#and then too much time passes and I feel bad

[temiizpalace]

☆┊THE POCKY GAME

SUMMARY: playing the pocky game with your crush!

CHARACTERS: all dorms (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: cursing, suggestive? not really tho

NOTES: happy pocky day!! I think this game is actually really cute teehee. what’s ur guys favorite pocky? (mines the chocolate or matcha one 🙏🙏)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

GOES IN FLUSTERED, COMES OUT CONFIDENT

you caught him so off guard. he was just minding his own business, doing his thing, then suddenly you hit him with a game like this? really are you trying to kill him, prefect? does this count as a confession?? he feels hot, is his face red? he didn’t even know pocky day existed!

despite his internal panicking, how could he possibly say no to you? placing the biscuit between his lips, letting you have the chocolate side (or whatever flavor u want) like the gentleman he is. slowly, bite by bite his face inches closer to yours. his heart is killing him, but he doesn’t dare to lose. finally reaching to the midsection, his lips find yours, sharing a small sweet kiss before pulling away.

that was much more fun than he thought it’d be. how about another round?

riddle, trey, jack, kalim, silver, malleus

GOES IN CONFIDENT, COMES OUT A LOSER

he was so smug when you asked. say less prefect! he’ll play the game with you since you’re so desperate!

then suddenly he gets second thoughts once you both begin to bite down on the biscuit. little by little, the proximity between you two began to close, his heartbeat racing at the speed of light. thump thump thump. he could barely control his breathing and his palms were beginning to grow sweaty. by the time you’ve expected a kiss, he pulled away, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed.

his cheeks were burning hot and there was a discerning look on his face that screamed flustered. with all the talk he had before, maybe this reaction was better than the anticipated kiss. but where’s the fun in that? you pull out another pocky stick, putting it between your lips for a second time with a devilish grin. you’re killing him, prefect.

ace, cater, ruggie, epel, sebek

A LOSER

had to think long and hard about playing. not cause he didn’t want to, but because he knows he’s going to humiliate himself in front of you.

so how did he find himself standing in front of you, with a pocky in his mouth, inching closer and closer to your face after each passing second? this. is. bad. he’s actually going to fail and look like a godforsaken fool. is his face red? it’s red isn’t it? he should’ve known better. not even halfway, he backs up, covering the lower half of his face with his hand.

please forgive him, but he might just DIE and EXPLODE if he hadn’t done what he just did. it’s not just about his safety, it’s about yours too. please don’t tease him he’s already so embarrassed for being a wimp.

he’s already weak in the knees just being beside you, kissing you would be a whole nother story.

deuce, azul, idia

A FUCKING TEASE

another smug one. except this one has plans to win and actually stick to it. rather than just standing in front of you, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. you hesitate for a moment, taken aback by his bold actions.

the game grew intense, his eyes staring daggers into your own. you’re not even sure if he was blinking (he wasn’t). he took in your reaction, engraved it in the back of his mind, and plans to replay these moments like they were a cinematic masterpiece. just when you were about to pull away, his lips meet yours, sharing a breathtaking kiss.

your face was warm and wore an expression of shock. he loved it. ah, ah, ah, not so fast prefect. technically that was a tie! what’s a game without a winner? looks like another round is in order..

jade, jamil, rook, lilia

SOMEHOW A WORSE TEASE

pocky game? why would we want to do that when he could just do this?

cupping your cheek, he leans over and places a chaste kiss on your lips. it was a gentle kiss, contrasting with the way his hands traveled down to your waist, holding my you firmly in place. his eyes bored into you, enjoying your shock. he was smug. so smug. you could feel him smiling against your lips, leaning in closer and closer til you finally had the opportunity to push him away.

he only smirked in return, letting you go, grabbing a pocky and walking away as if nothing happened.

punch him. you wanted to punch him.

leona, jade, floyd, jamil, vil

A/N: jamil was self indulgent ngl

date published: 11/11/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog pt.2 w/ jeong yunho

idk if this will become a series (it absolutely will, i love him). if you have any asks about this little series then i’ll be more than happy to answer them 🥰

warnings - yandere!yunho, hybrid!yunho, role reversal, yunho calls reader puppy, talk of murder, talk of living in a bad neighbourhood, allusions to masturbation, choking

pt1

you were under the impression that by wearing yunho’s jumper, it might piss him off just a little bit

but as you walk into the living room where he lays, limbs slung across the couch that he deemed beneath him no more than a few nights ago, you’re shocked to see a smirk playing on his lips

if you had much more on beneath it, you might have torn it from your body and thrown it at his smug face, but you wouldn’t want to give the mutt the satisfaction of seeing your tits

“going somewhere, puppy?” it’s been three long, arduous days and he still hasn’t dropped the nickname

you’re this close to getting your name tattooed in hold across your forehead; maybe then he won’t forget it

“the shop,” you walk over to grab your boots; heavy and intimidating and perfect for kicking any creep that gets too close, “i want a snack.”

“there’s plenty of food in the fridge,” he deadpans as you make your way over to the sofa

he doesn’t move, not even when you glare so hard at his legs that he can practically feel you burning holes in them

annoying prick

you settle for sitting right on the edge of the cushion, just far enough on to keep yourself from toppling to the floor as you slip your shoes onto your feet

“i don’t want the food in the fridge,” you say simply as you tie your laces, “if i wanted the food in the fridge, i’d eat the food in the fridge.”

a few seconds of silence pass by, and you’re almost positive that he spends them rolling his eyes behind your back

“it’s dangerous to go out at this time on your own,” as if that’s not the most obvious thing in the world

luckily for you, you have the safe streets memorised, and you carry your keys tight in your fist as a make-shift shiv

yunho seems to forget that you’ve lived here far longer than he has; you’re far too used to how dangerous it can be when twilight hits

“nothing stopping you from coming with,” you suggest, although you hope to everything that is holy that he says no

“i’m not getting changed out of my pyjamas, puppy,” a sigh of relief escapes your mouth as he gives you what want

“well, i’m going either way,” you insist, and he nods in understanding, expecting no less of you

you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re stubborn, maybe even sometimes to the point of being a brat

it’s just so fun to see your victim’s get riled up as you push each of their buttons over and over again

part of you hoped you would’ve learned yunho’s buttons by now, enough to get a little rise out of him, at least

but as he looks you up and down with nothing but neutrality in his eyes, you know that yet again you’ve failed

perhaps you’ve met your match, at long last; the person who can turn each and every jab around and aim them back at you

as your annoyance rises within you, making your bones buzz and your heart clench tight in your chest, you understand just how true that is

and you’re fucking stuck with him

“have fun getting murdered down some dark alley, then,” he just waves you off, only serving to piss you off more

“you’re a prick,” you spit in retaliation

your footsteps are heavy as you head to the door, eyes already trained on the little table you stash your keys on for safekeeping

the little silver stash normally takes pride of place, sitting pretty in the centre so as to not go unseen whenever you’re in a rush to leave

but the table is empty, and you know you won’t have put your keys anywhere else

but then there’s a tinkle behind you; the gentle sound of metal upon metal drawing your attention away from where the keys should be to where they actually are

the mutt’s black ears twitch atop his head as he gently fingers the bundle

you watch as the light catches, reflecting back on his stupidly handsome face in dots of shimmering light

fortunately, his prettiness only makes him that much easier to hate; of course the bastard is a prick when he looks like that

“yunho, give me my keys,” your voice is stern, tired of whatever game it is he’s playing already

“don’t want to,” he says, amusement laced through his words

the keys clink louder this time as he takes them in his fist before slipping them into his sweatpants without another word

“yunh—”

“let’s play a game, puppy,” he cuts you off, “if you fetch the keys like a good pup, i’ll let you go to the store. that sound good?”

the smile he wears is wicked, all teeth like he’s a snarling beast

he might look human, for the most part, but the sharp canines that dig into his bottom lip are a harsh reminder that he’s closer to that beast than he seems

but you’re not in the business of losing, and you certainly refuse to give up without a fair fight

if he wants to play dirty, then dirty is what he’ll get

it takes a mere few seconds for you to cross the room back to the couch, shimmying round it until you’re standing in front of him, legs lined up with his crotch

you sink to your knees, not daring to look at his face despite hearing the deep chuckle he gives you in response

“which pocket?” you spit, words sharp and impatient

“work it out, pup.”

you jump at the feeling of a warm hand petting the top of your head, fingers curling around an invisible pair of dog ears to match his own

you try your best to ignore everything about the situation; the game of fetch, the way you’re knelt at his feet, the way his hand absentmindedly plays with your hair

everything about it screams puppy, and that is not your fucking name

your fingers dip into his left pocket, feeling around for a moment or two before coming out empty handed

you don’t even allow a second to tick my before you delve your fingers into his other pocket and feel around in a similar way

but you can’t feel anything in there either, and it stumps you

yunho hums as you draw your fingers back, finally shifting your unamused gaze back to his face

“you know what i think?” he starts, and you nod, desperate for a hint of some kind, “i think you’d be so pretty with a collar wrapped around that lovely little neck of yours.”

it takes you off guard a little, not at all what you were expecting to drop from his mouth

and yet somehow, as the words sink in a little, you find yourself rather unsurprised

you shoot him the harshest glare you can muster before pushing his hand firmly away from your head

“well i don’t have a collar around my nec—”

the warm palm you pushed from your skull not a second prior, now lies on your throat

you can feel it, gentle yet firm as it holds you in place and pushes your protests away

“are you sure about that, puppy?” he growls; a sound that travels straight to your core, “from where i’m sitting, it looks like you do.”

it takes everything in you to shuffle back, just far enough away that his hand slips free of your neck and falls flat against the leather of your sofa

you stand on shaky legs, taking a few steps towards the bathroom as you do everything in your power to not look at him

if you do, you’re not quite sure what will happen

but your avoidant eyes miss the way he slips the keys free of his waistband and tosses them onto the coffee table, satisfied enough in his win to know he doesn’t have to hide them anymore

“i’m going for a shower,” you say with a shaky voice, slipping out of his sight as he gives you a hum of affirmation

it looks like the shower head will come in handy tonight

[gremlin-bot]

There is No Closure, Just Adapting To Life

Ao3 link: Here Master list: Here

Summary:

Danny should have asked more questions before accepting the request to fix a different dimension's time stream from Clockwork. He didn’t think he would be de-aged and live a different life where he would latch on to a new family and friends. It was nice being a part of a community of heroes.

It really wouldn’t have been that bad if he stayed there. Too bad that he was pulled from that world and back into his old one, both fulfilling his wish to see his original family and killing all the relationships with his new ones.

Now he has to figure out how to live in his original dimension again. And maybe, just maybe find a way to visit the one he forcefully left behind.

Chapter 1: Your trial period is over; your account has been put on hold.

Danny shouldn't be thinking about the past life he lived, shouldn't think about the parents who adopted him only to disappear for months at a time, nor the vigilante family he’d inserted himself into during their time of need. That life wasn't his to begin with! Just a dimension with a timeline that needed fixing in an unconventional way. 

So, why is he crying? 

He just got back to his home, time hadn’t passed here. He can see Sam, Tucker, and Jazz again! (He'll never see Cass, Jason, Dick, Damien, Steph, Kon –) He's more experienced and better at fighting now. He can protect Amity better! (He misses Gotham. The city seemed to make heroes feel like magic) Danny has his original life back… but damn it, he wants to go back! He doesn't want to protect a city alone again! 

Danny curls into himself on his bed. Silent sobs racking his body. He's so different than he was before. His hair was longer and parted in the middle, nothing like his usual, (old), fringe style. His missing scars and the new ones he can't explain. Gods-  (No, wait, it's Ancients) he is missing his spleen! How was he going to explain that, or any of this? Even as his sobs grew more violent, their volume didn't increase. 

A trick he learned in the Wayne manor. 

He didn't want to disturb anyone with his half remembered dreams of a different life.

Danny took a shuddering breath, the feelings he’d been trying to bury since his return hitting him full force. He’d been sucked back to his original dimension without warning a day ago. Clockwork, that bastard, didn't even give him time to say goodbye to the rest of the Bats and Birds. He was in his apartment as Tim Drake one second and plopped in Danny Fenton's bedroom the next. 

His talk with the older ghost didn't make the situation any better. 

He didn't explain anything! Just that his work in that dimension's timeline was done. If Clockwork hadn't time locked the portal Danny would've been in the ancient’s lair instead of dissociating in a room that doesn't feel like his anymore. He hates not being given a choice or having a plan. 

Jason was right; anger was so much easier than actually dealing with your feelings.

His spiraling was stopped when he heard a soft knock on his door. Oh, he’d forgotten that Jazz was home. Living through a lifetime made him forget a lot about his first one. He didn't get time to follow the new spiral of thoughts before his sister opened the door. 

"Danny?" Her voice was soft, laced with worry.

"Yeah," He hates how hoarse his voice sounds.

 He should be better than this; he’s infiltrated the league of assassins for Ancients’ sake. He watched as she approached his bed, buried beneath blankets. He can hear when she actually sees him by her gasp. 

"What happened?" Jazz asked as she sat on the bed facing him.

"I… I fixed a timeline in a different dimension for Clockwork." Danny can't bring himself to look at her. Everything is still fresh. The feeling he can just barely comprehend as grief has yet to settle inside him. He takes a deep breath. He can compartmentalize this and deal with it after Jazz leaves.

"How long were you gone this time, a month or two?" Jazz looks at him with unending patience and care. 

"17 years," He whispers hesitantly.

"Oh… oh, Danny." He couldn’t have prepared himself for the shock and pained confusion on her face. She leaned her over him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Oh, he can't compartmentalize this after all. Danny’s breath hitched as fat tears began rolling down his face, dampening his pillow even more. His life as Tim made him forget what it was like to have unending support from a sibling. He loved the hodge podge of the Waynes, but he was a vigilante first. He wasn’t really family.

Just a coworker.

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much. Just know that I’ll always be here for you little brother,” Jazz’s voice was gentle. Oh, did he miss her during those years. Cass and Barbara helped him cope with missing Jazz whether they knew it or not.  He turned into her, relishing in the fact she was here. He may be missing a whole new family, but he got his old one back.

“I missed you, Jazz. Can you stay here with me for a little while?” He pleaded between silent sobs.

“Of course. I’ll be here as long as you need.��

---------—x—---------

Tim woke up to the sound of typing and the sight of red hair. He must have crashed at Barbara’s last night. He sits up, not fully awake just yet.

“Morning, Babs,” he yawns, eyes blurry. 

The gentle but persistent clicking of keys stops with a hitch of her breath. "Danny, it's me Jazz. Is Babs someone you were close to… before?" 

The voice he hears back isn't Barbara's.

It's one he barely recognizes now, made even harder to place with the barely covered pain. Jazz deserves a better brother than him. 

What kind of brother is he, that he doesn't even remember his own sister at first glance. 

Danny takes a deep shaky breath. No, he can't think like that. He hasn't seen her in 17 years, Of course he isn't going to recognize her. Still she hasn't changed one bit. 

He can't tell if that makes it better or worse.

"Yeah" he croaks, voice rough from sleep and the lump that's formed in his throat. “She has hair like yours.”

“Oh… do you want to talk about it?” she offers awkwardly. She was completely out of her depth but still wanting to help in her own way. (Alfred would have loved to meet her.)

Danny shakes his head, pushing past the aching in his chest as he drags himself out of bed. He doesn't look back at Jazz, he doesn't want to see the pitying look in her eyes. Something ugly, angry, and raw always tends to creep into him when that particular emotion is directed at him, and she doesn't deserve that.

What a cruel joke that the one thing that he gets in spades in both lives is pity.

He needs a strategy if he plans to survive the next couple of days, (the rest of his life), and that starts small. Get ready and investigate what the hell was happening in his life before… his time mission. He lost so much time with his breakdown, how annoying. 

Tim (no, he's Danny now) huffs, opening his closet. Well before he starts anything he needs a damn shower. 

---------—x—---------

By the time Danny was clean and dressed, Jazz had left him with a journal with his name on it and her scrapbook. Ancients, she really is the best big sister. (Cass would contest that). 

He knows that he should dive into them right away, but… he can put it off a little longer. Remembering and relearning will take time, and he has all the time in the world now, whether he likes it or not. Diving deep will be too much. He’s too emotionally raw, and just needs something to latch on to, like: 

Next day survival plan 101, start small. 

He can look at Danny’s phone; he’ll figure out what to do with Tim’s later. Remember, one step at a time; one thing at a time. Finding the device was easy, it was on the nightstand where he always leaves it. Seems like this is one of the habits he kept in both lifes. Opening it up was easier than he originally expected; he really didn't have a sense of cybersecurity beyond Tucker back then.

(…Now?)

The device was familiar in so many different ways; he always did gravitate towards technology (with Tucker pushing him forward right next to him). The screen lit up, showing the basic layout of all phones; he dismissed notifications from dumb games, leaving the social media ones. What he was really looking for was his messages.

He had a couple new messages from Sam and Tucker in their group chat. He should look at the chat, but, in doing so, he'd be facing the people he had been grieving their missing presence for the last 17 years. A missing presence that had him picked up so many new hobbies, just because they reminded him of his two best friends. Danny would have never touched a camera if it wasn't for the ache in his chest everytime he passed a looming gargoyle. The hundreds of pictures will finally be seen by their intended audience, if he could only get himself to open the gods damned chat!

Shaky breath slips from his lips as he steadies his thoughts. Baby steps. Look at the messages and go from there.

— New Messages —

PettyWitch

Tucker I swear if your ass isn't up rn, I'm coming over and replacing all of the meat in your fridge with lettuce.

TFine

give me a sec 2 get down there you can stop calling me 

i'm not going to answer

what about Danny

how come you aren't calling HIM!!!!!

PettyWitch

Bc Danny can actually get up before noon during the weekends unlike other people in this chat! So he can be trusted to get to Nasty Burger on time. 

TFine

HEY!

Their banter goes on. Danny scrolls through it with a painful kind of fondness draping over him. A hole that once gouged his heart was being filled, only to have a different part get ripped out for the same reason. The people he missed will always have some type of mouth on them, especially one that gets them in trouble. Moving past the too fresh grief and focusing on the conversation at hand does bring about a pressing issue, he's supposed to meet up with Sam and Tucker soon.

Shit.

Looks like he's facing more ghosts of his past-turned-present sooner than he thought. It's Tucker and Sam. They stuck with him through his death and his first hero career. If anyone besides Jazz could sympathize with him, it was them. Resolve hardened like the Bat he is (was —there is no way back to them now), he spends the little remaining time flipping through pictures and looping handwriting as he pieces the memory of his old life back together.

[rosewaterandivy]

vena amoris

Summary: some part of me must have died / the first time that you called me “Baby”

Pairing: s.h. x reader

W.C.: 2.5K

Themes: the usual— repressed feelings, smut mentions, Cabaret quotes, Steve ‘down bad��� Harrington™️

A/N: well ahoy there! Did I take a mental health day and brain rot this into being? You bet! Title is Latin for “the vein of love.”

“Oh god,” You’d remarked, with a knowing smirk and lifted brow. “Can you imagine?”

Your tone brokered no argument. It wasn’t a whimsical, starry-eyed, sigh filled statement coming from a naive girl.

No, instead it was a wry, flippant remark laden with sarcasm and pity as the woman by the college green gleefully sobbed out a yes, yes, of course! to a polite smattering of applause as her newly minted fiancé slipped a sparkling band onto her finger.

“And on graduation day, no less.” You bat away the few hairs that had flown into your face buoyed by the summer breeze, your graduation gown fluttering about your legs. “Damn my guy, let the woman have her moment jeez.”

Steve struggled to laugh and maintain composure, because the thing was, he actually could imagine it, and had even done so himself from time to time. The time honored predicament of “keeping it casual” while remaining friends.

He remembers it clear as day, how you’d met in front of the dining hall as he’d overslept (again) and rushed to shove his pockets full of cereal before his morning lecture so as to not fall asleep during Macroeconomics.

”Hey, Buck-o!” You’d crowed from the table riddled with pens, to-go coffee cups, and clipboards, “Are you registered to vote?”

All he can remember thinking, after the pre-requisite it’s too damn early for this was the ever eloquent, well, fuck me.

Nevermind that you were wearing a Reagan Ruined Everything shirt accompanied by the flaming visage of the man. Nevermind that your friend merely snorted at your bombastic accosting of students for the sake of democracy. Nevermind that several people had shoulder checked him in their rush to get waffles and coffee.

”Ritchie Rich,” You’d said with a smile, “Voting solely for your interests or ready to join the proletariat with the rest of us?”

It was an unlikely friendship, to say the least. You, a blue-blood former ballet dancer until “my tits grew in” majoring in poli-sci and him, the sole progeny of a captain of industry on the ivy-league to corporate office pipeline.

So, it really was inevitable that you’d fall into bed together. Even without your grandparents wheedling and match-making attempts. But still, you weren’t dating— he wasn’t that kind of guy and you weren’t even interested in a relationship anyway.

It was sex and friendship, that was all.

Argento movie marathons because it was “a crime you’ve never seen something outside of a cineplex, Harrington,” underneath mountains of a goose-down duvet. Trips to the Cape just to pass the time, M&M’s riddling the hardwood floors in front of a roaring fire with his head between your thighs. Dragging him out on cold autumn mornings to canvass for local elections. Late nights where you’d pass out in front of the flickering tv screen after watching Bitter Rice.

Sure, Robin side-eyed the entire situation and Dustin never failed to remind him how much of an idiot Steve was being. But, in fairness, it was never something that struck either of you as odd.

It was college, people do weirder and more detrimental shit all the time without the evergreen excuse of misguided youth. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Eddie was the one to ruin it all.

“Dude,” He’d said, surprisingly serious as he loaded up his bike for the drive back to New York. “Not for nothin, but if I were you Harrington,” He inclined his head toward where you were at the coffee cart. “I’d lock that shit down.”

”Whaddya mean? We’re just friends.”

“Sure buddy,” Eddie laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

But did he really think about it after that? Of course not, just continued to careen toward graduation and the inevitable.

He was destined for great things, according to his father: continuing the family legacy and filling the coffers, working abroad in Europe for year post-grad and securing those overseas accounts.

So when he wasn’t suffering through mind-numbing lectures, and being at dear old dad’s beck and call, Steve was doing what he did best: wilding with the gang or hanging out with you.

Which mostly resulted in fucking at increasingly creative locations at your place or his, but he digresses.

His graduation was uneventful— his father sternly nodded his approval while his mother posed them like dolls for a family photo. They’d drug him to a prolonged who’s who of his father’s connections under the guise of a celebration dinner, to which none of his friends had been invited.

Steve had schlepped himself back to the apartment, less drunk than he would’ve preferred given the circumstances. Only to be greeted by you at the door, in one of your more creative get-ups consisting of a 1920’s boudoir set with stockings.

Plum-painted lips split like a ripe fruit, white pearly teeth gleamed in the dim hallway light. And his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest.

“Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,” You gently kick the door of his apartment the rest of the way open to reveal people packed to the brim inside— Robin, Dustin, Eddie.

“Fremde, étrange, stranger.”

Because of course you’d throw him a going away party, themed no less (“Cabaret only seemed appropriate since you’re Berlin-bound come morning,”). The drinks are flowing and the music is thumping and all he wants to do is kiss you, so he does.

And the world doesn’t cease to turn, the music doesn’t stop, his friends don’t give a damn. No one is shocked by this turn of events, not even the elusive ex of Stanford fame Nancy Wheeler.

Because if there’s one thing that everyone knows, well everyone excluding you because if you somehow caught on to him Steve might actually drop dead right then and there—

What everyone knew was this: Steve Harrington was not and had never been a casual guy.

He heard Eddie mumble something about Sisyphus into his drink before pulling him off of you. Your lipstick was smeared and a little patchy now, but he sure as shit didn’t care, his own mouth was probably branded now too, bruise-colored as if he’d bitten into an overripe stone fruit.

A big deal is made about getting the King a drink, as Eddie all but frog marches Steve to the bar.

“So,” He greets, clapping him on the back, “You’re down bad.”

Steve nearly chokes on the beer, the frothy foam ticking at his nose. He swallows past his heart lodged in his throat, and shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell that to your mouth, Liza,” He sweeps a thumb against Steve’s bottom lip, it comes back riddled in purple lipstick. “You know you leave tomorrow, right?”

Steve turns back to the bar and signals for a shot of something, anything really. He sips at his beer in the interim, letting Eddie’s declaration linger in the air between them.

They drink in silence until Robin stumbles in, dragging Steve away claiming “besties before the resties!”

He spies you and Dustin chatting nearby, you catch his eye with a lascivious and exaggerated wink before throwing your head back in laughter at something the dingus had said.

The party rages on for hours— he’s already packed and ready to go for his flight tomorrow, and he knows you’d put a lot of effort into this send off, but Steve would like nothing more than to wrap himself around you and fall into bed. Eventually someone catches onto this and alerts the guests that they “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Steve doesn’t know who to thank for that, Nancy maybe. He’ll figure it out later. At that moment, he was more concerned with getting those glasses out of your hands and that garter belt on the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” You’d asked in the early morning light, watching as he stumbled into his pants and threw on a shirt.

Your face was freshly scrubbed of your makeup from last night, soft and open as your eyes trailed him from your spot in his bed.

He was a weak, weak man when he’d sat down with a sigh and asked, “Tell me not to go?”

He can hear you shuffle across the bed, can feel the warmth of your body as it drapes against his back.

“Tell me not go to,” Steve continues, “Tell me to blow off my dad, the Harrington destiny, tell me to fuck it all and that I can figure something else out.”

You nose along the column of his throat, lips settling at the nape of his neck. His hand finds its way to yours, arms wrapped against his shoulders, fingers dancing along his collarbone. He links a solitary finger with yours crooking into each other like monkeys in a barrel.

“Oh babe,” You sigh, the pet name rolling prettily off your tongue, “You know I won’t do that, as much as I would delight in smearing the Harrington name.”

You grip him all the tighter.

“You have a plane to catch and a life to start. A life you were dragged kicking and screaming into but you know what?”

“What?”

“The only way out is through, Steve.” You rest your head on his shoulder, continuing, “The changes you want to make? Well, it’s your life so make them. Who’s going to stop you? You’re a blue-blood white man in a world built to serve people like you.”

“Are you going to lecture me about the patriarchy? Because it’s too early for that—"

“I’ll spare you, just this once.” You tease, “But no, I’m just saying that you have options and it’s a year away from your father. Take advantage of it.”

Steve knows you mean well, that you’re trying to put a positive spin on his departure but still, it hurts.

He stands back up with what he hopes is a believable smile on his face. He expects to see you settled back in the sheets when he turns around, not hopping on one leg as you attempt to jam your foot into your Vans with one hand, while clawing into a bra with the other. Somehow, you’re already in sweatpants.

He can barely restrain his laugh, “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, accompanying you to the airport, duh.”

And if his heart wasn’t already broken, surely this would’ve been the nail in the coffin.

“No, don’t get up.”

“Too late for that.”

“My bags are already in the car,” He tries again, trailing after you from the bedroom to the kitchen.

“Great! Do we have time for coffee?”

“No, seriously,” Steve catches your hand before it can land on the doorknob, tugging you back from the door.

“But,” Your voice has lost its joking tone and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I have to say goodbye. I have to wave at you from the gate.”

“They won’t let you past security.”

“Then I’ll wave from there,” You say with a sniff, blinking the tears from your eyes. “I have to go, please.”

Steve, in that moment, chooses to glance up at the rafters of his loft apartment in an effort to keep his emotions in check. So he misses how greedily your eyes take him in, as if it’s for the last time, how you’re biting your lip so hard as to draw blood.

And by the time he looks back down again, you’ve found a spot on the floor to stare steadily at.

“Hey,” He says, curling a finger under your chin prompting you to glance up. Steve gives you a watery smile at best before imploring, “I need you to listen to me, please.”

He waits for your nod of assent before continuing.

“Everything is all set— I’ve paid the rent on the apartment for the next year, so you don’t have to worry about that. I know you won’t use the car service, but there’s a few more weeks left on that too, so.”

Your face falls with the finality of it all. That Steve is actually leaving, that he’ll be in Europe for the next year “growing up” as his father intended. And that maybe you should’ve done more to help him want to stay.

