “I’m Sungchan.”

“Y/n,” you reply, giving him your best smile.

“You wanna dance?” he asks, but his hand is already sliding to your waist like he knows your answer.

“Sure,” you say, stepping in closer.

The music pulses through you, but it’s hard to focus on anything except the way his hands linger on your hips, fingers pressing just a little tighter each time you move. He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You nod, following him toward the bar. He keeps his hand on you the whole way, light but firm. Like he’s making sure you don’t change your mind.

When he hands you the drink, you take a slow sip, eyes meeting him over the rim of the glass.

“So,” Sungchan says, his voice low enough that you have to lean closer to hear him. “Your place or mine?”

You laugh softly, setting your drink down. “Straight to the point.”

He smirks, leaning in a little closer. “I don’t like wasting time,” he says, his gaze lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at his forwardness, but it’s exactly what you wanted tonight. You give a small shrug, leaning back against the bar. “I like that.”

Sungchan’s hand slides to your lower back, his fingers just brushing the edge of your skin. You can feel the tension in the air, eager. “So, what’s it gonna be?” he asks, his tone playful but with an edge of anticipation.

You glance over at Lisa, who’s still dancing on the floor, lost in her own world. She doesn’t seem to notice you slipping away with him.

“Let’s go to yours,” you say, your voice calm, cool, and collected—like you’ve done this a hundred times before. Even though inside, your heart’s racing.

His grin widens as he takes your hand. “I like the way you think.”

The two of you weave through the crowd and out into the night, the air outside cooler and quieter than you expected. The buzz of the club fades with each step, replaced by the hum of the city and your own nervous thoughts. The car ride to his place is filled with easy conversation and stolen glances, your legs brushing just enough to keep your heart fluttering. You tell yourself to relax, to go with it. And for once, you do.

Now, tangled on his couch with his lips on yours, things are heating up fast… until your phone buzzes. You both ignore it.

Then it rings again.

You groan, pulling back slightly. “Sorry. It’s probably nothing.”

Sungchan smiled at first, brushing it off, but when the screen lit up for the third time, his expression shifted from playful to slightly annoyed.

“You should just answer it,” he said, trying to sound casual, though you could hear the edge in his voice. “Might be important.”

You sighed and glanced at the screen—FaceTime from Haechan.

“Ugh, it’s just my roommate,” you muttered, answering reluctantly. “What, Haechan?”

On the screen, Haechan’s face filled the frame, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell are you??”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m just out.”

Before you could say anything else, Sungchan leaned over to peek at the screen. The second Haechan saw his face, he froze.

“Wait… is that Sungchan?”

Sungchan chuckled. “Oh hey man! What’s up?”

“WHAT?!” Haechan practically shouted, his face going red. “NO. NOPE. Absolutely not. Y/N is off limits! Bro code!”

You blinked, shocked. “Wait, what? You two know each other?”

“We game together,” they both said at the same time.

“Bro. Code.” Haechan repeated, glaring through the screen like he was ready to jump out of it.

You quickly hung up, face burning, trying to laugh it off. “That was... awkward. Let’s just, where were we” You leaned in to kiss him again.

But Sungchan pulled back slightly, looking torn. “I mean… he’s got a point. Bro code’s kind of sacred.”

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

He gave a sheepish smile. “I mean that’s my bro...you know”

You flopped back against the couch with a groan. “Unbelievable.”

“Lisa, I’m telling you—he’s the absolute worst!” you groan, slamming your drink on the table. “I’ve almost gotten laid twice and both times he just shows up out of nowhere and ruins it!”

Lisa tries to hide her laugh but fails miserably, snorting into her cup.

“This isn’t funny! This was your idea!”

“It was also Jaemin’s idea!” she says, still grinning.

“What was my idea?” Jaemin asks, sliding into the seat across from you with a tray of food.

“Y/N losing her virginity this year,” Lisa says bluntly.

“Shh!” you hiss, covering your face with your hands.“Can we not announce it to the whole dining hall?”

Jaemin blinks. “Okay… someone needs to catch me up.”

“Y/N can’t get laid because Haechan has apparently taken some kind of sacred vow to block it from ever happening or just until Mark gets back,” Lisa explains. “He’s ruined every opportunity so far.”

Jaemin pauses, then shrugs. “Damn. That’s wild.”

You glare at him. “Wow. Thank you, Jaemin. Your emotional support is overwhelming.”

“Wait, wait,” he says, raising a hand. “There’s actually a clear answer to all of this.”

“And what is it?” 

“Haechan’s cockblocking you? Then just sleep with him.”

You stare at Jaemin. “First of all—ew. Second, he’d never sleep with me.”

Lisa raises an eyebrow and interjects. “He’s a man. Of course he would.”

You scoff, tossing a grape at Lisa’s forehead. “He sees me as, like… a sibling. Not a possible sexual option at all.”

Lisa dodges the grape with a smirk. I saw the way he looked at you at the party, definitely not like a sibling.”

Jaemin,who started this whole thing, finally chimes in. “Honestly, it would make things way easier. He can’t block when he’s the target.”

You lift your head to glare at him. “My virginity shouldn’t be a game, Jaemin.”

“Didn’t say it was. But I am saying if you throw him a little something, he might back off.”

Lisa nods, eyes gleaming. “Exactly! Reverse psychology. Be so into him, he won’t know what to do.”

You blink. “You guys seriously think seducing Haechan is the solution to him cockblocking me?”

Both of them say, in perfect sync: “Yes.”

You lean back in your chair, staring up at the ceiling like it might give you an answer. “This is the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

Jaemin grins. “That means it’s probably gonna work.”

Just then, your phone buzzes. Speak of the devil.

The Devil (Haechan): Where are you? You didn’t come home last night but I texted Sungchan and you left his house???

You hold up your phone to show them. “He tracks my every move. He probably has my location synced to his watch.”

Lisa leans in. “Good. Now you’ve got the upper hand.”

You narrow your eyes. “Okay. Let’s say I do this. I flirt. I play the game. What’s the end goal?”

Jaemin shrugs. “You win. He gets flustered. Maybe he finally stops acting like your personal chastity belt.”

Lisa grins. “And hey, if it leads to something more...”

You sigh, staring at Haechan’s name on your screen. “This is either going to work… or be a complete humiliation.”

Jaemin raises his drink. “To plan seduction.”

Lisa clinks hers with his. “To plan seduction.”

You groan but lift yours anyway. “God help me.”

You take one last look in the mirror, tousling your hair just enough to look effortless, even though you’ve spent ten minutes perfecting the effect. Oversized hoodie, but nothing underneath except a pair of black shorts— that make your ass look great— barely visible beneath the hem, lips glossed, Legs bare and freshly shaved.

You weren’t going to say anything. But if he noticed? Good. That was the point.

You stroll into the living room where Haechans glued to the screen, headset on, barking orders at his teammates.

“Bro—no, do not peek mid—oh my god, why am I the only good one on this team?!”

You drop onto the couch beside him, slow and smooth, letting your bare thigh brush his for just a second too long. He doesn’t even flinch.

You reach for his chips, eyes on the screen. “You sound stressed.”

He doesn’t look at you. “Because I’m carrying this squad. What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, your voice a little lower than usual. “Thought I’d come... unwind.”

He grunts in response, attention locked on the game. Typical.

You shift, pulling one leg up onto the couch, the hem of your hoodie riding just a little higher. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.

Nothing.

You lean back, arching slightly as you stretch your arms above your head. “Ugh. Today was exhausting.”

Still nothing.

You glance over, pouting a little. “Are you seriously not gonna pay attention to me?”

He finally spares you a glance. “You want attention?”

You meet his eyes and let your voice drop just a notch. “Maybe.”

There’s a pause. A tiny flicker in his gaze as it drops—briefly—to your bare legs, then back up. But then he just shrugs.

“I’m in the middle of a match.”

You lean in closer, lips inches from his ear, and whisper, “Your game will still be there in five minutes.”

He stiffens slightly, clearing his throat, but refuses to take the bait. “You’re acting weird.”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “No I’m not.”

He looks at you again, brows furrowed, suspicious—but not quite catching on. “You... eat something weird?”

You snort, flopping back against the cushions. “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing the throw blanket and tossing it over your lap. “Forget it.”

He focuses back on the game, but his movements are stiffer now. Less focused.

You smirk to yourself, biting your lip.

One step at a time.

You stretch out under the blanket, legs brushing against him again—this time not by accident. Haechan stiffens for half a second, then adjusts slightly, pretending not to notice.

Pretending badly.

You glance over and catch the way his jaw tightens. He’s losing focus. Good.

“You always this fun playing video games?” you ask, voice soft, with a hint of a tease. “All grumpy and bossy?”

He scoffs, eyes on the screen. “I’m not grumpy. I’m competitive.”

“Hmm.” You trail a finger along the seam of the blanket between you, slow and idle. “I think it’s kinda hot.”

This time, his head snaps toward you.

“What?”

You blink innocently. “What?”

He narrows his eyes, studying you. “What are you doing?”

You tilt your head, lips parted in a mock pout. “Talking. Sitting. Breathing. Why?”

“You’re being weird again.”

You smirk. “You said that already. Maybe you’re just reading into things.”

He looks at you, skeptical… then clearly decides not to push it. Instead, he returns to his game, but now he’s quieter. Shifting more in his seat. His hands are on the controller, but his head’s somewhere else—and you know exactly where.

You take your chance.

Slowly, you slide the blanket off your legs, exposing smooth skin and shorts that might as well not be there at all. You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flick over, quickly, like he didn’t mean to.

But you saw it.

You lean in again, resting your arm on the back of the couch behind him, lips dangerously close to his ear.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly, voice just a little too sharp. Defensive.

You grin. “You totally are.”

“Why are you even out here right now?”

“I told you. Couldn’t sleep.” You pause, letting the next words hang. “Thought maybe you’d help tire me out.”

He finally pauses the game. The room goes quiet.

His gaze slowly moves to yours—finally, fully focused. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle and doesn’t like how much of it he’s already solved.

“You’re messing with me,” he says, almost accusingly.

You let out a soft, amused breath. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Because Lisa dared you to? Because Jaemin put money on it? Or maybe you’re just bored.”

You lean back slightly, holding his stare. “Or maybe I’m just tired of waiting for someone else to make a move.”

His mouth opens slightly—then shuts again. No comeback this time.

You move to stand, stretching slowly. “Anyway, if you’re not interested…”

You turn to walk away—just a few steps—before you hear the soft clatter of his controller hitting the coffee table.

“Y/N.”

You stop. Look over your shoulder. “Hmm?”

His voice is low. Measured. Barely above a whisper.

“You can stay here” 

“But you're no fun.” You smile—slow and victorious—and continue to head to your room.

Game on.

The next night, you decide to take things further.

It’s not like you’re trying to seduce him just to win a bet—though Lisa and Jaemin smug faces definitely motivate you—but Haechan started this war. And you? You’re finishing it.

Your outfit is technically sleepwear. Technically. A cropped baby tee that clings just right, and lace-trimmed boy-shorts that look more like underwear than shorts. You throw on one of Haechan’s hoodies for effect, letting it slip off one shoulder like it just happened to fall that way. You check yourself in the mirror. Hot. But casual. Chill. Sexy… but not desperate.

Okay, maybe a little desperate.

When you pad into the kitchen, it’s late. Lights are dim, just the microwave clock glowing blue, and Haechan at the counter in a pair of sweats, pouring cereal into a bowl. You lean against the fridge. “Midnight snack?”

He glances at you. Freezes. Eyes drop to your legs, up to his hoodie falling off your shoulder, then dart away like he didn’t see anything. “Uh—yeah.”

You cross the kitchen slowly, deliberately, hips swaying just a little too much. “You always eat Frosted Flakes like it’s a full-course meal?”

He stirs the cereal. “I was hungry.”

“Mmm. Me too.” You step beside him, reaching up into the cabinet for a glass even though you don’t need one, his hoodie rising just enough to expose the edge of your lace shorts. You know he notices—his spoon pauses mid-stir.

“You’re not wearing pants,” he says flatly, eyes fixed on his bowl.

You grin. “So observant. That’s new.”

“I’m not blind,” he mutters.

You grab a glass and fill it slowly at the sink, the silence heavy. Then you turn around and lean against the counter, sipping water like it’s wine, letting your gaze travel over him.

“You’re acting weird again,” he says without looking at you.

You tilt your head. “You always say that when you’re flustered.”

He finally looks up, squinting at you. “I’m not flustered.”

You take a step closer. “No?”

“Just… confused.”

Another step. “By what?”

He doesn’t back away, but his grip on the spoon tightens. “By you. One second you're swearing I’m the worst person in your life, and the next you’re—” His eyes flick over you again. “—doing whatever this is.”

You pretend to think, lips twitching. “You mean standing in my kitchen? Wearing my hoodie.”

He squints. Brow furrows.

You pause, watching the shift behind his eyes as it clicks.

“Wait.” He leans in a fraction, eyes narrowing at the fabric hanging off your shoulder. “Is that—?”

You smile sweetly. “—your hoodie? Yeah. looks better on me, doesn’t it?”

He blinks like he’s been hit. “Why are you wearing that?”

You take a step forward, chest brushing his arm, voice soft and teasing. “It was cold. And It smelled nice.”

“Y/N.”

You grin wider. “Yes?”

He exhales hard through his nose, looking at the hoodie again like it personally betrayed him. “You seriously just put on my clothes and strutted out here like nothing?”

“Would it have worked better if I crawled?”

He stares at you, completely thrown off now—spoon forgotten, cereal soggy in the bowl, brain short-circuiting. “You’re actually insane.”

“Funny,” you murmur, tracing a line down his chest with your finger, “you haven’t exactly told me to take it off.”

“Because I don’t know what’s happening,” he mutters.

You tilt your head, stepping in again, lips inches from his jaw. “Want me to spell it out for you?”

He swallows hard.

You smile, slow and dangerous. “I’m wearing your hoodie, Haechan. In your kitchen. At midnight. No pants. Do the math.”

And the look he gives you?

Yeah, he’s definitely doing the math now. But he still doesn't say anything. 

“You’re so stupid sometimes” You trail a finger down the middle of his chest, right where the hoodie hangs loose. “But unfortunately, you’re also hot. Which is really inconvenient.”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Y/n…”

You reach up, tugging gently at the collar of his hoodie like it’s a leash. “You always show up when I’m about to hook up with someone else. But when it’s you? Suddenly you’re acting like I’m a bomb about to go off.”

He leans back slightly against the counter, unsure whether to stay or run. “Because you’re not serious.”

You blink at him. “Who says I’m not?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to x-ray through your intentions. You let the silence stretch.

Then you slowly push up on your toes, your lips brushing his jaw—not kissing, just close enough to make his breath catch.

“You gonna stop me?” you whisper.

He exhales sharply. “Maybe I should.”

You smile against his skin. “But you haven’t.”

And just like that, snap, something shifts.

His hand shoots up, gripping your waist—not hard, but firm. Controlling. Like he’s done pretending this isn’t happening. You gasp, just a little, your hands finding the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you flush against him.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispers but he doesn’t move away.

You grin, lips inches from his. “Maybe it is but I don’t care.”

His mouth crashes into yours. It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s the kind of kiss that comes after too much tension and not enough logic, all heat and frustration and barely restrained want. You curl your fingers in his hoodie, tugging him closer.

Then suddenly, he breaks it. Pulls back. Breathing hard. “Shit.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a step away. “This is…You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You kissed me back and now I’m the one not thinking clearly?”

“You said I’m your brother’s best friend.”

“I also said you’re hot.”

He stares at you like he’s at war with himself. “Mark would literally kill me.”

You walk forward, reaching for him again. “He’s not here.”

“I still have to live with myself,” he says, his voice wavering.

You lean in one last time, kissing the corner of his mouth, soft and slow. “Then live with this.”

And with that, you walk out of the kitchen, hips swinging, leaving him breathless and speechless in the glow of the microwave light.

You don’t look back but you know he’s watching.

Game on. And this time? You’re definitely winning.

The next few days?

Weird.

You don’t see Haechan around the apartment much. Which is wild, considering you live with him. When he is there, he’s conveniently in his room, headphones on, or mysteriously "out" right before you get home. He even bailed on movie night, claiming “Renjun said something came up,” but you know Renjun sitting two couches away from you eating popcorn.

It’s like he’s allergic to eye contact now.

And the worst part?

He’s perfectly normal around everyone else.

With Chenle and Jisung, he’s his usual chaotic, shit-talking self. Laughing, shouting at video games, raiding the fridge like nothing happened. But the second you walk in the room, he tenses. Quiet. Distant.

Awkward.

It’s driving you insane.

“I think he’s avoiding me,” you grumble, dragging a fry through your milkshake before flinging it into your mouth.

Lisa raises an eyebrow, sipping her iced coffee. “You think?”