“There’s a ticket for you on the counter for after midterms, I’ll meet you in London and we can do whatever you want, just like we agreed.”

You nod quickly and take a short breath. He kisses you on the forehead and promises to call once he lands.

As his hand twists open the door, you blurt out:

“Please don’t do this. Let me come with you to the airport. You’re going to be gone for so long and—"

“Baby.”

And you know he’s serious because that diminutive is solely reserved for when you’re at least two orgasms deep and he’s got your knees up by your ears. Sweat-slick and ruddy-mouthed, your whole world narrowed to focus on him, desperate longing veiled by throes of passion.

Steve doesn’t even turn back, and you can hear how his voice shakes. “If you go with me, I won’t get on the plane.”

Your arm drops from where you’d reached after him, hadn’t even registered the action as you did it.

In a small, guilty voice you say, “I know.”

The muscles of his back feather as he sighs, his grip on the doorknob knuckle-white. He knows you can’t really mean it, that it’s the scared, vulnerable part of you stumbling as you offer him an olive branch; a way out.

In the end, he got on the plane anyway.

Smash-cut to a year later, the same college green but this time it’s not him in the graduation cap and gown. Steve took the week off for your graduation festivities, flew back into Logan then rented a car for the drive to Cambridge. Made nice with your parents and grandparents, shook your grandfather’s hand politely when he’d said that Steve was a “fine boy from a fine family,” and tried in vain to forget the fact that this is the same man who’d learned his granddaughter was sexually active with him, mind you, in front of no less than a missionary, a minister, and a rabbi.

But all of that is neither here nor there, as you clap politely for the newly engaged couple, pinning your mortarboard beneath your elbow. And because he knows you, Steve catches your eye roll sequence, surely at the audacity of That Man who proposed on his girlfriend's graduation day, from Harvard no less.

He snatches the satin covered cardboard from you, and throws an arm around your shoulders walking you toward the rager of a graduation party Eddie was throwing at your apartment.

“I know,” He says conspiratorially, relishing as you lean into him. “God forbid a woman do anything.”

Your laugh is a good distraction for him, something loud and joyful to focus on as the ring box in his left pocket sinks like a stone.

[hoodielord]

Grim and Hood

Nightwing 

Gotham Bay Monday 9pm

 Dick didn't know  about Jason's gang or much about his crime lord work in general. But now is a better time than later to learn. Jason had been watching a shipment of chemicals that scarecrow had supposedly ordered. But another issue had come up where Jason was needed. So Jason sent some members of his gang to help with the shipment.This just so happened to include Jason's second in command. 

Dick wasn't expecting this. Jason's second in command was around Jason’s age. He’s a head shorter than Jason.They are lanky though and pale. They wore a skelton mask that covered the lower half of his face. They moved like Cass or Duke; clung to the shadows and moved silently most of the time. It was surprising given their white hair. When it was time to move into fighting they were brutal, not deadly, but enough to break a few bones and incapacitate men twice as built as they were. Everything about them screamed meta.

 This skeleton was definitely a meta of some sort. Quickly they climbed into the rafters of the warehouse. Green eyes glowed as they swept through the warehouse. They were hunting for something. Skeleton’s eyes snapped to a man running for the exit. 

Like a whip they zipped through the rafters and descended on the man. The man shrieked in surprise and swung. But his arm never hit them. No, their arm went through them like he wasn't there. The man freaked blindly and swung at him screaming.

“What are you?!”

The skeleton mask’s fist slammed into the man’s face and the man crumbled. Skeleton dug through the man’s pockets and pulled out a glowing green vial.   

After the fighting was done and the shipment was secured Hood arrived. 

“ Hey Wing.”

“Hey Hood. So who's that?” pointing to them as they worked on helping the injured and tieing up the goons.

“That’s Grim, he does most of the work when I'm not around.”

“ Hey boss, everything's secure!” One of the gang members calls.

“ Good. Okay Sam and Ralph will make sure the shipment is handed off. Bill makes sure these idiots are hauled away by the cops. The rest of you can pack it in for tonight.”

The rest of the gang moves out or to their posts. Except Grim who walks up to Hood.

 “ Hey Grim, you good?”

Grin nods and hands Hood the vial.

“This is probably the new prototype the demented sock puppet was working on.” Their voice had an echo but maybe more like many different voices were speaking as one. 

Hood let out a chuckle at Grim’s remark.

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

Despite, the mask you could tell Grim was smiling but his expression faltered and he wavered.

He mumbles something about overtime and then proceeds to face plant right into Hood's chest.

“Is he alright?”

Hood sighs “ Yeah, he should be alright. He just fell asleep.” Hood mumbles something about bribes and revenge.

“Do I wanna know what you’re planning?”

“Not unless you want the same thing to happen to you,” Hood says as he picks Grim up and throws him over his shoulder.

“See you later, Wing,” Hood said before calling the gang for a car.

----

After a few rings, she picked up.

“Hey, Spoiler.”

“What’s up Hood?”

“If I make you waffles tomorrow would you help me get revenge on RR?”

“Hell yeah! Wait. What kind of revenge?”

“I am thinking more of your kind of revenge.” 

“Deal!”

“Awesome, so here is the plan.” 

----

Tuesday 1am, Jason’s apartment

“Hey, your coworkers said you have the rest of the week off,” Jason said from the kitchen.

“Cool…your brother needed to chill with the overtime. I feel like I did in high school dealing with ghosts.” Danny mumbled from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, I already have that covered.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jason didn’t answer.

“Jason, what are you going to do to your brother?”

“Nothing too bad.”

“Jason.”

“It’s fine, get some more sleep.”

A few seconds pass and then there is a crash in the living room.

“Get back here, intruder!”

“You're literally the one that crawled through the window!”

Jason recognizes that voice and rushes to the living room.“If you don’t stop right now I am not helping clean the barn this weekend!”

Danny was standing on the couch with a crystal blue sword in hand  as Damian looked ready to strike but stopped midswing.

“You promised to help! You dare break your promise! And explain, who is this harlot?”

“Who is this kid and why does he speak like he’s from a period drama?....The fuck is a harlot?” Danny said, still holding tight to his sword ready to block the swing.

Jason sighs,”Demon brat, this is Danny. Danny, this is Demon brat.”

“tt.That explains nothing.”

“Zero net gain of info there, Jay.”

Both of them ease slightly in their stances.

“Demon Brat, why are you here? B do something stupid again?”

“Oh. this is your other little brother.”

Danny released his grip on his sword and it began to dissolve into nothing. At this Damian tightened his grip on his sword.

“ Damian, he’s my friend.”

“Fine…It was Grayson. He was too stifling after tonight." Damian put his short sword away. Jason and Daiman walk into the kitchen as Danny slumps back into the couch.

“Let me guess you got injured?”

“I only required three stitches. He is overreacting.”

“Fine. I got tea. You can only stay for an hour though. Don’t need all the bats to show up on my balcony.”

“That is acceptable ... .You're expecting someone else?”

“Steph is helping me with something…. You’ll see later.” Jason said with a grin.

-----

Noon, Wayne Manor. Dick

Dick was at the manor because he was preparing to cover for Bruce as Batman when he was off-world dealing with a Justice League issue.  

The door into the dining room swung open violently followed by Tim marching in covered in neon green glitter. There was so much glitter that it trailed behind him. 

“ You look like you’re trying to cosplay the riddler. Did Steph do that?” 

Tim just grumbled and held up a light purple sticky note. 

‘Yep, definitely Steph.’ Dick thought, grabbing the note.

 The note read: ‘Jason said you gave your R&D department too harsh a deadline for a project and they had to work double overtime on it. So you get a glitter bomb! 😛 P.S. No, I am not helping you clean it. Yes I got bribed. No, I am not helping you get him back.’

“Why would Jason care about your R&D department? Also double overtime? That's harsh.”

“One of his friends is a part of it.  And I wouldn’t have had to do that if the client wasn’t a total ass about it…Maybe I should send them a glitter bomb….. Anyway, I gave the department the rest of the week off.” Tim mumbles as he rests his head in his arms on the table. 

“First of all , I think the glitter bomb is a bad idea. Secondly, Jason has a friend working at W.E.?”

“Yeah, one of the top engineers. His name is Danny ... .Never introduce him to Steph. I will never see the end of the glitter or worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. He found out someone was stealing his pens. He replaced the ink in them so that the thief was writing in glitter gel ink on official forms. Then there was the time he set up a code on another engineer's computer that would randomly call him an idiot.”

“ What did he do to deserve that?”

“Used and misplaced Danny’s socket set.”

Dick laughed. “Well it’s nice that Jason has another friend.” Dick paused after a moment and said, “We should never introduce him to Roy either.” 

“Oh God, no.”

Thinking about it now Danny was probably Grim. But Tim didn’t need to know that now but knowing him he probably already did.

“You should probably go change.Alfred not going to be happy to see all the glitter too.”

“He should make Jason and Steph clean it.” Tim groaned.

At this time Damian walked into the dining hall and stopped to state at Tim with a knowing grin.

“Gremlin, did you help Steph and Jason with this?”

“No, I would not stoop to that level. Todd had mentioned he and Brown were working on something together.”

Noon same day, Jason’s apartment, Steph

Steph was always up to pranking Tim, well anyone in the Batfamily except Alfred really, but she wanted to know why Jason was defending the R&D department with this revenge thing. So after the prank was pulled she swung by Jason’s apartment.

She climbed into the living room through the fire escape window.

“Hey, I was promised waffles!”

Someone sat up on the couch with wide blue eyes staring at Steph. A mess of black hair flopped in different directions. They have an iron grip on the back of the couch. They're lanky and thin, practically swimming in a 3xl t-shirt. That’s not Jason.

“Nobody I know uses the goddamn door!” Jason yells stomping into the living room. 

Danny and Steph point at each other and turn to Jason.

“Steph, this is my friend Danny. Danny this Steph. Who I am going to personally show the definition of defenestration.”

“Hey you’re the one that promised waffles. And here I helped you with your revenge.” Steph  defended herself.

“Revenge? Waffles? Waffles sound good. Revenge is best cold though or something like that. Waffles not so much. ” Danny said half asleep and then promptly fell back asleep.

“Is he alright?” Steph said, leaning over the couch to see if he was.

Jason sighs “He hasn’t had enough sleep in this past week. Come on, I'll make you your waffles.”

In the kitchen Jason gets to work making Steph her waffles. After a few moments she asks “soooo…is he the reason that you had me glitter bomb Tim’s office?”

“Yep. Last week Danny was helping me with tracking the shipment of Scarecrow's fear toxin that we took care of last night.”

“Danny knows you’re Hood?”

“Yeah, I met him as Jason first then as Hood, he works with the gang.”

“Does Tim know?”

“I mean its a matter of time. Anyway, this week Tim had the R&D department, where Danny works, do more overtime to finish this project hence the glitter bomb.”

“You are the only nerd I know that would use the word hence…. I would never call Alfred a nerd.”

“Understandable but if you call me a nerd again I am burning your waffles.”

“Nooo!”

“Hey how come Danny looked like he was about to run when I yelled?”

“That’s because the gremlin decided to stop by earlier and then proceed to try and hunt Danny for sport.” Jason said, placing the first plate of waffles in front of her.

“Ha, yeah that explains it.” Steph said, taking a bite of her well earned waffles. 

“Soooo want to tell me why he's wearing your t-shirt?”

“No”

Two days later, Gotham bay, Roy

Jason had asked for some help with some experimental tech he was working with. He wasn't expecting to find a new buddy to talk shop with.

Arriving at the warehouse he spots Hood waiting for him by the door.

“Hey Roy.”

“Hey Jaybird, so what’s the tech you wanted to show me?”

“It’s inside, a member of the gang is looking...” 

Hood was cut off by a small explosion from inside the warehouse. Hood and Roy burst into the warehouse. Smoke curls through the air as they rush in.

“Grim! Where are you? Grim!” Hood calls as he moves through the crates and boxes.

“Damn it! Where are you? Danny!” Hood was panicking; it wasn't like him. Who was this Danny person?

There’s a fire up ahead with smoke curling up to the roof. A few shouts from different gang members rush to find the fire extinguishers. Like a bullet, one of the members with snow white hair dressed in all black, rushed forward. They seemed to blast the fire with a wave of ice as other members came in with fire extinguishers. 

“Grim!”  Hood yelled as the one dressed in black seemed to stagger after the fire was out.

Hood rushed forward grabbing them by the shoulders and steadying them.

“Hey Grim. You there?” 

“Hood?” his voice was quiet.

“Yeah it’s me. You okay?”

“Yeah I'm okay.” he still didn’t sound all there.

“Why don't you sit for a bit.”

“Yeah..”

“Okay I’ll be checking everyone else okay?”

Hood helped Grim to one of the crates to sit. Hood and Roy walk away as Grim calms down.

“Jaybird, is he alright?”

Hood sighs “He will be… explosions at close distance send him off sometimes.”

“Bill!”

“Yeah, Boss?” 

“What happened?”

“Grim was working on the device when he just froze suddenly and freaked out, getting everyone away from it. Then it exploded. Nobody’s hurt. How’s he?”

“ He’s calming down now.”

-----

Hood and Roy looked over the wreckage.

“Well I don’t think we are going to get anything from this Jaybird.”

“The device had a secondary trigger.” a voice came from behind Roy.

“Jesus fuck!”

Grim jumped back a little at Roy’s outburst. Hood just laughed at them both.

“Are you sure you’re not a new Bat or something?”

“No. Why would I dress as a bat furry?” Even with the skeleton mask you could tell he had a smirk across his face.

Hood started laughing harder and Roy laughed too.

“I’m Arsenal.” Roy stuck his hand out to Grim.

“Grim.” They said, shaking his hand.

“Grim works as the gang’s second in command. He’s also the tech expert on hand. And this is Arsenal who’s okay with tech.”

“Jaybird I am better than okay.”

“I once saw you jam an arrow into a computer that you couldn’t hack.”

“I didn't have enough time! Plus it worked didn’t it?” Arsenal 

“I mean whatever works.” Grim shrugged.

“See Jaybird he gets it,” Roy turns to Grim “Hey wanna hear about the high powered flamethrower I made?”

“Hell yeah. I made a laser gun out of a microwave once.”

“I am now regretting letting you two meet.”

“Too late!” Grim and Roy exclaimed. Grim’s eyes lit up, literally they were glowing green. 

Hood sighs “Okay but let’s work on the problem at hand first.” he then turns back to Grim, “Also if you ever work together on something I’m telling your sister.”

“Spoilsport.” Grim huffed.

They went to work on the remains of the bomb looking over the components.

“Are you doing okay Grim?”

Grim hummed at his question. “Yeah… this is just my luck huh? I got a week of overtime and almost blew up…”

“But you didn’t. You saved them before it could hurt you or anybody.”

------

[catboyieejeno]

because even then, i knew — l.sm { 2 }

genre: non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au

cw: female reader, petnames, cursing, seokmin is desperately down bad, slowburn, pining, so much fluff, mentions of alcohol, consuming alcohol, nsfw, oral (f recieving) protected sex, mentions of cheating, angst

wc: 23k

tracklist: {spotify} {apple music}

navigation: {one} {two}

note: play wonder - kyungsoo

≡;- ꒰ ° two꒱

After that night, everything felt different to Seokmin. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was a quiet shift in the air, a change that felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to realize something new. The kiss had unlocked something—a door between him and you, and now, everything was moving in a direction he hadn’t quite expected.

It wasn't overwhelming. Not in the way he'd feared. There was no rush, no need to hurry through the moment. Instead, he lingered in the afterglow, letting the warmth of your smile, your soft laughter, that had soon become his favorite sound, and the quiet moments you shared settle over him like a comfortable blanket. Every time he saw you, it felt a little easier, a little more natural, like this was where he was meant to be all along. But still, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Nervous in the worst and best way, the kind of nervous that made his heart flutter whenever his eyes met yours.

And he noticed, with a growing sense of quiet affection, how you started to pass by the flower shop more often. At first, it was just a passing thing, like the usual routine of grabbing him for coffee, but soon it became something more. The way your gaze lingered on the window, the way your eyes would light up when you saw him behind the counter, arranging flowers, or tidying up the shelves. It felt like a secret, even if it was simple, a little dance of shared glances and quiet moments. Sometimes you’d stop by, just for a few minutes, chatting about the most random things—weather, books, life—and he would savor those brief moments, like they meant the world to him.

It wasn’t just those little interactions, though. There were messages now—casual at first, but with every day that passed, they became more frequent, more personal. Seokmin found himself looking forward to your texts, to hearing about your day, to seeing the little things you’d share with him when he wasn’t around you. And when he’d send back something goofy or heartfelt, he couldn’t help but smile at how easily the conversation flowed. It felt… effortless. Liking you was effortless. 

After that night, he and you started going out more and more often. The beach, the museum, the karaoke, they had led to more—a walk in the park, spontaneous visits to the bookstore, long talks that seemed to go on forever. It felt like the lines between friendship and something more were beginning to blur, but Seokmin didn’t mind. He wanted it, in a way he couldn’t entirely explain. Being near you felt right, felt easy in a way he hadn’t realized was possible. There was laughter now, just as there was before, but it was different. There was more intimacy in it, a warmth that wasn’t just about shared jokes or teasing. There were touches too. Small things—your hands brushing as you walked together, the moments when your fingers would linger a little longer than necessary. 

And then, when the picnic he owed you was mentioned, it felt like the perfect thing to do to complement the windy weather. As he packed the charcuterie board, overloading it with more food than either of you could possibly eat, he found himself looking forward to it as he usually does whenever he would get to spend time with you.

He finds himself constantly thinking of you—wondering what you were doing, what you were thinking, how you were feeling. And it wasn’t just a fleeting thought. It lingered. It was more than just a crush or infatuation. It felt real. And though that made him apprehensive, there was something in him that wanted to take the chance, for what felt like the first time in forever. 

He needed to see this through with you. You deserved that much, and more. 

Maybe it was too soon to know for sure. Maybe it was too early to put a name to it. But Seokmin couldn’t ignore the way you made him feel. And as much as his past made him hesitant to dive in too quickly, he knew that somehow, with you, he was willing to at the very least, try. 

The park is bathed in warm afternoon light, filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows on the grass. Seokmin arrives with an armful of supplies, a wide, proud grin plastered on his face as he reveals his self-made “charcuterie board,” which, to your surprise, takes up nearly half the picnic blanket.

He’s packed everything. From neatly arranged meats and cheeses to stacks of crackers, olives, fresh berries, and even a few jars of spreads. He beams at your astonished laugh, like he’s managed to pull off the ultimate surprise. “I may have gotten a little carried away,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, feigning modesty, even as he’s clearly pleased with himself. He promised he would out-do your sandwiches, after all. 

“A little?” you tease, biting back a smile as you watch him lay everything out with meticulous care. He hands you a cracker topped with some kind of creamy cheese and strawberry jam, watching for your reaction with a delighted anticipation. You take a bite, savoring it, and he grins wider, clearly satisfied.

“I also didn’t know what kind of cheese you would like.” 

“Right,” You giggle, “and the logical solution was to bring seven different cheeses?” 

He nods, leaning forward to leave a kiss on your lips before fitting another cracker into his mouth. “Course. You deserve nothing less,” he jokes. 

Once you’ve both had your fill of snacking, he pulls his guitar out of its case and pats the spot directly next to him on the blanket, urging you to get closer. “Alright, time for the next part of our date.” he says, guiding your fingers to the strings with a gentle, steady touch. His fingers rest over yours as he shows you a simple chord, his face close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

“Press here,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers along the frets. “And then you strum, like this.” His hand covers yours as he shows you, his touch warm and steady, his eyes flicking to yours with a soft, slightly mischievous smile.

Your first attempt is clumsy, the sound far from perfect, but he only chuckles, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. “You’re doing great,” he assures you, squeezing your hand gently before he releases it. “Way better than I was when I first started.”

You try again, more focused this time, but his thumb starts tracing little patterns against your palm, thoroughly distracting you. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, his lips ghost over your neck until you feel them land a kiss there. The feeling makes you roll your head back against his chest and you glance up to see him watching you with a soft look in his eyes, a hint of adoration that makes your heart want to burst.

After a few minutes, the lesson dissolves entirely as he leans in, pressing another light, playful kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, before brushing his lips against yours in a way that feels perfectly effortless and natural. He laughs softly, murmuring, “You’re way better at this than you think,” before he kisses you again, longer this time, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you a little closer.

There’s a teasing edge to your voice he can clearly hear despite the fact that you’re nearly whispering. “You mean kissing? Or playing guitar?” 

“Both,” He hums against your lips and you whine. 

He reluctantly pulls away, placing his hands over yours again. “Alright, this is a C chord,” 

Seokmin watches as you fumble with the guitar, fingers finding their place on the strings with uncertainty. His heart swells a little—he’s never thought teaching someone guitar could feel so right. But with you, it’s different. You’re here, looking up at him with wide, focused eyes, and he can’t help but lean in closer to guide you.

“Here, like this,” he says softly, his voice warm as he brushes his fingers over yours to adjust your hand on the neck of the guitar. His breath is near your ear, and you can feel the closeness, but you focus on the instrument, trying to get the chord right.

You glance up at him, an eyebrow raised, half-challenging. “Like this?”

Seokmin’s smile widens as he nods. “Exactly. That’s it.”

He lets his hand linger for a second longer than necessary, but quickly pulls back as he instructs, “Good. Now, try strumming.”

You strum the strings, but the sound doesn’t come out as clean as you’d hoped. It’s messy. You sigh, sitting back against him slightly, fingers still pressing the strings, trying to fix it.

“This is harder than it looks,” you mutter under your breath.

Seokmin laughs softly, his tone light and teasing as he leans in again. His shoulder nudges yours gently. “It’s okay, it’ll come. And if it doesn’t, that’s okay, too. Honestly, I think you look pretty cute trying.”

You raise an eyebrow and shift just slightly. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He grins, shrugging casually. “Maybe a little. But it’s true.” His voice drops, a little softer this time.

The words linger in the air for a second, but you just laugh, trying to distract yourself with the guitar. You focus again, pressing down the strings, trying to make the chord ring true. When it does, you look up at him, eyes wide.

“Did I do it?”

Seokmin’s heart gives a little skip. The way your smile spreads, bright and genuine, makes him feel something warm settle in his chest. “Yes. Exactly like that,” he says, a little breathless. He can’t help but admire the way you’re so proud of yourself. 

You’re both quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something about this moment, about the way you’re looking at him that feels different. He’s not just teaching you guitar. He’s simply… enjoying being with you. And before you can respond, his hand moves, his fingers brushing gently against the side of your face. It’s a subtle touch, barely there, but it sends a little thrill through you.

Without thinking, you lean into his touch, your breath catching as his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in just enough for him to kiss you softly. It’s quick, but it’s sweet, and his lips linger against yours for a heartbeat longer than expected.

He pulls back just a little, and his smile softens, his eyes sparkling with something warmer, more familiar now. “That’s for getting the chord right,” he murmurs, teasing but with a softness that melts your heart.

You smile, your fingers still resting on the guitar. “Well, I’ll need a lot more kisses to learn the rest of the song, then.”

Seokmin laughs, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before he grins, shifting closer. “Guess you’ll just have to keep playing then, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re a tough teacher.”

His smile widens, and he shifts again, this time nudging you gently. “I’m just giving you a reason to keep trying,” he says, his voice low and a little more serious now. “Besides, I like being close to you.”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words more than you expected. “I like being close to you, too,” you reply quietly, your voice softer now, but with a truth that hangs between you.

Before you can think, you lean in, kissing him again, this time a little longer. Seokmin responds just as eagerly, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer. His heart is racing now, but in a way that feels good—exciting, even. It’s not just the kiss. It’s everything that is you.

You sit there, tangled together on the blanket, the sound of his guitar a soft backdrop as the day drifts lazily by. With every touch and every stolen kiss, he pulls you further into the moment, into this lighthearted bubble where it’s just the two of you, completely caught up in each other. And as you sit together in the golden glow of the afternoon, Seokmin’s hands gentle on your fingers, guiding you through the notes, until night begins to fall, and he offers to walk you home. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin isn’t sure how long the two of you have been walking, but he doesn’t mind. Every second feels easy, peaceful. As the sun dips lower and the leaves fall from the autumn gusts of wind, casting a honeyed glow over the street, he notices how the light falls on your face, softening every edge and detail. He’s struck by how happy he feels in this moment—wandering aimlessly, your hand in his, with no real destination in mind. 

It’s when you stop abruptly, tugging at his arm, that he notices the small, worn sign hanging just above an old staircase. Hidden Treasures. The name, faded and a little tilted, somehow feels right in this quiet, tucked-away corner of the city.

“Wanna go in?” you ask, and your eyes sparkle with curiosity.

He smiles, nodding without hesitation. “Lead the way.”

Inside, the shop is a world unto itself, a warm, cluttered maze of forgotten, handed down things. The air carries a mix of dust and vinyl, with a faint undertone of leather. Seokmin’s eyes drift over racks of vintage clothes, crates of records, and stacks of books and trinkets piled onto shelves. You’re already making a beeline for a shelf at the back, and he follows, quietly amused by how naturally you seem to navigate the cramped space. It’s funny—he’s never given much thought to old records or thrift stores before. But here, watching you take it all in, it seems like he’s seeing it through a different lens.

When you stop in front of a display case filled with cassette tapes, Seokmin can’t help but linger nearby, half-hidden behind a rack of jackets. He watches as you pick up a tape, studying it intently. A soft, faraway look settles on your face, and for a second, Seokmin can imagine how it might feel to be a part of that daydream. He inches closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Something good?” he asks casually, leaning over to look.

You glance up, and for a split second, he sees a shy, almost bashful smile. “I found one of my favorite albums.” You look down at the cassette like it’s a piece of history you’re holding in your hands.

His mind whirs as he notes the titles of the tapes you keep picking up, trying to commit them to memory without you noticing. When you’re distracted by another row of tapes, he snags a few of the ones you seemed especially drawn to and quietly slides them behind his back, out of your sight. A plan begins forming in his head, but he plays it cool, waiting for you to move on to a different section before he slips them to the cashier with a little nod.

As you wander through racks of clothes, he tries on hats for your amusement, pulling funny faces that make you laugh. He feels the warmth in his chest whenever he catches you glancing at him, your expression somewhere between amusement and…something softer.

He plucks a bowler hat from the stand, spins it dramatically in his hand, and places it atop his head. “What do you think?” he asks, striking a pose with a raised eyebrow.

You bite back a laugh, eyeing him with mock seriousness. “Very dashing, but maybe a little too serious for you.”

“Fair point.” He grins and swaps it out for a wide-brimmed sun hat, pulling it low over his eyes with a grin. “Better? I’ll wear it to our next park or beach date. And if you’re nice, I might let you borrow it sometime.”

You dissolve into laughter, nodding in approval, but he doesn’t stop there. He reaches for a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses on a nearby display and perches them on his nose, winking at you over the top of the frames.

“Now?” he asks, a glint of playful confidence in his eyes.

You shake your head, your laughter filling the space around you. He leans in closer, heart-shaped lenses reflecting your amused expression, and kisses you once, quick and teasing.

You gasp out in surprise and he’s overcome with adoration for you and your reaction, unable to resist leaning in again. He starts peppering kisses on and near your lips, humming contently against your skin. 

When he catches your sweet gaze, there’s a small moment of stillness, a quiet shift in the air as he leans in again, slowly this time, brushing a tender kiss against your lips. The feel of your laughter against his mouth is enough to make his heart race, and he’s momentarily lost in how light and easy everything feels with you by his side.

You pull him back into the playful atmosphere, nudging him toward a rack of vintage shirts and jackets. “Try this one,” you insist, holding up a bomber jacket. He slips it on, giving a playful spin as you nod in approval.

“Alright, your turn,” he says, grabbing a leather jacket from the rack and holding it out to you. When you put it on, his eyes widen just a bit. “Wait… It actually kind of suits you.” 

“Really?” 

“Absolutely,” he laughs, watching as you adjust the jacket.

“Yours doesn’t look so bad either,” You step closer, pulling him in by the collar and planting a quick kiss on his lips before either of you has a chance to pull away. 