“Okay, fine, I know he is. He’s literally hiding. Like a losing coward.”

Jaemin leans back in the booth, arms spread across the backrest, casually smug. “Should’ve crawled.”

You glare. “Do not start.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “You did the whole ‘I’m not seducing you unless you want me to’ bit. And now he’s spiraling. Mission accomplished?”

“Except now he won’t even look at me,” you huff. “What’s the point if he won’t face me?”

Lisa drums her nails on the table. “Okay. We need a new plan.”

“Oh no,” Jaemin mutters, already bracing himself.

Lisa sits up straighter, eyes gleaming. “This time, he is avoiding you so he won’t even notice while your gone and you can find another hot ass stranger to go home with—”

Jaemin suddenly starts laughing.

Like full-on laughing, shoulders shaking, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to keep it together but failing miserably.

You and Lisa both blink at him.

“What the hell is so funny?” you ask, unimpressed.

He wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye, snickering. “You. Both of you.”

Lisa frowns. “Excuse me?”

“A stranger, Lisa lets be real here, she doesn't want to have sex with a random stranger anymore...”

You narrow your eyes. “And what does that mean?”

Jaemin looks at you, all too smug. “Y/N… are you catching feelings for Haechan?”

Your brain stalls.

Lisa chokes on her drink.

“What?!” you sputter, nearly knocking over your shake. “No. No, no. This is just—revenge flirting. Remember.”

“Uh-huh,” Jaemin says, raising an eyebrow.

Lisa coughs. “Actually… that would explain the spiral.”

You whip your head toward her. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m just saying,” she says, holding up her hands, “if you’re this mad that he’s avoiding you? Might not be just about this little game you got going on anymore.”

You slump in your seat, covering your face. “Ugh. This is the worst.”

Jaemin grins, annoyingly pleased. “Told you this was gonna be fun.”

Lisa leans across the table, eyes sharp. “Okay. New plan.”

You groan. “Please stop saying that.”

She ignores you. “If he’s avoiding you, we make it impossible to avoid you. 

You peek between your fingers. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Because you should,” Lisa says brightly.

Jaemin raises his drink like a toast. “To yet another plan.”

Lisa clinks her cup with his. “And this one will work.” 

You roll your eyes but lift your cup anyway.

“We gotta stop doing these stupid toasts…” 

The next night, you're sprawled on your bed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. The sheets are rumpled in just the right way, your lip gloss is freshly applied, and Jaemin’s voice is echoing through your phone speaker like he’s the creative director of a Vogue shoot.

“Okay, chin down a little. Not that much girl, you're not sad, you’re seducing.”

Lisa’s face pops up next to his on the group FaceTime, holding a glass of wine and looking entirely too amused. “Tilt your head. Hair over one shoulder. A little pout, like you just woke up from a wet dream.”

“I hate both of you,” you mutter, adjusting the camera angle again while balancing on one arm. “And why do I have to be on call with you two while doing this?”

“Because you want to win,” Jaemin says, completely unbothered. “Now arch your back just a little more. You’re giving ‘bored in bed,’ not ‘come fuck me.’”

Lisa snorts. “Yeah, you want him to see this and question everything. Like, should I even be looking at these? Should I send some back?”

You snap another photo—lips parted, one hand brushing your thigh, eyes soft but lethal.

Jaemin gasps. “That one. That’s the one.”

“I’m wearing a T-shirt,” you remind him.

Lisa shrugs. “You look hot. That’s what matters. Leave some room for his imagination”

You stare at the collection of photos in your camera roll—cute ones, sexy ones, one where you’re laughing mid-shot but somehow still hot. And one where you’re biting your lip, gaze aimed right at the lens like you’re in some kind of porno.

“Okay,” you whisper, heart thudding. “Now what?”

Lisa smirks. “Now you send it.”

Jaemin grins. “Accidentally.”

You pause. “You guys really think this’ll work?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Jaemin says, sipping his drink like this is theater, “the boy lost all motor function when you wore his hoodie. This’ll kill him.”

Lisa nods, an evil glint in her eye. “We’re not trying to flirt anymore.”

You exhale, hover over the message box, attach the photo—the photo—and type:

meant to send this to Lisa lol ignore 😳🙈

And then…

Send.

Silence.

Lisa covers her mouth. “Oh my god.”

Jaemin wheezes. “He’s either hard or praying.”

You drop back onto your bed, phone clutched to your chest, heart racing. “What do I do now?!”

Lisa grins. “Now we wait.”

You stare at the screen, the message still marked read.

No reply.

Not yet.

But you know he saw it.

Your pulse is thudding in your ears, phone still warm in your hand. Next to you, Lisa is holding her wine like she’s watching a murder mystery unfold in real time.

“He read it two minutes ago,” she whispers, eyes glued to her screen. “Why hasn’t he replied yet??.”

Jaemin leans closer to the camera, eyes wide. “He’s either in shock... or dead.”

“Maybe he dropped his phone,” you say, trying to convince yourself. “Like, physically dropped it from how hot I looked.”

Lisa smirks. “Or maybe he’s pacing around his room right now, fighting demons.”

You bite your lip, the silence growing heavier by the second. Your fingers twitch.

“Should I send something else?” you ask, panicked.

“No!” Lisa and Jaemin say in unison.

Jaemin sits up straighter. “Do not double-text. That gives him the power.”

“But what if he thinks I did it on purpose?” you groan, burying your face in your pillow.

Lisa snorts. “You did do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but he’s not supposed to know that!”

Another minute passes.

Still nothing.

“Okay,” you mumble, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling. “What if he’s like… genuinely mad or uncomfortable?”

“Y/N,” Jaemin says, tone suddenly more serious, “there is no straight man alive who gets a photo like that from a girl he likes and gets mad.”

You freeze. “Wait. You think he likes me?”

Lisa blinks. “Babe.”

Jaemin throws up his hands. “You wore his hoodie half naked and he hasn’t made eye contact with you since. He kissed you and then ran away like his soul left his body. And now you’ve sent him a ‘mistake’ thirst trap and he’s gone silent.”

Lisa finishes for him. “That man is probably jerking off.”

You don’t get a chance to respond.

Because right then—your phone buzzes.

You nearly drop it, heart leaping into your throat.

Haechan [1:07 a.m.]: lol definitely wasn’t meant for lisa

You sit straight up.

“What?!” Lisa screeches. “Read it out loud. Read it out loud.”

You do.

Jaemin lets out an unholy laugh. “Oh, he’s trying to play it cool. That means he’s LOSING it.”

Another text bubble appears before you can even respond.

The Devil (Haechan): you always look like that in bed or was that just for me?

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god.”

Lisa clutches her imaginary pearls. “Scandalous.”

Jaemin looks like he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment. “HE TOOK THE BAIT.”

Then—another one.

The Devil (Haechan): …not that I’m complaining. just curious.

You stare at the screen, completely stunned, heart racing like you just ran a marathon.

“What do I say?!” you whisper-shout. “What do I even do?!”

Lisa raises her wine like a toast. “You say: ‘depends. want to come see?’”

“Lisa!” you gasp.

You blink at them, brain buzzing, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Y/N: wouldn’t you like to know.

Three dots appear instantly. Then disappear. Then come back again.

You smirk—perfect—until you hear it.

Footsteps.

In the hallway. Getting closer.

Your smirk drops fast.

Lisa’s voice cuts through the speaker, amused. “Wait... is someone coming?”

You sit bolt upright, the bed sheets rustling. “Oh my god. You guys—shut up.”

Jaemin leans into the screen. “Is that—is that Haechan?!”

The footsteps stop. Right outside your door.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“SHITSHITSHIT,” you whisper, scrambling to throw a blanket over your bare legs, grabbing your phone like it’s evidence in a federal crime. “WHAT DO I DO?!”

Jaemin is laughing way too hard. “Oh no. It’s over for you. You’re cooked.”

A soft knock.

“Y/N?” Haechan’s voice. Muffled. Low.

You freeze.

Lisa mouths say something, but your brain has completely shut down.

You’re still staring at the door like it might disappear if you concentrate hard enough, mouth slightly open, frozen in place. Lisa is frantically whispering, “Say something!” while Jaemin holding his hands over his mouth.

Then—the doorknob turns.

You gasp, diving to grab your blanket tighter, like that’s going to save you. 

The door opens slowly. And there he is.

Haechan. Loose black t-shirt hanging off his frame.Gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. Hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed—or maybe like he’s been running his hands through it since you sent that photo.

He steps into the room, quiet, calm, and annoyingly unreadable.

His eyes flick to your phone, still on FaceTime, where Lisa’s mouth is open in silent panic and Jaemin is making a dramatic “RIP” gesture across his neck.

Then he looks back at you.

And says, voice low, steady, and dangerous:

“Let’s hang up the phone… and see if you’re this confident without them.”

You don’t move.

Your heart is in your throat. Your stomach is in hell. 

Lisa lets out a strangled squeak.

Jaemin straight up falls off-screen, you hear a loud thud, and maybe some screaming.

Your fingers are shaking as you scramble to end the call. You don’t even say goodbye—just one swipe and the screen goes black.

Silence.

Then—footsteps.

Haechan crosses the room, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing at the edge of your bed, looking down at you like he’s trying to decide if he should kiss you or arrest you.

“You really thought I wasn’t gonna say anything?” he murmurs.

You try to form a sentence. A word. A syllable. But all that comes out is a breathless, “Maybe.”

He tilts his head. “You sent me that picture on purpose.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. Then admit, softly: “...Yeah.”

His gaze drops, just for a second, to the oversized T-shirt hanging off your shoulder—the same one from the photo—and he exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying really hard not to let something slip.

“You looked like that…” he mutters, half to himself, “and thought I wouldn’t show up?”

You tug the blanket a little higher, heart hammering. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“And you’ve been taunting me,” he fires back, voice husky now.

You go quiet.

Because he’s right.

He leans in just a little just enough to crowd your space, eyes on yours. “You still think it’s a game, Y/N?”

You shake your head slowly. “Not anymore.”

Something flashes in his eyes—something hot and sharp and final.

“Good,” he whispers.

Then he reaches down and pulls the blanket away.

Your breath catches, sharp and immediate, heart thundering in your chest as cool air hits your bare legs. The oversized T-shirt rides dangerously high on your thighs, the very image he saw in the photo now real, right in front of him.

His eyes drag over you slowly, from your curled toes to the hem of the shirt barely covering anything. When his gaze finally meets yours again, it’s darker. Hungrier.

“Did you think I've been avoiding you because I don’t want you?” he asks.

You swallow hard, shaking your head.

“I was trying not to ruin everything,” he mutters, stepping closer to the bed. “Trying to be the good guy. For my friend. For you.”

You blink up at him, breathless. “And now?”

He exhales through his nose, gaze burning. “Now I don’t care.”

The mattress dips slightly as he leans in, one hand braced beside your hip, the other gently brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up until you’re looking straight at him.

“I don’t care that you’re my best friend’s sister,” he whispers, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I don’t care that this is probably a bad idea.”

You barely get the words out. “Then what do you care about?”

His mouth twitches like he might smile but doesn’t.

“I care that you keep looking at me like that,” he says. “Like you want me to do something.”

Your lips part. “Maybe I do.”

He leans closer, so close his nose brushes yours, and you feel his breath against your lips.

“Tell me to stop.”

You shake your head instantly. “Please don’t.”

And just like that he’s on you.

The kiss is fire. Raw. Messy. The kind that doesn’t ask for permission because it already knows the answer. His hands slide under the hem of the shirt, fingers splaying across your hips like he’s staking a claim.

You arch into him, fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl softly into your mouth.

He pulls back for just a second, forehead resting against yours.

“This isn’t just about the picture,” he says, voice ragged. “Or the game. This is me wanting you. Every time you walked into a room. Every time you laughed at something stupid. Every time you bent over in those shorts you wear around the house. Every time you licked your lips or touched your hair or did any of those little things that drive me crazy.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine. You’d never realized he’d been watching so closely—that every glance, every careless touch, or laughed a little too loud, he was memorizing it. Storing it. The thought makes your heart stutter. Because for the first time, you don’t just feel wanted—you feel seen. Completely. 

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “I want you too, Haechan,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes briefly, like your words are a relief. Then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his body pressing against yours. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against your chest. Your hands roam over his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves.

He pushes you gently back onto your bed as his hands start to explore, tracing the curves of your body. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your shirt, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their place. You gasp into his mouth as he shifts, his body settling between your legs.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, your hands gripping his shoulders. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then moves lower, his hands pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose more skin.

You lift your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt off completely. He tosses it aside, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. You feel a flush spread across your cheeks, but you don't look away.

“Are you sure about this? I know you’ve never done this before.” His voice is gentle, but his eyes are intense, searching your face for any sign of doubt. But there’s none. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you echo, your voice steady and clear. You reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. “I want this. I want you.”

He lets out a soft breath, leaning down to capture your lips in another hot kiss. This time, it’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring every moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the weight of his body against yours.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping gently as he grinds against you, the friction sending sparks through your body. You gasp, breaking the kiss to arch your neck, and he takes the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as his mouth explores your collarbone, then lower, until he’s kissing the swell of your breasts.

You feel his hand at your back, unclasping your bra with a flick, and then it’s gone, tossed aside with your shirt. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

You reach for him, pulling him back down to you, your mouths crashing together in a hungry kiss. His hand cups your breasts. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You gasp into his mouth, arching into his touch. He takes his time, exploring every inch of your skin with his hands and his lips, like he's worshipping you. Like you're the most precious thing he's ever touched.

You tug at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against yours. He breaks away just long enough to pull it off, then he's back, his bare chest pressing against yours. You can feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own. His hands are everywhere, touching, teasing, driving you wild. You can feel the length of him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh.

You slip your hands down to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down. He kicks them off, never breaking the kiss. His body is hot and firm against yours, and you can feel the urgency in his movements as he presses against you, only the thin fabric of your shorts and his boxers separating you.

You roll your hips upward to meet his, causing a groan to escape his lips. “Please I need you”

“You’re not ready yet.” He pulls back slightly, his breath ragged. "Not yet," he murmurs.. You're about to protest, but his hand slips between your legs, his fingers tracing the edge of your shorts. Your breath hitches as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes never leaving yours.

He discards the fabric, you feel a flush spread across your skin but you don't look away. His hand slides up your thigh, his touch firm.

"You're trembling," he whispers, his thumb circling your inner thigh.

"Because I want you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he leans down, his lips brushing against your stomach, then lower

Then he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, and you gasp as his breath hits the most sensitive part of you. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire and something softer, more intimate. Like he’s seeing you, really seeing you, for the first time.

“Haechan,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly. He smiles, slow and reassuring, before lowering his head. The first touch of his tongue is electric, sending a shockwave through your body. You arch off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips. He takes his time, exploring every inch of you with a patience and skill that leaves you breathless.

Each flick of his tongue sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he brings you higher and higher. Your breath comes in short gasps, your heart pounding in your chest. The sensation builds and builds until it he suddenly pulls away.

“Not yet baby, I have to stretch you out first.”

He moves back up your body, his lips finding yours in a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, and it sends a new wave of heat through you. His hand slips between your legs again, but this time, he gently eases a finger inside you, his thumb circling your clit. You gasp into his mouth, your body tensing slightly.

"Relax," he murmurs against your lips. "I've got you."

You force yourself to breathe, to relax into his touch. He takes his time, stretching you slowly, adding another finger when he feels you're ready. It's intense, almost overwhelming, but his touch is so sure, so gentle, that you can't help but trust him.

His mouth moves to your neck, his kisses are soft and reassuring. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as his fingers curl inside you, stroking a spot that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl. Your hips lift to meet his hand, your body craving more of his touch. He responds with a low groan, his eyes darkening as he watches you writhe beneath him.

His fingers curve inside you, pressing against a spot that makes you see stars. You cry out, digging your nails into his back, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. He continues to work you open, "You're so responsive. You were made for me.”

His thumb circles your clit faster, harder, and you can feel the tension building again, coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.

"Haechan," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need—I need—"

"shh I know baby, I know what you need," he whispers hot against your ear. You’re doing so good for me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There's a question in his gaze, a silent check-in to make sure you're still with him, still wanting this. You nod, biting your lip, urging him on. He smiles, a soft, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter, and then he's moving again, his body aligning with yours.

He reaches down, grabbing his wallet from his discarded sweatpants and pulls out a condom. You watch as he tears open the packet and rolls it on, your heart pounding. He sees you watching and smiles softly, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and reassuring.

"You're sure?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yes," you breathe out, your voice steady and sure. "I want this, Haechan. I want you."

He nods, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling back to look into your eyes. He positions himself at your entrance, his breath hitching slightly as he feels your heat. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close, your eyes locked onto his.

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. You gasp, your nails digging into his skin as you feel him filling you. It's intense, almost overwhelming, but the look in his eyes—so tender and so focused all at once—keeps you grounded.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint.