The warmth of the kiss lingers as you both turn back to exploring the store, the silliness giving way to a gentler, more intimate mood. He trails behind you as you flip through stacks of old vinyl records, catching snippets of memories and favorite bands from you as you move down the aisle. 

Eventually, you both make your way back out into the evening air, Seokmin carrying a paper bag that you assume is holding his own finds. You barely make it down the street before he stops you, looking as though he can barely contain his excitement.

“Close your eyes,” he says, his tone playful but just a little shy.

“What?” you laugh, eyebrows lifting.

“Just do it,” he insists, that familiar lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

With a bemused smile, you shut your eyes, and after a few seconds, you feel something light press into your hands. Opening your eyes, you see the cassette tapes—the very ones you’d been admiring inside. Your gaze flickers up to him, and he’s watching you with a slightly nervous, almost childlike grin.

“You didn’t—”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant but failing. “You said they were some of your favorites. Would’ve been rude not to let them come along.”

You can’t stop smiling, looking between the tapes and him, a small laugh bubbling out. “I can’t believe you did that.”

He shrugs again, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and a touch of nerves. “Well, it seemed important to you,” he says softly, the confession hanging between you both.

Your shared laughter fades into a quiet moment, and he’s suddenly aware of just how close you are. Before he can second-guess himself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek—a thank-you without words. The warmth of your lips lingers long after you’ve pulled away, and he can’t hide the grin spreading across his face.

He finds himself leaning in, your laughter caught in a hushed space between you, and for a second, he wonders how it’s possible for something to feel both thrilling and completely natural at the same time. You kiss once, twice, and he’s laughing quietly against your mouth, one hand curling around your waist.

“Thank you,” you emphasize when you part, and his eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Anytime,” he says, nudging your shoulder playfully, and his heart flips at the easiness between you both.

As you slip your hand back into his, he squeezes it gently, hoping you’ll never let go.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin looks at you, eyebrows raised in mild skepticism as you pitch the idea of glamping on a Saturday morning at the shop.

“So... it’s like camping, but not?” he asks, crossing his arms. His expression is somewhere between curious and slightly worried, as though he’s imagining himself fending off mosquitoes in the middle of nowhere.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, no—there are no bugs. And no sleeping bags on the ground, I promise. It’s more like a cozy, modern cabin with all the comforts of home. Think cute tents, soft beds, and fairy lights everywhere.”

His shoulders visibly relax, though there’s still a hint of doubt in his eyes. “And... we won’t have to make a fire from scratch or eat out of cans, right?”

“Not unless you want to,” you say, grinning. “There’ll be proper meals, maybe even a fancy coffee machine for our coffee time. It’s just like a mini vacation under the stars.”

He pauses, tilting his head as he considers it. “So... it’s basically a staycation, but outdoors.”

“Exactly!” you say excitedly, “And just imagine the view at night! You’ll love it, I promise.”

After a moment’s thought, he lets out a small sigh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Alright, fine. Let’s do it. But if I see a single bug…”

The flower shop is particularly alive today, and Seokmin is convinced it has something to do with your presence. Greenery fills the shelves around you while a sunbeam slips through the window, highlighting Seokmin’s amused expression. He leans closer, grinning at your bug-handling confidence, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable. You nudge him playfully, feeling the cozy, sweet familiarity between you.

“Don’t worry,” you tease, nudging his shoulder again. “I’ll handle any bugs. All you have to do is enjoy the stars.”

He laughs, a soft, warm sound that’s almost musical. “Fine, but you owe me an extra cup of coffee if there’s anything even resembling a mosquito.” He nods, already envisioning the drive together. “Only if we can have a little barbecue. I haven’t shown you my grilling skills yet.”

“If your grilling skills are anything like your charcuterie-board-making skills, I’m in for a treat.”

He chuckles, cheeks flushing slightly as he reaches to adjust a pot on the counter, keeping his hands busy.

And so, it was decided. The following week, the two of you would go glamping. You spend the week planning out the trip, selecting a location, and picking out a menu from all the dishes Seokmin has offered to make you during your mornings at the coffee shop. Now that he had a car, neither of you had to take the bus. He’d pick you up after your time reading at the cafe and drop you off at yours with a lingering kiss and a promise to see you the next day. 

The weekend came rather quickly, but suddenly, despite all the planning both of you had done, Seokmin felt completely unprepared.

He takes a deep breath, double-checking the bags in his trunk for what must be the fifth time. Snacks? Check. Extra blankets? Check. His guitar—of course, just in case there’s a moment for a quiet tune under the stars. He runs through his list again in his head, but his mind keeps drifting to one thing: you both sharing the same bed tonight.

He laughs softly to himself, feeling that mix of nervousness and excitement tightening in his chest. It’s not like he hasn’t imagined being this close to you, but now that it’s real, it feels like his imagination would never come close, as it usually did with you. He hopes he packed everything to make the evening perfect, especially the surprise he thought you’d love—a matching PJ set he’d picked out just for you, in the same soft fabric as his.

He shakes off his nerves, throwing himself one last look in the rearview mirror. “Alright, Seokmin, it’s just glamping,” he mutters to himself, trying to keep his cool. But even as he says it, he can’t help the excitement building, hoping this night turns out to be as perfect as he hopes. 

Seokmin pulls up to your place, heart beating just a little faster than usual as he catches sight of you waiting downstairs. You wave and jog over, and the smile that stretches across his face is immediate. “Ready for our glamping adventure?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice as he leans over to unlock the passenger door.

“Definitely ready,” you say, settling into the seat and tossing him a grin that instantly has him feeling that familiar warmth. 

With you beside him and the car loaded with bags, he pulls onto the road, a playlist of carefully selected songs filling the space between you with a perfect, mellow vibe. The early moments of the drive are filled with laughter and conversation that flows as easily as the winding road ahead. He’s already feeling more at ease; everything feels right, from the low hum of the engine to the late-afternoon sunlight spilling through the windshield, casting a glow over you.

At the first red light, he lets his hand drift over to yours, giving it a small squeeze. You look over at him, slightly surprised but smiling. “Getting bold, aren’t you?”

He laughs, feigning nonchalance. “Just felt right.” He leans in, stealing a quick kiss—soft and gentle, but enough to make his pulse quicken just a little. You’re barely pulling apart when the light turns green.

The next song that plays is one he remembers you mentioning once because you had the cassette in your collection, and as it fills the car, he sings along softly, sneaking a glance your way to see if you’ll join in. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but then you join in on the chorus, and the two of you sing as the scenery outside rushes by.

When he sees a gas station up ahead, he slows down and nods toward it. “Need anything?” he asks, pulling in.

“Let’s stock up,” you say, and he parks. Inside, the two of you pick out snacks, teasing each other over your choices—he insists that his preference for sweet and salty snacks is superior, while you counter with your taste for fruit and more “refined” options. By the time you’re back in the car, there’s a pile of snacks balanced between you, and you’re begging him to try something new.

“Come on, just one bite,” you say, holding a piece of dried mango up to him.

He rolls his eyes but relents, taking a small bite, pretending to make a face of disgust. “Alright, alright, it’s... decent,” he says, stifling a laugh. “But these,” he says, lifting up a bag of his favorite chips, “are what make a real road trip snack.” 

You’re halfway through a conversation about your favorite drink choices when another red light gives him another excuse to lean in for a kiss—this one a little longer, filled with the sweetness of your laughter and the warmth of the sun filtering through the windshield. He can taste the mango on your lips, deciding it tastes much better this way than on its own. 

As you get closer to the glamping site, the landscape starts to change, giving way to more open fields and a deeper blue sky overhead. He glances over at you, noting the way you’re soaking in the view. There’s something so peaceful, so effortlessly beautiful about you right now, and he finds himself thinking that this might be one of his favorite memories with you already—and you haven’t even made it there yet. 

As you step out of the car, you’re immediately greeted by the scent of fresh, earthy air and the wide-open stretch of the campsite with just a hint of mountains in the distance. The skies are painted with hues of blue and the golden edges of late afternoon. You take it all in, breathing deeply, almost losing yourself in the view when you hear the trunk pop open and catch sight of Seokmin, arms already filled with bags and supplies.

He shoots you a playful, determined look. “Guess I went a little overboard, huh?”

“A little?” you laugh, eyeing the sheer number of bags and supplies he’s brought along.

But Seokmin just grins, shrugging as he starts unpacking with vigor, unloading what seems to be enough to host a small party rather than a quiet date night. He’s fully focused, setting up with precision—cooler, blankets, grilling tools, and that glorious charcuterie board he promised, which he reveals with a flourish. “Just the essentials,” he jokes, flashing a proud smile.

While he organizes, you wander a little ways down the slope, mesmerized by the way the sun lights up the fields and the soft rustling of the leaves. Just as you’re getting lost in the tranquility, you feel his arms gently slide around you from behind. He pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder as he takes in the view with you. It’s quiet, with only the sounds of nature around and the soft weight of his embrace.

He leaves a few kisses on your cheek that you lean into, smile breaking out into your face as he squeezes your waist tighter.

“Pretty, huh?” you ask, smiling as you tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, it really is,” he murmurs, but he’s looking at you, not the scenery, and his voice has that familiar softness that makes your heart skip.

You stand there for a little while, content just to be in his arms, until your stomach gives a not-so-subtle reminder. You laugh, breaking the quiet moment, and admit shyly, “Sorry, I’m starving.”

“I’m on it, baby.” Seokmin releases you, rolling up his sleeves with a mock serious expression as he heads toward the grill. 

You settle down at the little table he’s set up, watching as he works with surprising ease, flipping open the grill and setting up a few slices of pork belly, grilling each piece with careful attention. He even hums a little tune as he works, glancing over at you every now and then to catch your eye, flashing you a smile that’s more than a little pleased.

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling the warmth of his thoughtfulness all the same. As you watch him tend to the food, the sun dipping lower in the sky, you feel a surge of gratitude for the moment, for his sweet, over-prepared heart.

When a piece looks just right, he grabs a little plate, places the pork belly on it, and uses his chopsticks to bring it up, blowing on it gently to cool it down. “C’mere,” he mumbles, a playful glint in his eyes.

You lean forward, opening your mouth as he feeds it to you, watching with a mix of nerves and pride as you chew. The flavors burst in your mouth, rich and perfectly grilled, and you let out an appreciative hum, nodding enthusiastically.

He beams, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah?” He moves closer, his gaze lingering on you, and before you can respond, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a quick, soft kiss.

It leaves you smiling, and you can’t help but laugh softly, giving him a playful nudge. “Trying to win over the food critic, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs, leaning in to reconnect your lips for longer, until both of you are a little breathless, smiles lingering as he pulls back to check on the grill. 

The two of you linger over the grill, savoring every bite of grilled pork belly and vegetables, laughing at how much food Seokmin managed to bring. Just when you think you’re too full, he pulls out the last surprise: a box of instant ramen he’d brought just in case. “I mean, what’s camping without some ramen, right?” he says, grinning as he sets up the small camping stove.

“Of course,” you laugh, eyes wide with amusement. “As if I’d let you eat it all yourself.”

The ramen simmers quickly, filling the air with its savory scent. When it’s finally ready, you take turns slurping from the pot, laughing between bites, blowing on the noodles to cool them down. “This is seriously perfect,” you say, giving him a playful nudge. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Seokmin blushes, looking sheepish but pleased as he scratches the back of his head. “I wanted to make it nice for us.”

“It is,” you assure, giving him a soft, affectionate smile. 

As you finish up the last of the ramen and start stacking up the dishes, you come up beside him, resting your head on his arm. “I’m gonna shower. I smell like pork belly.” He’s rummaging through something in a bag, but you can’t see what it is over his broad shoulders.

That’s when Seokmin clears his throat and turns around, looking down at his hands nervously, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

“Actually, um…” he starts, then holds up an item. You can’t tell what it is just yet, but the soft blush on his cheeks lets you know that he’s been planning this moment, even if he’s a little shy about it. “I, uh… thought you might like these.”

You look at him, then down at the pajamas, recognizing that they match his. “Wait, matching PJs?” you ask, eyes lighting up in surprise.

He nods, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah… I just thought it’d be fun. But if it’s, you know, too much or—”

“Not at all,” you cut in, grinning. “It’s adorable.”

His face brightens, and he lets out a relieved breath, clearly pleased that you like the gesture. “Good. That’s… good,” he mumbles, finally meeting your gaze with a shy smile. He gestures toward the showers, still looking flustered but undeniably happy.

You head off to shower with the pajamas tucked under your arm, feeling the warmth of his thoughtfulness wrap around you as you go. 

After both of you have showered and changed, the air between you shifts, becoming softer, closer, and undeniably more intimate. The small glamping cabin feels cozy with the lights dimmed, the sounds of the night drifting softly in through the open window. Sitting cross-legged across from each other, you’re in the matching pajamas he picked out—an idea that seemed cute and innocent just hours ago but now has become the bane of his existence. Your set is a top that matches his, but instead of long pants, yours comes with shorts. 

It’s not like he hadn’t seen you in shorts or a skirt before, but he hadn’t… felt your bare legs against him like he would tonight. Tonight, when he’d have to sleep next to you. God, he feels like a fucking virgin. 

Seokmin’s eyes keep drifting over to you, taking in the way your smooth skin glows under the dim light, how relaxed and comfortable you look. His gaze lingers on the delicate line of your collarbone, the soft rise of your shoulders, and the way a few stray strands of hair frame your face. He tries to focus on your conversation, on the way you keep checking that the chords you’re mindlessly playing on his guitar are correct, but every laugh, every casual touch, sends his heart racing a little faster.

“You keep staring,” you tease, your voice light and playful as you stop playing, but there’s a boldness behind it that sends a thrill down his spine.

He laughs, embarrassed but unable to deny it. “I can’t help it,” he admits softly, giving you a sheepish smile. “You’re… really beautiful.”

The words hang between you, soft but full of meaning. You reach over, gently placing a hand on his knee, your fingers lingering just a little longer than usual. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

The warmth of your touch feels electric, and he doesn’t resist the urge to lace your fingers with his. A small silence settles between you, but it feels anything but empty. 

You tilt your head, leaning a little closer, and he follows your lead, heart pounding as he lets himself close the distance just a bit. The edges of your pajamas brush against each other as you inch closer, and before he realizes it, he’s right there, his hand reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

As he leans in to kiss you, the guitar makes a foul sound, strings having been disturbed between your bodies and you laugh. “Let me move this, yeah?” 

He nods wordlessly, watching as you pick it up and carefully lay it inside the open case on the ground. His eyes trail after you as you rejoin him on the bed, watching the way you sit closer this time, your weight on your knees so that you’re hovering above him only slightly. Your palms come down to rest on his shoulders, and your lips, which he’d unknowingly been staring at for the last few seconds, finally meet his in a tender kiss. It's slow, careful, full of thought and feeling and tamed nervousness all at once as your hands wrap around his neck. It doesn’t take long before his lips part and your tongue meets his, head tilting in order to better taste him, desperate to feel him closer in any way he’ll let you have him. 

He's kissed you before, he’s felt the closeness between you two before, but this—this feels like the part of the song where every instrument comes together in harmony. There’s an unexpected depth to the way his hands find the small of your back, in the way you whine and sigh out in utter need, in how you fit so easily against him. 

A part of him panics, scrambling to put a name to what he’s feeling. It’s something big, bigger than he’s been ready to admit even to himself. Every moment he’s spent with you flickers in his mind, and it feels like he’s been collecting pieces of a story that only now makes sense. He doesn’t just care for you. He doesn't just like you. The feeling pressing in his chest, warm and weighty, is something else entirely—persistent, relentless, constant.

As your lips leave his to kiss down his jaw and neck, he wonders, dazed, if you can feel it too. This gravitational pull, he’s wrapped up in it. With each wet mark you leave behind on his neck, he’s free-falling further, and he realizes it’s too late to stop. He's already far beyond the point of no return.

Seokmin doesn’t hesitate to respond to your body, the space between you becoming both smaller and warmer as he tugs you closer until you’re practically situated on his lap. You let out a small, surprised gasp as you settle onto his thighs, hands sliding back up until they’re raking through his hair. 

As Seokmin slowly lowers you onto the soft bedding, the world outside feels distant, muted, as though it's been replaced by the gentle rhythm of your breathing and the steady thrum of his heart. His hands tremble, just slightly, but it’s not from uncertainty. 

He hovers above you for a second, eyes tracing your features, like he's trying to commit every detail to memory. There's a stillness between you, but it’s not awkward—just quiet, full of anticipation and softness. He touches your cheek gently, his thumb skimming over your skin.

"I..." he starts, words escaping him for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to say, but now all that’s left is the weight of the feelings he’s been holding back. He doesn't force it out, though, unsure if he can say anything that would encapsulate how he feels.

Instead, he leans down again, slowly, giving you the space to meet him halfway. His lips find yours once more, soft and tender, the kiss full of the things he can’t yet bring himself to voice. With each press of his mouth to yours, his body hums with the need to be close, to be tangled up with you, to feel you so completely.

When he pulls back, he stays close, forehead resting against yours, sharing the same breath. His heart beats faster than usual, as you utter his name in a single breath. “Seokmin?” 

“Yes?” 

“I… I need this off. Please.” You whisper, tugging at his shirt. He realizes immediately what you’re implying—or better said, what him taking his shirt off implies; his heart rattles wildly as he nods quickly.

He wastes no time in giving you exactly what you want, only hesitating to offer you the chance to change your mind. When you don't, laying there with your hair fanned out across the pillow and your eyes dazed and your lips still wet and swollen from his kiss, he pulls it off in one motion. He carefully observes the way your eyes trail down and right back up to meet his, a warmth spreading across his cheeks. 

“Help me with mine?” You plead softly, and he has to physically force his eyes to not roll back at the sultriness and vulnerability laced in your tone. He can’t help the low groan that escapes him, however, as he slides his slender fingers under the hem of your shirt and begins to lift it off of you. 

And with this, he takes his sweet, sweet time, holding his breath as inch by inch, more of your smooth skin is exposed to him. Until the swell of your breasts appears under the fabric. You sit up a little to help him slip it over your head and when you lay back down, Seokmin swears he might die. 

You can tell he needs a bit of a push, made obvious in the way he’s become gone completely still above you, jaw slack and chest heaving, so you grab his hand that sits at your hip and slide it up, molding it over your chest. Only then does he take some initiative to slide his thumb over your nipple and dip his head down to kiss your lips with a suppressed moan. 

“Do you know how much you mean to me?” The words spill out before he can help them, though he feels no embarrassment, especially not when you smile lazily up at him, eyes flickering between his. 

You nod without missing a beat, letting your fingertips brush back a few strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. 

“I feel the same way.” You reassure, and that’s all it takes for him to kiss you again. This kiss is different from the last in just about every way; it’s desperate, wet, full of passion and you reciprocate it with just as much fervor, whining out when his hips roll into yours once, then twice, then as many times as it takes for the two of you to begin panting in each other’s mouths from the friction. 

Seokmin kisses your neck and down your sternum, using his hands to push both of your breasts together so he can alternate between licking and sucking at both of them with ease. He eats up every little whimper you let him have, returning the sound to you with no restraint as he rubs himself against your core. 

You watch him carefully, the way his jaw tenses when he bites down on your skin, the way he glances up at you through his brows as he swirls his tongue on your abdomen.

He lives and breathes for each little hiccup you let out, the whimpered chants of his name and “more” and “yes” only encouraging him to absolutely ravish you.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” 

You nod, letting his fingers trail around the waistband of your shorts. He hooks his fingers on either side, watching your face as he slips them down your thighs to discover the prettiest little lacy panties. They’re a midnight blue to match the night sky, and somehow, even through the dark material he can spot a wet mark from your slick. 

A sound rumbles from his chest, “You’re so-” he starts, but he’s interrupted by your moan, one that he draws from you the moment he runs a single digit over your clothed core. 

“Seokmin,” you pant, hips rolling up to meet his finger as it rubs you over and over again. He’s focused, keen on catching every little shift of your breath so can conjure up a trend of what you enjoy most. When he leans in to kiss your cunt, you almost lose your mind. It has formed a heartbeat entirely separate from the one rattling in your chest, and your body, which responds so well and obediently to his every touch, has altered itself to flutter in time with each one of his kisses. 

The material of your panties is so thin it’s almost easy to pretend it’s not there. Seokmin could have easily moved it aside, but he felt the need to create a pace, for your sake and his. If he had already tasted your slit, he’s sure he would have come untouched in his pants and this was the only sleepwear he brought, so it had to last him until tomorrow, too. 

His concentration doesn’t falter for a second, hands moving to cradle your thighs, rubbing them and squeezing your flesh as if he couldn’t believe your bare skin was truly in his hold. You’re becoming restless, he can tell, because you’re writhing, hands trembling as they reach for his hair.

“Take them off,” you beg. “I need to feel you.” You can’t take it anymore, the way he’s making out with your folds without any direct contact. You need to feel the drag of his tongue, the softness of his lips, without any material in the way. 

When he hums against you, the vibration feels wondrous. Being the great listener he is, he fulfills your request instantly. Your panties are dragged down your legs and tossed aside. Less than a second later, he leans his weight on his elbows, marveling at the sight before him. 

With his pupils blown wide, he mumbles something in between a plea and a praise, but it’s indiscernible because he’s already started to kiss you, whatever he’s said getting lost against your skin. His lips attach to the innermost part of your thigh, teeth nibbling boldly as you squirm. He doesn’t mean to be such a tease, but when all you want is to feel his mouth on you and he’s busied himself with marking the skin nearest to where you need him, you can’t help but whine in protest. 

“I can’t take it anymore.” You whisper, and he looks up to meet your eyes. 

It’s in a soft, lust-dripped voice that he requests, “let me take my time with you,” but you quickly shake your head.

“Please,” you try to beg, and the silkiness of your voice makes his dick swell inside his pants. He leans up, face close to yours and observing the way your cheeks redden from the humiliation of begging so shamelessly. He cracks a small grin and brings a hand up to hold your jaw affectionately, but firmly, as he kisses you.

Seokmin's lips break away from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he gazes deeply into your eyes. "Are you sure?" he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trail down your side, and you nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

"Seokmin," you moan, your voice ragged and desperate. "Please..."

He looks up at you, his expression one of such raw desire that it takes your breath away. "I need you so much," he admits, his voice thick with emotion. "But I want to make sure that you're okay... that this is what you want."

You nod again, more urgently this time, your body thrumming with need. "Yes, yes," you insist, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I want you."

With a growl of satisfaction, he shifts his weight. You feel his fingers press against you, tentative at first, but then firmer as he begins to explore your wetness. You gasp at the touch, your hips bucking involuntarily.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent as he continues to stroke you. "So perfect... I can't believe I get to be inside you."

His words send a thrill through you, making your heart race even faster. You watch as he removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. His eyes lock onto yours as he licks his fingers clean.

With a gentle yet firm grip, Seokmin lifts your legs, hands holding them to your chest. He leans in closer, his dark hair brushing against your inner thighs as he moves. Your skin tingles where it grazes you, and you bite your lower lip to stifle a moan. Seokmin's eyes never leave yours, his gaze intense and full of purpose. He lowers his head, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive core, sending shivers up your spine.

His tongue licks a stipe up your folds, tasting you for the first time. The sensation is electric, shock waves of pleasure radiating from the point of contact. You gasp, your back arching slightly as you try to ground yourself. Seokmin's hands on your thigh tightens momentarily, holding you steady as he continues his exploration.

With a groan at the feeling of you clenching against him, his tongue delves deeper, each stroke calculated, designed to elicit the most profound responses from your body. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your arousal growing with each passing second. 

"God, Seokmin," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. His name sounds so unbelievably sweet on your lips, a mantra of trust and desire. 

His mouth works feverishly now, his tongue flicking against your clit, occasionally pausing when he decides to wrap his lips around you or lay his tongue flat for friction. His teeth graze your clit lightly, a teasing nibble that sends sparks through your entire body. You cry out, your hips lifting involuntarily to roll against his face. He responds by increasing the intensity, his tongue now working in unison with his fingers, plunging into you as his mouth focuses on your bud. 

You can feel your orgasm building, and Seokmin senses it too, his actions becoming more urgent, more frantic. It’s obvious that he wants nothing more than to give you your release. The way he grinds himself down into the bedding shows that he’s just as affected as you are, and it only turns you on more. Every pant and moan he lets out against you is dizzying and overwhelming. As he leans back for a second to study your swollen, glistening cunt, you let out a whine. 

His hand slides up to cup your breast, squeezing gently as his mouth devours you again, murmuring a quiet “Sorry,” into your folds.

"Seokmin, I'm... I'm close," you manage to gasp, your voice strained with need.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and glossed over. "Let go for me, baby." he murmurs against your slick skin, his words sending a fresh wave of sensation through you. He leans down enough to stick his tongue in you, and the moment he does, you feel his nose bump your clit. 

That was it—all it took for you to fall apart. Your body convulses, your muscles tightening and releasing in a torrent of ecstasy. Seokmin, driven by your cries, continues his relentless assault as you gasp and tremble beneath him. It feels endless, a cascade of bliss that leaves you breathless.

You knew his big ass nose would come in handy. 

When the waves of pleasure finally subside, you lay there, spent and sated. Seokmin remains between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. He seems content, as if he had just accomplished something monumental, and at the same time, awe stuck by how absolutely fucked out you look. 

"Seokmin," you whisper again, your voice soft and filled with wonder.

“I know,” he mutters, crawling back up your body to kiss your lips sweetly. With deliberate slowness, he drags his pants down and lines himself up, his tip nudging at your entrance. 

Suddenly, he stops, burying his face into your chest as he realizes one thing. 

“What’s wrong?” You run a hand through his hair and he looks up at you, trying not to look too disappointed. If all he got to do today was eat you out, he would die a happy man. 

“I didn’t bring condoms.” He sighs, “I mean… I would’ve, but… I didn’t want to assume we would– I would never want you to feel like–” 

“All that overpacking and you didn’t think to bring a condom?” You giggle, letting your thumb caress his cheek. 

He grumbles, huffing out with exasperation as he hides his face in your skin again. 

After a moment, you hum contemplatively, and he can’t help but notice how little this seems to be affecting you. He ignores the pang in his chest and contemplates excusing himself to finish in the bathroom when you whisper the last thing he thought he might hear right about now: “It’s a good thing I did.” 

Slowly, he cranes his head to look back up at your eyes with his own wide ones. You wink, and he lifts himself up a little too eagerly as you tell him “They’re in my backpack. Side pocket.”

The way he rolls out of the bed and jogs over makes you laugh, rushing to find the shiny packet in your bag. When he does, he holds it up to showcase it and runs back over to you, reassuming his position between your legs. 

“You brought so many.” He blushes and you laugh. 

“Just in case. You’re not the only one who came prepared.” 

The giggles from the short interruption dissolve into happy, contented sighs as he presses his lips to yours with want. He only breaks the kiss to lean back on his heels and tear the packet open, fully removing his pants this time and slipping on the pastel colored rubber. 

You hold your breath as you feel him poking your thigh, every muscle in your body tense with anticipation. Then, with a deep sigh, he guides himself to your entrance and pushes inside, inch by inch. You gasp at the intrusion, your body stretching to accommodate him, and he freezes, waiting for you to adjust.

"Relax for me," he whispers, his voice soothing as he distracts you from any discomfort by dragging his lips from the corner of your mouth to your jaw. 

When you nod and tug his hips closer, he begins to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, his actions slow and measured.

The sensation is overwhelming, being wrapped up in you, surrounded by your soft walls. It’s so warm and so wet, better than he could ever have imagined. The way you squeeze him, the way your hands cling to him—the way you let his name fall from your lips like it belongs there. His emotions are so heightened, he has to slow down to not finish already. 

You moan, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, and he bends down to kiss you, his tongue licking at your bottom lip as he continues to thrust. The sound of your combined moans fills the tent, mingling with the rustle of fabric and the soft murmur of the night outside. 

Seokmin's pace gradually increases, his movements becoming more forceful, more desperate. You can feel the strain in his muscles, the tension in his body as he tries to hold back, to savor every moment. But the need is too great, the connection between you too powerful, and soon he's lost in the rhythm, his thrusts hard and steady, each one driving you closer to the edge.