You nod, lifting your hips to meet his. "Don't stop," you whisper.

He lets out a low groan, his forehead dropping to your neck as he begins to move. Slowly at first, then with more urgency as your body responds to his. You wrap your legs around his waists, your hips lifting to meet each thrust. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping.

He takes his time, his rhythm steady and controlled, even as you can feel the tension in his body, the restraint it takes to hold back.

"You feel so good, Y/N," he murmurs into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking good baby,"

You cling to him, your body moving in sync with his, your breath coming in short gasps. The room is filled with the sounds of your skin connecting, the soft moans and whispered words that pass between you. You can feel the pressure building again, the coil of tension in your stomach tightening with each thrust.

He leans back slightly, changing the angle, and you cry out as he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars. He grins.

“There it is again,” he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hot, messy kiss as he hits that spot over and over, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

You can feel the sweat on his skin, the tension in his muscles as he holds back, waiting for you. Your body responds to his, your hips meeting each thrust, your breath coming in sync with his. The room is filled with the sounds of your skin connecting, the soft moans and whispered words that pass between you.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. You can see the question in his eyes, the silent check-in to ensure you're still with him, still wanting this. You nod, biting your lip, urging him on.

“Fuckk I’m gonna—” Your body shakes, “Mmm gonna cum.”

He lets out a low groan, his hips moving faster. "Me too, baby. Fuck me too."

Your breath hitches, your body tensing as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. You cry out, your nails gripping the sheets, your body convulsing around him. He buries his face in your neck, his body shaking with his own release as he follows you over the edge.

The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies slick with sweat as you cling to each other. He stays there, buried inside you, his heart pounding against yours as you both come down from the high.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that takes your breath away. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, so gentle and so tender that it makes your heart ache. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He responds instantly, his body relaxing into yours, his hands gently stroking your sides. It's a stark contrast to the urgency of moments before, but it feels just as right, just as perfect.

As the kiss slows, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "More than okay."

He grins, rolling off you gently and disposing of the condom before pulling you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slows to a steady rhythm. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

.

.

.

You’re lying tangled in sheets, breath still uneven, heart still racing, a ridiculous smile tugging at your lips.

“So like,” you murmur, turning to him with a smug little smirk, “I totally won.”

Haechan lets out a low laugh beside you, one arm slung over his eyes like he’s exhausted—but still amused. “You think you won?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, hair a mess and eyes gleaming. “Uh, yeah. I was the one who wanted to lose my virginity. I did. Game over. I win.”

He turns his head toward you, a lazy, teasing grin spreading across his face. “Interesting logic.”

“It’s not logic, it’s fact,” you shoot back, poking his chest. “I reached my goal. Mission accomplished. Trophy secured.”

Haechan hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face. “Except… I’m the one who had the key to your little chastity belt the whole time.”

You stare at him for a moment—then snort. “Oh my god. You did not just say that.”

“I did,” he says proudly, hand sliding over your hip. “So really… if you think about it I won...”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re insufferable, that doesn't even make sense.”

“And yet,” he says, tugging you closer with a smirk, “you still lost. To me, this definitely feels like a win.”

You huff dramatically, curling into him anyway. “Whatever. It was a mutual win.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Fine. Shared victory.”

“…But if we really think about it I won,” you add, grinning.

He groans. “God, help me.”

Dream/General Taglist: @haechansbbg @johnnysuhbmarine @lostinneocity @talkingsaxy @naqkja @anaisalive @chenlesfeetpic @vampgege @jaeminnanaaa17 @wookiebearz @zen00016 @haolovre

Interacted with preview: @sundamariis @nah140508 @luverboyhyuck @lovelyannoyingcher @yuthabitz @httpsxnox @markiesfatbooty @nineooooo @gomdoleemyson @smwhrinthehaze @ambi01 @zhapire @ncitysblog @grimlinshere @sunflowerhae @ohmysion @spacejip @bookiebears-stuff @next-read-please @caaally @jaeminnanaaa17

[moviecritc]

✦ ˚ : · NOBODY'S DAUGHTER · : ˚ ✦

pairing ☆ batsis!reader x dick grayson (platonic), roy harper x reader (implied relationship)

word count ☆ 2.8K

summary ☆ after holding all your feelings, you finally confront your brother about everything he has done to your life after jason's funeral.

warnings ☆ AU where Dick knew Jason had died and didn't attend to the funeral deliberately, kinda neglected batsis, you are blood related to Jason (and look like him physically) you are part of the Titans, I probably made some things up, let's just vibe with it. Also this is pure angst, absolutely none comfort, mentions of death, funerals, cigarettes

a/n ☆ i got super inspired by seeing the ending of season 4 of The Bear, when Carmy says that he leaves the restaurant and Richie and Syd crash out. Also if you guys like it MAYBE i do a part two

main masterlist | letterboxd

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Roy raised his voice louder than you could handle, and you flailed your hands in frustration.

You were in the roof of Titans Tower while everyone else argued inside over which movie to watch on your first free night in weeks. You and Roy had stepped out for a smoke. At first, it was just that, now you were caught in a fight you didn’t know how to get out of.

"Exactly that," you shrugged with a grimace. "I'm leaving."

"Why?"

Roy’s jaw was tight, and he was smoking faster than usual.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been on the team, but Roy had been by your side from the very beginning. He knew Jason almost as well as you did, and he’d never treated you differently after the incident. The two of you had become friends in a strange, roundabout way, and now he was the person you cared about most on the team. He'd spend hours in your room when you didn’t feel like going out with the rest, always managing to convince you in the end, because he’d be there, and everything was a thousand times better when he was. You couldn’t bring yourself to say you loved him. No one knew. But you did.

"Because I don’t know how to do anything else," you snapped, sniffing and taking a cigarette from the pack in Roy’s hand. You pulled your lighter from your pocket and struggled with it for a moment until the wind finally cooperated.

Roy sighed, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his bright orange hair.

"What the hell does that even mean?" he asked, pleading.

Roy thought he knew you. He knew you were weird (in the best way), that you had hundreds of issues you’d never talked about and that your social skills were practically non-existent. But you’d let him in. You’d shown him a piece of what went on inside your head, and he’d embraced it, kissed the scar. But now he didn’t understand anything you were doing.

"I’ve spent too long fighting knock-off villains, burying my thoughts in punches, ignoring how bad I really am," you swallowed. "How broken it left me."

"Then talk to me," he reached out a little, and you stepped back. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me how bad it is. You don’t have to hide."

"It’s not that simple, Roy." you bit the inside of your cheek, watching the ash fall onto your shoe.

Roy clicked his tongue and looked away. You felt cold, like a terrible person, dragging him into this unnecessary fight.

"Nothing’s simple with you." he muttered tensely.

"I don’t know how to do anything else, okay? I don’t know how to live outside of this chaotic mess."

Roy frowned, took one last drag, and flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it underfoot. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at you like he could force you to stay with his eyes. Like if he stared hard enough, leaving would hurt more than staying. But he didn’t understand, it already hurt.

"And walking away from everything’s gonna fix it?" he finally asked. His voice was lower now, more controlled. It cut through you. Like it hurt him to even ask. Like he was reluctantly accepting he had no say in your choice. "What the hell are you gonna tell Dick?"

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not daring to lift your head all the way.

"Dick only let me on the team out of pity."

"Pity?" Roy let out a bitter laugh. "Are you listening to yourself? You see yourself as a victim. You think we all see you that way, like someone who needs fixing. But that’s not true… I don’t see you that way, dammit. And- and you belong here. Donna and Kory adore you..."

"I don’t even know what I’m trying to fix anymore," you said quietly. "Jason’s dead. Bruce only talks to me through Dick. And I’m giving whatever I’ve got left, and no one sees that there’s barely anything left."

You tried not to hold it against Bruce, how he wouldn’t talk to you. How he couldn’t look you in the eye. Everyone said your eyes looked like Jason’s. Same look, same nose, same stance. Even your voices were alike.

Roy shook his head, fast, frustrated.

"You’re not Jason" he said, voice trembling with pent-up rage. "You’re not your brother. No one expects you to be."

You hugged your arms around yourself, like that might keep everything in. The need to cry, the need to scream that you knew that, but it killed you to live in the spaces Jason had left behind.

"I’m not trying to be. No one left me another choice."

Roy stepped closer, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

"I don’t believe you. Not after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve fought for- for others, for yourself. You can’t say no one gave you a choice when you’ve always had one: to stay. To keep going. To speak up."

"For what? So I can keep being the shadow of someone who’s not here anymore?"

"You’re not a shadow!"

Roy grabbed your wrists, gently but firmly, forcing you to lift your head. To look at him. To stop hiding behind that tiny voice you only used when you were about to break.

"What if I don’t know who I am without him?" you confessed. And it felt like you’d ripped something out of your chest with your bare hands.

Roy looked at you like he wanted to say a thousand things at once. Like it hurt not being able to piece your heart back together himself.

One tear fell down your cheek. "I hate being here, Roy. I hate having to follow Dick’s orders, I hate that he won’t let me kill the Joker, I hate that he calls me his sister in front of everyone and ignores me every time we’re alone."

Roy let go like your words burned him. He stepped back, hands in his hair, frowning.

"So what, you’re running away because Dick’s a self-righteous asshole? Surprise!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "We all hate him sometimes, but that doesn’t give you the right to quit. To leave us."

"I’m not leaving you," you snapped, hurt. "I’m saving myself."

"From what?" he roared, wounded. "From us? From me?"

"From myself!" you screamed back, shaking. "From this version of me that drags herself through the halls waiting for someone to tell her she’s not completely broken! I’m sick of living with Jason’s ghost and pretending I’m okay just because I have the same damn last name!"

Roy was about to reply when the rooftop door burst open. Dick stepped out with a calm smile, unaware of everything.

"Hey, we’re waiting on you guys," he said, pressing his lips together. He looked at you first, your trembling lip and a tear on your cheek, then at Roy, already on his third cigarette, not looking at either of you. "Everything alright?"

You didn’t try to answer.

"She’s leaving." Roy said, nodding at you.

You sighed and finally lifted your head.

"What? You’re what?" Dick asked again, hand on his hip.

"I’m leaving, Dick. I’m done. Don’t ask again like you didn’t hear me." you snapped, voice broken but firm.

Dick blinked, unmoving. That damn Nightwing face again, like nothing could affect him. Like it was just another mission. Like you were just another mission.

"And this decision… you made it on your own?"

"I don’t need your approval to make decisions, Dick."

"That’s not it," he replied, sharp. "It’s just, when you’re part of a team, those decisions affect others. You’re part of this team. I thought you knew that."

"Me? Part of the team? Do you even know what being part of something means, Dick? Or do you just know how to lead it?"

It hit him. You saw it. A subtle flinch, like he didn’t expect that from you, of all people.

"I don’t know what the hell you want me to say," he muttered, low but sharp. "That I should beg you to stay? Hug it out and lie that everything’s going to be fine? Because I’m not that guy."

"I know," you whispered. "That’s why I’m leaving."

Roy lowered his head. Dick huffed through his nose and took a step closer.

"You can’t just walk away. Not without talking it through. Not without- without explaining. You don’t get to break something just because you’re broken."

"And what the hell do you know about what I’m breaking?" you said through clenched teeth. "You weren’t there when Jason died. Not for me. You went around telling everyone you’d look after me like a brother. All you did was keep me at arm’s length like I was about to explode."

"Because I didn’t know how to help you without breaking myself too!" Dick suddenly yelled, and Roy flinched at the outburst.

Silence.

The wind whispered around the rooftop, and the murmurs from inside the Tower felt like they came from another planet.

"I lost him too," Dick continued, quieter, jaw clenched. "And I barely held it together. All I knew how to do was lead. Give orders. Keep going. And you… you reminded me of everything I couldn’t protect. And I couldn’t look at you without feeling like I failed him."

"You did," you said softly. "You failed me too."

Dick nodded once. Slow. Pained.

"I know."

You crossed your arms, trembling. Wanting to stop this conversation but unable to.

Dick walked over to Roy, grabbed the cigarette pack and took one.

"What the hell, Dick?" Roy blinked. "You don’t smoke."

"I know," he muttered, cigarette between his lips, fingers fumbling with the lighter. "Fuck."

He gave them back to Roy, eyes down. Silence returned. Roy looked between you and Dick, trying to understand. You stared at the ground, dirty sneakers, crushed cigarette butts, nail marks on your arms.

"I went to the funeral."

You swore your heart stopped. You remembered the day—five people had attended Jason’s funeral. Six, if you counted the preacher. And Dick hadn’t been one of them. You’d never talked about it, but you held a grudge after Barbara told you Dick hadn’t gone because he couldn’t bear it. Because the loss felt too heavy.

You never thought you could hate someone more than you did after that talk with Babs. Until now. Dick kept proving he could crush every expectation.

"You’re a fucking liar, Dick Grayson." you stepped closer, grabbing his shirt, pulling him so your foreheads touched. "You should’ve been in that warehouse instead of Jason."

Roy took a step forward, alarmed, but didn’t intervene. Not yet.

Dick didn’t move. Didn’t push you. Just looked you in the eyes, lips trembling, your rage clinging to his skin like static.

"Say it again," he whispered. "Say it if it helps. If it makes you feel better."

"It doesn’t help at all!" you broke. Rage poured from your eyes, hands, voice. You pushed his chest with both hands, not hard, just desperate.

"I sat in the car," Dick muttered. "I couldn’t bring myself to go in."

"Oh, poor little Dickie, couldn’t say goodbye to someone who wasn’t even his fucking brother!" your voice rose with every word. "If I could do it, if I could watch my little brother be buried six feet under, so could you, you fucker!"

You pushed him again, fighting your tears.

"You’re a coward," you hissed.

Dick didn’t react. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t defend himself. He just stood there, taking it like a bullet to the chest. Closed his eyes for a second, like it hurt physically.

"You’re the one walking away." he said, looking down at you.

"Dick." Roy finally intervened, stepping forward. But before he could say more, you slapped Dick across the face.

He didn’t react at first. His head turned slightly with the hit, hair falling in his eyes. His expression tight, like the pain wasn’t physical but something deeper. He looked at you, not angry, not hateful. Like you were a shattered reflection.

"Don’t talk to me like you have the moral high ground of having buried him," he said at last, voice broken and trembling. "You don’t own pain."

That hurt worse than any shout, any accusation. Roy stared at the ground like this was killing him. Like he was witnessing something too intimate.

You took a step back, chest heaving like you’d run for miles. Your knuckles burned. Your eyes threatened to spill over again, but you wouldn’t cry, not in front of him.

"I don’t hate you." you said suddenly, surprising even yourself.

Dick looked up, confused.

"I wish I could," you continued, eyes on your hands. "I wish blaming you was enough to make me leave. But it’s not. Because if I hate you, I’d have to hate myself. And I already do enough of that."

Roy let out a shaky breath, half frustration, half fear.

"Then don’t go." he murmured, barely audible.

"I have nothing left here, Roy."

"You have me."

The silence that followed wasn’t tense. It was dense. Like the world paused to see if you’d answer.

"And that’s the only thing that hurts to leave," you whispered at last, more a confession than goodbye.

Roy pulled you into his arms without asking. You didn’t say anything. Just closed your eyes and let him hold you, knowing it was the last time.

Dick watched silently, fists clenched at his sides. He couldn’t do anything more. He shouldn’t. He’d lost that right long ago.

"When you leave," he said from where he stood, "just promise me you’re doing more than running away."

You pulled back slightly from Roy, just enough to look over your shoulder at Dick.

"I’m not running. I’m finding a way to live that doesn’t kill me inside."

Dick nodded. No anger, just exhaustion.

"Then good luck."

Roy lifted his head from your shoulder, looking into your eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead. You froze for a second, eyes closed, feeling that unmistakable gesture, so him, so full of warmth in the middle of this chaos. When he pulled away, you clung to him tighter, like he was your anchor.

"I won’t forget you," Roy whispered, like a vow. "And you won’t forget me."

You didn’t know what to say. Your voice was caught in your throat. You brushed your lips against his, tenderly.

Dick turned away, still standing tall, but softer now.

"If you leave, hold your head high," he said firmly, trying not to sound wounded. "No one here wants you to disappear, even if it feels that way."

Roy nodded, his hand still resting on your back, steady.

"And if you lose your way again… we’ll be here."

Silence settled again, gentler this time. The tears wanted out, but you held them back.

"Thank you," was all you could say.

[steddieas-shegoes]

last summer

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'i know what you did last summer'

rated e | 773 words | no cw | tags: brief mentions of eddie with other people, fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, idiots in love, getting together

also on ao3

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

Eddie’s kind of a slut.

Sue him.

He likes sleeping around with any willing participant, mostly because there aren’t all that many willing participants to begin with. He’s in a small town and he’s weird enough that most of his conquests are doing it for free drugs or because they wanna know if the rumors are true.

He keeps it as lowkey as he can, still. Except for the summer before he follows Steve Harrington.

****

Steve is nice, way nicer than he thought he would be. He’s a flirt, but he’s shy, and it’s not even an act. He’s a dream.

Eddie fucks him until he cries.

But before he does that he fucks a lot of people until they cry. Double digits.

He goes all out because he’s fighting off the growing feelings for this man he knows he has no real shot in hell with. He fucks to forget the way Steve pulled him in, the way he moaned around his fingers when he insisted he wasn’t full enough, the way he licked into Eddie’s mouth when moaning wasn’t enough to say how much he was enjoying the way Eddie fucked into him.

Sarah was nice, but too loud even for Eddie.

Ryan was the typical Guy Trying Guys For The First Time, so he was nervous and trying to be macho even with a dick in his ass and it just wasn’t working for him. He came, he saw, he left quickly and didn’t give him his number.

Amy and Amanda were best friends since middle school and did everything together, including fuck guys who were no good for them. Eddie gave them both exactly what they wanted and went home.

Jackie was much too kind of a girl to be anywhere near him, but he adjusted and went slower, spoke nicer, gave her a kiss before he left.

Frankie, not to be confused with his friend and bandmate, was insistent on doing the fucking, and Eddie was in a mood, so he agreed. He limped out of there, sore enough that he knew he’d regret it all in the morning, but not upset about it.

His mind kept going back to Steve, though.

So he fucked him again, in his pool, under the stars and moon in some romantic subplot to his summer. They had to be quiet so the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but Steve’s quiet whimpers and whines as he fucked into him slowly, ripples of water crashing against their chests echoing against the concrete of the pool deck, were still loud enough that Eddie had to cover his mouth and move slower. He’s stunning with his hair wet and slicked back, his sun-kissed skin glistening in the moonlight. Eddie wants to write a song about this.

He fucks Laura the next night, doesn’t even think to ask her name before she’s screaming his. He finds out after, when he sees her necklace after she’s facing him in bed. He kisses her cheek and leaves.

No one is Steve.

****

“I wrote a song about you,” he admits while he’s holding Steve against his chest, rubbing his fingers up and down his spine. It’s the third night in a row he’s come over, the third night where he’s held Steve until he’s asleep and then snuck out as if he’s just another one of his slutty moments.

“Mm?” Steve’s exhausted, probably wrung out from two orgasms in the last hour. He’s barely awake.

“You’ve got in my head, Harrington,” Eddie says, voice dripping with fondness.

“Sing it for me?” Steve asks.

He can’t deny him a damn thing. He sings what he has, though he’s still working on the melody a bit. Steve won’t care.

It’s shaky because he’s trying to stay quiet, doesn’t wanna ruin this moment they’re in.

Steve snuggles in closer, hums contentedly.

Eddie feels splayed open when he’s done. He keeps holding onto Steve, waits for him to pull away and ask him to leave.

Instead, Steve kisses his chest, right over his frantic heartbeat.

He’s quiet, just lets his lips linger on his skin for a bit. His fingers are curled into Eddie’s side.

“If you can be just mine, you can come with me,” Steve finally says.

“Go with you where?” Eddie didn’t know he was leaving.

“Chicago. My parents are paying for my apartment while I go to school. They don’t have to know I brought my boyfriend,” Steve explains.

Eddie doesn’t even have to think about it.

“Yeah. I’m in.”

Every summer after that, Eddie’s still a little bit of a slut. But he’s a slut for Steve and Steve only.

[everrinsly]

a/n; I wish i could get a glimpse of precious suna's insta haha, thank you for reading!! this one also kind of long but it's my rambles I can't help it hahah

blurred lines, best friend vibes.

white heart with suna. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

a deep dive into suna's instagram highlights, featuring “🤍” (it's you).

more suna here! and more sugar from suna here!

more reads!

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

Suna’s Instagram is just too good.

Like, objectively. It’s irritating.

Clean lines, muted colors, photo dumps that feel like poetry—just the right balance of white space and warmth, black and tan filters that make every frame look like it's stolen from an editorial spread. 

The man doesn’t post often, but when he does, it’s always a little too perfect.

Even his stupid Highlights have a theme.

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

One for EJP Raijin—⚡—a perfect mix of sweat-slick intensity and that curated brand of cool.

It opens with dim-lit gym clips, the floor gleaming under floodlights, volleyballs spinning in slow motion. You can hear the faint squeak of sneakers, the low thud of spikes, voices echoing in rhythm. 

There’s a shot of Komori’s Super Receive—text overlaid in lowercase white: gravity’s got nothing on him—as he flings himself across the court, arms outstretched, hair a blur. 

Then comes Washio's Wall, an iconic mid-air shot where Washio blocks a spike so clean you’d think the footage was rendered. 

And of course, the post-win shots.

Suna never posts them first. He lets them sneak in at the end—blurry, slightly sun-soaked, a slow pan across the locker room with half-laughed victory shouts. Jerseys peeled halfway down chests, bandages loose on knuckles, every player glistening with sweat and smugness. 

There’s one frame that stays longer than it should: Suna leaning against the lockers, hair damp, chain sticking to his collarbone, lips barely parted in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Just enough to drive his followers crazy.

Just enough to drive you crazy.

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

The next for Fam—🏡—soft, warm, and quiet in a way that feels like a relaxing exhale. 

He rarely shows it, but you know he adores them.

There’s a shot from his sister’s graduation, her in cap and gown, Suna ducking low to fit into frame, one arm slung around her shoulder and the other holding a mini bouquet of sunflowers.

Another of his mom’s cooking—steam rising off a clay pot, and in the background, Suna’s hand stealing a piece of pork belly, caught mid-motion. 

And then there’s the rare, grainy video of him playing volleyball in the yard with his dad, both barefoot in the grass, the Aichi landscape stretching out wide behind them—golden fields, an overcast sky, the kind of silence that settles in your bones.

But your favorite, easily, is the one from his birthday.

He’s sitting on the couch, hoodie loose, hair fluffy and unstyled, and his sister and mom are on either side of him, both leaning in to press the cutest, most affectionate kisses to his cheeks. Suna’s eyes are closed, lips tugged up in the softest, sleepiest grin, like he’s trying not to melt and failing miserably.

You’re pretty sure it’s his favorite, too.

He never takes it off. It just… lives there. Quiet and safe. Like family.

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

The third is Crew—📸—the one with all the chaos.

It’s the messiest, most unfiltered highlight on his page, and somehow, it still fits his aesthetic. Warm-toned mayhem. Candid disasters. A side of faint laughter in the background. 

There’s a special brand of Miya Twin Madness—Atsumu in a yakiniku restaurant, mid-air tossing a grape that Osamu is 100% not ready to catch. The next clip? Osamu side-eying him from across the table, lips tight, the unmistakable expression of someone who’s already done with the night. 

Gin’s gym students make frequent appearances, cartwheeling across hardwood floors while Suna films from the bleachers, monotone voice narrating like he’s on a nature documentary.

Sometimes, there are glimpses of his senpais.

A low-lit clip of late-night ramen with Aran, both of them slouched in a booth, soup steaming, the table messy with napkins and empty bottles. 

A wholesome cut of Suna helping Akagi’s PE students learn how to spike, wearing a whistle he definitely stole from Gin. 

A stupid blurry selfie from an airport bathroom mirror captioned: will i get caught if i take 20 tubes of wasabi to tokyo lol @ renomimi.

(Ren later responds: Yes. Don’t call me to bail you out, @ sunarin.)

And then there’s the rarest gem of all: Suna in the countryside, visiting Kita.

The clip is quiet—green stretching as far as the eye can see, sky low and heavy with summer.

Suna’s wearing a bucket hat and glaring at his phone camera he handed to Kita to pan around. Sweat drips down his temple, sleeves rolled up, hands in the soil. 

The caption reads simply: captain said it was gonna take 2 hrs max. been here 4.5. send help.

But Kita makes sure the camera lingers just long enough for you to catch the tiniest smile tugging at the edge of Suna’s lips.

Somehow, even here—in all this chaos—he always makes room for softness. Always makes space for the people who feel like home.

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

And then there's the fourth.

Just a single emoji: 🤍

No name.

But it's you.

It’s always been you.

It's the softest highlight on his entire page—intimate in ways no one else would even notice.

A quiet boomerang of you twirling in his jersey and a miniskirt on one of his game days, shy smile on your face. The clip is cut just before you reach up to fix your hair.

He takes it that morning, right before leaving for the match.

You come out of your room wearing his jersey—oversized, soft, hanging off one shoulder—and a little black skirt that makes your legs look longer than they are. You’re fidgeting, pulling at the hem, clearly unsure if it’s too much. But Suna looks up from tying his shoes, pauses, and just stares.

Then, flat as ever, he says, “Do a spin.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Spin.”

He lifted his phone. “For science.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warm, but do it anyway.

You think he deletes it.

He doesn't.

There’s a photo of you and his sister when she visited, matching sleepy grins on both your faces, your head tilted toward hers. 

It’s taken after your shopping spree—an unplanned, chaotic one that ends with your arms full of bags and your feet sore from walking half the city. His sister swipes his black card without shame, declaring, “He won’t care.”

And she’s right.

Suna doesn’t care.

How could he, when it’s for you both? When the two of you look so happy, cheeks flushed from the wind, shopping bags hanging off your arms, giggling like best friends who share secrets he’ll never understand?

He just leans against the doorframe when you both walk in, arms crossed, eyes soft, saying nothing.

Like a memory he doesn’t want to let go of.

Another clip: you laughing with your whole body when he takes you to Onigiri Miya. Your hand covers your mouth, eyes shining, and he films it without thinking, the sound tucked low in the background.

That laugh? Music to his ears. He plays it sometimes when he’s alone.

Next—your back to the camera, walking ahead of him, hair swaying with your steps. You wear that soft linen sundress he likes, the one that dips low in the back. Your fingers trail the metal railing of a pedestrian bridge, city lights just starting to blur in the distance.

He takes that photo one evening in early spring.

It’s after a late practice—he’s exhausted, sore, quiet in that way that means his mind is running faster than his body can keep up. You insist on getting fresh air, tugging him out for a walk without waiting for him to say yes. He doesn’t protest.

You wander aimlessly, sharing a 7-Eleven egg sandwich and a grape-flavored soda, your voice filling the silence while he just listens, too tired to talk but not too tired to watch. The sun dips behind the skyline, painting the world in soft golds and lavenders. And you, in that dress, in your sandals, hum under your breath as you step onto the bridge.

He lifts his phone without thinking.

Captures it in one shot.

Doesn’t edit a thing.

Posts it.

Now, it lives.

Frozen.

Like the moment never ends.

And then there’s that quiet frame no one notices unless they look closely.

Your hand resting next to his on the center console of his car. Pinkies barely touching. His rings catching the sun. Your fingers tapping twice against the leather like they’re remembering his warmth.

He doesn’t look at you when it happens—just keeps driving, sunglasses low on his nose, music humming soft through the speakers. But you feel it. That stillness. That shift. Like even though he’s not saying anything, something important just happens.

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

This sits with you for days. Weeks? Months? Years? Maybe. Most likely.

You try to ignore it, pretend you don’t think about it when you see the white heart hovering at the top of his profile. You tell yourself it’s just a Highlight, just a symbol. But it sticks stubbornly. 

You know the “🤍” has been there for a long time.

Since college, actually. Since you’re barely friends and somehow still end up sharing a dorm floor, then group projects, then late-night snack runs, then an apartment. He adds it one night without a word. You think nothing of it then.

But now?

Now it’s different.

You don’t know why it suddenly matters.

Only that it does.

And so, one quiet night, curled into the corner of the couch with your knees drawn to your chest and the TV buzzing in the background, you finally ask.

“Why a white heart?”

Suna doesn’t even blink.

He stretches out beside you, phone in hand, wrist dangling off the edge of the cushion. “It’s quiet,” he says simply, eyes still on his screen. “Soft. Easy on the eyes.”

 And then—

“It also matches my grid.”

You bite back a laugh. “That’s it?”

His lip twitches, just barely. “Not entirely.”

You glance over at him, your breath catching.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s constant.” 

But then he adds, a beat softer, not looking at you, but meaning it, “Just like you.”

You freeze, warmth blooming slow and deep in your chest.

He doesn’t follow it up or elaborate—just unlocks his phone again with the most casual movement in the world. He scrolls lazily, and you swear he knows exactly what he’s doing, casually tapping his “🤍” Highlight and letting it play.

The clips loop.

Your laughter fills the room in quiet waves.

And Suna just leans back, head tilted toward yours, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

Like he’s home.

Because you’ve always been his favorite highlight.

[formulafanfics13]

Charles is partying post COTA GP and he jokingly tries to ride a mechanical bull, failing miserably. a girl sees him and teases him saying that he sucks, so he challenges her to do it. She does in the most inappropriate clothing ever (miniest skirt, tightest top) and she lasts so long on it: Charles is both amused and aroused because.. duh. The bouncing? The riding? His eyes and mind will be wandering.

you ride better than i drive - CL16 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: On the wild night following the Austin Grand Prix, a tipsy, grinning Charles Leclerc tries — and fails — to ride a mechanical bull. You mock him, mount the bull like a pro, and ride it like your hips were built for sin. The crowd goes feral. Charles goes feral-er. One teasing comment later, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him stunned, horny, and dreaming of you all night.

Warnings: explicit language, heavy sexual innuendo, mechanical bull riding used metaphorically and erotically, public setting, suggestive teasing, alcohol use, flirtation-heavy tension, Charles being a floppy-haired wreck over your thighs.

Austin, Texas. The night of the Grand Prix. Somewhere between too much tequila and not enough dignity. Charles Leclerc is fucked up.

Not in a dangerous way,  just loose-limbed, rosy-cheeked, floppy-haired, happy in a way he only gets once the pressure of Sunday lifts and the paddock turns into a playground. He’s in some half-outdoor bar that smells like whiskey and cologne and barbecue. There’s a mechanical bull in the center of the room. The DJ keeps playing Kesha. Someone from AlphaTauri is doing body shots off a cheerleader’s stomach.

And Charles? Charles is climbing onto the bull like a dumbass.

“Someone get their driver!” Lando yells through laughter. “He’s going to dislocate his shoulder!”

“I’m athletic,” Charles slurs. “I can ride!”

He cannot. The bull starts. Lurches. Twists. Charles lasts all of six seconds before he’s whipped off, hits the mat with a dramatic oof, and just lies there, spread eagle, dazed, laughing.

And that’s when he hears it. A voice. Sharp. Amused. Unapologetic.

“Well,” the girl says. “You fucking suck at that.”

He lifts his head. And sees you. Miniskirt. Tiny top. Boots that probably violate several dress codes. Holding a drink in one hand, eyebrow raised, looking down at him like you’ve seen every inch of him and are already unimpressed.

He blinks. You smirk.

“Are you always this bad at staying on things?”

Charles scrambles to his feet, cheeks pink. “It was my first time.”

“Clearly.”

He narrows his eyes. “You think you can do better?”

“I know I can do better.”

“Prove it.”

You pass your drink to your friend and step toward the bull like you’ve done this before.

Charles sits on the edge of the mat, surrounded by other drivers and a few mechanics, every single one of them watching you climb up.

You straddle the thing like a fucking professional. And then the ride starts.

Jesus fuck. You last forever. Like it’s nothing. Like your body was built for this. The bull twists, bucks, jolts side to side, and you stay. One hand gripping the leather handle, the other tossed behind your head like a showgirl. Hair bouncing. Thighs tight around the machine. Hips moving like sex itself.

Charles is having a religious experience. He swallows. Hard.

The way you grind? The way your skirt keeps flipping up? The fact that he can see your thighs flexing with every bounce?

He shifts. Adjusts his jeans.

You ride like it’s muscle memory. Like you’ve broken hearts on this thing before. And when you finally dismount, slow, graceful, smug, the entire bar fucking cheers.

You saunter toward him like the mat’s a catwalk. He can’t breathe. “Still think I can’t do better?” you ask, smirking.

Charles blinks. “Marry me.”

You laugh. “You say that to every girl who can ride?”

“Only the ones who do it better than I can drive.”

You cock your head. “And how do you drive?”

“Very fast.”

You step closer. “Then maybe you should see how I fuck.”

His mouth drops. You wink. “Goodnight, Ferrari boy.” And then you vanish into the crowd, hips swaying, skirt bouncing, the ghost of your ride still playing behind his eyes like a fucking porno.

Charles doesn’t sleep that night. He dreams about you instead.

[ceyanabbiolo]

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [21]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: angst

wc: 3378

Chapter 21: Week of Insanity

The whole day went by in a blur, just sitting and waiting around, hoping that something good would come. 