"I'm so close," you gasp, your voice breaking as a particularly deep thrust hits just the right spot. "Please, please, please..."

He responds by increasing his speed, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a coiling sensation that threatens to explode at any moment. Your body arches off the bed, your nails digging into his back as you chase after that elusive climax.

"Shit, baby,” he mumbles, his voice strained. "Let me feel you come around me." His hands come up to hold yours, fingers intertwining as you mumble incoherently, squeezing your eyes shut.

And then, with one final, shuddering thrust, you do. Your body seizes, the second wave of ecstasy crashing over you as your breath catches, your release washing over you in pulsing waves. Seokmin follows closely behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside the condom, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you move, simply basking in the afterglow of your shared release. Seokmin's breath is warm against your skin, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal as he nuzzles into you. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers, his voice so soft you wonder if you imagined it. 

But before you can respond, he lifts his head, his eyes searching yours, forever prioritizing your needs over his. “Was that okay?”

You smile, “More than okay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

A look of sheer joy spreads across his face, and he leans down to kiss you once more, his lips lingering against yours. 

“You tired, pretty girl?” 

“Just a little.” 

“Let me clean you up, yeah?  

You hum as he gives you a one last kiss and slips out of you with a hiss, sensitive still. He tosses the condom in the trash and slips on a pair of briefs, still a little shy to be naked in front of you, despite what just went down. He goes over to the bathroom to grab some towelette wipes and a towel. 

“Let me see, honey.” He spreads your legs again, leaving a kiss at your knee before wiping away the wetness that leaked out of you. He uses the wipe, then dries you off with the towel, tossing both things before going towards your bag. 

“Where do you have your panties?” 

“Front pocket…” You mumble tiredly. A small grin forms on his face at how sweet you sound, tired, still caught up in your post orgasmic bliss. He picks out a pretty pair, white and lacy, and helps you slip it on. “You cold? Want me to get you a shirt?” 

This time, you can only nod, eyelids heavy with sleep. To avoid bothering you again with the question of ‘Where do you keep your shirts?’ he grabs one of his own and gently lifts you off the mattress to slip it over your head. You hum softly, grabbing his hand to pull him to bed as he tries to pull away again. Seokmin thinks his heart might burst. He kisses your knuckles softly, cheeks glowing.“One second, I promise,” he coos, “I just need to dim the lights.” 

As soon as he flips the switch and dims the fairy lights, he settles down beside you, feeling your arms instinctively reach for him, wrapping around his waist as you draw yourself closer.

Your face is buried against his shoulder, a soft, contented sigh escaping as you nestle in. Your breathing evens out almost immediately, eyelids fluttering closed as the last hints of wakefulness slip away. Seokmin can feel the gentle weight of your legs tangling with his, pulling him into your warmth and, for a moment, he just watches—completely captivated by how you feel against him.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he brushes his fingers over your arm, savoring this closeness and the peaceful look on your face. Every bit of tension melts away as he breathes in your familiar, comforting scent. He knows you’re fast asleep now, fully trusting and at ease in his arms, and that thought alone is enough to make his heart swell.

For the first time in a long while, he feels completely at peace. So, he lets himself relax, tucking you close as he watches over you, basking in the soft quiet of the night.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

The first time Seokmin wakes up next to you, he decides the world will never give him enough mornings by your side. 

It’s evident in everything that surrounds the two of you on that Sunday morning—it’s in the breeze blowing through the curtain of the window that you had left open the night before. It’s in the blanket you had hogged in your slumber, exposing one of his legs to feel the warm welcome of the early sun peeking in through that very window. It’s your breath that he can hear by his ear, light and shallow and calm, through soft parted lips he can’t wait to feel on his again. 

It’s your skin, smooth and delicate. It’s near him, on him, touching him in different places, across his legs and chest and arms and neck; he can’t keep count, he just knows he’s enveloped in you—and it’s igniting the most intense adoration within his bones. The kind he might have felt long ago, the kind that grips his heart and thoughts with no means of slowing down. 

It’s you, beside him, and suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of sleeping alone again. 

Your rustling brings a smile to his face, simply because he’s eager to meet your eyes once more. And when they open, unfocused but searching for his face too, they crinkle into half moons and Seokmin swoons. 

This moment, so simple and familiar, feels perfect. It’s then, when he’s least prepared, caught off-guard in his sleepy haze and admiring your soft, tired features, that he hears you say it: 

“I love you.”

From the moment the words leave your mouth, his own sit on the tip of his tongue, begging to be uttered back. 

Instead, he offers you silence. Seconds of silence after a confession so vulnerable, so true—a confession he’s needed and longed to hear from you since the moment he kissed you that first night under the flickering streetlight. 

That word—love—feels dangerous, almost cursed. The last time he’d said it to someone, the last time he felt love for someone and told them so with no hesitation in his mind, with no consideration for his fragile heart, he was humiliated. It’s silly, he knows, but each time he’d said those words before, they’d somehow signaled the beginning of the end. And he could not bear to see the end of things with you. And now, looking into your hopeful eyes, that same fear rears its head, cold and stubborn, whispering that to say it back is to invite heartbreak, to open himself up to being left behind again. It’s irrational, maybe, but the thought is paralyzing.

He swallows, managing a soft smile, trying his best to keep his face composed as his mind raises and his voice threatens to shake. His fingers brush your cheek as he murmurs the same words he uttered to you last night, “You have no idea how much you mean to me.” It’s the best he can manage, the closest he can get to saying it without actually risking the word. He hopes it’s enough, hopes you can see the love in his eyes, even if he can’t yet bring himself to say it out loud. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, offering him a small, understanding smile. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to say it back. I said it because… well, because that’s how I feel.”

You seem to understand, at least partially, your hand squeezing his, and he can see the glimmer of acceptance in your gaze. He knows it won't be enough—momentarily, perhaps, or for an unknown amount of time, but not forever. 

You squeeze his hand again, letting out a quiet breath. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” you say, voice warm and steady. “And until then… I’m here.”

He feels the tension ease just a bit, his heart swelling with both relief and guilt. You’re being so patient, so open, and it only makes him want to be brave for you. But he just nods for now, pressing his lips into a thin line as he manages, “Thank you. For understanding.”

You give a faint nod, a smile that tries to hide the slight sadness in your eyes, and he feels his heart twist. He wishes he could tell you that he feels it too—that your confession wasn’t one-sided. But for now, he stays silent, feeling the weight of what you’ve given him settle in.

“Do you wanna get up?” He offers softly. You instantly shake your head, burying your face into his bare chest.

“Five more minutes?” you mumble. You peek up at him, your smile sleepily mischievous, and Seokmin chuckles, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Five minutes, ten—however long you want,” he whispers, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. It’s unhurried, as if the whole world could wait while the two of you are wrapped up like this, tangled in each other.

When you shift beside him, stretching your arms out lazily, you glance at him with a small, reassuring smile that eases his heartbeat just a bit. He’s grateful for the way you make things easy, like even this moment doesn’t have to be heavy if you don’t want it to be. You run a hand over your face, yawning, before nudging him with your elbow.

“Guess we should get up,” you say, your tone light and natural. “Don’t want to waste a good morning, right?”

He gives a half-smile, nodding as he follows you out of bed, and you throw him a playful look over your shoulder.

“Unless you were hoping I’d stay and keep you company in bed all day?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. His eyes widen slightly, a bit taken aback by your ease, but he can’t help the shy grin that spreads across his face.

“I wouldn’t complain,”  he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

And with that, you slip past him to get ready, leaving him with a sense of relief—and an unmistakable, lingering warmth.

Seokmin manages to shake off some of his nerves, filling the air with his easy going laughter as he cooks breakfast and teases you over little things, falling back into the playful rhythm the two of you share so naturally. 

Your voice echoes there, soft and steady, the simple weight of those words still settling over him. Every time he catches a glimpse of you—whether it’s the gentle way you sip your coffee or the absent-minded way you tuck your hair behind your ear—it stirs a quiet ache he can’t ignore.

As Seokmin finishes up the breakfast, he watches you from the corner of his eye, letting the simple moments drift by like steady waves, lapping at the shore of his thoughts. There’s something calming about the way you settle into the space around him, fitting so easily into this quiet morning routine together, as if it’s something you’ve done a hundred times before. He hands you a plate, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and the warmth that spreads through him feels steady, grounding.

You look up, catching his gaze with a small, grateful smile that makes his chest tighten. He watches as you take a bite, the way your eyes light up with approval, and he feels his nerves settle just a little more.

“Good?” he asks, half-laughing as you give a quick nod, cheeks full, and he finds himself grinning at the way you look. 

Between bites, the two of you chat, slipping into your familiar rhythm. He makes a lighthearted comment about your hair sticking up in the back, and you laugh, nudging his arm. Somewhere in the banter, you catch his hand in yours, resting there naturally like it belongs. 

Seokmin can't help but replay those three words you said over and over in his mind, thinking of the quiet certainty in your voice, the way your eyes held his as if no hesitation existed. And now, with you here beside him, he almost says it back, the words, the words itching to be let out. But he doesn’t—he can’t; not yet.

Instead, he gently squeezes your hand, hoping, in some way, that you can feel the depth of his affection in the simple, steady warmth of his touch. The way his gaze lingers on you speaks volumes he isn’t yet brave enough to say. And you smile at him, as if you know.

The rest of the day drifts by like a dream, bathed in golden afternoon light that slowly deepens into the cool, quiet tones of evening. After breakfast, the two of you go for a short walk around the grounds, wandering past trees in full autumn colors, the air crisp and bracing. Occasionally, Seokmin’s fingers find yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels both grounding and unspokenly affectionate. 

As it turns out, you and Seokmin have a knack for stumbling into things—quite literally. He catches his foot on a root hidden beneath the leaves, nearly pulling you down with him by your attached hands as he laughs, scrambling to regain balance with a sheepish grin. You poke fun at him, of course, only to nearly slip on a patch of damp grass a few steps later, and Seokmin’s hand shoots out to steady you, laughing as he catches you in his arms.

“You were saying?” he teases, eyebrows raised, his playful smirk softened by the affection in his gaze.

Later, as evening settles in, you sit together outside on the small porch, wrapped up in blankets and each other, watching the stars begin to pepper the sky. Seokmin pulls his guitar into his lap and plays a few soft, mellow chords, humming quietly, his voice blending with the evening calm. Occasionally, he looks up at you, his gaze tender and constantly admiring, as it always is. 

By the time you head inside, there’s an anticipation between you, growing steadily when the two of you embrace after your showers. The glow of the small lamp fills the room, casting soft shadows on the walls as you settle into the bed together. You both fall into an easy rhythm of conversation and laughter, whispers blending into quiet confessions and gentle touches, which eventually lose their innocence. Even then, there’s no rush, no need for words, just a sense of closeness that feels like a second skin. As one kiss leads to another, the night takes on a similar course as it had the previous evening—one that feels both familiar and thrilling in its newness. In the stillness of the campsite under the moon and stars, there’s only the soft sound of breaths, kisses, and… Well. 

The next morning arrives with a gentle sunlight spilling through the windows, casting everything in a warm glow. You wake slowly, savoring the feeling of lying next to him with the comfort of his presence still wrapped around you. You share soft smiles as you both get ready, packing up the last of your things in a comfortable, tired haze. There’s a sweetness in the routine, the way he hands you your jacket and steals a quick kiss on your cheek, as if he can’t help himself.

The drive home feels just as perfect as the drive there—filled with little moments of laughter and teasing, fingers brushing over the console, songs you hum along to together. Seokmin stops for your staple coffee time halfway to home, passing you a cup with a small grin. You glance out the window occasionally, taking in the passing landscape, but every time you turn back to him, he’s already looking at you, a soft warmth in his eyes.

It’s only when he pulls up to your place that a sense of reality settles in, a quiet reluctance to let the trip end. He helps you with your bags, walking you to your door with that familiar ease, and there’s a bittersweetness in his goodbye kiss, lingering a moment longer as if to preemptively make up for the inevitable time apart.

“See you soon?” he says softly, his hand still holding yours.

You nod, and the warmth in his gaze tells you everything you need to know, even as he steps back down the hall and out of sight.

Weeks after your first confession, you and Seokmin have fallen into an easy rhythm that feels like second nature. He’s more open now, sharing silent looks across the table, catching you with a gaze that feels almost as sentimental as the words you’re longing for him to say. He’s grown comfortable in so many ways, but in quiet moments, you still see it—that flicker of hesitance, like something inside him just can’t cross a line he’s drawn. And tonight, with the city lights casting a soft glow around his apartment, you feel ready to try again.

The two of you settle close on his couch, your legs brushing against each other as you both sink into the comfort of the evening. A movie flickers on the screen, but it’s more of a backdrop than the main event, something you both occasionally glance at in between kisses, light touches, and murmured exchanges.

Seokmin leans back slightly, his fingers brushing through your hair as you press closer, sharing soft, lingering kisses. It’s slow, unhurried, and he lets himself forget everything else for a while, entirely caught up in the feeling of you next to him. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together, giving a gentle squeeze. After a while of pretending to watch the screen, he pulls you a little closer, his gaze searching yours for a moment before he tilts his head, brushing another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. And then another, slower and deeper this time.

His nose digs into your cheek and you smile, cradling his face in your hands, letting them wander around to the back of his neck, where you run your fingers through his hair.

The movie fades further into the background, replaced by warmth and soft laughter as you lose yourselves in each other, both of you letting the feeling settle deeper into your bones. It’s simple, but for Seokmin, it’s the kind of night that reminds him why he’s feeling so swept up in you.

You turn toward him on the couch, reaching out to trace your fingers gently along his arm, and catch his gaze. He smiles, eyes softening as he leans into your touch. The moment feels right, and with a steadying breath, you let the words spill out again: “I love you.”

For a moment, he goes completely still. You see a rush of emotion in his eyes, something soft, vulnerable and unguarded, and you think—just for a heartbeat—that this might be the time he finally lets go of whatever’s holding him back. But the warmth fades, replaced by that familiar shadow of hesitation. His fingers curl around yours, gripping tight as if holding on could substitute for the words he can’t bring himself to say. He presses his lips to the back of your hand and sighs. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, his gaze falling as though he’s searching for something on the floor.

Your gaze drops from his too, focusing somewhere off to the side, and your grip on his hand loosens, as if without thinking, like something in you is just pulling away.

A soft, reassuring smile comes to your lips, and you do your best to hold it there, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. When he squeezes your hand, he feels you squeeze back, and you’re still right there beside him, warm and present. But Seokmin can feel the edges of something—uncertainty, maybe—hovering, just barely.

While your heart aches with a sting that’s sharper than last time, you brush it aside, leaning closer to reassure him, trying to smooth the hurt in both of you. “It’s okay, Seokmin,” you whisper, thumb tracing over his knuckles softly. “I didn’t say it to hear it back… I just wanted you to know.”

His eyes meet yours, full of regret and something else—something deeper that can’t be voiced. He gently lifts your hand, pressing it against his chest, over his heart, as if willing you to feel everything he wishes he could say. “I’m so sorry. It’s… it’s not fair to you.” His voice trembles, the words catching in his throat. “It’s not that I don’t feel it, I just…”

You nod slowly, holding his gaze even though your own emotions are mixed—somewhere between understanding and the ache of waiting. “I know you care about me, Seokmin. I’m trying to be patient, really. I…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “I wish you’d let yourself believe in this too. I don’t want you to be afraid of it.”

He tightens his grip on your hand, his eyes turning somber. “It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” he says, his voice soft, almost pleading. “It’s that every time I say those words, it feels like… like saying it out loud will make it vanish. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Your expression softens. “You won’t lose me, Seokmin. I’m right here.” 

Seokmin feels a knot in his chest, seeing the quiet disappointment in your eyes, a look he never wanted to be the cause of. He pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as if trying to bridge the gap with touch instead of words. He’s silent for a moment, caught between the instinct to protect himself and the fear that he’ll push you away if he doesn’t change. The tension melts, if only a little, as he wraps his arms around you, anchoring you to him with a fierce kind of tenderness.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he. The warmth between your bodies fills the space where the silence lies, saying enough for the time being, and you feel your eyelids growing heavier as the quiet lulls you toward sleep. His hand drifts up to brush through your hair, a touch so gentle that it makes you smile, just barely, and you let yourself drift off, hoping, as his heartbeat thrums against your cheek, that it’s all for you.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

≡;- ꒰ ° three꒱

The night starts quietly, with the two of you curled up on his couch, the dim, golden glow from the living room lamp casting a warm hue around you. You talk about everything and nothing—work, weekend plans, the idea of a trip he wants to take you on. Each topic drifts easily between you, filling the space with laughter, shared glances, and gentle touches.

Seokmin has his arm loosely draped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing light patterns on your arm as you lean into his warmth. Occasionally, he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering softly against your cheek, giving you a gentle smile that makes your heart flutter. It’s in these tiny, quiet moments that you feel his affection most—unspoken, steady, as if no words are needed.

At one point, he leans down to kiss you, his lips warm and tender with a hand sitting at the base of your neck. You kiss him back a little slower, savoring the sweetness of it. When he pulls away, he nudges you playfully, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, affectionate look that never fails to make you feel giddy.

“You’re going to stay the night, right?” he asks, his tone just a little shy, though his fingers are threaded through yours with a quiet confidence that feels both fragile and sure.

Smiling, you nestle closer, feeling that familiar spark in your chest. “If you’ll have me,” you tease, laughing as he tugs you even closer, your head settling comfortably against his chest as his hand traces slow circles along your back.

He nods, a quiet joy in his eyes as he presses a light kiss to your forehead. His hand finds yours again, fingers curling around yours in a small, reassuring squeeze. For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something, his gaze lingering on your face as if he’s searching for the right words.

Instead, you break the silence, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Baby,” you murmur softly, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “I really… I care about you, a lot.”

His smile softens, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Me too,” he replies quietly, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. His gaze holds something vulnerable beneath the surface, a weight to his affection that feels so real, even if he doesn’t say it.

The conversation drifts on, flowing from one topic to another as the minutes slip by. Every now and then, he leans in to kiss you again, an affectionate touch of lips that lingers a little longer each time, filled with a quiet intensity that makes you feel wanted, cherished. As the evening wears on, you find yourself wrapped in his arms, half-drowsy and content, happy to simply exist there in his warmth. You leave a kiss on his throat and the words leave your mouth unexpectedly; soft, steady, unplanned, as if saying them was the most natural thing in the world, “Seokmin… I love you.”

The room grows still, and Seokmin’s face shifts immediately, as though he’s braced himself for something he isn’t sure he can accept. He looks away, lips pressing into a tight line. There’s a quiet between you, but it isn’t the warm silence you’re used to; it’s the kind that leaves you feeling exposed.

After a beat, he exhales sharply. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

You feel frustration stirring, a tightness forming in your chest. “Seokmin, it’s the third time I’ve told you in the last three months, and I still haven’t heard anything back. Not even once.”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “It’s… it’s complicated. I told you that.”

You take a deep breath, nodding, trying to keep your voice even. “I understand. But don’t you think it’s a little unfair? I’m putting myself out there, and every time, you just… close up.” You glance down, the words catching in your throat as you add, “I don’t even know if you want this to be anything serious, Seokmin.”

Your words hit him, and his brows furrow as he finally looks back at you. “Of course I do. Why do you think I’m with you?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Then why can’t you say it? Why can’t you just say you love me?”

He sighs, clearly struggling, and you can see the way he’s wrestling with the internal conflict he’s been carrying for so long. But before he can answer, your phone buzzes, drawing both your eyes to the screen as it lights up with a message. You barely look at it, just a quick glance, but Seokmin’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of the heart emoji he had seen back when you left your phone on the bus.

“Who’s texting you?” he asks, a hint of irritation in his voice.

You look down at the name, realizing with a sinking feeling that it’s from your ex. You hadn’t changed the contact since meeting Seokmin, hadn’t thought about it, really. But the moment feels heavy as you explain, “It’s just… someone from a while ago. We don’t talk anymore.”

His mouth twitches in a half-bitter smile, half-scoff as he lifts himself up from under you, standing up to pace. “A heart emoji? Doesn’t seem like ‘just someone.’”

You follow, reaching for his hand, but he pulls away, pain in his eyes harder than you’ve ever seen. “Seokmin, it’s not what you think. I haven’t talked to him since we started seeing each other.”

But he shakes his head, looking away. “You say that, but how am I supposed to believe it? I’ve been here before, and I know what happens next.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, disbelief mingling with anger. “Are you serious? Seokmin, I’ve done nothing but give you every reason to trust me. I’ve waited, I’ve been patient with you. I told you how I feel because I thought you’d want to know, not so I could be questioned like this.”

His voice rises, defensiveness seeping in. “You don’t understand, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to think everything’s fine and then realize it was all a lie. I can’t just give myself away like that. I’m not ready.”

The frustration boils over, and your voice trembles as you retort, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have been with me if you weren’t ready for someone who actually loves you.” You take a step back, feeling a crack in the wall you’ve been holding up. “And you know what? I don’t even want to hear ‘I love you’ now, not like this. Not if I have to beg for it.”

Seokmin looks away, swallowing, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you feels like a chasm, a point you can’t return from. Finally, his voice softens, barely above a whisper. “Maybe I just… don’t know how to love anyone right.”

The silence stretches uncomfortably, the weight of his words filling the space between you. Your heart twists, but instead of softening, it stirs your anger.

“You know what, Seokmin?” You break the silence, voice sharper than you intend. “I don’t think you really want this. And God, that fucking sucks—because every day with you felt like I finally got everything I ever wanted. But apparently the feeling isn’t mutual. I mean, you say you care, but every time I take a step closer, you’re right there pushing me back.”

His expression hardens, and he crosses his arms defensively. “And maybe I don’t want to get hurt again. You think it’s easy for me to just jump in like nothing happened?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I get that you have baggage, but what about mine? You don’t think it hurts every time I tell you how I feel, and you just stare at me like it’s some impossible thing for you to say back? Like I’m asking too much from you?” You scoff, shaking your head. “Maybe that’s on me for thinking I could mean more to you than just… this convenient relationship you can pull away from whenever you feel like it.”

He takes a step back, his eyes blazing with hurt and anger. “Convenient? You think this is convenient for me? You think everything we did means nothing to me? You think you mean nothing to me?”

Your voice breaks, hurt now outweighing the anger. “You never even asked me to be your girlfriend, Seokmin!” He looks over, finding that tears have begun pooling in your eyes. “I feel like I’m just waiting around for you to make up your mind.”

Seokmin freezes, his heart sinking at the sight of your tears. The words hit him harder than anything else you’ve said. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been taking for granted, how much he’d been leaving you to carry on your own. The look on your face—raw, vulnerable, and heartbroken—pierces him in a way nothing else has.

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he can’t move. His chest feels tight, like there’s a weight pressing down on him. He had always thought he was doing enough, that his feelings for you would be enough to show how much you meant to him. But hearing you say those words—waiting around for him to make up his mind—it’s like a gut punch. He never intended for you to feel this way.

“Y/N…” he starts, his voice strained and unsteady. His hand hovers in the air as if unsure whether to reach for you or not, the space between you seeming wider than ever. His lips tremble slightly, and he takes a step forward, but you don’t move. The distance between you feels like an impenetrable wall, and he feels like he’s losing you with every passing second.

“I—I never meant for you to feel that way,” he says, his words faltering. His eyes flicker between you and the floor, unsure of how to fix the brokenness that’s suddenly so palpable between you two. “I… I thought you knew how much I care about you. I thought I was doing enough…”

His voice trails off, and the realization dawns on him like a harsh slap. He didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. He didn’t make it clear how serious he was. He just assumed you knew. And now, seeing the hurt in your eyes, he understands how wrong he’s been.

“I—I never wanted you to feel like you were waiting. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, his voice thick with regret. His chest feels tight, constricted by the weight of his own inaction. “I didn’t realize how much I was asking of you.”

He takes another tentative step toward you, his hands trembling slightly as they reach for yours. This time, when he touches your hand, there’s no hesitation—just a desperate need to bridge the gap between you. His fingers wrap gently around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, his gaze searching yours for any sign that there’s still hope.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to… how to make it right.” He shakes his head in disbelief, as if trying to make sense of it all. The weight of everything he’s left unsaid presses down on him, and the guilt gnaws at him, leaving him feeling smaller with each passing second. "Please, just tell me how to fix it," he says quietly, his voice barely audible. "I don’t want to lose you. But–” You roll your eyes before he even elaborates, already knowing where his point is going, “I can’t. Not after what happened last time.” 

You take your hand out of his grip, clenching your fists. “Do you even hear yourself? I’ve been here, Seokmin. I stayed, I waited, I tried. But all you’re doing is punishing me for something that has nothing to do with me. And I can’t keep trying to prove myself to you when you’re already convinced I’m going to hurt you.”

Seokmin’s expression twists with frustration, his voice dropping, “Well, maybe that’s because people like you always do. You say you’re here now, but I’ve seen what happens next. You’ll find someone else, someone who can say all the right things, and you’ll leave me just like everyone else has.”

There’s a sudden ache in your chest, a pang of betrayal, and it’s your turn to take a step back. “People like me?” you repeat, voice trembling. “You think so little of me that you’d group me with whatever happened to you before? How could you possibly believe that after everything we’ve been through?”

He glances away, unable to answer, but his silence only fuels your frustration.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, voice barely above a whisper but seething. “Maybe you’re not the guy for me. Because I deserve someone who trusts me, who wants to be with me, and isn’t stuck in this endless cycle of doubt and fear.”

The words hang in the air between you, and Seokmin’s face instantly shifts from anger to something far more fragile. His eyes widen, and he looks as if you’ve struck him—like he hadn’t considered, not for a second, that things could actually end this way.

“You… you don’t mean that,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. He takes a step toward you, desperation in his eyes. “You can’t just… walk away. We can work through this; I’ll try harder.”

You shake your head, the weight of disappointment settling heavily in your chest. “Seokmin, this isn’t about trying harder. It’s about trust, about feeling like you actually want me in your life. I can’t keep pouring myself into this when you’re too afraid to meet me halfway.”

His voice cracks as he pleads, “But I need you. I just… I didn’t know how to say it before. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d give me more time.”

You can feel your resolve start to waver, but you swallow hard, staying strong. “I thought I could, too. But it’s not fair to keep asking me to wait. I’m not your past, Seokmin. I’m here, right now, trying to build a future with you. And if that’s not something you can give me…” You take a shaky breath, the finality of it sinking in, “…then maybe this isn’t right.”

The devastation on his face is clear, and he takes another step toward you, reaching out hesitantly as if afraid you’ll pull away. “No, please… I’ll try to be better. I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, you soften. But there’s still an ache, a lingering feeling that’s been growing with each unspoken “I love you,” each moment he couldn’t bring himself to trust you.

“Seokmin, I didn’t want it to come to this,” you murmur, voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t be the only one fighting for us. You need to want this, too. Not just because you’re afraid of being alone, but because you’re willing to love me.”

He’s silent, his hands dropping as his gaze falls to the floor, visibly struggling with the weight of your words. Finally, he nods, a defeated look in his eyes. “I do want to… but I don’t know how.”

You close your eyes, heart aching for him—for what could have been, for the love that’s still there between you but not enough to hold you together. You gently touch his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin one last time. “I hope you figure it out, Seokmin. For both of us.”

He looks up, a tear slipping down his cheek as he whispers, “I’m so sorry.” And you walk out the door, leaving him standing alone in his living room. 

The silence presses in around him, heavy and suffocating, like an oppressive weight settling over his chest. His body feels frozen, like he’s still trying to catch up to the reality of what just happened, the weight of your words and the finality of your departure sinking into his bones.

He rubs his face with both hands, the frustration and guilt bubbling up in a way that feels suffocating. His mind spins, replaying the argument over and over again, each word cutting deeper than the last. You were right. He never asked you to be his girlfriend. He never gave you the security you needed, the assurance you deserved. And now, the one person he thought would always be there, the one person he couldn’t afford to lose, was walking away.

He drags a hand through his hair, pacing across the room aimlessly, unsure of what to do with himself. His mind races, but everything feels so muddled, so unclear. He knows he messed up, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how much he’d taken for granted until it was too late, until you were gone.