However, no news came. 

I hadn’t slept. Maybe I dozed off for a few minutes, head leaning against the wall, but the images of Matt in that bed haunted even the moments my eyes were closed.

Noah had gone downstairs, Nick sat quietly with his headphones in, eyes unfocused, staring at nothing. 

Just past 9 PM, Aurora returned to the waiting area. She dropped into the seat beside me, sighing as she pulled the blanket back around her shoulders.

That’s when it hit me.

“Wait… aren’t you and Chris—weren’t you broken up?”

Aurora laughed softly, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. The last time I’d seen her at her fashion show, she’d told me the engagement had ended badly after her father’s arrest. Her voice then had been bitter, distant. 

“Yeah… we were,” she said, nodding. “It was messy. But… we actually got back together a few nights ago.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah… like three nights ago. It just… happened. Kind of out of nowhere,” then added. “He showed up at my worst.”

I nodded and offered her a warm smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

I understood that feeling. That deep-down, unshakable knowing. The way someone could show up at your worst and quietly rebuild everything you thought you lost. 

Matt had done that for me—he’d shown up in my life when I was at my most lost, when I didn’t know what came next or if I even had the strength to figure it out.

“You know…” Aurora said, gently nudging me with her elbow. “Matt really cares about you.”

I glanced at her, unsure. “Really?”

She gave a soft laugh and nodded. “Yeah, girl. Every time he’s around me or Chris or anyone, he always finds a way to bring you up. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it—it’s like you’re just... apart of him now.”

A smile pulled at my lips, quiet and aching.

“I just want him to wake up,” I whispered, the words barely holding together.

He’d been taken in for another surgery earlier—only about an hour ago. It had gone well, from what the nurses told us. The swelling had gone down. His vitals were stronger.

Everyone was saying his condition was better now. More stable. 

Still, I hated the way the doctors always said If he wakes up. Every time I heard it, something inside me cracked a little more, because in my head, there was no if. Matt was going to wake up. That was the only option. No hesitation. No question. It wasn’t if. It was when. 

Mary Lou had come by around 6 PM to check in on Matt. She’d been on edge, panicked, pacing, asking the same questions over and over. Chris and Nick had told her the doctors said Matt would wake up soon. That calmed her down.

Of course, it wasn’t true. The doctors had never said that, but she needed rest. She was older, exhausted, and running on nothing but worry. We wouldn’t want that stress to take her down, too.

As I sat quietly, watching the hallway, I felt someone approach.

“We should go home, love,” Chris said softly to Aurora, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Aurora glanced at me, hesitating. “It’s fine, Chris—we should stay,” she said gently.

I shook my head. “No. Go home, girl. Seriously, I’m okay.”

Aurora still looked unsure, but after a beat, she nodded.

Chris turned his attention to me. 

“Noah’s coming back soon, you should get some rest too,” he added, “if he wakes up, one of us will call you. Me, Nick, or Aurora will. You won’t miss anything, I promise.”

There was a softness in Chris’s voice—gentler than his usual gruff tone—and I noticed the way his hand rested protectively at the small of Aurora’s back as they walked out together.

I let out a long sigh, the quiet settling again around me like a heavy blanket.

A few seconds later, Nick came over from where he’d been sitting, his eyes tired, his smile faint. “I think I’m gonna head out too,” he said softly.

I nodded. “Okay. Be safe.”

Just as he disappeared down the hallway, Noah stepped in through the doors, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

“Let’s go,” he said simply.

I hesitated. Every part of me screamed to stay, to plant myself back in that chair and wait for Matt to open his eyes. But my body was worn down, and my brain felt like it had been wrung dry.

Reluctantly, I stood and followed behind Noah. The walk from the waiting room to the parking garage was maybe five minutes, but it felt longer, every step tightening the knot in my stomach.

Something in me kept whispering: Don’t leave. Like if I walked away now, I’d miss something important.

By the time we got home, the exhaustion had finally caught up to me. I went straight to my room, peeled off my clothes, and pulled on an old t-shirt. Then I climbed into bed, burying myself beneath the sheets.

But sleep didn’t come. I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the silence.

My mind was consumed with my boyfriend Matt. My mind went back to the first time I saw him, after coming back from London. How he was just there…sitting on the couch like he belonged there. 

Then my mind drifted further back, to a nearly forgotten memory—the first time I saw Matt. At least, the first time I remember. We must’ve been, what… seven and twelve?

“Matt! This is my little sister,” my brother called out, waving him over.

I was seven at the time, sitting beside my mom on the edge of a playground bench, my legs swinging and my lips stained red from a half-melted popsicle. A boy—taller, a little lanky, with messy brown hair and the brightest smile I’d ever seen—ran up toward us. His cheeks were flushed from playing, his shoelaces half undone.

“Hi!” he grinned, giving me a goofy little wave. "I'm Matt."

I blinked at him, the sun in my eyes, and said nothing.

“Come on, Daph,” my mom nudged me gently. “Say hi, hunny.”

I didn’t. I just raised my hand and waved back—shy, quiet, too unsure of myself to speak.

My brother laughed, clearly used to me being like this. “My sister is a little shy, but she’s nice.”

Matt leaned down slightly, hands on his knees. “That’s okay,” he said cheerfully. “I think quiet people are cool.”

I didn’t answer, but I remember studying him closely. The boy who made my brother laugh louder than anyone else. The one he was always talking about, the one whose name floated around our house like background music.

I’d always stayed tucked away in my room—surrounded by dolls, sticker books, and fairy tales—only hearing about Matt and his brothers through muffled laughter down the hall. They were like characters in a story I wasn’t part of.

Until that day.

After meeting him, something shifted. A small, innocent crush bloomed quietly in my chest. The kind only a ten-year-old could carry—full of wide eyes and silly dreams. 

I even remember one summer afternoon, probably when I was around ten, building up every ounce of courage I had just to walk across the yard and ask Matt to open a juice bottle for me. It was probably the boldest thing I’d ever done.

He was only thirteen at the time, lanky and a little awkward, and to my quiet horror, he struggled with the lid just as much as I had. But he tried anyway—tongue poking out slightly in concentration, eyebrows furrowed like it was a life-or-death mission.

I stood there in front of him, trying to play it cool, but secretly thrilled just to have three whole minutes of his undivided attention. When he finally got the lid off with a proud little huff, he handed the bottle back like he’d just saved the day.

“There you go,” he grinned, brushing his hands off on his shorts. “All yours.”

My cheeks had burned for hours after that. Even now, thinking about it made them heat up all over again—but for a different reason. More of a why was I such a weird little kid? kind of way.

The memory lingered in my mind longer than I expected, soft around the edges, like something I hadn’t touched in years. It made my chest ache—in a good way, and a bad one. Eventually, the weight of everything caught up to me.

I curled deeper into the blankets, still wearing Matt’s hoodie, the scent of him faint but comforting. My eyes fluttered shut as that old summer afternoon faded into the darkness behind my lids.

Day One

When I opened my eyes, morning light was already spilling into the room, casting golden lines across the walls. My phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand—8:07 a.m.

Another day. Another day without him awake.

I sat up slowly, blinking against the sunlight, letting the silence settle around me before reaching for my phone. No messages. No updates. Just the usual emptiness I’d come to expect.

Noah had told me earlier that Chris had called—Matt was still in a coma. Stable, but unchanged. They said there was no point in going in today. That I should rest. Wait.

But I couldn’t. I needed to see him. So I went anyway.

When I got to his room, everything was the same. The machines are still humming. The soft beep of the monitor marked time like a metronome. The light from the window fell gently across his still form.

I stepped closer and looked at his face. The bruises were still there, fading just slightly, but still angry and purple. Still real. Still painful to see.

I leaned down, gently brushing his hair from his forehead, my heart aching as I pressed a kiss to the bruise just above his eyebrow. Then another on his temple, and one more near the edge of his jaw.

“They’ll get better soon,” I whispered, “I promise.”

Day Two

I had woken up in the hospital chair, still curled in Matt’s hoodie, my neck stiff from the way I’d fallen asleep. I didn’t even remember closing my eyes. 

What woke me was a soft hand on my shoulder. I blinked up, bleary-eyed, to find Mary Lou standing beside me.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Have you been here with him all night?”

I nodded, sitting up slowly and rubbing at my eyes. “Yeah… I didn’t mean to. I just… lost track of time.”

She gave me a small, knowing smile, her eyes kind.

“It’s alright,” she said, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear like a mother would. “You’re probably the first person he’ll want to see when he wakes up anyway.”

She’d said that before—more than once—and I used to brush it off. But hearing it now, with her hand still on my shoulder and the morning light streaming in through the window, I almost believed it.

“I hope so,” I whispered.

Mary Lou gave my hand a soft squeeze. “Go get changed, love. Wash your face. I’ll sit with him for a while.”

I nodded, grateful, and stood slowly, taking one last look at Matt before quietly stepping out of the room.

Day Three

“You look so stupid in this photo,” I murmured, a soft smile tugging at my lips.

I was staring at my phone, at a picture I’d taken of Matt in LA—standing on the beach, sunburned and grinning like a fool, holding two coconuts up to his chest like makeshift boobs.

I chuckled under my breath. “You thought you were so funny.”

The laugh faded almost as quickly as it came, replaced by that all-too-familiar ache. It was almost 11 p.m., and I was still sitting in the hospital hallway, curled up in the same chair outside his room. I’d told myself I’d leave earlier, but I hadn’t moved. I couldn’t.

I looked down at the photo again, my thumb brushing the screen.

“You’d probably make some dumb joke right now if you saw me crying, huh?” I whispered. “Something like, ‘Aw, don’t ruin your pretty face, sweetheart.’”

I swallowed, blinking fast.

The room was silent except for the soft hum of machines behind the glass.

“You always make everything better,” I whispered, my voice catching. “So can you please just… wake up now? Just open your eyes. Just a little?”

I pressed my forehead gently to the arm, barely touching, just enough to feel his warmth. 

“Please, Matt. Just a little”

Day Four

“Daphne,” Noah said. “You need to go home. He’ll wake up when he does.”

I sighed.

“I’m fine here,” I replied. “Not like I want work, my client’s sleeping.” I gestured toward Matt with a faint, tired smile.

Noah pressed his lips together, clearly holding something back.

“You’re here more than his mom.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was here more than anyone else. Even Chris and Nick haven’t visited since yesterday morning. 

But the thought of being anywhere else made my stomach twist. The idea of leaving him—of walking away from that room and not being there if something changed, was unbearable.

It didn’t feel right.

I couldn’t sleep when I was home. I’d toss, turn, check my phone every ten minutes, and stare at the ceiling until the sun came up. However, here, even if I was curled in an uncomfortable hospital chair, I felt closer. I felt... grounded. Honestly, I’d probably get better sleep in Matt’s ICU room than in my own bed right now, because as long as he was here, this is where I needed to be.

Day Five

“Alright, Matthew, enough sleeping—you’re getting lazy,” I teased softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

I was alone with him again, the quiet hospital room heavy around us. Everyone had left about half an hour ago, leaving me with just the steady beep of the machines and the faint hum of the ventilation.

“Prada is waiting for their most handsome model,” I added, forcing a small smile, though my heart felt like it was breaking. “I heard they’re not getting much business without your photos.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must sound. If a nurse walked in right now, they’d probably ask if I needed to be checked instead.

I swallowed hard, fighting the lump rising in my throat.

“Oh!” I said a little too loudly, trying to shift the mood. “I got new Pokémon cards. We can open them together!”

Matt loves Pokémon.

I pulled the pack from my bag, my hands trembling as I carefully peeled back the wrapper. My eyes stung, but I blinked fast, refusing to let the tears fall. I wasn’t crying, not yet. Just... weak.

The weight of it all pressed on me, heavy and cold, but I clung to that small, silly hope. Like maybe, just maybe, he’d open his eyes and smile at me, and we’d laugh about the stupid cards like we always did.

Day six 

“Remember when you said you couldn’t go days without showering?” I murmured, talking to myself more than to him. “Well, sir, it’s been almost a week now.”

I gave a tired little smile, shaking my head at my own words. 

"Your bruises are a bit better now."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Chris and Nick stepped in quietly, their faces etched with exhaustion.

“Any progress?” Chris asked softly, eyes scanning the room.

I shook my head slowly. “Nothing yet.”

Nick ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. “Still no sign?”

I sighed, looking back at Matt’s motionless form. “Nope.”

We all sighed again in unison. 

Nick gave me a sideways look and smirked. “You know, when Matt wakes up, he should probably kneel down and propose to you right away.”

I blinked, surprised, then let out a soft laugh. “Why’s that?”

He shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You haven’t left his side for a second. I think that’s gotta count for something.” 

I smiled, the heaviness in the room lifting just a little. 

Day Seven 

My silent sobs echoed softly in the quiet ICU room as I sat on the edge of Matt’s bed. His hand rested in mine, fragile and still, and I traced gentle circles on his fingers, trying to send him strength through my touch.

“Please wake up, Matt,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Please. It’s not funny anymore.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Chris and Nick need you. Noah needs you.”

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I added, “Your mom needs you.”

And then, barely audible, I confessed, “I need you…”

The whole week, I’ve been feeling like I’ve been going crazy. Talking to myself, eating by myself, and even pacing around the ICU for no reason by myself. 

Before I could say more, the door opened quietly, and Mary Lou stepped inside. Her eyes immediately found mine, and without hesitation, she crossed the room and wrapped me in a warm, comforting hug.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Mary Lou murmured softly, her voice gentle and soothing. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.” She tenderly brushed her fingers through my hair, her touch warm and comforting.

“You love him so much, don’t you, hun?”

 I nodded, unable to find my voice.

“I know he loves you just as much,” she said quietly. “And I think my son would want you to stay strong—for him, right?” she whispered, leaning in close. “He wouldn’t want to know he’s the one making you cry.”

Her calm, steady presence was something I found myself admiring deeply. Here was a mother, standing so strong despite the impossible weight she carried. The way she kept her composure, the gentle way she spoke—it was a quiet kind of bravery I barely understood but desperately needed.

I glanced up at her, seeing the softness in her eyes and the quiet strength in her every breath. How does she do it? I wondered. How does she stay so calm when her heart is breaking just like mine?

In that moment, Mary Lou was not just Matt’s mother—she was a lifeline. When my mother had passed, she, in ways, started to fill some motherly roles in my life. So I was so grateful for her, and will always have a soft spot for her. 

“I’ll try,” I whispered.

Mary Lou pulled back just enough to look at me with soft, concerned eyes. “Honey, you need to go home soon. You’ve been here day and night, and you have to take care of yourself, too.”

I hesitated, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Go freshen up, get some rest. Relax a little. It’ll help you be stronger for him.” Her voice was kind but firm, filled with that motherly wisdom I so desperately needed to hear.

“I’ll stay here with Matt for a while,” she added gently.

I nodded slowly, knowing she was right even if my heart protested.

“Okay,” I whispered.

She offered me a soft smile, and after one last look at Matt, I slowly pulled away. My steps were heavy, reluctant, but I knew she was right.

I needed a moment to breathe.

The walk out of the hospital felt longer than usual, like every hallway stretched on just to test me. The silence of the elevator was deafening, and the cold air outside stung more than usual as I stepped into it.

By the time I got home, the weight of the past week hit me all at once. I barely made it out of my shoes before collapsing onto my bed, face-first into the pillows that still smelled faintly like lavender.

I didn’t bother changing. I didn’t check my phone. Sleep pulled me under fast.

For the first time in days, I didn’t fight it. When I finally relaxed and had a good sleep, the call came around 6:09 in the morning. 

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: i wonder what the call was? teehee – like and reblog! mwah] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @mattsdiva @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009 @mattspillowprincess @chrissturniolodailysluts @babyt0matoes @angelxsturns @mattsbabyangel @mattysmrwrinkleton @beardedbernard @sturnsfluff @le4hsblog @sturnsobsessed21 @munkincakes @wesj11

[date-everything-has-taken-over]

Hi! Hi

Can i please get part two of sick reader with Mac, Skips(my boy deserves so much) Curt and rod, Lux and Amir and Mateo

This time with a reader who owns a restaurant and cafe shop (works there sometimes) and one day the reader got sick and literally pass out on the door and was sick in bed for about 3 days!

If it's not much a trouble thank you!!

Kittyyyy❤️❤️❤️ (def not too much trouble btw)

(Can you tell who my favorite is?👉👈)

After you had lost your job at Valdivian, you had decided to go back to the café your parents left to you. Turns out it needed a bit (a lot) of tlc, so you ended up throwing yourself into running the café. Unfortunately, as the café had been closed for a while, there weren't any employees yet, and you weren't able to get many on short notice, so you decided to take most of the workload until you could get someone to run the place.

It took a bit longer than you thought it would...

Mac🖥

●They're happy to help you with research and ordering what you need when you first take over the café

●They also offer advice and look for better deals online when you order supplies

●They miss you once you start spending more and more time at the café

●They're pretty worried when you come home looking more and more tired

"While I find all your hard work admirable, are you sure you don't need to rest? I have some charming cat videos you may find enjoyable"

●Mac is more subtle when trying to get you to take a break. They most likely won't straight up tell you "you're working too hard, you need to rest"

●When you come home, barely awake, They're even more worried

●When you stay up all night, going through expenses, doing payroll, ect, they "crash" so you end up going to bed

●They feel bad for lying to you, but it's the only thing they can think to get you to rest

●When it finally happens and you come home only to pass out in the front room, they panic

●While you're bedridden, they're worried sick

●Since they have basically all knowledge on the internet, they're using a bunch of home remedies to help you

●Helps you send out emails to your employees that you'll be gone but won't let you do any more work so you can recover

●They'll can't do much since the computer is downstairs, but they're happy to chat with you

●When you start feeling better enough to interface with ur cutie, they still focus more on cute videos and fun, but they still won't let you work

●Once you've fully recovered and go back to the café they suggest you hire someone to help run the café so you're not doing everything alone (very grateful when you tell them you're already looking for someone)

Skips🖤

●He notices when he sees you awake from late at night to early in the morning (sometimes not sleeping at all)

●He doesn't think much of it at first. Maybe you're just basking in the glory of the darkness

●But when you start looking more and more exhausted, he starts worrying

"My penumbra, perhaps a respite is nessacary for you to regain some much needed energy"

●Unfortunately, his request is mostly ignored, so when you come home and pass out, he feels pretty bad

●He knows it's not his fault, but he can't help but feel like he should have done more to dissuade you from working so hard

●While stuck in bed, he keeps you company as you play the ultimate strategic game of darkness tic-tac-toe

●If you're the "moving at all hurts" type of sick, you can just tell him where to put the O (he's always X)

●He let's you win

●If you can't sleep at night, he'll keep you company while trying to help you sleep

●Teddy will also help with stories, and Skips is unwilling to admit he enjoys Teddys stories because it's "not befitting of a dark lord like himself"

●When you start feeling a little better, he distracts you with games, so you continue to rest

"My Penumbra, now that you're feeling a little better... wanna play Minecraft?" (That man owns a Minecraft hoodie I KNOW IT)

●You played for a while until sleep started to take hold of you. He's finishing his house until he feels a weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder. A slight yellow blush spreads across his face, and he exits the game and turns off Telly. Skips stays still. Not wanting to disturb his sleep. You shift slightly in your sleep, subconsciously leaning closer to him. The blush worsens, and he hesitantly places a hand softly on your head, trying to keep you from falling.

●Skips realizes it'd probably be pretty uncomfortable to sleep that way all night, so he slowly takes your sleeping body in his arms and carries you to bed

●Betty watches with a knowing smile as he tucks you into bed, kisses your head, and sits at the side of your bed

●He wasn't sure if you would be comfortable sleeping by his side (too awkward to have everything asked), so he falls asleep at the side of your bed while still holding your hand.

●You wake up the next morning, feeling much better. You look down to see Skips, who had fallen asleep on the floor, his head lying at the side of the bed and your hand still in his soft grasp.

●Feeling someone's gaze on him, Skips stirs awake to look up at you. Realizing he fell asleep with you, his face turns a bright yellow, and he averts his gaze

"G-Good morning, my penumbra. I hope you're feeling alright. " his voice is soft, much softer than the voice he tends to put on.

"My god, you're adorable"

Skips's face explodes in a bright yellow blush, and he lays his face down on the bed, hiding his flustered face.

"I-I support your uh... felling b-better?" Clearly, if you were well enough to tease him like this, you were feeling better

●When you return to work, he's asks you multiple times if you're sure you're better, if you have more help around the café

●Relieved when you tell him you found a couple of people who can take most of your workload

Curt and Rod

●I'm gonna be real the first time you came home looking tired they shaded you pretty good

●When they realize you're actually pretty drained, they change the subject and try to get you to people watch with them

●They don't direct any jokes at you for the time being

"You feelin alright?" "Ya, you're lookin kinda...tired

Curt elbows Rod "I mean, uh... don't work too hard, okay?"

●They urge you to vent about any people at work who give you trouble, wanting to distract you and make you laugh as they roast the hell out of people at work that bother you

"I mean, what's so hard to understand about store hours?". "Maybe they think hours are optional," Rod chimes in

● I don't think they realized it was serious until you came home and passed out

●They ran to you immediately, Curt catching you before you hit the floor

●Curt takes you upstairs to bed while Rod runs to get Farya

●They keep you company while bedridden, telling you about the people that walked by your house

●They try to keep it lighthearted. They don't really know how to take care of a sick person, so all they can really do keep you from getting bored

●Thanks to them, you got to know all about how your neighbor a couple of houses down finally broke up with her cheating boyfriend (and about how he cried on her lawn for two hours)

●When you start feeling better, they help you look through the candidates applying to help run the café

●Brutal honestly, if there is a small problem with the resume, they are pointing it out

●They fully don't let you go back to work unless you have people to help run the café

Lux💡

●"Oh, honey, you're looking a little dull. You maybe wanna fix that?" They look through their pr packages. "I got this really good moisturize, like use it"

●Figured you were just having a bad day, so they tossed you the moisturizer and went back to streaming

●Then you come stumbling home and pass out in the living room

●Okay, now They feel bad. They come to visit you and realize you worked yourself way too hard

"Heeeey, Luxies, I'm gonna be signing off for a couple of days, but don't worry, I'll be back"

●They stay at your side to make up for not noticing something was wrong

●Tells you about the latest tea with other influencers and general online drama

●When you start feeling better, he helps you with your skin care routine

●He does full stalker style social media background checks on everyone that applied to run the café

Amir🪞

●Definitely notices right away

●He notices even the smallest chances in your appearance. So when you pull your first all-nighter, he can see the exhaustion in your eyes

● Okay, hear me out on this one. So basically, Scandalabra calls Amir your reflection, not your mirror. Therefore, I think he'd be able to kind of go to work with you. You may not have the dateviators, but as your reflection, he's able to keep an eye on you

●He can't actually do anything, much to his dismay, but he can at least see the level your overworking yourself

●"Eshgham, it breaks my heart to see you work yourself to death. You simply must allow yourself to rest"

●After getting home, he gently guides you upstairs

"I am sorry, but I can't allow this to go on any longer. You, my dear, are going to sleep"

●Amir's usually not a forceful person, but you can't but feel like there's really no room for arguments

●You do, in fact, rest that night. Unfortunately, that only delays the inevitable

●You eventually come home, barely coherent, and promptly pass out on the floor

●I think he'd be a little upset with you for not listening to him, but he's mostly worried about you

●You could be a pale, sweaty, and sick mess, but he'll still tell you how beautiful you are

●He'll stay by your side, brushing your hair so it's not too tangled when you get better

●When you start feeling better, he insists you stay in bed

"You must stay here, Azizam. It's important that you get your beauty rest, not that someone as yourself could get any more beautiful"

●Much like Mac, he doesn't let you leave until you have someone to help you run the Café

Mateo🐈

●Not only does he notice right away, but so do the inanimals

●The first thing he notices is that you're home a lot less, and when you are home, you're half asleep

●Normally, he loves it when you come to help out with the inanimals, but when you start looking more and more exhausted, he makes up excuses to have you rest (somehow the inanimals back this up)

"It's actually nap time for everyone now, so there's really not much for you to do"

As of on que, one of the tassel hounds flops over on your lap, preventing you from leaving

●He tries to keep a calming environment for you, but it can get pretty chaotic around the rescue

●When you come home after a particularly hard day, Mateo notices how sick you look. Davi gives you a careful sniff but reels back as you fall to the floor, unconscious

●The other inanimals swarm you, and Mateo has to pull them away so he can take you to Betty

●When he's not taking care of the inanimals, he's with you

●Most of the inanimals are pretty rowdy, so as much as they wanna see you, Mateo keeps most of them downstairs

●He's happy to tell you all about the shenanigans the inanimals get up to during the day

●Out of everyone him and Betty have the most calming aura

●When you start feeling better, he still encourages you to keep resting

"Mi vida, you really shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard. How about we just cuddle?"

A couple of the inanimals may or may not have squeezed their way in, now its more of a cuddle pile (not that either of you mind)

●When you're well enough to go to work, he worriedly waits for your return

●When you come back, he's at your side right away, taking you to Koa and draps a blanket over you (and by that a mean, he koala style cuddles you)

Whoopsie, this one took a bit longer than planned 👉👈 hope you liked it

I did my best for Lux (low-key don't like them), but feel free to lmk how I can write them more accurately

I've gotten way more requests than I thought I would (not that I mind I'm very flattered, actually), so requests might take a bit longer but I'll try to get everything out in a good time

[heartmix]

forgiving means acceptance - CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

Summary: She always loved when people remembered the little things about her, but learned to let that go with Charles. Even as far as letting him get away with forgetting the most important date

Warning: hurt to comfort, happy ending, charles lowkey bad bf, forgetting anniversary, sadness, anger

A/N: if this was me this shit would not fly...good thing it ain't. Wasn't going to end it happy but my last CL fic was angst so i decided to make it have a happy ending

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

In previous relationships, you were always one to stress the little things. Good morning and good night texts, remembering your order from your favorite restaurant, and even making sure to put down the toilet seat lid when they were done using it. Everyone who took the time to get to know you knew how you adored and stressed the little details. That all changed when you started dating Charles. 

You knew the challenges of being an F1 driver and being the unofficial Prince of Monaco at that. Agreeing to be his other half meant that you agreed to the lifestyle of it all. This relationship was going to be intense and unlike anything you had experienced before. 

In the first few months, you tried to remind him of the little things and how much it mattered to you. After some time had passed, and trying to show that the little things mattered to you, the reminders fell through. He did try, and he listened, but he was doing so much at once that the little things were never important to him. One thing you learned about him very quickly was that he was the bigger picture type of person. At first, you were a bit annoyed with it, but seeing more of his day-to-day, you've learned to let it go. 

It wasn't like he didn't love you - he absolutely did, and he made sure to tell you that every day. At times, you wondered if he did. Words meant nothing if actions didn't back them up. He should know better than anyone - he could say the team was going good, but if there were no podium results, then that was all for nothing. 

At first, you were angry at him for not paying attention to what you considered important. Then that anger turned into sadness. Many nights, the worries got to you, and you would stay up thinking if he loved you like the way you loved him. You always paid attention to the little details when it came to him and did your best to cater to his love language. Now it was a year later, and you found a way to be numb to it. You still loved him - that hasn't gone away, but after missing your anniversary, you knew that you should fully let go of him ever catering to you. 

It was hard to hide it from the people around you. They noticed how you wouldn't get upset at the man for forgetting things or missing a lunch you had planned. That alone raised some eyebrows, but they let it go, seeing how much you loved him and he loved you. They would think otherwise if they knew he forgot your anniversary two months ago. 

"Hey, what did you and Charles do for your anniversary? Jake and I are coming up on our one year, and I don't know what to do." Your best friend asked while on FaceTime. You were currently in Canada for the Canadian Grand Prix - you figured you'd kill some time while waiting in Charles' driver's room so you both could get something to eat before he needed to be back to reviewing data. 

"Oh, um.. He took me to dinner at this fancy ramen place while we were in Japan." You nervously came up with something on the spot. It wasn't a total lie. The day of your anniversary coincided with the Japanese Grand Prix weekend, and you did eat Ramen, but it was dinner with his brother, Arthur, as well. 

"Well shit not like I can fly to japan for a simple dinner, but maybe we can go to the place we first met." She thought out loud, making you smile at the thought of her putting a lot of consideration into the special date. Romance was still alive and well for some people. 

"That's honestly, really romantic. I say that's the best date."

"Aw, thanks, babes. Hey, I need to go, it's almost midnight here." 

"Please get some sleep - I'm going to grab something to eat and I'll text you when we get back to the hotel. I love you."

"I love you too, Bye!" As soon as the call disconnected, your smile dropped. You hated lying to her, but you would rather shield your feelings away than have your best friend hate Charles for the rest of her life. 

It wasn't like you meant for your smile to drop. It was natural at this point to put on a persona when talking about you and Charles. Quickly, you shook away any doubts, knowing Charles could walk in at any time. You didn't want him worrying about you when he had a race weekend to focus on. 

As you were getting up to collect your things, to find him, there he was waiting by the door with a frown on his face. The thought of him overhearing your conversation didn't cross your mind. The first thing you guessed was something with the car or the team. 

"What's wrong, baby?" You walked up to him, seeing if you could search in his eyes if he was angry or frustrated. Instead, you found sadness and disbelief. 

"I missed our anniversary?" His voice was soft, borderline broken. There was no way he forgot, did he? 

"Don't worry about it - it was a race week, so it's okay." You tried to reassure him, squeezing his hands to let him know it was okay and you weren't mad at him - not anymore at least. 

"No, it's not okay. How could I forget? Why didn't you tell me?" It wasn't an accusatory tone, more like why didn't you say something, get mad at him, cry, or anything. Why didn't you react in any sort of way? 

"You won in Japan and your first win of the season, how could I take that away? Our anniversary wasn't important at that moment." 

"You're wrong, it's more important. What kind of boyfriend am I not to put you first?" He was now getting mad, his voice rising and his tone harsher. Not at you, just at the circumstance, at himself. 

"Racing is your life, it was there before me."

"But you're my future. You shouldn't have let me get away with missing something that important or anything that's going on. I'm so sorry, mon cherie." He pulled you in for a hug with a kiss planted on top of your head. It was to reassure him more than you. 

"It's okay, it doesn't affect me anymore." Sensing you weren't telling the entire he pulled back, looking at you unsure. There was something deeper, and he knew.

"Stop lying to me. Tell me what's going on." 

"I'm learning to accept that not everything is going to be catered to me. Walking into this relationship, I knew what I signed up for. Your fast life doesn't accommodate my needs. But that's okay, I'm learning as I go."

"You've got to help me here." He asked, still not understanding what you were trying to say. 

"I was always the type to stress the little things. The little gestures are what make me the happiest. Like remembering my order from my favorite restaurant or texting me goodnight when we're not seeing each other for the night. I've learned to let it go early on, and I understand how busy you are, so because I've let that go, I've let everything else you do go." The confession felt all over the place, but relieving, it was bottled up for months, and now that it was finally out, it made you feel just a bit better. 

"You let me forgetting our anniversary go." He clarified with the utmost sadness in his tone. 

"Yeah. I know it wasn't because you didn't love me. I know you do. That's why I learned to let it go." 

"Do you ever do that again. I don't care how busy I am, I forget how fast things go, and sometimes things slip. I shouldn't even need you to remind me. Not only for our anniversary, but for things that make you happy. There isn't going to be a next time, but please yell, hit, scream, do anything because I will not accept anything less. Not when it comes to you." He let it all out in one go, and you couldn't help the smile that was forming on the corner of your lips. 

"Okay." You didn't know what else to say. It was everything you wanted to hear, but now you're speechless. 

"Okay, as in you're going to ingrain in my mind everything you deem important. Okay, as in you will yell at me next time. Do it in front of the garage so everyone will give me shit for it." You couldn't help but laugh at the seriousness in his voice. You knew he wanted the team to take him seriously, so him telling you to basically humiliate him was something you didn't think would come out of his mouth. 

"I don't know about the last part, but okay to the first part." 

"I can settle for that." He smiled one of his million-dollar smiles. "So here's the plan. I'm going to win this race, then you and I are going to Greece for a small two-week break. About time you live your mamma mia dreams."

"You remembered?" Looking at him in shock that he remembered your dream vacation spot. Sure, maybe the standards were low at this point, but you were still taken aback. 

"Oh, I'm not that bad of a boyfriend."

"You did forget our anniversary." You teased, making him roll his eyes. Now that he knew the truth, you were going to weaponize it every chance you could, but he didn't mind one bit. 

"I deserve that."

"But Greece sounds great."  You clarified, making his smile widen. 

"Good because I will continue to make this up to you for the rest of our lives." 

[frizox]

tog2 high so strong I wrote this. Have it. it’s kind of mean (and probably way heavier than the canon a potential third movie may give us)

Thinking about it, he realises Andy and Quynh are the ones doing better in their midst. In the months leading to their rescue they have rediscovered one another, it seems, and now there’s an easy intimacy between them, a light banter and the innate desire of keeping close to one another, that warms their house.

Joe wishes he could feel happy for them.

He wishes he could feel happy for having Quynh back: she’s as beautiful as the day he met her. As kind and caring. As fierce and ferocious. He wishes he had it in him to sit in front of her and let her know how much he’s missed her.

Him, Nicky and Nile are obviously doing worse than them.