His breath comes in shallow bursts, and suddenly, the tears come, hot and stinging against his eyes.

He doesn’t try to stop them. They fall freely, a mixture of frustration, guilt, and regret overwhelming him. The harshness of the argument fades into the quiet ache of realizing what he’s lost, and with it, the reality of how deeply he’s hurt you. His chest tightens with every tear that slips down his face, the lump in his throat growing impossibly heavier.

He slumps further into the couch, his face in his hands as he tries to catch his breath. The sobs come harder now, raw and uncontrollable. He’d never imagined it would end like this—he’d always believed things would somehow work out, that time would fix everything, that he could somehow get over his own fears and be the person you needed. But now, in the quiet aftermath, all he can feel is the void left by your absence, and the fear that maybe it’s too late for any of it.

Should he have followed you outside? Grabbed your arm, held you against his chest, begged you not to leave? Would it have made a difference? 

He paces back and forth in the living room, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Every step feels like it’s dragging him deeper into a pit, each round of his feet against the floor only making him feel more isolated. The tears that had come earlier are dry now, but the hurt still lingers, gnawing at him. His mind is a whirlwind, replaying everything from the argument to the moment you walked out.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. The thought runs over and over in his mind, but he’s not sure how to make it stop, how to undo what’s been said. He’s not sure what’s scarier: the fact that he couldn’t say the words you needed to hear or that now, in the aftermath, he’s terrified of losing you.

His eyes keep drifting to his phone, as though waiting for some kind of sign, a message from you, maybe, telling him you’ve reconsidered. But there’s nothing. Just the empty silence that presses down on him, the space between you growing further with each passing minute.

Hours slip by, and eventually, he can’t stay awake any longer. He drags himself to his bedroom, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, like everything is moving in slow motion. The bed feels too big, too empty without you beside him, where you were supposed to lie tonight, in his arms. He lays down but can’t seem to settle, tossing and turning as thoughts of you invade his every attempt at rest.

His mind drifts back to the warmth of your laughter, the softness of your touch, how easily the two of you had fit together. And now, he’s left with this cold, aching emptiness. He can’t stop thinking about you—how he should’ve told you everything you needed to hear, how he could’ve fixed it.

But all he can do now is lie awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping, wishing, that somehow, he’ll find a way to make things right.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The days since you’d left feel like an eternity. A month and a half. 

The space between you and Seokmin has grown too wide to bridge, but every day, as he drives home from work, he’s haunted by the sight of you getting off the bus at your usual stop. There’s a painful rhythm to it now, a constant reminder of what once was and how easily it all slipped away. He can’t help but notice the way your shoulders are hunched, the distance in your stride, as if you too are carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

Seokmin keeps his eyes on the road, trying not to look, but every day, it’s harder to ignore. His heart aches with the knowledge that you’re right there—so close, yet untouchable.

It’s a quiet torment, this space between you two. The conversations with his friends, the questions about you, all feel like another layer of pressure, a weight he can’t seem to shrug off.

“Hey, Seokmin,” Seungkwan says one evening, voice light but laced with concern as he wipes down his work station. “Have you heard from Y/N? I haven’t seen her around lately. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

Seokmin stiffens, his grip on the rag he’s holding tightening. His best friend’s eyes are searching, but Seokmin doesn’t know how to explain. How could he? The words still feel heavy in his mouth, and he’s not sure how much longer he can lie about it.

“I… uh… we just haven’t talked in a while,” Seokmin says, his voice unsteady, the smile he tries to muster faltering. “I think she’s been busy with schoolwork, you know?”

Seungkwan doesn’t press, though the concern in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s hard for Seokmin to explain what’s going on, especially when it feels like everything’s been left unsaid, hanging in the air like a storm that never quite hits. 

Then, it’s Joshua at the coffee shop, always quick to greet Seokmin with his usual bright energy, but his tone shifts a little when he mentions you. “So, where’s your friend been? Haven’t seen her in here lately. You two still hanging out?”

Seokmin’s chest tightens, the words harder to push out than he expects. “Yeah, she’s just been busy with some stuff. You know how it is.”

Joshua looks at him for a moment, expression softening as though he’s trying to piece things together, but he says nothing. Instead, he just hands over Seokmin’s coffee with a knowing smile, as if that’s all he can offer for now.

Seokmin hates the question, the one he can’t answer truthfully. Every time it comes up, it breaks something inside him. So, when Mr. Kim asks why you haven’t been coming by to read his books, Seokmin smiles—his smile that feels too heavy, too tired—and gives the same response he’s been giving for weeks. “She’s been busy, Mr. Kim. I’m sure she’ll stop by again soon.”

Mr. Kim, not catching the underlying sadness, just nods and pats Seokmin’s shoulder, his eyes warm with understanding. “I hope so. It’s not the same without her.”

But the worst of it all is when Ms. Boo, Seungkwan’s grandmother, asks. Seokmin has always had a soft spot for the elderly woman, and her memory isn’t what it used to be, so she asks about you often—sometimes multiple times in a week.

Each time, it feels like a new cut. She looks up at him with bright, hopeful eyes, always asking where you’ve gone, if you’re coming to visit again soon. 

Seokmin forces the smile to stay in place, masking the rawness he feels. “She’s just been busy with school, Ms. Boo. Everything’s alright, I promise. She’ll be back soon.”

But there’s always something about the way she looks at him that feels like she sees through the mask, as if she can tell something isn’t right. She doesn’t say it out loud, but the way she sighs, the way her face falls just a little, makes it clear that she can feel the change in the air. She sees it in the flowers, too. Despite how hard Seokmin tries to hide it, the displays at the window have begun to look lifeless and dull once more. 

Seungkwan, who has overheard all these conversations, sees how his grandmother’s face changes with each of these questions. He sees how Seokmin’s eyes dim just a little bit more each time he lies. It breaks his heart to watch, and yet, he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t know how to make it better for his friend.

Seokmin is a shell of himself when he’s alone in his apartment, and Seungkwan knows it. He’s seen it in the way Seokmin walks through the coffee shop doors, the way his shoulders slump more with each passing day. But there’s nothing to say. Nothing Seungkwan can do except wait for Seokmin to find a way out of this quiet agony.

And Seokmin, for his part, is slowly suffocating in it. The silence between them stretches on, a cruel reminder of how things can slip away when the words left unsaid are too heavy to carry.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Seokmin can’t take it anymore. Every day, he drives past your stop, sees you walking away, and it feels like he's still chasing something he can't reach. He hasn’t let go, not really. It’s been two months, but the feeling of being cut off from you gnaws at him relentlessly. He doesn’t know how to fix it, but he knows he can’t keep waiting, not like this.

He picks up his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he stares at your name in his contacts. The screen is bright in the dimness of his apartment, a silent reminder of all the things left unsaid between you two. He hesitates for a moment, but it’s only a moment—he doesn’t want to regret this. Not this time.

He taps your name, the sound of the call connecting ringing in his ears. It rings and rings, each second stretching longer than the last. His heart beats louder in his chest, and as the voicemail prompt comes through, he lets out a shaky breath.

The words tumble out before he can stop them, a rush of everything he’s been holding back, the things he hasn’t said and should’ve said weeks ago.

“Hey,” he starts, his voice quiet but steady. “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but… I wanted you to know that I miss you, and I miss us. And… I’m in love with you, if that means anything to you now.”

He swallows hard again, the confession hanging in the air, vulnerable and raw. “I just—” His voice cracks for a second before he regains himself. “I just need you to know that. Because I can’t pretend I don’t feel it anymore. And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t miss you. Even if this is too late. Even if you’re already moving on.”

The words weigh heavily on him, but there’s something freeing about saying them out loud, even if it’s just into a voicemail.

He lets out a shaky breath, the lump in his throat tightening as he finishes, “I don’t know what you want or how you feel anymore, but I hope, in some way, you know how much you mean to me. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll understand that when I say I’m sorry for everything that went wrong, I mean it. I really do.”

He pauses again, the finality of the message weighing on him, and he rubs the back of his neck, closing his eyes as if imagining you were hearing him now.

“I hope you’re doing okay. Whatever you decide, just… know that I miss you. I’m sorry. And I love you. I always have.”

His hand falls to his side as the beep signaling the end of the message rings in his ears, leaving a silence that feels even heavier than the one before.

Seokmin stares at the phone in his hand, his breath shaky, heart pounding. The message is sent, but the weight of it doesn’t lift. In fact, everything feels heavier, as if saying those words has only made the space between you feel even more real. He rubs his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. His chest feels tight, a lump in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times he exhales.

He stares at the phone, unable to look away. His mind is flooded with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, how your eyes would light up when you'd talk about something you loved, how your hand felt in his, so warm and familiar. He’d taken it all for granted. And now, with the message sent and no immediate response, the silence between you feels deafening.

His eyes water, his throat tightens with the kind of ache that no words can fix. It’s strange how he can feel so empty yet so full of regret at the same time. He thought saying the words would somehow bring relief, some kind of release, but instead, it only makes him realize how much he’s lost. How much he’s hurt you. How he hasn’t been the person he wanted to be for you, not the way he promised he would.

The thought of you not listening to the message, not responding, makes the knot in his stomach twist tighter. What if you’ve already moved on? What if it’s too late for him to fix anything? He can barely bring himself to imagine it.

Seokmin blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it doesn’t help. His tears spill over, and for the first time since the night you walked out, he lets himself really cry. He sits there, phone still in his hand, the emptiness of the room almost suffocating. 

"Please listen," he whispers to the empty room, as though saying it out loud might somehow make it real. The words feel weak, pathetic even, but they’re all he has left.

He sets the phone down on the couch beside him, a hollow ache settling in his chest. The message he left you was everything he needed to say, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. His fingers twitch, almost instinctively, reaching for his phone again as if the act of texting or calling might undo the quiet that’s consumed him. But he doesn’t. His hand falls to his side, heavy and lifeless.

Seokmin feels the weight of it all in the stillness, like the air itself is pressing down on him. He pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a loose embrace. His thoughts drift back to the fight, to the moment he knew things had cracked between the two of you. He could still hear your voice, the pain and frustration in it, the words you said—I’m just waiting around for you to make up your mind. They replay over and over, no matter how hard he tries to shake them off.

The silence stretches on, suffocating. The clock ticks, each second heavier than the last. Seokmin’s breath shudders as his mind replays every moment, every opportunity he had to say the words that could have made a difference. But he never did. He never allowed himself to take that step, always too afraid that he’d screw it up, that he’d let you down. And now, in the quiet aftermath of everything, he realizes how much he truly let you down.

His body feels tired, worn, but sleep doesn’t come. Not tonight. He lies back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the minutes tick by. His eyes are red, his heart heavier than it’s ever been. 

The next morning, Seokmin wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing beside. He groans, blinking into the early light of the day, the ache in his chest still persistent. He’s been lying on the couch for hours, unable to fall asleep, but exhausted all the same. When he finally brings himself to stand, his phone buzzes again with a text from Seungkwan.

“Hey, we’re coming over. You okay?”

As much as he wants to curl up and shut out the world, he knows Seungkwan won’t let that happen. And Soonyoung, ever the optimistic force, won’t leave him alone until they can make him smile again.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he slowly trudges into the kitchen, staring blankly at the coffee maker as if it holds the secret to feeling better. He pours a cup, the warm liquid comforting in the way only caffeine can, but it doesn’t do anything for the hollow ache that’s settled into his ribs.

When the doorbell rings, he’s still holding the mug, his fingers cold around it. He doesn’t even bother to put it down as he goes to open the door.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung are standing there, both grinning wide, but it doesn’t take long for them to notice how Seokmin’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His hair is a mess, his clothes wrinkled, but it’s the way he carries himself that tells them everything.

“Seokmin,” Seungkwan says softly, stepping forward and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on, man? You’ve been off lately. It’s obvious.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything at first. He just gives a small shrug, trying to brush them off, but Soonyoung isn’t having it.

“Don’t give us that. We’ve been your friends for too long,” Soonyoung says, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “We’re here to hang out, but if something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to us, right?”

Seokmin forces a laugh, but it sounds hollow. He rubs a hand over his face, suddenly feeling the weight of how truly alone he felt settling even deeper in his chest.

“I… I don’t know, guys. I don’t think it’ll make a difference, but…” His voice trails off, and for a moment, he wonders if he should just tell them. If he could just say the words, maybe it would make everything easier.

Seungkwan glances at Soonyoung, and the two of them silently agree. Soonyoung gestures toward the couch. “Come on, sit down. We’re not leaving until you spill, man.”

With a heavy sigh, Seokmin sits down, his body slumping into the couch. He finally sets the mug down on the coffee table and stares at his hands. It’s like the weight of everything is suddenly too much to bear, and he can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

“I… I messed up,” Seokmin starts, his voice tight, a lump forming in his throat. “I messed up with her. She—she told me she loved me, and I couldn’t say it back.”

Both Seungkwan and Soonyoung freeze, exchanging a glance, then turning back to him. Seungkwan speaks first, his voice gentle. “What do you mean, you couldn’t say it back? I thought things were going well.”

Seokmin runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know, I just—I was so scared. I couldn’t let myself fall for her, not completely. I was afraid of getting hurt again. So when she told me she loved me, I froze. I couldn’t say it. And she—she called me out on it. She asked me why I couldn’t just say it, why I never even asked her to be my girlfriend. And then…” His voice breaks, and he wipes his eyes, embarrassed. “And then I let her go. I didn’t fight for her. I didn’t even try.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Seokmin’s confession settling between them. Soonyoung’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks, but there’s an edge of disbelief in it. “You didn’t ask her to be your girlfriend?” He shakes his head, as if trying to make sense of it. “What the hell?”

“I know,” Seokmin replies, his voice barely a whisper. “I was an idiot. I let the fear get in the way, and now… now she’s gone. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. And I’ve been… I’ve been torturing myself thinking I could fix it somehow, but I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Seungkwan sits down beside him, his tone firm but understanding. “So what, you’re just giving up? You can’t expect to just let this go without trying to make it right. You love her, don’t you?”

Seokmin nods without hesitation, his eyes full of regret. “Yeah. I love her. I think I always have, but I was too afraid to admit it, to act on it. And now I think I’ve lost her for good.”

Soonyoung leans forward, his expression serious. “Look, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. If she really means that much to you, you can’t just walk away from it. You have to try, even if it’s scary.”

Seungkwan chimes in, his voice quieter but equally earnest. “We’re here for you, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Seokmin nods, feeling the weight of their words sink in. The guilt is still there, gnawing at him, but for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t feel so alone in it. Maybe there’s still a chance to make things right. 

“I... I called her,” he admits quietly, his voice hesitant, like he’s unsure if admitting it will make it real. He looks up at Seungkwan and Soonyoung, who are both watching him closely, waiting for him to continue. “I left her a voicemail last night.”

The room goes still, and Seungkwan leans forward, his brows furrowing in concern. “A voicemail? What did you say?”

Seokmin takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I told her I miss her. I told her I miss us. And then... I told her I love her. I said it. I just… I don’t know if it matters anymore. She hasn’t responded.”

Soonyoung’s expression softens. “That’s huge. But you can’t just expect one voicemail to fix everything. Maybe… maybe she needs time too.”

“I know,” Seokmin says, his voice raw with emotion. “But it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. I just—I don’t even know where to start.”

Seungkwan places a hand on his shoulder, offering a small, supportive squeeze. “You did the right thing by reaching out, Seokmin. You told her how you felt, and now you have to give her the space to process it. You can’t control how she responds, but you can control how you act. And the fact that you’re willing to try—well, that says a lot.”

Seokmin’s gaze drifts to the window, the weight of the situation heavy on his chest. His voice cracks as he speaks again. “I just don’t want to lose her. Not like this.”

“Then don’t give up,” Soonyoung says firmly, a quiet determination in his words. “You’ve taken the first step. Now it’s time to show her that you’re serious about making things right. She might need to hear from you again. Maybe not right away, but eventually.”

Seungkwan adds quickly, “But don’t rush it. You’ve got to be patient with her, and with yourself. You can’t undo what’s happened, but you can start moving forward. And if she’s meant to be with you, she’ll see that.”

Seokmin nods, the weight in his chest easing slightly. He’s still unsure about what the future holds, but hearing his friends’ words gives him a sense of hope he hasn’t felt in weeks. There’s still a chance, even if it seems small. And for now, that’s enough to hold onto.

“Thanks,” Seokmin murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “You guys really don’t know how much this means to me.”

The day drags on as Seokmin tries to focus on what Seungkwan and Soonyoung have planned for him. They’ve taken him out for some outdoor activity—something to get him out of the house and away from the constant, gnawing worry that’s been eating at him since he left that voicemail.

They’re hiking up a trail, the air fresh and crisp around them, the sounds of birds calling and wind rustling through the trees. Seokmin knows they’re trying to get him to focus on something else, but his mind keeps drifting back to his phone. He checks it every few minutes, his thumb hovering over the screen, but every time, there’s still nothing. No missed call, no message, not even an unread notification.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung chat animatedly ahead, laughing and joking, but Seokmin falls behind, his thoughts lost in the stillness of his mind. His phone buzzes in his pocket, making his heart jump, and he pulls it out eagerly, hoping—just hoping—it’s you. But when he unlocks the screen, his shoulders sag in disappointment. It’s just a message from his mom, asking if he’s eating enough. He sighs and stuffs the phone back into his pocket, trying to shake off the feeling of defeat creeping in.

“You okay, man?” Seungkwan calls back, his voice laced with concern as he notices Seokmin lagging behind.

“Yeah, just tired,” Seokmin replies with a half-smile, forcing the words out even though they don’t feel true. He stretches his legs to catch up, trying to hide the emptiness that seems to settle deeper with every minute he’s away from his phone.

Soonyoung turns around to check on him too, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not still checking your phone every five seconds, are you? Let’s enjoy today, okay? You deserve a break from the stress.”

But even as Seokmin tries to convince himself, he can’t shake the constant urge to check his phone. He tries to focus on the hike, listening to Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s conversation as they joke about how out of shape they are, but his mind keeps straying. He checks again when they stop to rest, and then again when they grab lunch at a small café after the hike.

No message. No calls. No unread messages. Nothing.

The silence feels nauseating.

They sit down at a table outside, and Seungkwan gives him a light nudge, raising his eyebrows as a silent check-in. Seokmin replies with a weak, crooked smile. As much as he tries to focus on the present moment, he finds his every thought circulating back to you. 

A month later, he hadn’t heard from you, and it had eaten away at him, slowly, quietly—like a slow, insidious rust that creeps across the metal of his soul, gradually weakening his resolve and leaving him hollowed out. 

He replayed the voicemail he’d left you a thousand times, but the silence that followed it felt like a cruel, final answer. He convinced himself that you were done with him, that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. The distance between you had crushed him, and as the days passed, his hope dwindled until he was convinced this was the end. 

Some days, he crashed out on his couch at night, consumed by guilt, regret, and doubt, unable to shake the feeling that he had lost you for good. Other days, he sat staring blankly at the TV, the familiar ache in his chest as a constant companion. He’s learned to live with the silence that hangs between him and you, but it’s still unbearable. The thought of you is a constant, as persistent as the ticking of a clock in the room. He’s replayed the voicemail over and over in his mind, the words you never responded to still echoing in his ears.

It’s late at night, and just as he’s about to get up to go to bed, a knock on his door freezes him in place. His heart skips a beat. For a moment, he wonders if he’s imagining things. But no—there it is again, more urgent this time.

He opens the door, his breath catching in his throat as he sees you standing there, the faint glow of hallway lights casting soft shadows across your face. You look hesitant, like you’re unsure of how to begin. The sight of you shakes him to his core, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N?”

You nod, your eyes searching his face, torn between relief and uncertainty. "I… I saw your voicemail." Your voice trembles, as if every word is a weight on your chest. "The day it came in. I just… I needed time. I needed time to figure things out."

Seokmin stands there, frozen, the full weight of what you’re saying finally sinking in. You saw it. You heard it. And yet, you didn’t respond.

“I—” He starts, but he can’t seem to find the words. The tension in the air is thick, both of you still holding onto the remnants of everything that’s gone unsaid.

"I know you were waiting for me to respond. But," you stop yourself, struggling to find the words. "You made me wait for so long, Seokmin. For 'I love you.' I needed to make you wait too. It wasn’t fair, but… that’s how I felt."

The truth stings. He’s been waiting for you, aching with every unanswered day, but hearing this—he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t expected you to have been just as torn up inside.

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin finally manages, his voice hoarse. “I never meant to hurt you, I just… I couldn’t—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “I was so scared, Y/N. I was scared of getting hurt again. I didn’t know how to say it. But I was never trying to make you wait. I just… couldn’t.”

You take a step closer, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it. I really do. But it hurt. It hurt, Seokmin. All I wanted was for you to let me in, to trust me like I trusted you. And when you couldn’t say it, when you couldn’t even ask me to be yours… it made me feel like maybe I wasn’t enough. Like maybe I wasn’t worth it.”

His breath hitches in his throat, a raw ache spreading through his chest. He feels the weight of your words like a heavy stone pressing down on him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he repeats, his voice cracking. The tears he’s been holding back finally spill over, streaking down his cheeks. He doesn’t try to hide them; they just fall, one after another. “I never wanted you to feel that way. I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t worth it. You were always worth it. I just—” His voice falters as he swallows back a sob. “I just didn’t know how to let myself love you. I was so scared of losing you that I pushed you away.”

You can’t hold back your tears either, and they fall silently as you watch him break down. Everything you’ve been holding in—every ounce of pain, of frustration, of longing—rushes to the surface, and all you can do is stand there, letting it all spill over, just like him.

“I was so angry at you, Seokmin,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Angry because I loved you, and I wanted you to love me back so badly, but you couldn’t say it. And I hated that I had to question whether I was enough for you.”

“I know, I know,” he says, wiping his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. He wants so badly to reach for your hand, but he won’t. Not until you make the first move. Instead, he swallows, continuing. “And I’m sorry. I was selfish, and I hurt you. I was terrified of being vulnerable, and I never should have let it get this far.”

You take a deep breath, your chest tight. “I can’t go back to how things were, Seokmin. I can’t just pretend everything is okay. But I don’t want to lose you. I’ve thought about this. A lot. And the thing is, I… I forgive you. I forgive you because I know you were just scared. I get that. I do. But we can’t keep doing this, you know? We can’t keep hurting each other, over and over.”

Seokmin nods, wiping his eyes again, his heart breaking with the realization that you’ve been hurt just as much as he has. “I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I… I can’t imagine my life without you. I just—” He pauses, his voice catching in his throat. “I love you. I love you so much. And I should have said it. I’ve known it for so long. And fuck, you would’ve though I was crazy, but I should have said it since the night we kissed because even then, I knew. I should’ve told you I’m in love with you. Then I wouldn’t have been regretting right now.”

You suddenly laugh weakly, and he’s both so delighted at the sound he had missed, and confused, having just poured his heart out to you. Until your lips part to explain, hands swiping away at the tears on your cheeks. “Sorry–It’s just… Those are the lyrics to your song.” 

"What?" he asks softly, his voice a little strained.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "The song," you repeat, wiping your eyes as you try to gather your thoughts. "The one you wrote, the one you sang for me at the beach."

“Oh.” At the time, the song had been just a way of sharing a piece of himself with you. But now, it felt like a mirror of everything that had gone wrong between you two—the love he couldn’t say, the hesitation, the distance that had grown between you. He had no idea then that it would be ever so relevant now. 

"I—I'm sorry," he whispers, almost afraid to speak too loud in case it shatters the fragile moment between you. "I should've said it. I should’ve made it clearer."

You shake your head, your voice breaking just a little as you reach for and squeeze his hand. "I just needed to hear those three words, Seokmin. I needed to know you meant it."

“I love you.” He repeats. And it’s real, raw, and enough to mend the cracks in your heart.

You step forward, slowly, carefully, and you wrap your arms around him. Seokmin doesn’t hesitate for a second; he pulls you close, burying his face in your hair, holding onto you like you’re the one thing that can keep him from falling apart.

“I love you too, Seokmin,” you whisper against his chest, your voice trembling. “I love you.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels right. 

"Y/N," he starts, his voice hoarse but steady. "I know you’ve been through a lot waiting for me to figure everything out. And I want you to know... everyone’s been asking about you."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, unsure where he’s going with this. “What do you mean? Who’s been asking?”

Seokmin gives a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Seungkwan and Soonyoung were both asking about you, about how you’re doing, how things have been. They’ve noticed something’s... off with me. And, uh, Mr. Kim, too. He said he hasn't seen you at the coffee shop lately. I think he misses having you around to borrow books from him." He hesitates, his expression turning more serious as he looks down at his feet, voice almost cracking. "And... Ms. Boo. She’s been asking about you every time I go to work. She doesn’t understand why we haven’t been hanging out. She doesn’t know what happened, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her everything. So, I told her you were just busy."

A sad smile spreads across your face at the mention of Ms. Boo. "I didn't realize they were still thinking about me," you murmur softly, feeling a lump form in your throat. "It’s been so long, I didn’t want to keep bothering them."

Seokmin shakes his head, his hand gently reaching for yours again, this time holding it with more certainty. "You never bothered anyone. I just... I didn’t know how to explain everything. And I didn’t want to make it worse."

You let out a small sigh, your heart aching. “I should’ve reached out sooner. I just... I was trying to give you space to figure things out, Seokmin.”

Seokmin’s gaze softens, and he takes another step closer to you. “I don’t want you to feel like that anymore. You’re not alone in this, and I never should’ve made you feel like you were. I’ve missed you so much. I just didn’t know how to fix everything.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, squeezing his hand. “I understand now. I just needed to know I wasn’t just... waiting around forever.”

Seokmin nods, his eyes brimming with sincerity. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get it right. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The words sink in, warm and comforting, and for the first time in months, you feel like a weight has lifted off your chest. He’s here, truly here, and that’s all you ever needed.

“You should come in,” Seokmin says gently, realizing the two of you are still standing in the doorway. “It’s late, and I don’t want you to be out here in the cold. I’ve been thinking about you every day, Y/N. I want to make up for everything I put you through.”

You glance up at him, a small but genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

As you step over the threshold, Seokmin pulls the door shut behind you, his hand lingering on the knob for a second before he leads you to the living room, where you notice how much quieter it feels now that you’re back in it.

Seokmin sits next to you, close but not too close, as though still letting you take the lead. His eyes search your face for any sign of doubt, but all he finds is a quiet peace. He reaches for your hand again, intertwining your fingers with his.

The two of you sit together, talking for hours, the conversation flowing as you sift through the pain of the past months. The words you’ve both held back, the misunderstandings, the regrets, all of it is finally laid out in the open, and with every confession, every apology, the weight between you seems to lift just a little more. You cry, both of you, but the tears don’t feel heavy anymore. They’re cleansing, freeing.

Seokmin holds you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly as if to keep you there, to remind himself that this time, he wasn’t going to let you go. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and you smile through the tears. It’s a smile that says everything you couldn’t say earlier: I’m here. I’m still here.

Seokmin reaches out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if testing the waters, before cupping your cheek in his palm. His touch is soft, tender, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tight. You lean into his touch instinctively, eyes fluttering closed as his thumb traces the curve of your jaw.

His lips brush against yours at first, a delicate press that sends a spark through your chest, and you melt into it, hands reaching up to gently pull him closer. The kiss deepens just slightly, as though the floodgates have opened, and suddenly all the words you didn’t know how to say are there, in the way his lips move against yours, in the way you both cling to each other like this might be your last chance.

When you pull back, it’s almost reluctantly. Both of you are breathing a little heavier, but there’s something infinitely reassuring in the way you look at each other now. No more words are needed.

The hours slip away as the two of you laugh, talk about memories, and share quiet moments. You rest your head on Seokmin’s shoulder, your fingers gently tracing over his hand. You know the past isn’t easily forgotten, but for tonight, it doesn’t matter. It’s the two of you, right here, right now, rebuilding what you lost.

Eventually, sleep starts to pull at you both, and with one final, lingering kiss, you settle into the couch together. Seokmin shifts, adjusting himself so you’re both comfortable, and without another word, you fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The morning after, Seokmin wakes up with a start, blinking against the sunlight that streams through the window. His body aches from the position he’s been in, his neck sore from sleeping on the couch for what feels like the hundredth time in a row. He groans softly, stretching, and then pauses when he realizes—this time, it’s different.