Nicky tries his best to perform a grotesque parody of normality: a small smile plastered on his lips at all times, shoulders rigid and taut as he washes the dishes and jaw serrated when they all spend the evenings together. He makes the effort of following the conversations around him, to join in with a small, neutral comment to prove he’s still there, he is present.

Nile is furious and trying so bravely to rationalise through what she’s feeling. She’s keeping her distance from all of them: from him and Nicky, obviously, because their mere presence is a reminder of the things she was forced to do, the things that were done to her, and from Andy and Quynh because their balance, their genuine effort to be helpful and of use in the face of her trauma seem to annoy her most of all. She seems restless with the need to do something, anything at all, now that Discord is gone. The need to find a purpose, a higher meaning.

And yet - she stays. Quiet and fiercely loyal.

She eats with them, she tolerates movie nights and once they’re over sometimes she hides in his and Nicky’s room. Sits on their bed like she wants to say something - but they rarely talk. Nicky and her keep watch through the night.

Joe, however, is feeling absolutely nothing.

He knows what this is. He has gone through this before, but never has the temptation of giving into the numbness been so strong.

He feels the concern in his sisters’ eyes as they follow him around the house. Feels Nile’s fingers squeezing his ankle on those weird slumber parties. Feels Nicky’s strong hands on his shoulder and, more often than not, he feels the urge to tell him to get them off. He resists it.

He thinks of Booker. He thinks of his corpse.

Did he get any last rites? Was he buried in a mass grave? Is his body rotting along the bodies of the people he murdered that night? Or was he cremated? Where were his ashes scattered?

Would he get to the Heaven he believed in if he got cremated? He did reject to believe in another resurrection of the body, after all.

He finds himself chuckling, thinking of Booker and all of his deceiving in the desperate hope of putting an end to his misery, to possibly rejoin his family in some cartoonish afterlife and then being denied access because his body got cremated. And because no one spared a final prayer for him. And because he killed himself - more than once, but that last one stuck.

His family turns to him in confusion and he realises his laughter must’ve been out of place. They’re having dinner, apparently. His fingers are loosely curled around a fork but he didn’t really notice.

On the nights Nile spends in her own room, he lays on his back. Nicky curls around him with his head on his chest, ear over his heart, fingers gripping his shirt even after he falls asleep. Sometimes wakes up with a start, gasping and whimpering, and looks down at him for so long (sometimes in relief, sometimes in horror) Joe wonders if he can actually see him.

He doesn’t know exactly what happened to Nicky in captivity: figures it may not be too different to what he himself went through and yet. They don’t talk about it.

“Not yet,” Nicky whispers on their second night back, his breath on his neck, his hands trailing lower and lower towards his cock. “Not yet, tesoro.”

He knows Nicky. He knows he’s deflecting.

He knows the intensity of everything he’s felt over the last few months needs to be dissected with scientific focus, needs to be carefully compartmentalised or he’ll go insane with pain and anger and grief.

Joe tries to think if there’s anything at all he can offer Nicky. Tries to think of gestures. Of words. Nothing comes to mind - he tried talking before but he chose the wrong words.

Joe tells him once. About the few times he got his mortality back - or his immortality stolen, depends on how you see it, really. About Nile and the apologies she mouthed, again and again, her hands shaking. About how he desperately consented to all of it, frantically, deliriously, because they were swearing they’d bring pieces cut off of Nicky if he didn’t.

“It was nice,” he says. “To feel the pain linger. To see the wound staying on my body. It made more sense than this.”

Nicky’s eyes are terrifying when he wants them to be. He looks at him with something so raw, so wild in his eyes that Joe wonders if he actually said what he thought he did, if he accidentally said something different, if he insulted Nicky without noticing.

“You sound like him.” Nicky spits.

They don’t talk about it again.

He has nothing to give. Not to Nicky, not to Nile nor to his sisters.

He tried giving before. He tried being there. He tried offering comfort.

It served nothing anyway.

They tell him he’s dead after a couple of weeks. Show him the footage of his death. Show him pictures of the body. Point to a wound that looks slightly older than the others, as a formal proof of what they’re saying.

“He wanted it,” they tell him. “He locked your friend out of the room. Made sure he could be easily overpowered. It was quick.”

What, he asks. What. What.

He sees Nicky baking, grating the zest of two lemons, mixing it into a bowl. He snorts at that and in a matter of seconds he’s got his hands on his knees, bent in half with how hard he’s laughing. He points at the lemons on the sink when Nicky looks at him, confused and slightly horrified, and that makes him laugh even harder.

[hitomisuzuya]

Hi hi, I can't wait to send you a request since it's open, hehe🤭 You can ignore my request if it's already request before :3

Can I request a smut fic with yandere scummy scara who's jealous? Like reader talked to their brother but Scara came over and mistakenly thinking reader's brother is their new lover. Reader explained that it's just their brother and Scara trusted and forgave them. But when midnight came, to make sure that reader is belongs to him alone, he silently puts aphrodisiac in their favorite drink and food while they didn't notice.

After they done their meal, he guides them to his room and begins to hypnotize them to stay with him forever by his sweet words, reader succumbed to his words, along with aphrodisiac effect on their body, they willingly let him do what he wants with them without speaking any words. From here, he expressed his possessiveness love to them by marking their skin with his kisses and bites (their neck have the most bite marks cuz I love neck bite :3), fucking and cumming inside them multiple times until they can't bear it anymore and told him to let them breathe but he lets out his desperate side and wants more.

The rest is up to your imagination :33

Thank you for reading this and I'm sorry for my long request😅

scummy! yandere scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. dubcon? drugging/aphrodisiac. multiple creampie. jealousy. praise. bondage. biting/marking.

please, don't apologize for the long request, hunny. the more detailed someone is, the more it helps me. i hope this hits well. my confidence is super low despite really enjoying writing it.

as someone who always gets what he wants, and usually what he wants is easily attainable in some form or another, scaramouche didn't think he could want something so badly until he met you.

you are so fucking far out of his league that it makes him cringe. with your shy disposition, and your sweet, kind and patient smile. you are a treasure he worked so hard to attain.

after all the stalking, stealing your phone passcode and turning your gps on without telling you so he always knew where you were when he couldn't be with you. all the panties he stole and spent hopeless nights jacking off into. all the days he spent fantasizing, and drooling over you, he finally landed you.

honestly, at first, he thought your brain was broken but, he sure as hell wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

scaramouche could hear you laughing and giggling as he opens your front door. laughing and giggling in a way he thought you only did with him. and there was another car parked outside your house.

he stood there in the doorway, wide eyed as you and another guy suddenly stopped talking.

"hi, hunny," you greet him with the perfect fucking smile that always made him oh so weak.

"hi," scaramouche gives you a clipped greeting, leveling the other guy in his line of sight.

the guy laughs nervously, and gets up. "i see i am now intruding on something. i'll call you later," he said, rubbing the back of his neck just as nervously.

scaramouche thought he was going to explode when he saw the guy kiss the top of your head in what he thought was way too affectionate before he left. way too familiar.

"who the fuck was that?" he hisses, holding up his hand to stop you as you went to give him a kiss.

"scara-" you began, only to be cut off.

"i asked who the hell that asshole was? why were you laughing like that?" he demands, clenching his fist, "what the fuck was so fucking funny? let me in on the story," his words are dripping with jealous sarcasm.

you sigh softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "he was recalling something that happened when we were five. he is my older brother, scara. my older, and very gay brother."

....oh.

his expression softens. "fucking fine, whatever. he is just lucky i didn't castrate him," he grumbles, clearly a little humbled. "to make up for.. this, let me make you dinner tonight. whatever you want."

your eyes lit up. "okay, i love it when you cook."

your response is so innocent that you didn't realize scaramouche has an ulterior motive. brother or not, he felt he had come dangerously close to losing you to some other guy. you are way too good for him. any asshole could sneak out from around the corner and take you away from him.

he couldn't fucking have that.

while you are getting ready to go with him to the grocery store, scaramouche steps outside to make a few quick calls. whenever the trip was said and done, all it would take was for him to say he forgot to get some stupid ingredient (that he didn't actually need) and he would run real quick to the convenience store down the road.

and you would be none the wiser. it was oh so easy for him to slip the aphrodisiac into your drink and your food.

you didn't know what was going on. all you knew was your body felt like it was fire, and all you want is for scaramouche to touch you. to fuck you. every fiber of your being screamed it.

you are so wet that you felt your panties sticking to your cunt. every time scaramouche deepens the kisses he is pressing possessively on your lips, his teeth nipping as his tongue devours your mouth, your kisses grew more needier.

he couldn't get enough of the little shiver he felt as his graze over your body, pawing your clothes off. he didn't waste one single sweet whimper of need that his mouth swallows. to put the cherry on top for him, you let him tie your wrists above your head to the headboard.

"do you know how fucking cute you look, all defenseless and tied up for me?" scaramouche pants, resting his weight on top of you to make triple sure you couldn't get away.

his tongue flicks hot over your neck, and you squirm as you tilt your head to the side to give him better access. he shivers in aroused bliss at your virtually silent submission.

"fuck, look at you. you want me. you want me just as bad as i want you," he reluctantly lifts his head from your neck to drink in your hazy expression. your hazy, desperate expression.

you don't say anything as you lift yourself up enough to kiss him again, melting into the bed in a fit of satisfied shivers as his hands fold over your breasts. the pads of his fingers roll your nipples to harden.

the aphrodisiac has made you so sensitive. each pinch sends a jolt of needy pleasure straight to your throbbing clit. your walls clench unbearably around nothing, and you lift your hips, grinding your creamy pussy against his aching cock.

his cock throbs hearing your string of soft moans and whimpers as you struggle to get friction from his cock. "oh fuck yes, moan for me. moan for me, pretty," he returns his mouth to your neck.

"i am going to mark you up," his teeth bite and suck indiscriminately at your soft skin, "everyone will know you are mine. all fucking mine," your pussy is soaking wet on his cock, this was one powerful aphrodisiac.

his teeth fold a chunk of skin into his mouth to suck on as he teases his cock head against your quivering hole. your wrists strain in the soft ribbons around your wrists as you squirm with more desperation.

scaramouche is reeling with love. "i'll give you what you want," his cock slides easily inside of you, "i'll always give my girl what she wants," his teeth bite harder into your skin hearing your loud cry of pleasure.

his mouth is ravenous on your neck as he thrusts, groaning the tighter your pussy squeezes his cock. "fuck you feel so good. your pussy knows it belongs to my cock. you know you belong to me," lifting his head, he can already admire the bruises blossoming on your skin.

"you are mine, all mine. mine, mine, mine," he chants the word like a mantra, generously driving his cock to bully your sweet spot. "you won't ever leave me, right? right?" his fingers tighten around you as you twitch from your approaching orgasm, your moans bordering on pornographic the tighter your orgasm coiled to burst.

he lets out a long moan as his cock suddenly empties inside you. but that doesn't stop him. the squeezing of your walls is only making him hard again. "i'll fill you to the brim, i promise. fuck, you look so pretty."

the blush on your cheeks deepens with every honeyed word of praise. no one has ever called you pretty like this before. he feels you further melt, limp with pleasure. happy to let him consume you.

what feels like hours later, you can't grasp how many times you have creamed on his cock. your body is twitching from overstimulation as you weakly rock your hips into his cock.

"scara..scara..i don't know if i can cum anymore," you manage weakly, moaning and panting between your words. his cum is seeping from your abused pussy, his cock making squelching noises as it pumps in and out of you.

"shh, it's okay, precious. i'll make you cum again," despite being exhausted, your eyes light up at his words. "maybe if i cum inside one more time, my message will be clearer to everyone," he babbles, delighting in your overstimulated whimper of pleasure.

shaking, he tilts your head up a little. "but first, i want to hear from that mouth of yours that you belong to me."

[skelebellie]

i made some (very shoddy) basic refs for my frankenstein!dca au. Meet Solis and Lunar, two totally not made of human skin and metal monsters.

these guys are also up on my artifght (which funny enough im doing [skelebellie]). time for me to go back to the trenches and sketch out my next attacks.

fun facts/minor info is below the cut.

‘The Farmhand’ Solis and ‘The Axeman” Lunar is from my Frankenstein!DCA AU thats based off the original novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelly. Their mindset is set in 19th century England. My DCA boys can share a body, or not—I dont want to limit them (for now).

Solis and Lunar’s relationship is… not defined. Not brothers, and not lovers, but some third, fucked up option.

Solis (he/she/they)

Solis represents the side of Frankenstein Monster that was fascinated by human kind, and what it meant to be a ‘complete’ person.

Solis is called ‘The Farmhand’ because he handles the hearth (Solis’ and Lunar’s shared cabin) and the surrounding land.

Solis is made of a combination of human parts and metal. He can eat, has a tongue, and has most rudimentary organs. Made of the ‘better’ parts of Lunar.

He can make rudimentary crafts, but nothing complicated.

His two favorite positions is the red and gold neck-tie Lunar bought for him, and the deep red leather gloves Lunar made for him.

He hates getting dirty (despite his work), so he wears the gloves to stay clean and sometimes an apron while working outside.

Solis has an obsession (and deep love) for everything living. Animals, humans, insects—he loves to figure out how they work and what makes them ‘tick’. He also has quite the green thumb. However, he is wary of actually ‘meeting’ a human after one chipped his metal rays.

Lunar (he/they)

Lunar represents the side of Frankenstein’s Monster that hated humanity and its complexities. He see’s the world in a much crueler light, and will do what must be done to protect the little sense of normalcy him and Solis have. He also represents the side that was scientific and methodical.

Lunar is called ‘The Axeman’ because a far off village person once saw him in the middle of the night cutting wood (hood on). At first, they thought he was a ghost, and now he’s something of an urban legend. Really, he just cuts firewood at night because Solis refuses to leave their land.

Lunar is made up of metal and human parts. He has a tongue, can eat, and has most functioning organs.

At night Lunar’s job is to go into town and sell Solis’ produce and his own crafts (leather work, clothing, etc). He’s also in charge of refining Solis’ products, such as tanning leather and turning wheat into bread.

His two favorite possessions are his cloak and his embroidered nightcap (that he originally took from his creator as a trophy).

Lunar loves the sky and stars, and writes on and on about his own theories and hypotheticals.

Secretly (super deep deep and probably suffocating), Lunar wants nothing more than to be accepted by humanity.

[non-lo-so0]

Dont make me open your mouth-Yandere Nam-gyu x reader

Warnings:violence of various kinds,reader is forced to ingest blood.

(I'll start by saying that I had another account where I wrote things, but this is the first time i try to write something with such violent themes, so sorry if it's not the best. And btw english isn't even my native language)

___________________

You used to think the games were the worst part...getting shot at for not being able to stand still,getting shot if someone on your team failed to complete their task,risking being killed if you didn't obey the guards...but you were wrong. You hadn't seen the worst part yet, and who would have ever said that it would be offered to you by the ones who like you were risking their lives?

After each round, the survivors got to vote. Stay, or go. A blue circle meant stay. A red X meant leave. You chose the circle,not because you wanted to, but because something about going home felt worse. You didn’t know what waited for you out there anymore. At least here, the rules made sense,and the prize would have practically solved every problem in your life. Or at least,these were the convincing words of Thanos.

In fact,you had also made a sort of group of friends, even though you were well aware that they would probably kill you without hesitationt to survive, but since the situation they were in you didn't really blame them for that.

Still,it was something. Temporary comfort in a place built to tear you apart. There was Se-mi,who kept cracking jokes like humor could hold her together. Minsu,who barely spoke, but always kept an eye on the room. Thanos who was...reckless,practically always high and by extension dangerous to others,but he was always stickily by your side. And then… there was Namgyu,you could see him glare at you every single time Thanos got too close to you.

He wasn’t loud or dramatic like the others. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was quiet and sharp,like he only spoke when he absolutely had to. At first, you thought he was the safest one in the group. The calmest. The most rational.

You were wrong.

In the night after taking part in the Mingle game,the lights went out as always,but you quite couldn't sleep because you were thinking about how apparently Thanos had died in the bathrooms today, in a fight between the two factions.

You knew you weren't the most empathetic person for thinking this,but he was generally nice to you,sure...maybe he flirted a little too much sometimes, but he never tried to hurt you. So you were very sorry about him.

But your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a scream,followed by a general uproar. The two factions were killing each other again,and you absolutely wanted to stay out of the conflict.

You didn’t move at first. You were frozen, crouched behind the corner of a bunk,too afraid to breathe. You later found the courage to get off your bed,knowing that if someone attacked you there it would be certain death.

Until you saw him,Namgyu.

In the general mess he stepped out from the dark like it was nothing. His face calm. His green uniform stained dark;chest,arms,even his jawline streaked with red. In his hand,a bloodied fork.

You felt the panic crawl up your throat instantly. You remembered hearing Minsu’s scream earlier. Se-mi’s name being called and no one answering. Thanos,stabbed in the boys’ bathroom, someone had said. Now there was no one left from your little group.

Just you.

Just Namgyu.

He was looking at you now. Not saying anything. Just watching you,like you were some interesting puzzle piece he hadn’t figured out yet.

You instinctively started to step back,if he had killed Se-mi,he would probably have done the same to you and you knew it. Your body had gone cold all over.

“Namgyu,” you whispered. “Please,i didn’t vote to leave”

He didn’t blink.

“I know" he said quietly.

You wanted to cry. But you didn’t. Not yet.

“I did everything right” you said, voice trembling. “I voted to stay just like you and Thanos asked me to,so...”

He tilted his head slightly,the way someone would when they’re trying to decide whether or not to crush a bug. He steps forward. Slowly. The fork dangled loosely in his fingers.

“There’s no ‘right’ anymore” he says.

The words sink deep. You feel them more than you hear them. He stops just short of you,close, but not touching. You don’t move. You can’t.

He lifts the fork slightly. There’s blood along the edge of the metal.

“I’ve been watching you” he said, almost casually. “From the start. You’re quiet. You think before you act.”

He took a step forward. You flinched.

“You’re scared right now" he added. “But you’re not running. You know better.”

Namgyu raised the fork. His gaze didn’t leave yours.

You shook your head instinctively,you couldn't step back any further, you were practically leaning against the wall. “Please,i'll do whatever you want but…”

“I’m not going to hurt ya” he said.

And somehow,that scared you more. Because it sounded true. Like he meant it. Like he didn’t see this as hurting you at all.

He took another step,until he was close enough that you could see the semi dry blood in the creases of his knuckles.

Then the fork was at your lips.

You turned your face slightly. Reflex.

His other hand reached up and "gently",turned your chin back toward him.

“Don’t do that” he said softly,he was clearly high. “Come on don't make this difficult.”

“I don’t understand what this is,i...” you stammered.

He looked at you for a long moment. The kind of look that makes your stomach twist. He was calm. But behind it,you could feel something waiting. Tight,quiet tension. Coiled like a wire.

“You don’t have to understand” he said. “Just open your mouth.”

You hesitated. Every part of your body screamed no. Your jaw locked shut. But he was patient. Still watching you like he had all the time in the world.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

You knew what he wanted to do. And you were fucking disgusted,so you were shaking your head,with a few tears starting to fall.

"Aww, does this disgust you sweetheart? But i thought you said you would do anything I wanted..."

He teased you as he just kept tracing your bottom lip with the tip of the bloody fork.

"But if you don't want to do it yourself,I always have my ways..."

You were crying now. Silent tears slipping down your cheeks as you opened your mouth. Just barely.

“Wider.”

You did.

The fork entered slowly. You felt it press against your tongue. Cold. Metallic. Tainted.

The taste was sharp,metallic. Sour and wrong. You gagged, eyes squeezing shut.

“Keep it in” he warned,hinting at a quite creepy smile.

You were shaking. Your legs were barely holding you up. The panic in your chest was so loud it drowned out everything else. You were TOTALLY disgusted and scared. You instinctively turned your head to the side,the fork slipped from your mouth. It didn’t fall. He still held it. You gasped, bent forward slightly, hand against the wall to steady yourself.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t strike. He just… looked at you. Like he was disappointed.

“Ugh...you were doing so well” he murmured,with the same tone of a child throwing a tantrum.

“I’m sorry,just don’t make me do it again,it's disgusting...” You say trying to play along: you understood that he had snapped,and you had to act accordingly.

“You said you’d do anything.”

He raised the fork again. This time, he pressed the side of it to your cheek. The blood was sticky now, half-dried.

“You meant that,didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t answer.

He was starting to get irritated,but he was more amused at how scared you looked,at how you were crying so easily.

"Sweetheart..look at you,you're such a mess,are you really crying and getting that upset over a little bloody fork? You have such a weak stomach."

He chuckled softly, and he grabbed your face again,holding it tightly so you didn't move this time,keeping your face still facing him.

You looked into his eyes and saw nothing familiar in them anymore. Not the quiet guy you shared a meal with once. Not the one who helped you by grabbing your arm when you were about to fall at the "red light" pronounced by the doll. Just something cold. Watching. Calculating.

And while you were reflecting,he deliberately shoved the bloody fork back into your mouth,holding your face firmly so you couldn't turn away again.

"There we are. See,wasn't that hard,was it sweetheart? All it took was a little bit of force and you're finally cooperating,maybe I should have just done that from the beginning."

________

Had a dream about this and here we are.

[heavenlikedream]

Best friend hueningkai x fem reader

Slight power bottom Reader? No protection

2,027 words

smut under cut, minors do not interact

After a night out with your friends, Kai insisted on giving you a ride home. You had always been really close with him. Attending highschool together, seeing each other during all your phases and your early youth years. Now being in college, you're grateful to be experiencing it with a close and familiar face. 

Tonight felt different though, Kai seemed like there was something on his mind the entire night. When he talked to you he couldn’t look you in the eyes, instead your lips. His body would tense up when you’d playfully hit him while laughing. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, deciding to break the thick air. “Is everything alright? You seemed like your mind was somewhere else tonight.” Kai gulped “Just a couple things on my mind. Nothing to worry about Y/N.” shooting a quick smile at you before focusing on the road ahead of him again. “You can always let me know Kai, I know you’re a lot smarter than me but if it’s about the upcoming exams-” “It’s fine really.” Another soft smile he gives you. 

The car approaches your apartment building “Come stay for the night, we can relax for a bit before classes tomorrow.” He couldn’t fight you on staying over, he would do anything for more time with you. It was pretty common for him to stay over, late study sessions and just hangouts of just you two. He started leaving extra clothes for him at your place for his convenience. Some days he’d catch you wearing one of his hoodies to school, it would drive insane that whole day. 

Entering your apartment, both of you headed to your room to get your clothes to change into. He loved how you always cleaned his clothes, letting them smell like you. He’d usually go home with it and jerk off to the smell of you. Biting into the fabric trying not to moan your name so loudly. He’s going to try really hard tonight to fight that urge.

He went to the bathroom to change while you changed in your room. He was really used to seeing you show skin, especially in your own home. That was until he saw you step out of your room with a thin tank top on. He was sitting on the couch waiting for you to join him. He quickly grabbed one of the plushies next to him to cover the growing tent in his sweats.

You join him on the couch, “Should we continue the show we were watching last time or start a movie?” you say looking at the tv. He can’t seem to focus with the way your tits just naturally sit, if the ac was any lower your nipples would harden up perfectly. “Let’s do the show we’re almost done with this season anyways.” Kai says, trying to contain his lust. You get more comfortable, sinking into the couch and letting your head rest against his chest.

He felt like you were toying with him, it’s been an hour now with your playful touches. Your hands stay rested on his thigh, shifting and playing with the drawstring of his sweats. His bulge has gone down only a little bit, it only gets harder every time he imagines your hands touching him where he needs you the most. It’s not until he notices you biting your lip that he says something about the situation. “Y/N there’s something I need to tell you.” his words come out in a whisper, scared of what might happen next. You sit up to look at him properly, noticing his red ears. Usually caused when he gets flustered and shy. “I knew something was up, okay tell me.” your hand goes up to softly pinch his ear. It was endearing but it turned him on..

“Just promise you won’t find me weird after I tell you..” he looks down. “What could you possibly say that would make me think that?” that same hand going down to his jaw, making him look at you. “You can tell me anything, I’ve told you almost all of my secrets.” Which is true, nothing goes past Kai, you always keep him updated with everything and he loves it. Loves knowing what’s going on in your daily life, more than others. 

“Well you know how friends usually touch each other when they’re horny, don’t they? I think I read that somewhere yeah yeah.” He said it in one quick breath. His body tensed up so quick he felt the air become thick. “Wait Kai, you need to be a lot slower, I barely understood a word you said. His hands shot up to cover his red face. All the blood in his dick rushed right back to his cheeks. “I’m just really turned on right now..” shifting his legs. “I just really want to come right now..” a whimper escapes his lips.

The way he looks did something to you, feeling your panties getting wet. You felt so shy at his words, bringing your knees to your chest trying to hide your face in them. “I mean I could help..” Your feelings rising up, you really felt like you played your cards right tonight.. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He whines at your words, “You’re turning me on.. You look so cute in that shirt, but I want it off…” Everything he was saying was so hot and it made it so much hotter with how pathetic and turned on he sounded. All his words were covered in lust. So you do what he wants. Taking your tank top off. Seeing your tits free from the fabric, your nipples hardening when met with the cool air. You climbed into his lap, letting your hands roam his waist. Soft moans and whines leaving him. “Kai, can I please touch you.” “Yes, yes please.” Your right hand reaches past his sweats, letting you feel him over his briefs. Feeling a small wet patch of precum. Your other hand lifting his shirt, letting him know you want it off. He does that just for you. 

Seeing his toned chest and bulky arms, you’d do anything to get headlocked by him right now. “How long have you wanted this?” Asking him with sultry meeting your words. He shakes his head, trying to deny this was even on his mind today. “Seriously,  you won’t get to cum if you’re not honest with me.” He whines, that really got to him. “Stop, you're not going to make me last long.” His hands go for your waist, helping you grind against him. He wants those shorts off next. “For years, I’d had a thing for you for years now. I go home and only cum to the thought of you.” His breath hitches as he feels your hand take his dick out from his sweats. Playing with the tip a little bit, watching the precum come out. Really wondering how much he can cum if this is how wet he is from just feeling him up. “Well if it’s worth anything.” Your fingers catch some of it, bringing them to your lips. Looking into his eyes. “I really like you too Kai, I was hoping you’d feel the same too.” Letting your precum filled fingers meet your tongue, dragging them down past your lips, getting a taste of him while having your spit collect in your hand. Reaching your hand back down to pump his dick. “Fuck, I do like you, I really do, kiss me please.” His hands go to hold the back of your head, pulling you into him. Wet and messy kiss was your first shared between the two of you. Kai was so hungry in his movements, his tongue begging to be inside your mouth. Whines and moans slipping out from both of you. 

Breaking the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting you two. “I need more.” He says looking at you with heavy lids. You shift a bit trying to take off your shorts. As you were about to throw your panties somewhere off to the side, he stopped you. “Can I keep these for when I go back?” You don’t know why that made you feel so shy, the thought of Kai using your used panties to get off. “Kai, you can just tell me when you want to have sex.” He pouts, “But what if my girlfriend is too busy.” He’s already claimed you to be his, he was so perfect. “I need some material please.” rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. “Okay but my boyfriend better remember to return them.” smiling at him softly as you shove them into the pocket of his sweats. Which he had pulled off by now.

He loved how you teased yourself by rubbing his tip against your folds, maybe it was because you got to hear him moaning at even the slightest friction. Your bodies just melted into each other so well. HIs hands are holding your hips, while you pull him into another deep kiss. Letting his dick go past your folds, feeling every inch of him in you. Moaning into his  mouth at the feeling. He was thich and a bit longer than average. He could break you with how you went in with no prep, just your wetness helping you. “Mmm feel so good Kai, wish you’d just tell me sooner.” He helped you take all of him, peppering kisses all long your shoulders to comfort you. As you kissed along his jawline. “Your pussy is so perfect.” He says as he feels you clench around him, receiving a cute quiet moan from you.

Once you finally took all of him in, you sat there for a bit. Hiding your face in his neck, “I’m gonna move now baby, okay?” You nod, helping you lift up your hips to bring them back down a bit harder. Soft moans leaving you as he helped find his rhythm. Looking down he saw the bulge, seeing his dick create a bump in your stomach. He pressed onto it, moaning at the feeling. “So deep Kai, f-feels so good.” “Mm yea? You like it don't you?” You moan in response. He felt so good inside you, “Harder please, wanna cum for you.”  One of his hands reached up to grab your tit. Massaging it in his hands, pinching your nipple making you squeal. 

Kai felt himself reaching his high. “Need you to cum with me, wanna feel you cum around me, can you do that for me baby?” nodding with urgency, you kiss him softer this time. Wanting to just feel his lips and taste him. He thrusted up harder into “Inside please, cum inside.” you beg. “Whatever you want, anything.” Holding you closer to him, “I’m gonna cum baby, are you ready for me.” “Yes, fuck yes Kai.” The way you said his name with desire. Couple hard thrust, your wet thighs meeting his sticky ones. You both came hard with pornographic moans. You bit into his shoulder to help you come down from the high. Making Kai whine at the slight pain. Rubbing your sides to help you with your shaking. Giving you kisses on your neck, soothing you through it.

Sitting there for a couple minutes in each other's arms. “Took you long enough.” you say trying to catch your breath. He smiles at you, god you wanna kiss him again. “I didn’t want to ruin anything between us.” you sat up to get a better look at him. He was still inside you so he winced at the feeling of you moving. “Well is this everything you hoped for?” planting a kiss on his lips. “Absolutely.” He returns the favor. “Please don’t move, I’m getting hard again..” he hides his face in between your breasts. “I wanna go again, see how long I can make you go for.” Smirking at him. 

Suddenly getting a hold of your body, getting you to lay on your back with him on top of you. “Let’s go for it.” You were both in for a long night

[ganondoodle]

as funny as this scene is ... toby and the team are very good at combining humor and serious things (or rather, the humor works so well bc it has a solid base? idk words) the longer i think about it the 'worse' it gets

even with them trash talking each other constantly its so obvious that they still care (they share so many phrases and themes you cant even tell who got what from whom.. though i suppose its more likely spamton got them from Tenna .... but also he would have had to be there for quite a while to have so many similarities) even if its complicated- and like, spamton kind of sounds so genuinely happy here?? and the fact he (if you have the dealmaker) comes out of your inventory on his own here when Tenna talks to himself about being at his lowest and wishing him back (more or less) is kinda heartbreaking to me????? for all i know (cut me some slack its been a long time) we dont know why spamton never came back or left in the first place (and there is the thought of ... would he have even been able to come back given that they are all tied to physical objects and to get Tenna to safety later -if you dont let him die- susie literally has to carry him away) and even if its some sense of resentment or pride or shame or something that made him stay away/avoid him, NOW that you got him here and he hears and sees this he actually makes a move????????

for all that spamton is weird and kinda fucked up for unkown(?) reasons, treated badly (even if for good reason(??) i dont remember everything of the first chapters) and everything im just so?? he could have just stayed in your inventory like hes done before but he doesnt

but you also cant really blame Tenna for reacting the way he does here (and yes i do think he knew it was spamton and the overblown reaction was mostly trying to think of soemthing to do bc HOW would you handle this?? and also i do think he could be petty about it but also maybe overreacting ... i know how it feels to overreact in weird ways ahaha- just .. i get it but, dude, why q-q)- you were hiding and he was talking to himself and then spamton just freakinge appears in front of him like that (when Tennas desperate attempt to avoid being thrown away fails, no matter how far he went, when everything is falling apart, when its kinda .. too late) after who knows how long of silence, knowing literally nothing about where he went or why (yet he still kept the pipis.......)---

and then how spamton says hes never gonna do that again, while understandably so and very funny in the moment, im just so .... the one time he actually does seem to try to reconnect (?) with someone he seems to have actually genuinely cared about he gets rejected like that (for also understandable reasons aaaaah) and swears to never try that again ......................................................

blaming each other for their downfall but still caring and then fumbling the one chance they get to meet again im so .............................................. fine about it.

(and not to derail but why .... why is it so easy to let Tenna disappear or die ..............?? even if you do all the nice things if you dont go to the hub after church (if thats possible, i dont ...actually know), or dont give him to mettaton, toriel throws him out and once it rains and hes outside its like the last chance to get him to safety (and most people would probably avoid going there before the church bc you are told to go home when its raining and most would then check everything else first and end up in the church at night.. skipping out on finding him outside in the rain and after that he is just gone??? (i think?)- ALSO if you dont recruit enough/are nice enough Susie says she still went back and searched for him in the dark world (i love her so much) but couldnt find him and the other NPCs refused to help out.................. the boarded up tv room in the hub??? arhj my heart man q-q .......... and when you actually break him the broken TV just stays in the room????????? at least spamton can just chill in your inventory nfjksbfshfkjnfksl)

((also also ...i found it weird you dont get to see susie help him in the dark world or the sealing of the fountain there, i know its at the end of the chapter and sth happens with Kris and the shelter but ... i think thats the only time we havent seen the actual sealing?? and then she tells you what happened if you interact with the TV instead ... i do love the highly missable dialog of her telling you she found and patched Tenna up with the help of the other NPCs if you got them all recruited though.... qwq))

(sorry these thoughts have been spiraling around sicne i woke up today and i literally could not concentrate on work at all bc i kept ... thinking about it .... either way these all all just current incoherent thoughts im throwing around........ i hope we get to see Tenna again later on, though i kind of doubt that)