It’s not the familiar emptiness that he’s grown used to, the loneliness that had made each morning feel longer than the last. It’s you. You’re still in his arms, tucked close against his side, your head resting on his chest. He feels the softness of your hair against his cheek, your warmth pressed against him, and for the first time in so long, he doesn’t feel that cold, hollow ache in his chest.

His heart swells as he watches you sleep, your face peaceful, and he’s overwhelmed with gratitude. For the first time in months, the quiet of the morning doesn’t feel like a reminder of everything he’s lost.

He breathes in slowly, savoring the moment, letting the calm wash over him. You’re here. You’re here with him, and he can’t help but smile softly at the thought. His fingers gently run through your hair, brushing it away from your face, and he holds you a little closer, not wanting to ever forget this feeling.

He smiles, soft and content, as he slowly slips out from beneath you, careful not to wake you. His movements are slow, deliberate, and as stealthy as possible.

As he quietly stands and stretches, he feels the familiar ache in his body from having slept in the same position for too long, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a reminder that he’s here with you. He heads into the kitchen, the soft hum of the morning settling around him as he begins preparing breakfast. There’s something soothing about the routine, the way the eggs sizzle in the pan and the faint aroma of bacon fills the air. But most of all, he takes extra care to make the coffee.

He grins as he prepares it, thinking back to those moments when you’d meet him at the shop. It was always a small moment in the day, but it felt special, like a secret between the two of you. That was when he’d get to steal a few minutes with you, to laugh, to catch up, to just be in each other’s company.

The smell of the freshly brewed coffee drifts from the kitchen and into the living room, and without realizing it, Seokmin finds himself looking over his shoulder. He doesn’t want to rush you, doesn’t want to wake you up too soon, but the idea of sharing a quiet morning together makes him giddy. He takes the coffee mug, walking back toward the couch, smiling as he notices the way you’re still curled up, your face soft with sleep.

He kneels beside the couch, the weight of the mug warm in his hands, and gently places it on the table in front of you. Your eyelids flutter, and Seokmin’s heart skips a beat when you slowly stir, your eyes opening just enough to meet his gaze. The first thing he sees is your sleepy, familiar smile, and it’s like the last few months never happened.

"Coffee time?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but full of affection. The inside joke between you that always felt so special, so intimate—those little moments where it was just the two of you, caught in a world all your own.

Your smile widens, your eyes still half-lidded from sleep, and you stretch slightly, rubbing at your eyes as you sit up. “Coffee time," you echo, a soft laugh in your voice, like you’ve been waiting for this very moment to return.

Seokmin hands you the mug, feeling a warmth spread through him as you wrap your fingers around it, your eyes meeting his with a new sense of connection—like everything is coming back into place, slowly but surely.

And as you sip the coffee, the silence between you is filled with comfort, the kind that only comes after all the pain, all the uncertainty. You’re here, together, sharing this simple morning with each other. 

Love at first sight is undoubtedly the biggest fabrication that the media and modern culture has ever tried to push on society. It only happens in the movies and the books, and rarely is it even done right. 

In the real world, people make mistakes. They hurt the people they love, and they hurt themselves. They don’t talk for months on end, only to barely piece themselves together and try again.

Make no mistake; Lee Seokmin is not a pessimist, nor is he a bitter person. He’s the kind of guy who likes playing guitar at the beach as the waves crash against the shore, and going on spontaneous museum trips where he pretends to fully read each placard. The kind that enjoys drinking with his friends at karaoke rooms, and stumbling home tipsy under the stars. The kind that flips over a penny on the street so it’s face up—In hopes that the next stranger that finds it can have a bit of good luck. He likes picnics at the parks and vintage thrift stores full of cassette tapes and funny hats. And, as it turns out, he actually does like glamping (it really is nothing like camping).

Once upon a time, he used to be a hopeless romantic. 

That was before. 

Before you, the person who showed him that love is all of those scary things, but without them, it wouldn’t be as special as it is. As real as it is. As raw and emotional and warm as it really, truly is. 

Love is the coffee the two of you bonded over at the start—warm and inviting at first, comforting with its rich aroma that fills the air. It starts slow, the first sip lingering on your lips as you savor the sweetness, the bitterness, the complexity all wrapped up in one. At times, it can be too hot, burning you with its intensity, leaving you a little singed, but it’s that very warmth that keeps you coming back for more. Over time, as it cools, you get to know its depth, its subtle flavors unfolding with each moment shared. Sometimes it’s a little bitter, and sometimes it contains an unfathomable amount of sweetness… and then some.  

But in the end, it’s the kind of thing you can’t imagine your days—your life without.

Love at first sight—true love—It was a flat out lie, and he refused to fall for its charm ever again. 

So why, he thinks to himself, why did he so easily fall in love with you? 

End.

[wasyago]

How much of Tango and Pearl are still in there? How much are they vaguely aware of their actions and surroundings, feverishly shambling around like zombies, two dead puppets of the caves? Like, the skulk invading their thoughts until their own voices are just a quiet whisper in their own head? Do they remember Etho? Do they feel anger for what he did? Leaving them to die? And, most importantly, has the cave claimed anyone else we might know?

please I’m hungry for TGCAU lore

they are kind of like zombies, yeah! for how aware they are, it's like, they don't really know how they got from one place to the other or how much time has passed, but when the change of scenery is drastic enough they go "‼️" and pay attention for a while until going back to the kind of mindless state they were in.

sculk isn't exactly invading their thoughts, because there's no more their thoughts, it's all somewhat collective. one body feels it more than the other, but everything is still shared. and, well, they died, so. it's a little hard to generate thoughts all on your own when you're dead...

if you remember, sculk in minecraft gathers and stores the exp of a mob that died near it, and then grows and expands using that exp. it works similarly here. the cave gathers the life experiences, memories, life essence, and uses it to grow physically and to expland its "knowledge pool" or something. the cave isn't sentient, it can't talk, but it stores information.

so they do remember etho! but their memories of him are merged together now, and merged with the cave's own memories of him too. etho is a friend, etho left them, etho is almost like them he just needs to return, etho is alive, etho is too far away, etho hurt them, etho is bad, etho is good. there's no cause and effect reasons for their feelings, it's just feelings that they associate with the memories. memories of etho are mostly good, they miss him tho, they need him back.

not sure about any other characters, i kinda want to try and keep the au to only these four. makes it more contained.

[knottedhearts]

Argument Pt 2: M.S

The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. The tension in your chest began to loosen, but the knot in your stomach remained. The whole argument with Matt had left you feeling exhausted, like your body was at war with itself between the physical pain and the emotional toll of the fight. You hadn’t meant to storm out like that, but you didn’t know how else to handle it.

You didn’t even know where you were going, just walking, letting the cool night air clear your mind. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for a few passing cars and distant voices, nothing but the occasional sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

You found yourself at the nearby park, sitting on a bench beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, a space to think. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But you couldn’t. It was Matt.

You hesitated before pulling it out. There was a message: "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk?"

You stared at the screen for a moment, the apology almost feeling too little too late, but something inside of you softened. You knew Matt’s pride was as big as his voice, so for him to admit that much meant something. The frustration in your chest ebbed a little, replaced by a mix of confusion and the tiniest shred of hope.

You typed out a quick reply: "I need space right now. I can’t talk."

You sat there for a while, the screen of your phone glowing in the dim light as you waited for a response. When the buzz came again, you opened it to find a single sentence: "I understand. I just want you to be okay."

For a moment, you just stared at the words, not knowing how to feel. Was it genuine? Did he really understand? You wanted to believe it, but your heart was still heavy with everything that had been said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight had dug a deeper divide between the two of you.

You exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars, letting the chill of the night ground you. The silence was a comfort, though it didn’t completely take away the lingering tension. You weren’t sure how to fix things right now, but you knew you couldn’t stay angry forever.

After a while, you felt your phone buzz once more, this time with a call. It was Matt.

You debated for a moment before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen before finally accepting. "Hey," you said, your voice quieter than before, the tension still not fully gone.

"Hey," Matt’s voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I know you’re pissed, and I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have been so loud, and I should’ve listened when you said you weren’t feeling well. I… I get it now."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you leaned back against the bench. "Matt, it’s not just about the noise. It’s about not feeling heard. I need you to see when I’m struggling, not just assume I’ll get over it."

He was quiet for a moment, the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. "I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you. I just… I didn’t know how to tone it down, you know? It’s like I’m stuck in my own head sometimes, and I forget that there are people around me who need something different."

"Yeah, well," you paused, your voice steady but tired, "maybe it’s time you start noticing."

Another silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt like he was reflecting, trying to understand, really trying.

"I get that," he said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll do better. I just… I care about you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your needs didn’t matter."

There was something in his words that made the anger in your chest loosen a little more. It wasn’t perfect, and the fight was still fresh in your mind, but you knew this was the start of something. The start of him learning how to be more considerate, how to see when you were struggling instead of barreling through with his own world.

"I know you didn’t," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone. "But you have to hear me next time, Matt. I don’t want to be the one always having to ask for peace. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he replied quietly. "I’ll make sure of it."

You leaned back, your shoulders loosening just a little, the tension still present but not as overwhelming. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little more even now. "I just… need a little time to cool down."

"I get it. Take all the time you need," Matt said, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here when you’re ready."

The conversation ended shortly after, and as you sat there in the quiet park, the cold air wrapping around you, you realized that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe this was the start of a bigger change, one where both of you learned to meet in the middle, to understand each other better.

You didn’t know when you’d be ready to go back, but for the first time that evening, the idea of heading home didn’t seem so daunting. There was still work to do, but things would get better. You had to believe that.

As you stood up from the bench, the weight on your chest felt lighter. With each step, you felt a little more like yourself, a little more hopeful that the space and time would help Matt understand, and that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to make things work between you two.

[mothiir]

writing proper fic still eluding me so here is a list of how i think the primarchs would respond to their sons trying to romance human women:

Sanguinius - he isn’t thrilled about the idea, not because he thinks that love and romance is a bad thing — quite the opposite — but because he knows the tragic fate many of his sons will suffer. What human woman can survive the tribulations of the red thirst? How many of his boys will end up tearful and repentant after their control slipped, and they hurt the human they love? Mortals are so fragile — it is better to act as their guardian than their lover. Still, if he were to find out that one of his sons was seeing a mortal, he would simply gently suggest that the son in question take every proper precaution — ultimately, the choice must belong to them.

Vulkan - yes! great idea! Please do have relationships with humans - have children, rear families. When the time comes for them to pass, mourn them, but celebrate the life you were blessed to share with them. You cannot call yourself the protectors of humanity if you do not partake in it. Salamanders live amongst their human families, and relish in the kinship and love this brings them. Vulkan has given away many a Salamander in marriage.

Ferrus Manus - sex is self-indulgent nonsense. Be better. He is not the sort of man to give his sons relationship advice — nor are they the type to ask it — so he never makes an official proclamation against having mortal lovers, because Iron Hands are far too sensible to even consider it (rumours that they replace their dicks with ceramite remain unaddressed).

Horus - The Luna Wolves are — uh — enthusiastic about their involvement with humanity. Unlike Vulkan, Horus discourages lengthy attachments — have a fling if you must, have several (don’t let those flings find out about each other), but don’t try and settle down. Luna Wolves are soldiers, designed to conquer distant stars in their father’s name. One day, they will be able to plant roots in rich earth, and rear sons of their own. But not now. Not yet.

Leman Russ — Humanity is a beautiful thing, and its daughters are more beautiful yet. Leman doesn’t begrudge his sons their dalliances, nor does he discourage them from wedding — he just asks that they remember that their first duty is to the Allfather, and the pack. As long as they don’t get any ideas about sneaking off somewhere to retire, everything is fine. Russ welcomes his son’s wives to his fires — and, if they’re amenable, to his furs.

Fulgrim — much like Sanguinius, Fulgrim has complicated feelings about human women. He’s been married four times, loved each wife dearly, and had to watch them die of one ailment or another. He wants to spare his sons the torment he felt, but he also doesn’t want to deny them the full range of human experience. He ends up encouraging them to cultivate an artistic appreciation for romance — a sort of courtly love, where they paint pictures of the woman they like, and write poetry, but never actually engage in anything too direct. If he keeps their love aesthetic and sterile and distant then maybe they can avoid the heart-deep pain that comes from watching your lover perish.

The Lion - are you kidding me? His sons don’t even want to admit that they know what a woman is, just in case he somehow takes it as an insult and they end up banished.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hey 💜💜 wondering if you could write something where Damian and reader have been trying to have a baby for so long, and they've done all the treatments, but nothing ever worked, so they’ve stopped "trying". And then she ends up pregnant randomly, and her gift to him on Christmas is a positive test or a cute onesie or whatever, and it takes him a minute to actually believe her 💜💜

i love this request so much! working on it!

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️mention of infertility, pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, a little angst, mention of smut, fluff and comfort‼️

early christmas present

one year and a half.

one year and a half of you and damian trying to have a family together. one year and a half of you going from doctor to doctor, clinic to clinic and changing different treatments and yet nothing ever happened.

maybe it wasn’t meant to be. maybe you and damian weren’t fit to be parents and this was the sign. maybe it wasn’t meant for you to be a mother in this lifetime, no matter how much you wanted to be.

and you spent a year and a half blaming yourself. you reached to a point where you tried to break up with damian, saying how he deserved someone who could give him a family.

he thought you were crazy when you said that. he loved you so much and the idea of losing you was killing him, so, after a lot of therapy sessions, sleepless nights crying in each other’s arms, you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t really meant to be and that there was nothing you could do about it.

the idea of being infertile never crossed your mind so it was a big shock to you but as time passed by, you learned how to live with that and instead of focusing on the bad things, you took your life back.

a few people in the company knew or more - heard - about you and damian not being able to have kids and tried to suggest you many different options, from adoption to surrogacy but even if they seemed having good intentions, it pain you to know that your own problems became public domain.

you and damian lived your life. he promised to stay by your side and he did. he knew how much you wanted this and he was hurting at the idea of you feeling like it was your fault.

you found strength to take your mind off of that and focusing on different things. helping damian training, having dates like it was your first time together, spending much needed time in each other’s company. all the little things you loved that felt lost a year ago.

passionate nights with damian, him reminding you how much he loved you and appreciated you. you felt like yourself again and you got used of being just you and him, even if it meant for the rest of your life.

about a week ago you got sick. thinking it was just a normal cold, you let it go. but it got worse when the delicious smell of fresh bread and coffee became unbearable for you and got you nauseous every single morning.

“stomach issues again?” damian softly asked when he saw the disgust painted on your face.

“i think so…it smells so bad damian” you tried to joke when damian backed off so he could drink his coffee without making you feel worse.

“do you want me to make you something else? eggs? bacon? pancakes? anything you like?” he was so caring with you but the idea of eating made you even sicker.

“i feel like i could throw up the whole menu” you said making him laugh “i booked an appointment for today, i’m having a check up, maybe i got some virus or something…nothing too serious” you tried to remain calm but the idea of being sick for so long made you worry.

“i wish i could come with you but i promised rhea i would help her train…let me call her so i can come with you” he was about to pick up the phone but you stopped him.

“it’s not necessary damian, i promise” you smiled “she needs you, i’ll see you later on tonight” he knew that you wouldn’t have let him ditch rhea for a simple check up and he knew that no matter what he said, you wouldn’t let him come.

he nodded, moving the coffee away so he could properly kiss you before you left the house.

a couple of hours later and you were sitting in your car, watching the people passing by as you were trying to elaborate what the doctor just told you.

you weren’t sick - you were pregnant.

you were pretty sure it was impossible for you but all the tests the doctor ran turned positive.

how?

when?

your mind was racing and you couldn’t stop the million thoughts that were going through it.

sure, you and damian stopped having sex with condoms when you were trying to have a baby and when you learned that you couldn’t have kids you never really cared about safe sex anyway.

but how did it happen if you were infertile?

the doctor didn’t have a proper answer and he already scheduled some appointments to keep you checked, saying that it was almost a miracle.

right now, you were thinking about damian.

how were you going to tell him?

many ideas crossed your mind. from a mug with “best dad”, to a small t-shirt or maybe even a teddy bear.

you wanted to make this special for him too so when you crossed a shoe store on your drive back home, you decided to stop and get some inspiration. immediately your eyes fell upon a baby version of the black nike sneakers he had and you thought it was going to be an awesome gift.

your baby wasn’t even born and yet you were buying matching shoes for them and damian. while wrapping the box, the sale assistant smiled at you, unconsciously knowing that you had in mind.

you couldn’t contain your excitement and enthusiasm so you tried to speed back home.

too much surprise damian was already back and he was watching something show when you entered the front door.

his eyes immediately fell upon you, remembering you had the visit that morning.

“hey mi amor” he smiled “how are you? feeling better? what did the doctor say?” thousands of questions immediately echoed in the room, making you chuckle.

“one question at a time damian” you smiled sitting next to him on the couch “i’m feeling better, thanks, and the doctor gave me an explanation on why i keep getting sick, especially in the morning” you tried not to be so excited but it was hard.

“so?” damian was worried. he couldn’t understand why you were so happy and smiley.

instead of giving him an answer, you took the box right out of your bag and gave it to him “let say this is an early christmas present…and also the reason on why i’m always so sick” you watched him look between you and the box “come on, open it” you smiled.

damian carefully opened the small box and for a moment his heart stopped.

mini shoes? he wasn’t understanding.

and then it clicked.

“what? how? is this real?” his eyes moved between your now teary eyes and the little shoes he was holding in his hands “is it real?”

you nodded, not being able to find enough words.

“we’re gonna be parents?” he asked, now fully already knowing the answer.

“yes…” your voice broke a little but the joy filling the room was worth all of the tears you were shedding.

“this is the best gift i could ever ask for” he wrapped you in his arms and held you as you both cried of joy.

“i already booked the next appointments. the doctor wants to run some more tests and try to understand how i actually got pregnant…and we have an ultrasound appointment in a week too…we’re gonna see the baby soon” you cried onto damian’s shoulder.

“fuck, i love you so much mi amor” he quickly wiped off his tears before softly kiss your lips “and i can’t believe you got us matching shoes” he bursted out laughing.

“i can’t wait to get you matching clothes, matching pjs, matching socks, everything gonna be matching” you joked, making him even happier.

damian’s hand went over your belly “i can’t wait to meet you baby…” he softly spoke making your heart warm “you are already so loved…we love you so much, mama and papa…i can’t believe i’m saying this” he was still high on emotions and you couldn’t blame him.

maybe it really was a christmas miracle.

[turquoizxe]

𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐬

Sevika x Piltover!Fem!Reader

content ― one-shot; hatefucking, "til' the room stank", light pain kink, degradation, some biting, the reader is also bratty highkey, smut, overstim, fingering, strap, pillow talk, mentions of possible feelings, Sevika is down bad for you, #needdat #realbad

author's note ― this was supposed to be a small < 500 word drabble, but ovulation had other plans. enjoy!

wc ― 2.445k

You didn't have it in you to give up whatever this was. It felt too good. She wanted to hate your guts, ruin you, and deprive you of any happiness that she thought you didn't deserve. But I guess other plans were written on the cards.

Thoughts about how you were, how you felt ― it plagued every corner of her brain. And even you didn't understand how much she needed you.

Despite you being from Piltover, your parents were from Zaun. And due to your luck, your family had somehow found themselves outside of poverty. The unfortunate thing is that their corrupt principles still remained despite being surrounded by riches; It in fact made it worse.

Politics was always a rough issue at the dinner table, and you had your opinions about the council. You'd be lying if their narcissism didn't rub off on you quite a bit, and Sevika could tell from miles away that you'd be a problem.

Despite your background and upbringing in Piltover, you and your friends would sneak out to Zaun on more than one occasion. Your parents were unaware that you had as many connections to Zaun as they did, and possibly even more. You'd often run into Sevika more often than she'd like to. Your favorite interaction being within the brothel.

Silco had recently hired you and asked you to find Sevika, who hadn't known that you had become a partner in their line of work. She was often seen at The Last Drop when she was on downtime. You knew her features all too well, and it'd be nice to greet her with your lovely face.

You didn't think she would be able to fuck as good as she looked. While it had been made to your knowledge that she was also a regular at the Brothel, you had been browsing, the familiar voice had echoed. And you hated admitting to yourself how her baritone and shaken up the core inside you. You were gone before you could even make an attempt to find a partner that night. And you couldn't help but hear the filthy words that left her lips every time you had to interact with her.

"That pretty little cunt is mine, isn't it?"

God, you hoped those thoughts didn't chase through you with every moment she spoke with you. Once you started working together more, the tension got stronger, and neither of you could pinpoint when and where it started. But you knew what strengthened it. Your quick wit and smart mouth kept her entertained, and some days she wondered how the hell you didn't end up in this line of work sooner.

Your involvement with Zaun made her feel like the mission was being prolonged with your presence, and she made it known with every passing moment the aversion she had reserved for you. You'd believe it if she spent less time staring at your ass when you were tweaking with her mechanical arm.

The small audience that knew of your partnership was often left in question, as they couldn't describe the relationship you had with one another. And fondness wasn't a word they would state it as.

The seamless flirting felt so harmless at first, the prolonged stares. She could tell how she made you feel, and she always refrained from acknowledging it because she wants to fuck you more than she hates you.

And she couldn't tell if that hate was mutual when all you did was toy with her when under pressure. And finally, she gave in to what she knew you both wanted.

You two got caught up when you started bringing up your parents and your involvement with Zaun. You had spent so much time trying to convince her that this wasn't some sort of savior complex moment for you. You had known better than to engage with someone of her stature. You'd be as good as dead. Sevika was impressed with your combat skills, but that fell short once your teeth sunk into her skin. The lust that clouded her eyes was clear as day in yours.

You knew better than to use Silco's desk for anything other than work, but neither cared enough about him to consider that.

You had Sevika right where you wanted her.

Her mechanical arm had you pinned upon Silco's desk. Your breasts were on display, riddled with bites and hickeys; Your bottoms dangled over your ankles, and your undergarments were barely recognizable after Sevika tore them. And you whined under her so desperately.

"What happened to that shit you were talkin' earlier, huh?" She scoffed, her fingers working inside your walls, eager to pull more cries from you. It was embarrassing for her to admit how much pleasure she derived from you crying like a bitch in heat.

You had stopped counting how many times she had made you come at this point. It was constant teasing and banter until you took it upon yourself to rile her up.

"Fuckin' brat, I just knew you'd break.." Her wrist flicked up, her strong arm adjusting your bottom half. The pressure on your clit only intensified once she realized the change in her angle led to finding your spot.

She had slowed down her movements to get a better look at you, and going only slower every time you averted your gaze. She looked down, your fluids soaking her palm. She let out an audible moan when she slowed down to take a better look at the white ring that was forming around her fingers that prodded you. If Sevika knew anything, you hated when she got under your skin, but how much does that matter when she's already gotten in your pants?

Sevika leans forward, peppering kisses across your chest, soothing the love bites she left behind on your neck, leading up to your ear as your body arches to feel her, yearning to be closer. Her breath ghosted over your ear, softly biting the skin. She slowly lifts her body so she can see the torment in your eyes.

"Look at me when you come, doll."

You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes. It was hard for you to form words, incoherent mumbles, and uneven breaths. You were only able to form a string of "fuck" as she abused your puffy clit. Your mind was clouded by lust and yet despite the knot in your stomach once again creating and becoming painful; You took it upon yourself to move your hips to meet the thrusts of her digits.

Sevika clicked her tongue before removing her fingers from your cunt, your remnants coating her fingers and desk. She backs away and turns away from you, wandering off to a dark corner of the office. A loud groan of frustration falls from your lips. Despite your body being pushed to its limits, you felt you could come for her once more than the last. You couldn't remember the last time anyone has fucked you that good, or if anyone even has until she strolled along.

"Following the rules seems to be a tough concept for you."

"You're such an ass" you sneer, sitting up. Your partner seemed to have stopped entertaining you, your hands finding their way to your pussy, frantically searching for its release. Much to your dismay, Sevika was not far away enough to not hear the cries of your pussy.

"I didn't say you could touch yourself."

"Not like you're doing it", you heave. A strong hand had taken hold of yours, halting your movements. You had been too busy trying to chase another orgasm, you hadn't realized Sevika's strap-on was excited to greet you― a thin layer of lube covering it. As prepped as you were, neither of you doubted you took whatever she gave you.

Sevika's stature was much larger than the average woman's, and she could tell how much you enjoyed feeling small under her with every moment she took to hover over you. While her mechanical arm held you up, firmly grasping your ass, the sharp metal, left small scratches on your backside, while her other hand ghosted over your thigh, her orbs remaining on yours. Your bottom lip stuck between your teeth to stifle a moan. You didn't think you'd become much weaker under her than you did at that moment.

Sevika had you right where she wanted you.

You both leaned forward, your chests heaving against each other, and were enveloped in what would be your first kiss. You were messy, and she adored you. Her tongue quickly found its way into your mouth, your lips softly suckling on the flesh as your hips started to grind against her, craving for Sevika to use her toy. She quickly took that into account, but she still had a sliver of pettiness within her.

"Sev..." drawls from your lips. Your only support is your arms upon Silco's desk as Sevika has her bionic arm grasping under you, her other hand wrapped around her neck, forcing you to look at her as she slowly inserts herself inside. Despite your slick being noticeably scattered across Sevika's hands and Silco's desk, you couldn't remember the last time you had something so big inside you. She pushed further, her thumb caressing your cheek, still holding your neck to see you lose any form of restraint you have left.

Sevika had finally removed her hand from your neck, retreating back to your breasts, pinching your nipples between her fingers. Once her length bottomed out, a gasp forced out of you from the sudden probe. Sevika grunts, your weight causing the friction against her clit. Your head flung back, white was the only thing you could see. You could feel the head of her strap probe at your spot once again.

"So fucking sexy...you're mine aren't you?"

You weakly moaned out a yes, too fucked out to even think of a witty comeback. Seeing you this fucked out was a dream before her eyes. Ever since she saw you catch a glimpse of her animosity at the brothel, she had only wondered how much of a beating you could take when she took you to pound town. She placed both of her hands on your hips, a grasp so powerful, that you were more than sure they would leave marks more than she already has.

You felt her hips rut against you, the guttural moan that erupted from your throat felt almost embarrassing. It was unfortunate for you that this was the calm before the storm. Still, Sevika searched your eyes before escalating.

She placed her hand on your stomach, where you could feel her with every thrust, you felt the knot forming faster than you'd had hoped. Your legs had begun to shake, tears prickling at your cheeks once again after Sevika's thumb applies pressure to your clit for the umpteenth time. You felt her bionic arm exert a warm sensation beneath you, only heightening your sensitivity.

"I thought you said you could take it? Be a good little bitch like I told you to."

The grip she had on your hips only tightened, the fervor in her ruts only reaching desperate heights, chasing her own orgasm. Seeing you coming undone like this was heavenly, and she'll never let you live this down.

The sweat beads formed on your forehead, and your body felt like it was on fire. You were reaching the edge, your hips quickly finding Sevika's rhythm, eager to reach ecstasy with her. Your hand intertwined with hers, your gaze never leaving her orbs as you witnessed her coming undone.

She didn't need to be told much else, as you hadn't been able to form coherent sentences after your first nut.

"ah..Sev― I'm gonna"

"Fucking do it", she commands, landing another bite on your neck as you both reached your climax. Her hips hadn't shown any signs of stopping, but her intensity decreased as she guided you through your orgasm.

You were already thinking about the next time she would tear your shit up like this. I think the passions you shared would only be the beginning of a unique relationship.

"Thaaaat's it baby..", she coos, landing kisses on your temple before placing a final one on your lips again. You both moaned at the sight of the aftermath, slowly pulling herself out of you. Her strap coated in your juices, your chest rising, a small chuckle leaving your lips admiring the mess you made. Sevika cackles weakly. She was still working on catching her breath from your physical activity.

Sevika's bionic arm squeaks, some steam erupting from the device. It seems like her new adjustments cause some overheating when exerted too much.

"I can take care of that", you motion toward her arm, slowly walking over to your toolbox, careful not to embarrass yourself from the short distance to acquire your items. From your peripheral, you could see Sevika's smirk, taking amusement from watching you struggle to make it. You finally make it, picking up the heavy box. Sevika took it upon herself to carry you back over to the chair across from the desk.

You took some time to gather yourself while Sevika cleaned up the desk, cautious to make it look as if nothing had taken place moments prior.

Afterward, she plopped next to you, putting her arm on display as you removed her vials.

Despite her ruining you just minutes prior, an awkward silence fell between the two of you. While it started rough, the displays of affection made it feel as if there was something else to explore further.

"Soo..." you start. You could feel her gaze upon you, likely wondering the same thing.

"I'd like to think whatever this is may be worth exploring."

Even if it remained this way, you wouldn't mind, but the moments when you both could hold a conversation, there was something else lingering in the air.

Sevika didn't know how to feel― this was beyond lust, but she didn't want to put other labels on it unless she knew for sure.

"I wouldn't mind exploring this with you", she admits, her hand caressing your thigh, your muscles loosen after the assurance from her, continuing to fix her arm. A small smile forms on your lips, and Sevika follows, averting your gaze. You were eager to tease her again, but that wasn't until Silco walked through the door.

The both of you looked in his direction. While his room looked the same as he left it, he couldn't ignore the stench that invaded his nostrils, including the state of your clothing, the only thing covering you being her cloak. You both felt the glares on you, his teeth gritting through his words of frustration.

"Fucking degenerates.."

― turquoizxe

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

More "Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ but still being Father and Son" stuff I came up with, plus extra because I can't get these chuckle-fucks out of my head.

Link to my prev. post for context. incase yall missed it bc I'm not explaining myself, we're just diving right into the deep end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bee knows Optimus isn't one for physical affection, and he fully understands and accepts that. He doesn't want to make Optimus uncomfortable by disrespecting one of his boundaries, that's just a shit thing to do. And Bumblebee is not a shit person. But... he's also desperate. Look, being deprived of physical parental affection your whole life fucks you up something good, let Bumblebee tell you, it makes you do some odd shit just to get a taste of what you've been missing out on. And! And most of the stuff Bumblebee has done are perfectly normal things to do! Plenty of casual stuff, leaning against his chair to look at what Optimus is working on, high fives and fist bumps (Optimus rarely, if ever, does these but for Bee he'll do anything just to make him smile, see Optimus acting totally normal about his feelings what are you talking about), leaning against him for a second when he's tired, totally normal! There are, less normal things, like when one of Bee's legs nearly got torn off on a mission and Optimus had to carry him back to base and Bee curled up close in Optimus's arms the whole time- because of the pain, totally 100% definitely only the pain that was Not mostly taken care of by some field anesthetics. It felt nice to be carried like a kid, sue him.

Getting injured is a special case with giving and taking affection. For example, when Bumblebee had to drag Optimus to a med bay after he passed out from a mission. They were walking into the common room together; Optimus was telling Bee he was fine when he CLEARLY wasn't because he didn't want to wake the medics for something as Trivial as THEIR LEADER and FREIND'S HEALTH (Bee is this close to strangling him) when Optimus just pitched over onto the floor.

Optimus, clearly tried and hurt: I will be fine, there is no need to wake the medics, I just need some energ... *faceplants*

Bumblebee: What did I say? What did fragging I say?! *Hefts Optimus's limp body onto his shoulders* fragging, stupid, slagging, moron, 'I don't need a medic, I'll be fine' he says, if I had been the one doing this, you would have torn the base apart getting the medics up, fragging idiot. *drags Optimus's body out of the room*

Optimus: *Mumbles something about not wanting to bother anyone*

Bumblebee: Too fragging bad, big man, you are going to take care of yourself and you're going to like it!

So now Bee has to drag a bot much bigger than him back down the hall and into the Medbay, just because Optimus was being fucking stupid. Yes it looks as funny as you're thinking. Optimus is semi-conscious but delirious as they make their way down the halls of the base and says "I don't want to take anything that would be better served helping any of you, I care about all of you so much I don't want to see you hurt. I love you." and Bumblebee's like Optimus, I feel so loved and so angry right now, but fuck what you want you're getting taken care of. No, you did not just make my fucking day, I lOve yoU tOo dAd-. He gets Optimus into the medbay on a berth then goes to forcibly wake the medics up to calm himself down because he is seconds from crying.

Optimus eventually gets better with affection, and now Bee gets a hug whenever he asks. He has yet to come down from this high.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bumblebee calls Megatron his "Shit Ex-Stepfather". The entirety of team prime thinks this is hilarious. Even Optimus can't help but smile, though he tries to hide it. Someone, probably Jazz, changed Megatron's file name to "Worlds Worst Stepfather". After the war, if Megatron is still alive, he will mysteriously acquire some kind of award saying "Cybertron's #1 Worst Stepfather". He is very confused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you could get Optimus drunk, he would become such a sap. Like, insufferably soft and emotional. And he would be talking about Bee damn near the whole time. He would be so annoying.

Optimus: *Drunk* Did I ever tell you about Bumbl-bee? He's, he's my boy, my bumble boy, my gold'n boy, my buzzy boy, my sweet cheese. An, he's really yellow, you'll know it's him, he looks like- he's really yellow, it's hard not to see him, but he's really really good at sneaking. Even though he's so yellow. He can sneak around so good, no one sees him. I can see him, 'cause he's my boy. He can sneak around and nooo one finds him, 'cept me, 'cause he's my boy. He can hide so good, he hid under sshockwave's chest once. Riiiight under his eye, his big purple eye. Bee's so funny, he tells such funny stories. He tells his stories better then me, they're a lot funnier. I'm not good at funny stories. He's really good at it. He's really good at lots of things. Bee's so cool. I'm so happy he's here, he's so cool and funny and nice and cool. And he fights real good too, he's so cool. he once- Bee once punched my ex once, right in the face. Riiight in the kisser, just, boosh. My ex sucks, Bee's so cool. I like him, he's my boy. An-and he taught himself how to do aaaaall the cool things he does. He didn't have anyone to teach him, he did it all by himself. All alone... I wish I met him sooner, when he was small. He says he was really cute when he was small and I want to see him small. I like him big though, he's really fun when he's big. He's- *Sobs* He's my booooy, and I love him so muuuuch.

This continues for hours. Luckily he never drinks so no has to suffer through this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you thought Optimus was the Serial Adopter, you'd be wrong. It's Bumblebee. No bot is safe from his clutches. He scoops up family members like a pelican scoops fish. Optimus is barely aware of how many family members he technically has, he stopped keeping track a long time ago.

Bumblebee: *Bursting into the room dragging some bot he was on an extended mission with* OPTIMUS, I GOT ATTACHED AGAIN YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER

Optimus: *Not looking up from his data pad* That's great, son, go put it with the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus would be such a good grandparent. In the future, after the war ends, Bumblebee comes into possession of a kid; whether he finds someone and takes them under his wing or he just fucking makes one, I don't know nor care, but he gets a kid. And when he introduces them to Optimus, Optimus just fucking melts. He was already a huge softie before but he's so much worse now. He goes full grandma mode. He has snacks in his pockets (or whatever bots have) that he sneaks to the kid every time he sees them. He gives them money at random. You best believe he would destroy anything that even looked at his grandbaby wrong (Bee: Optimus, stop attacking the door. Optimus, the door just bumped them, they're fine. Dad stop, omp(rimus))

The "Bee finds a kid and both of them get attached and now are a family" is the funnier option. Because the kid knows who these guys are, they saved Cybertron. The kid's still getting used to having Bee as their guardian, so when they meet the 13th Prime: Holder of the Matrix of Leadership, Savior of Cybertron, they don't expect Dotting Grandparent Extraordinaire.

Bumblebee: and this is Optimus Prime. He's your Grandpa.

The kid : *nervous* He's my what?

Optimus: *on the verge of tears* mY grAnDbABy-

The "Bee made a kid" version is still pretty funny.

Bumblebee: *Exasperated* Optimus, give me my child back.

Optimus: *violently crying* nO, It'S mY bAbY nOW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine, if you will, Optimus and Bumblebee sitting on a roof together, not talking, not touching, just watching the sun set. Just enjoying the silence together, maybe with some energon to go with it. Because they get it, oh they get it. Sometimes you just need to be alone with someone. That good mutual respect and love from a found family that understands you. this is why I need bee to be an adult, I need both of them to be hurting and find some comfort in each other, to find solace in each other, to be a family and to be equals, is that too much to ask?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A list of things Bumblebee is allowed to get away with:

Interrupting Meetings to Tell Optimus Something, important or not (hi dad)

Casually touching the Usually Touch Adverse Optimus (Physical affection ftw)

Calling Optimus out on his self-sacrificial bullshit (you're going to see the medics and you're going to like it, old man)

Using the three points above to drag Optimus into the Medbay by force (Ratchet is so smug about this)

Getting Optimus to do something fun and relaxing (father son bonding time, as Bee says.)

Swearing aggressively (for everyone else it's unprofessional, for Bee its therapeutic. He stretches this excuse as far as it goes)

Making Insulting comments about others to their face (look they deserve it if the Perpetually Friendly Bumblebee is saying it)

Talking about Megatron (Usually team prime avoids talking about Megsy outside of war related convos out of respect for Optimus's history with him. Bumblebee does not give a shit, Megatron is a bitch and he's going to make his opinions known (Everyone thinks it's funny dw))

Illegal activities (this fucker street races in every universe, you think he isn't doing shit like this on the daily?)

Murder

Stealing/Sneaking snacks (he shares with Optimus)

Making jokes about Optimus being his dad (he thinks it's funny bc they're not related and they met like 6 years ago. Optimus explodes with emotion every time bc you consider me good enough to be your dad?)

Bee is a fucking menace, Optimus loves him so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Misc. funny word vomit I came up with that have no context, reason, or sense

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Optimus is working at a desk focusing on some data pads. A tiny energon cube flies into frame, bouncing off Optimus's forehead and landing on the desk. Optimus grabs the cube and eats it without looking up from the datapad. A few minutes pass, another energon cube flies and bounces off Optimus's head. He eats it without looking. Bumblebee is sitting off to the side in the room with Optimus with a bag of energon snacks, periodically throwing one at the distracted Prime. This is Bee's and Ratchet's newest scheme to get Optimus to actually eat, and it's working splendidly. (Actually, Bumblebee originally was throwing the energon onto the desk, but over time he got bored and started just throwing the cubes directly at Optimus. He hasn't noticed any of the cubes hitting him at all, so Bee's started trying to do trick shots.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Bumblebee?"

"Absolutely, now throw me."

"Alright... Three, two, one- Ngha!"

*distant loud metal slam*

"..."

*distantly* "I'm good! We're in business!"

*quietly* "oh thank primus..."

*distantly* "Okay, I'm done. I'm coming back down."

"Wait-"

*distantly* "Hup!"

*loud crashing metal noises*

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's early morning, everyone got back to base late the night before. Everyone is tired. Optimus is sitting at the table in the common room, slowly drinking a cube of energon. His eyes are half open and bleary. Bumblebee is beside him, head in his hand, dozing. Bee's head falls from his hand and slams onto the table. Optimus doesn't even blink at the noise, just takes a sip of energon.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee takes a lot of pictures. Mostly of his team. He's pretty sneaky about it too, usually just taking a capture from his visual feed and saving it to his personal datapad. And at a glance none of the pictures are all that special, captures of a group of bots hanging out between missions, selfies of Bee and company on missions, drunken mishaps, quiet moments, he's got this really funny one of Cliffjumper stuck in a storage closet, but Bee keeps all these photos out of sight. The others are aware of his habit but they never see most of the photos, they never ask. Bee only opens his photos folder when ever he has a quiet moment alone and just scrolls through, reminiscing. His favorites are the ones where he caught someone's genuine smile. Sometimes they're in the background of a larger group shot, or it's just them smiling at Bee in conversation. He's got a lot of Optimus's smile. Optimus doesn't smile a lot, but he always seems to smile when Bee's around. Bee's proud that he can do that for him.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this could literally be anyone on team prime: *teasing* You playing favorites, Prime? Giving Bumblebee all this special treatment is making the rest of us feeling left out.

Optimus: You all treat him the exact same way I do.

again, literally anyone on team prime: ... Touché, Boss bot, touché...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After spending an extended period of time in close proximity to Megatron (for what ever reason), Bumblebee and Optimus talk.

Bee: You had terrible taste in partners.

Optimus: *sighs*

Bee: Physically, I can see the appeal, but everything else is a wild thing to say yes to.

Optimus: ...

Bee: His personality, his interests- just why none of that clocked you onto how fragged up he would be is beyond me.

Optimus: ........

Bee: You're not stupid, I hope that your next partner will be leagues better than him. Ratchet maybe, oh or Elita, they would make great partners (and even better step-parents), or maybe-

Optimus: CanwePleasestoptalkingaboutmylovelife??

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee: If you get back together with Megatron I'm disowning you.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BB: This is... so dumb.

OP: The higher I am the better I can see.

BB: You can- You can fly.

OP: Hush now Bumblebee! I am searching...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk man, brain rot hits something different when I think about it for long periods of time

[redrose10]

Can you do an enemies to lovers with #18 Let’s play a game… with Yoongi please. 🙏😊

This is kind of like a lovers to enemies to lovers thing. I hope that’s okay! It’s also longer than I intended…

< Sprinkles >

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of cheating, tiny hint of homophobia, Divorce, Smut (oral, unprotected sex, breast play…)

Enemies to lovers

#18 “Let’s play a game…First one to make a noise looses.”

*******************************************************

Yoongi: I swear Y/N if she’s not ready when I get there…

You: Omg Yoongi it was one time and she had an accident right before you got here. Let it go already…

You sighed as you tossed your phone aside. He was on his way to pick up your daughter for the week and apparently was set on never letting you forget the one time he got stuck in rush hour traffic on his way home because your daughter wasn’t ready as soon as he got there.

Things hadnt always been this bad between the two of you. At one point you were a loving happy couple and that only increased when your daughter, Hana, was born. Yoongi was the most the incredible husband and father and you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

But a few months after she was born things started to fall apart.

Hana suffered from acid reflux so she was up most of the night crying. You and Yoongi took turns tending to her but by the time you would finally fall back asleep she’d wake up again and it was your turn to get up. Yoongi was working overtime trying to support all of you so that you could stay at home with the baby as long as possible so 99% of the household responsibilities also fell on your shoulders. You had reached a level of exhaustion you didn’t know was possible which led to the two of you not having much alone time together and any time you did spend in each other presence usually involved an argument of some sort.

They started as common arguments between couples like housework, bills, and making time for each other.

But over time the arguments turned into petty little things…Yoongi blinked too much, you used too many periods when texting, he didn’t like the way you said the word rainbow, he wore his green sweater too much.

The final straw was the argument on this birthday. You had put together a surprise party which he never showed up for. Instead he texted you that his boss wanted to take him out to dinner and he was really working hard towards a promotion so he didn’t want to say no. He promised to spend the entire weekend with you and Hana to make up for it.

You were beyond upset, but you understood he was just trying to better your lives so you did your best to cool down. It wasn’t until later that evening after everyone had left and Hana was asleep that you finally broke. Yoongi’s boss, Mr. Kim who you were friends with on social media, had posted a photo congratulating Yoongi on his new promotion. At first you were ecstatic. He had worked so hard for this and maybe now he could remove some of the stress and have more time at home. But then you saw it…or her.

Park Duri. She was technically Mr. Kim’s assistant but for some reason was always involved in Yoongi’s schedule. He talked about her a lot. You’d met her a few times and she seemed nice but you always got an uncomfortable feeling whenever you were around her and Yoongi together.

It infuriated you but mostly just hurt you that she spent your husbands birthday with him and also witnessed him get his promotion all while you sat at home eating cold left overs alone.

What brought you to tears though was seeing his arm wrapped so tightly around her shoulders while she leaned into him. He had the biggest gummy smile. He looked so happy. A happy you hadn’t seen in him since the day Hana was born. He certainly never looked that happy around you any more.

That night he stumbled into the bedroom after having one too many drinks in celebration, passing out on the bed without saying a word to you. That night you made up your mind. The next morning you called a lawyer and filed for divorce.

Things were bitter between the two of you ever since. The only positive was Yoongi was still a very present and loving father which is all you could ask of him. You just wished the two of you could be in a room together for more than a few minutes without blowing up at each other.

“She ready?”, he questioned as soon as you opened the door.

“Well hello to you too.”

“Hello my dearest soon to be ex wife. How are things down in hell where you come from?”, he spat clenching his jaw.

“You know what Yoongi why don’t you go fuc-“You had to stop your comment as you heard your daughter come running to the entrance way.

“Daddy!”, she shouted as she jumped into his arms.

“I missed you so much Hana Banana.”, he said giving her cheek a kiss.

“Tell your mother goodbye.”, he mumbled already half way down the hallway. You gave your daughter a hug and told her to behave before handing her the pink overnight bag she had and watched as she skipped down the hall with her hand tightly gripped onto Yoongi’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were nervous like extremely very incredibly nervous. You and Yoongi had to meet with your lawyers today to try and hammer out the last few details of your divorce. If you could get this done then you just had to go back in a week to sign everything and the divorce would be final.

“No absolutely not.”, Yoongi said making your eyes roll.

“Why not Yoongi? You get custody of Hana 50% of the time. I’m not asking for any money other than requesting we split all bills for Hana 50/50. I already have my own apartment and so do you. We have separate cars and separate bank accounts. What else could you possibly want?”, you shouted getting very irritated. Every single time you guys had tried to come to a conclusion in the divorce Yoongi found a way to drag it on just to spite you.

“I want something in here about us not letting Hana meet our future partners without the other parent meeting them first.”, he said pointing at the contract.

“What!! Absolutely not? You’re not MY father and have no say in who I date.”

“No but I am Hana’s father and I deserve to know about the men that you’re bringing around her. I shouldn’t have to find out from our five year old how you’ve been bringing some guy named Jimin, who’s apparently very handsome, around the apartment. I mean come on Y/N…we’re not even officially divorced. I never took you for that type.”

“And what.type.is.that?”, you hissed.

“The type to go around fucking other men before they are even officially divorced from their husbands.”

“EXCUSE me!! First off Jimin is Hana’s ballet teacher who’s been coming over to give her private lessons. She has a little crush on him. Maybe you’d know that if you actually talked to her and asked her questions about her life. Secondly, you have a lot of nerve accusing me like that. If I was sleeping with Jimin, which I’m not, at least I waited until we were separated.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked hurt and offended because he already knew what you were getting at.

“Oh cut the bullshit Yoongi. I know you were cheating on me with Duri and who knows who else. That’s why you always came home late smelling like another women’s perfume. That’s why we stopped being intimate. That’s why you stopped telling me you loved me. Isn’t it Yoongi?“

You were so angry by this point you couldnt see straight but it felt good to get that off your chest until you could feel tears forming. You hated crying in front of others, especially Yoongi.

Your lawyer Jin cleared his throat before giving wide eyes to Yoongi’s lawyer Namjoon. “Umm maybe we should continue this next week.”, Namjoon whispered somewhat afraid to get in between you two.

“Yes good idea.”, Jin said packing up his brief case. You stood up as well slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Y/N wait”, Yoongi said but you stopped him, “No go fuck yourself Yoongi. I’m done.”

“Right back at you.”, he scoffed as you slammed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tae, he knows he’s supposed to run it by me first if someone else is going to be picking up Hana other than him.”, you said feeling bad for the irritation in your voice. It wasn’t Taehyung’s fault at all. He put his hands up in defense, “I know I know. He said it was urgent and he would explain it to you later.”

You wanted to say no but Hana had already seen him at the door and was currently dancing around the house shouting party at Uncle Taes’s and you did trust him completely so you gave in and let him take her with a mental note to scold Yoongi later.

While you missed Hana dearly during these times you did appreciate having some alone time so you were sat on the couch in your comfy pjs with a glass of your favorite wine as you got caught up on a drama you had been sucked into.

The doorbell rang forcing you to get up and answer it and you really wished you hadn’t.

“Yoongi? Hana is with Tae.”, you said feeling a slight increase in panic.

He nodded, “I know.”

“Oh my god are they okay? Did something happen?”

He chuckled, “They’re fine.” He even showed you a photo he received of Hana giving Taehyung a full beauty makeover. You felt relief at seeing her okay and happy.

“Okay then why are you here?”, you questioned.

He held up a bag from your favorite bakery a few streets away, “I want to talk. No lawyers…no shouting…no arguing. We just need to talk like civil adults.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know Yoongi. That sounds like a bad idea. At least the lawyers could call the police when we kill each other.”

He chuckled at that, “Please Y/N.” For the first time in a long time you saw something in his eyes other than anger so you agreed and let him in.

After a few cookies and a few episodes of your drama you turned to him, “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

“Well…first I want to apologize for what I said during the meeting with the lawyers the other day. I guess I was just kind of hurt and maybe a little jealous because I thought you had already moved on with someone else. But after thinking about it…I have no place to feel like that so you can do whatever you want with whoever you want. I just think we should agree to not introduce anyone to Hana for a while.”

“I agree…but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. But if you…if you want to then I don’t care.”, you quickly added though he shook his head, “I’m good. I want to focus on work and Hana for a while.”

You nodded in agreement.

“I uh I also want you to know that I never cheated on you. I swear on Hana. I’ve never even thought about it.”, he said while pulling on his earlobe, a nervous habit of his.

“You came home smelling like perfume, many times Yoongi.”

“I know…I know but there’s an explanation for that which isn’t me cheating.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh I can’t wait to hear this one.” You could tell he wanted to say something back but bit his tongue making you feel a little guilty.

“Y/N, do you remember on our first anniversary I gave you those flowers.”, you nodded, “Well I didn’t pay for them…actually I never paid for any of them.”

“You thief! Seriously Yoongi you were risking going to prison over flowers?”

“Will you shut up and give me the chance to explain?”, he barked. You huffed but leaned back into the couch.

“I had severely under estimated how expensive flowers had become. Thanks to all of our bills and our furnace breaking the week before I couldn’t afford to buy them. I started crying in the shop because I felt like the worst husband ever. The elderly woman who owned the place asked what was wrong and after some convincing I told her. She told me how her husband used to bring her flowers every week and it gave her something to look forward to no matter how tough of a time they were going through. So she gave me a small bouquet to give to you. I reminded her that I couldn’t pay but she said she only wanted a hug. So the next week after I got paid at work I went back to get you more flowers and pay her back for the first bunch but she wouldn’t accept my payment. She only wanted a hug. She did that every time that I went in there and that’s why I came home smelling like perfume. I never cheated with her…I mean… she did grab my butt once but I wouldn’t really count that.”

You chuckled at the mental picture before remembering, “And Duri?”

“Duri wouldn’t have wanted me even if I did want to cheat on you with her. She was a…she was not into men so you would’ve had a better chance than I did. She just liked me because I was one of the few people in the office that didn’t judge her.” This new information caused you to feel so many different emotions some good some bad.

“Y/N I never cheated on you. I’m sorry that I made you doubt that.“

“Okay yeah thanks for clearing that up. I’m uh I’m sorry for not asking sooner.”

“I’m also sorry that I stopped initiating anything intimate. It wasn’t you at all. I was just always so tired and stressed and then if I did want to do something you just seemed so angry and distant with me or Hana was acting up and I didn’t want to push you into any thing. But most of all I’m sorry that I stopped telling you how much I love you Y/N. There’s no excuse for that and I regret it more than anything.”

His words replayed in your mind over and over, “Yoongi did you mean you loved me?”

He shook his head, “I love you Y/N. I always have and I always will. That’s why I’ve been trying to drag on this divorce. I’ve been selfish because I didn’t want to let you go…but Monday…Monday we can call the lawyers and I’ll sign the papers. I won’t make you suffer any more.”

“I…I love you too Yoongi.,” you stiffled unsure of when you even started crying.

Quickly he pulled you into a hug, “Hey hey it’s okay. Don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“What do we do Yoongi?”

“Well…we can continue with the divorce if you want or we can try again. Go slow. Maybe see a couples counselor. I think having this talk really helped us so I think talking to a professional would be a good thing. But it’s up to you. I want to save this…I want to save us but I won’t force you.”

“Yeah I think…I think we should try to work on things.”, you nodded. He smiled and you smiled both breathing a sigh of relief.

Then Yoongi fidgeted with his fingers as he looked around the room that had suddenly become more awkward., “Well uh I guess I should get going. I need to save Taehyung from his baby sitting duties.”

“Oooorrr maybe you could stick around a little longer. I think Taes having the time of his life.”, you chuckled before flipping your phone over show him the text of a photo of Tae on the couch and Hana cuddled up next to him as he gushed about how wonderful she is.

He smiled at the cute photo before agreeing to stay since he really didn’t want to leave anyways.

Maybe it was the bottle of wine that you two had during the movie or the months and months without being touched or just being exhausted physically and emotionally that was causing your brain to go haywire but suddenly you could sense every little movement from Yoongi.

The way his chest moved up and down as he took slow breaths. The way he sat kind of slouched with his legs spread out. The way his fingers kept inching closer and closer to the bare skin of your thighs. It all sent a fury of emotions through you as you could feel your arousal building, almost making you feel silly for being so weak for him.

But you two had barely agreed to work on things less than a few hours ago so you tried your best to ignore the desires within you.

You knew that Yoongi was having similar feelings as you when his fingers continued to move slowly up the side of your thigh until his large hand was firmly situated on the top of your leg, his fingers began gently toying with the bottom of your shorts as if he was testing the waters to see if you were going to stop him. When you didn’t, he got a little more brave slightly pulling on your bottoms but then he suddenly pulled back.

“Y/N…I…We can stop if you’re not into this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that...It’s just been so long.”

“I know it has been. Maybe…Maybe I want this too.”

He scooted closer until you could feel his warm breath hitting your cheek.

“Y/N, maybe isn’t enough for me. I need a yes or a no.”, his voice deeper than usual.

You thought for a moment. You thought about the positives and negatives. He started to move away taking it as a no when you stopped him. Quickly you lifted yourself up and straddle his lap before kissing him, “Yes I want you. I want you Yoongi. I want you so bad.”

That was all he needed to send his lips searching for yours. His hands grasped the end of your shirt and began pulling it up, you shimmied to help make it easier for him.

In one swift movement you were left completely bare in front of him thanks to having forgone a bra earlier in your search for optimal comfort.

He sat staring at you making you flush red.

“Fuck I’ve missed these.”, he smiled squeezing your breasts. “Yoongi don’t make it weird.”, you chuckled yet doing absolutely nothing to stop him especially once his mouth connected to your left nipple and he began gently biting down, something he knew you loved.

The more you moaned the more it egged him on to bite and squeeze and suck and leave marks all over your naked breasts. You started to grind down on him using his growing erection to provide some friction to your wet core. The sensation making you both throw your heads back.

“Want to make you feel good.”, you mumbled against his neck leaving kisses as you went.

“You’re already making me feel good Sprinkles.”

On your first date you got really excited to find out the cafe had sugar cookies covered in sprinkles. Yoongi thought it was the cutest thing ever and had in turn started calling you Sprinkles.

Your heart jumped at the use of your nickname that you hadn’t heard him say in so very long.

It wasn’t until you felt his hips buck up into you that you were brought back to reality, “No I want to make you feel really good.”, you whispered already on your knees while your fingers quickly worked on his belt and zipper. As you finally freed him you were reminded about just how big he was.

You saw him smirk as you stared somewhat in shock, “What don’t think that pretty mouth of yours can take me any more?”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted to bite back but instead you dove in. Your tongue licking a strip on the underside. You went right into a rapid pace, sucking, licking, paying close attention to the head just like he liked.

You took pleasure in watching him come undone above you. His cheeks tinted red, his legs spread far apart giving you ample room, you gripped onto his thighs as his head rolled back on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair getting lost in the feeling and savoring the sensations of your mouth taking him fully.

Suddenly his hand came and fisted a chunk of your hair, “Y/N, Stop…you gotta sto-“

You couldn’t get your mouth off in time before he started convulsing and a warm salty liquid coated the back of your tongue.

While it definitely was a confidence booster to know you could have that kind of an effect on him it was still funny to you and you couldn’t stop giggling, especially when you saw how embarrassed he looked.

“Shut up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything but my hand.”, he grumbled.

“No no it’s okay Yoongles.”, you giggled until your giggles turned into a scream as he lifted you up and carried you to the bedroom.

Once you were laid down on the bed he wasted no time in tearing off your shorts and removing his shirt leaving you both completely bare.

“Fuck look how wet you are.”, he sighed as he ran his fingers through your folds.

“Mmmm yes Yoongi.”, you moaned finally feeling a little relief until he abruptly stopped and pulled away.

You whined at the loss of contact earning a low chuckle from him.

“Please don’t tease. I need you so bad.”, you said as your hips began shifting looking for pleasure.

Yoongi being the way that he was decided to only tease you further. This time with the head of his already hardened again cock as he would barely give you the tip just to pull away leaving you needy and empty.

“Fine keep doing that…Maybe I’ll go ahead and call Jimin. I bet he wouldn’t tease me.”, you spat somewhat playfully somewhat loosing your mind.

Without warning Yoongi slammed into you fully sheathing himself. “Oh fuck Yoongi.”, you cried blissfully at the burning stretch.

“Yeah you like that. You think it’s nice to talk about other men while I’m fucking you.”, he growled, “I’ll make you forget he even exists. Fuck Y/N.” He was fucking into you with such a quick forceful pace that your whole body was being pushed up against the bed until you couldn’t go any more.

“Don’t stop. I’m about to cum. Please Yoongi.”, you cried.

“Yeah, then cum for me.”, he said, “let me feel you squeezing my cock like you want it.”

That was all it took until you were pulsing around him squeezing with everything you had as your body reveled in the feeling. A feeling you had long forgotten about.

Once you had come down from your high he wasted no time before he was pounding into you again trying to chase his own release.

“Whoa whoa.”, you said and he instantly pulled out looking at you with a worried expression, “What? Are you hurt?”

“You get to cum twice while I only got once? That doesn’t seem fair.”, you smirked while he looked at you slightly annoyed.

“I mean I think I deserve another one…or are you too out of the game to be able to make your girl cum more than once in a night.”, you playfully quipped.

Yoongi ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in irritation, “You know you’ve become quite the mouthy one Sprinkles.“

He slowly stroked himself a few times knowing it was going to be difficult for him to hold off his already close orgasm.

“How about we make this a little interesting?”, he said lining himself up with your entrance.

“I’m listening.”, you said half moaning at the sensation.

“Let’s play a game…First one to make a noise looses.”, he said, “Loser has to cook dinner next Friday for date night.”

You head rolled back, “You’re on.”

“And I expect fresh baked brownies with my meal when I win.”, he arrogantly said as he slammed into you again.

He was watching himself disappear inside of you and reappear covered in your juices as a way to try and keep his focus when you decided to play dirty.

You squeezed your walls around his length as tight as you could trying to get a moan or a hiss but he was good. Instead he looked up giving you a look that said two can play that game.

He kept eye contact as he brought two fingers to your swollen clit rubbing figure eights to add extra pleasure as his mouth latched onto your right nipple. You bit down onto his shoulder to stifle the sounds your mouth was begging to make.

The two of you lasted at this for several minutes before you had a realization.

Yoongi was going slow, taking his time, gently thrusting in and out of you, which you knew meant he was close and trying to hold out as long as he could.

And then you decided to make the move that you knew would surely make him come undone and spill a litany of filth from his mouth.

You hooked a leg around him and with all the strength you had you pushed home and flipped over so that he was on his back and you were on top, his dick remaining inside you the whole time. You nearly laughed out loud when you saw the surprised look on his face but you managed to stifle it.

You started bouncing up and down on his cock with a rapid pace. Your were so close to your own orgasm. Your thighs were burning but you could feel his hands eagerly grabbing onto your body trying to stop it. He was so close too.

Carefully you leant forward just enough that you could suck little marks into his skin while still riding his dick. The angle allowing your tits to lightly brush up against his skin with your movements. You gave him a couple extra squeezes for good measure and next thing you knew his hands were on you holding you in place as his own hips bucked up into you, “F-Fuck Y/N. Fuck I’m coming... I’m coming. Baby fuck. I tried. I’m sorry.”

You could feel hot liquid already dripping out of you and making a mess on him as he helped you ride out your own high that quickly followed.

When your breathing had calmed he helped you off of him and quickly got you all cleaned up before laying down next to you on the bed.

“That was uh…I think we needed that.”, he said giving your hand a kiss.

“Yeah it felt good. I think that maybe we lost ourselves in being parents and forgot that we have needs too. Let’s…not do that again this time.” He nodded, “Speaking of which I should probably go relieve Taehyung. I told him I’d only be a few hours at most so he’s probably not happy.”

“Yeah probably. Hey make sure Hana eats something other than takeout this week please…and she has a dance less with Jimin on Wednesday so maybe be nice when you drop her off.”, you said following him to the door.

“Yes to the no takeout and we’ll see but no promises to the Jimin thing.”, he grumbled.

He put on his coat and shoes and gave you a kiss and was just about to walk out the door when you stopped him.

He turned to look and found you smiling hard.

“What?”, he asked confused.

“For dinner next Friday…I expect fresh baked sugar cookies with my meal.”, you giggled as his face fell remembering that he had in fact lost the game.

“Fine…sugar cookies it is…ooorrrr you know we could go best two out of three.”, he said already reaching out for you.

“And don’t skimp on the sprinkles.”, you shouted quickly shutting the door before you could give into his little game.

[bestangelofall]

I think both possibilities are interesting regarding what you can do with his character in this AU. World building wise, I love the lack of Daemon for resurrected people, because it leads into the idea of there being a price for the resurrection, and the possible stigma that people who came back to life would face.

Applying this to Jason specifically, would he be seen as less than by Bruce? As soulless? Would a Daemonless Jason be a reason to justify all the victim blaming, to justify all the other things Bruce does after Jason's resurrection? For example, the ending of UtH, or Gotham War, could be put as not being "that bad" because in Bruce's eyes Jason wouldn't be a complete person, and a part of him is forever lost.

I love that idea, but, as per HDM lore, to lose the connection with the Daemon is to lose the soul (at least in the case of the children which were cut), so I prefer the idea that the Daemon also comes back after resurrection. Maybe "come back" isn't even the right word, because when Lyra went to the Land of the Dead in The Amber Spyglass, Pantalaimon was left behind. Of course, Jason stayed dead for months, so maybe in this AU the daemon actually died.

I haven't read The Secret Commonwealth, but I do know that it addresses the aftermath of Lyra and Pan's separation, and that is that things between them aren't the same anymore, and they never will be. Of course, in Lyra's case, she willingly left Pan behind, which would be very different from Jason being murdered, but dying would still be a sudden and violent change, so I think that the same irreversibility would be reasonable here.

If Jason's death was wrong to be corrected (by Superboy Prime), it would make sense that his Daemon would be left behind while Jason went to the Land of the Dead.

Here we can have the option of continued separation after Jason crawls out of his grave, and that it contributes to his catatonic state, and maybe the Lazarus Pit has a role in helping with that (maybe it "reconnects" the bond, but not even the Pit can heal it totally, and there will always be a scar 🤔). I'm not so sure on this part, but it's an idea...

Anyway, Jason and his Daemon start early on not really feeling that separation as much as one would initially assume. They are both very motivated by the same goals, they both love Bruce very much but need to see proof of reciprocation, and most importantly, they both understand that what happened wasn't their fault.

However, as the time passes, and as other people treat Jason the way they do (and now I lean more into Rebirth Sad Jason) that disconnect that results from the separation during his death starts to show. The Daemon stands her ground, being the part of Jason that remains sure that they were good, that they didn't deserve what happened, and that it wasn't their fault - they were tricked by Sheila (and her Daemon) and still tried their best to save them.

Jason, however, after having been told time and again by Bruce & others that he screwed up, started to believe that, because if it was his/their fault, then all he needs to do is to be better, it's not something out of his control. It hurts less. And because of this subject, the discord between him and his Daemon is born and intensifies, and things get ugly. Rebirth Jason has the self-esteem of a wet paper bag, and fights with his Daemon constantly because she wants to impose boundaries to others, while he sees her as an obstacle for reconciliation with Bruce/Dick/maybe Babs/Alfred (btw, his Daemon fucking hates Alfred).

We see in HDM Mrs. Coulter acting on her self-hatred in the form of Daemon abuse which constitutes self-harm. I think Jason would do that too :/

I probably could talk more about this, but this is already a wall of text.

So like in a Daemon au do you think Jason's Daemon would be resurrected with him or do you think you can tell if someone has been resurrected by their lack of Daemon

[nhlclover]

STAY AWAY FROM JULIET! JACK DRURY

pairing: brind'amour!daughter!reader x jack drury

summary: caught between your love for jack and your father's strict rules about dating players, you find yourself navigating the thrill and weight of a secret romance.

warnings: secret relationship, forbidden relationship, reader is coaches daughter + teammates sister, pretending that skylar isn't with the ahl team in chicago and is on the roster.

wc: 3.80k

notes: jack drury fic! i don't know a ton about him off the ice so i hope this is good. thank u to the anon who requested!

As everyone knows, the last thing you ever want to do is cross Rod Brind’Amour—a fact you understand all too well as his daughter. That’s why it’s a surprise, even to you, that you ended up in a relationship with Jack Drury, one of his players, breaking the strict ‘no fraternizing with the team’ rule he’d always imposed on you. You would feel bad for disobeying your father if it weren’t for the fact that you were head over heels for Jack.

Keeping the relationship under wraps wasn’t easy, but you both agreed it was for the best. The risk of your dad finding out — and the reaction that you knew would result from that — was enough to keep you both cautious. Growing up, you'd heard countless stories from your dad’s former teammates and players about his fierce dedication and unwavering standards. Those standards extended beyond the ice, especially when it came to you and Skylar.

It wasn’t that Jack wasn’t good enough. Far from it. He was everything your dad would probably want for you—loyal, kind, respectful, with a work ethic that rivaled your father’s own. But the idea of dating someone on the team went against every guideline Rod had set, a boundary he made clear for you and Skylar growing up.

Despite the careful hiding, sneaking around brought a thrill you hadn’t expected. Late-night meet-ups after practice, stolen kisses in hidden corridors, and text messages that had to be deleted as soon as you read them were all part of the secret that bound you and Jack even closer. And, to your surprise, you found that these stolen moments made you fall for him even more.

At first, sneaking around with Jack felt almost like a game. You both laughed about the lengths you’d go to keep everything hidden—timing phone calls to avoid your dad, coordinating schedules so you could “bump into each other” outside the rink without raising suspicion, and finding creative ways to communicate without leaving a digital trail. Every stolen glance or quick touch that no one else noticed made your heart race. The secrecy added an exhilarating spark, something just for the two of you that no one else could touch.

You joked with Jack about the lengths you went to: how you’d pretend not to notice each other at team events, how he’d throw you a subtle wink from across a room when no one else was looking, and how you’d meet up in empty stairwells of the Lenovo Centre. Jack always kept things light-hearted, his playful grin reassuring you that as long as you were together, it would be worth the risk.

But as the months passed, the thrill started to wear thin, replaced by a longing for something simpler. The constant need to look over your shoulder or keep your voice low when you talked about him to your friends began to feel more like a weight. You’d catch yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to hold his hand in public or just have him over for dinner without the worry of your dad or brother finding out.

And it wasn’t just the sneaking around that was exhausting; it was how much you missed out on. When the team had get-togethers, you couldn’t be by his side, even though you wanted to support him. Sometimes, he’d mention a charity event or team dinner, and you’d have to laugh it off, pretending it didn’t sting that you couldn’t be there openly. As his career milestones came and went, you wanted to celebrate with him, to be the one cheering the loudest. Instead, you found yourself watching from afar, silently, wishing things could be different.

And now not only was the hiding becoming a weight between you and Jack, it was getting harder and harder to manage, and the cracks began to show. You could feel the pressure building, the constant vigilance required to keep everything under wraps growing harder to manage.

There were moments when the secrecy felt like it was taking more than it was giving. Every time you saw Jack after practice, there was a part of you that wanted to shout your feelings from the rooftops. But, instead, you shared a fleeting smile or a brief touch, both of you hyper-aware of every passing moment. Whenever you were at the rink and you’d run into your dad, your stomach would twist in knots, and you’d pray that he wouldn’t catch sight of Jack or—worse—make the connection. The thought of your father, who had built his career on discipline and loyalty, discovering that you were breaking one of his cardinal rules, made your heart race with a mixture of dread and guilt.

But it wasn’t just your dad that made the situation complicated. It was Skylar. Your brother, who had always been protective of you, was starting to catch on to your avoidance. The way you always seemed to have an excuse to leave early when he invited you to hang out, the way you deflected questions about who you were spending time with outside of work — Skylar had always been perceptive, and he was no fool. You could see it in his eyes. He’d give you those knowing glances whenever you seemed a little too distracted, or when your phone would buzz with a text message from Jack and you’d panic, quickly pocketing it before he saw.

The strain was becoming too much, and you were growing worried that it wouldn’t be long before one of them, probably Skylar, would piece it together. Every time you met Jack in a secluded corner of the rink or snuck away for a quick coffee, there was a part of you that dreaded being caught. If your dad or brother saw you and Jack together, even for a moment, all your carefully constructed walls would come crashing down.

One night, with your dad out for a dinner meeting with Eric Tulsky and a few of the Hurricanes’ execs, you’d invited Jack over, excited to finally let him into your world a little deeper. You’d barely gotten him through the door before you were wrapped around each other, muffling laughter and eager whispers as you stumbled up the stairs to your bedroom. For once, he was in your space—somewhere that felt like an extension of yourself, familiar and intimate. Jack looked around, taking in the room he’d only heard about: the bulletin board crowded with photos, ticket stubs, and other keepsakes; shelves overflowing with books and childhood mementos; the whole room exuding a soft, cozy warmth.

As he wandered, his fingers traced along your cluttered desk, a slight smile on his lips as he absorbed the details. Then, his gaze landed on a photo pinned to the board, and he plucked it down before you could stop him. “Oh my gosh,” he teased, grinning as he held it up to inspect. “You with glasses, pigtails, and… are those sequins on your jeans?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you tried to grab the picture back. “It was a phase. And, anyway, I don’t think Mr. ‘neon-green frosted tips for the playoffs’ has any room to talk about style choices.”

He gasped, mock-offended, holding the photo just out of reach. “Hey, that was iconic. This, on the other hand…” He squinted at it, chuckling. “I need to know how many days you rocked the bedazzled denim look.”

With a smirk, you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his chest, pinning him with a look that was half-daring, half-teasing. “Do you really want to spend tonight making fun of my middle school fashion choices? Or… maybe we could get back to what we’re really here for?”

Jack’s laughter faded, replaced by that familiar, mischievous glint. He leaned down, voice softer, warmer. “Alright, you win,” he murmured, his hands settling around your waist. “You’re way more distracting than a photo ever could be.” With a gentle smile, he placed the photo back on the board and turned fully to you, and as he drew you in.

Your hands drifted to his shoulders, his fingers trailing up your sides, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. You pulled Jack to your bed, easing him back onto the plush comforter, propping one leg on either side of his hips. Jack’s lips brushed softly along your neck, and you tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the closeness of him, the quiet thrill of sneaking him into your space. His hands traced under the hem of your top, tugging it up, and you broke apart just long enough to pull off your shirts, casting them aside as you reconnected in a kiss that deepened, stealing your breath.

You were so wrapped up in him, so blissfully unaware, that the sudden slam of a car door outside might as well have been thunder. You jolted, pulling away, and Jack’s lips left a small, bewildered whimper at the abrupt loss of contact. “Did you hear that?” you whispered, heart racing.

“Hear what?” he asked, clearly not wanting to hear anything but the steady hum of the moment between you.

You slipped off his lap, crept to the window, and pulled the curtain back just enough to peek through. There it was — your dad’s SUV parked once again in the driveway. Panic clawed at your stomach as you hissed, “Shit!”

Jack’s face went pale as the sound of keys jingling met your ears from downstairs. His expression mirrored yours — frozen panic — as he took in the narrow confines of your room, seeming to realize in real time that hiding nearly six feet of hockey player was no small feat.

“Closet,” you whispered sharply, tugging him in that direction. He stifled a laugh, squeezing himself into the cramped space, giving you a look that was somewhere between grateful and bewildered as you shut the doors.

You dashed back to the bed, frantically tugging your shirt back on and running a hand through your hair, grabbing your phone and slipping on your headphones. You quickly ran back to the closet, cracking open the doors. “Stay quiet,” you said. “Don’t come out until I come and get you and the coast is all clear.”

Just as you returned to the bed and threw the blanket over your legs, the door creaked open, and there was your dad, standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Hey,” he said, pausing, taking in the sight of you with the unmistakable air of someone who knew more than he was letting on. “Who were you talking to?”

You gave him what you hoped was an effortlessly casual smile, lifting your phone to show you were on a call. “Oh, just a friend from school. She’s, uh, going through some stuff, so I’m keeping her company on the phone,” you replied, praying he couldn’t hear your pulse thundering in your chest.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it entirely but also not wanting to pry too deeply. “Right, okay,” he said slowly. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. But maybe keep it down, alright?”

You nodded, trying to look as unaffected as possible. “Will do,” you said with a small, too-casual smile, watching as he lingered for one last beat before closing the door.

As soon as you heard his footsteps fade down the hallway, you practically collapsed back onto the bed in relief. After a beat, the closet door creaked open, and Jack stepped out, eyes wide and lips pressed tightly together as he tried not to laugh.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, still grinning, “I thought I was going to get caught.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, half-relieved, half-ready to burst into laughter at the situation. "I thought we were both done for," you muttered, letting out a soft, breathy laugh as Jack joined you on the bed. He flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling, eyes still gleaming with barely restrained laughter.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow, glancing over at you. "You know, one day, we’re going to have to tell people. I mean, if I got caught hiding in your closet tonight, I don’t think I could ever live it down." He chuckled, but his words held a trace of seriousness, hinting at the future you both knew was looming.

You sighed, the humor fading a bit as reality set back in. "I know," you admitted quietly. "I just… I worry about how my dad and Skylar will react. I mean, they know you as a player, as a teammate. But as… as the guy I’m with?" You trailed off, unsure of how to put your feelings into words.

Jack reached over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his expression softening. “They know me as the guy who’s dedicated to the team, who works hard. And I’d be dedicated to you, too. That’s all they need to know. Besides…” He smirked a little, trying to lighten the moment. “Skylar and I have been in a locker room together more than enough. He probably knows more about me than he ever wanted to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. "You don’t know my dad like I do. He’s seen me as his little girl for so long. And Skylar, well… he’s overprotective." You glanced down, picking at the blanket as the weight of their potential reactions settled on you. "I just don’t want them to think… I don’t know, that we’re crossing some sort of line."

“What? Rod would never overreact to anything!” Jack said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You give him a shove but recognize that Jack would likely know exactly how your dad would react to finding out about the two of you.

Jack let out a small, sympathetic smile, and his fingers found yours, intertwining gently as he looked into your eyes. "Hey," he said softly, "no matter how it goes, I’m here. Even if Rod loses his mind or Skylar thinks he needs to 'protect' you from me — I'm not going anywhere." His voice was steady, his eyes holding a quiet confidence that made you feel both reassured and grounded.

You squeezed his hand, feeling your heart swell at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes steady and sincere. “I want them to know that you’re safe with me, that I’d do anything to make you happy. They deserve that reassurance, and I want to give it to them.” He paused, a playful glint returning to his gaze. “But maybe not when I’m sneaking out of your closet at two in the morning.”

You both burst out laughing again, the tension breaking as the comfort of the moment settled around you. Pulling Jack close, you rested your head on his shoulder, a sense of peace washing over you.

“One day” you murmured, almost to yourself. “But not tonight.”

Jack nodded, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle squeeze. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here.”

As the days went on, though, the secrecy only grew harder. You’d thought you could keep your relationship under wraps with a bit of careful planning and a few white lies, but you hadn’t anticipated how deeply you’d crave being able to share your life with Jack openly. Every time you’d pass him in the halls of the Lenovo Centre having to pass by him like you didn’t know him as anyone more than one of your dad's players. Or every quick squeeze of his hand when no one was looking. It was beginning to feel like a delicate balancing act — one slip, and it would all come tumbling down.

Your dad had started to notice your little “disappearances,” the times you’d claim to be studying with friends or heading out to run an errand but were actually meeting Jack. And Skylar, perceptive as ever, kept teasing you, asking if your newfound happiness was because the Canes were doing so well or if someone was responsible for it. You’d brush it off with a laugh, but deep down, you knew it couldn’t go on like this.

So when Jack suggested a simple date — just the two of you at a small, out-of-the-way restaurant for dinner — you felt a rush of relief. No sneaking, no hiding in closets, just a normal evening where you could enjoy each other’s company without the pressure of prying eyes. The restaurant was quiet, candlelit, and tucked away, and for once, you almost allowed yourself to believe you were truly alone.

The two of you slipped into comfortable conversation, laughing over the menu as Jack exaggerated his disgust at any mention of seafood, and you felt that familiar warmth, that thrilling ease that made you wish every night could be like this. But as you raised your glass for another sip, you noticed Jack’s gaze shift from your face, over your shoulder, to somewhere behind you, his smile suddenly faltering.

Before you could turn around, Jack’s hand took yours that was resting on the table, giving a gentle squeeze, trying to soothe you as he leaned in and whispered, “Don’t freak out, okay? But I think… your dad and Skylar just walked in.”

Your heart plummeted, eyes wide as your head whipped around to confirm Jack’s words. Sure enough, there they were, standing with some friends of your family. They scanned the room, not seeming to have noticed you yet, but your carefully secret relationship was now hanging in the balance.

You quickly turned back to Jack, lifting your menu as if it could shield you from view, heart hammering in your chest. “Of all the restaurants…” you muttered under your breath, feeling the moment's weight settle heavily.

Jack looked at you with steady, gentle eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. If they see us, we’ll handle it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing soothing circles over the back of your hand. “No more hiding, right?”

You nodded, dropping the menu back to the table, feeling the words sink in and taking comfort in Jack’s reassuring touch. You both kept your heads down, focusing on each other and praying the waiter would come quickly to take your orders. But a few moments later, footsteps approached, and you knew it was too late to keep pretending.

“Hey, you two,” came a familiar voice. You looked up to see your dad and Skylar standing by your table. Your dad’s expression was stoic, with no reaction to the sight of you two showing. Skylar, however, had a shit-eating grin on his face. There was no escaping it now.

With a deep breath, you tightened your hold on Jack’s hand and mustered a smile. “Hi, Dad. Hi, Sky,” you greeted, hoping your voice didn’t sound as nervous as you felt.

Skylar folded his arms, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between you and Jack. “Care to explain?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You glared at your older brother who was clearly finding enjoyment in this.

Jack cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Sir, I’d… We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else. We just… wanted to be careful with how it might look, with the team and all.”

Your dad’s face remained unreadable for a moment, eyes flickering from you to Jack as he processed. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and you held your breath, waiting for some sign of his reaction. Finally, he sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked back at you.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters,” he said, his tone calm but sincere. “It’s important that you’re with someone who respects you — someone who’s going to be good to you.”

A wave of relief washed over you, and you felt your shoulders relax as you smiled. “Thank you, Dad.”

You turned to look at Skylar who was now eyeing Jack, suddenly serious. Finally, he huffed, breaking the silence. “Alright, alright… I know Jack’s a good guy. But you know I’ll kick his ass if he ever does anything to hurt you, right?” He shot Jack a warning look, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jack laughed softly, nodding. “Understood. I’ll make sure you don’t have to.”

A smile broke across your face, and you felt the last of your fears dissolve. “Thank you, both of you,” you said, your voice soft with gratitude. “I just… I don’t want this to affect anything between you guys as teammates or between you guys as coach and player.”

Your dad nodded thoughtfully, glancing at Jack. “We’ll figure it out. Just promise me you’ll be open with us going forward, okay? No more hiding in closets or pretending to study at friends’ houses.”

Your smile dropped, a bright red hue flashing across your cheeks as you remembered shoving Jack into your cramped closet a month ago when your dad suddenly came home. “You knew?”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement breaking through his usually serious demeanor. “I’m your father. Of course, I knew,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Also, he left his team jacket on your desk chair. It says Drury on the shoulder.”

Skylar snorted, unable to contain his laughter. “The closet? Really?” he teased, shaking his head.

“What did you want me to do? Tell him to jump out the window?” you argued.

Your dad rolled his eyes but softened, his gaze landing on you both with a newfound acceptance. “Just… next time, try a little honesty instead of extreme hiding tactics. I’d rather know than worry about you sneaking around.” His voice was gentle, a tone he rarely used outside of family moments, and it only reassured you that he was really okay with this.

You nodded, feeling more at ease than you had in months. “I promise. No more hiding, Dad.”

Your dad and Skylar exchanged a look, something unspoken but approving passing between them before they glanced back at you. “Alright, we’ll leave you two to your dinner,” your dad said, giving you a warm nod. “But I expect to see him at dinner on Sunday night and be properly introduced to your boyfriend.”

As they walked away, you and Jack exchanged a relieved laugh, your hands still intertwined. Jack lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Well, that went better than expected,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling with both relief and affection.

You smiled, feeling lighter than ever. “Yeah, I think we’re officially in the clear.”

Jack leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “So, does that mean no more closets?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “No more closets,” you agreed.

[cozzzynook]

I bring some TFA hurt/comfort Ft:Prowlbee

When Prowl died a part of Bumblebee did so as well. For the next few weeks Bee had refused to come out of his room and speak with anyone, all he wanted was to be left alone with his grief. No none had been none the wiser to their relationship which only hurts Bee's spark more.

As time passed Bee was spending one day wrapped in a nest of blankets while just slowly picking away at his energon. Optimus despite being busy these days often stops by to drop off energon as well checking in on him so he has someone to talk too. Today however was different, Bumblebee had noticed a small bump forming on his tank but he simply brushed it off as frame gain since he hasn't super active or left his room in a while. After finishing up the last of his energon Bee gave a soft grumble as he slowly streched before leaving his nest of blankets, only to stop suddenly as a wave of pain washed over him forcing Bee back onto the padding. Afraid and panicking Bumblebee suddenly sends a com to Optimus and Ratchet knowing it would take a while for them to answer. Just as another wave of pain creeps its way upon Bee's back, he then crawls back into his nest softly whimpering while holding his tanks. After shutting his optics tightly he wishes this just a bad dream just one big terrible dream.

Some time passes and the sound of a door almost being tore of its hinges could be heard as both Optimus and Ratchet rushes inside looking for Bumblebee. They quickly scan the room until they find Bee quietly cooing and whispering to something while tears fell down his cheeks. Optimus softly gasps when he spots the tiny sparkling in the yellow mech's arms, meanwhile Ratchet gets to work helping Bumblebee sit up and starts checking them over while softly hissing at Optimus to stop standing around and grab some clean blankets for the sparkling. Once they get into the med-bay and everything starts to settle Bumblebee is finally able to get a good look at his little sparkling who is currently napping away in their little cradle. The sparkling is almost a perfect of Prowl with minor changes such as having more yellow accents and a slightly longer chevron than their Sire's, but for Bee they are perfect as he gently nuzzles their little helm with his own while softly purring promising he will love them with every glimmer of his spark while also keeping them safe.

(little Bonus: Prowl's ghostly sprit stood at the edge of the medical berth with a soft smile on his face. He watched Bee's chest rise and fall with each soft vent as he peacefully recharged, in his arms he held their little sparkling close as they nuzzled up close to their Carrier's chest enjoying the familiar hum and warmth of Bumblebee's spark. Carefully stepping to the side Prowl's smile grew wider as he leaned down to place a careful kiss on top of Bee's helm. He knew he likely would never feel it or hear his words but he wanted to to tell how much he loved him. "They are perfect Bumblebee...thank you for such a wonderful gift. I love you" Bee suddenly smiled in his sleep and muttered "Love you too, Prowler")

😭😭😭😭😭😭

I love it 😭😭