#anyways this is my take on the whole thing

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Tim didn't know what had made him decide to give Damian another chance. If he had to guess, he'd say it was a collection of small moments instead of one big life-changing one. The way Damian was gentle with the animals at the farm, taking care of them in any way they needed without waiting to be asked or caring about dirtying his clothes. It was about the secret smiles Damian got when he thought no one was watching. How he helped the Kents around the house with excitement, delighted to learn new skills instead of annoyed at being put to work. He saw his need to be of use even when no one required it. He was so small. He had seen him struggle to reach things all around the kitchen while trying to help, too shy to ask for a stool, too stubborn to give up.

He was just a kid. A kid with assassin training and a lifetime of trauma but a kid nonetheless. Looking back to his early days at the manor, he could see the insecurity in his actions against Tim. The way he had acted out of fear instead of real aggression. Bruce hadn't helped. Too busy with Jason and the league and Batman to raise a child, or the last 4 for that matter. Damian had received no reassurances of his place in the family. No way to know if he would be allowed to stay without carving a place for himself. Tim understood it better now that he had seen the inner workings of the league. The realization had come gradually but it had stayed on the back of his mind, making him feel like he was missing something. It had gotten him to pay more attention to the kid.

That was how he had finally seen what was bothering him. It was in the small gestures. The minute flinches he displayed every time he was shown affection, the way he seemed to lean towards any kind of friendly touch for the first few seconds only to step away from it as soon as he realized what he was doing. Tim could see his walls were up almost all the time, even while knowing he was in a safe space. At first he had thought it was because of him. Eventually he realized it was another part of his training. That's when he realized Damian still felt like every single moment was a test of some kind. The uncertainty around his undefined position in the family still preventing him from relaxing, even now that he had Robin.

The kid was desperate for affection and clearly touch starved but couldn't let himself lower his guard enough to get what he needed. Hugs didn't help either. It opened him to too many attacks and he could not relax while knowing he was vulnerable in more ways than one. He could see the kid's anxiety skyrocket whenever the Kents initiated one. He hoped it was different with Dick, the two of them had formed a deep connection. Either way, it wasn't enough.

It got worse when the Waynes had their falling out. Tim knew the hero community had decided to shield him but it didn't stop him from keeping informed. He was well aware of the moment things blew up on their face after they realized Bruce's words were just that. Hollow and not backed by Bruce's beliefs. His love was very much conditional and his affection given sparsely.

It was something that wouldn't change unless Bruce put some serious effort into maturing his emotional intelligence and realigning his priorities. Tim didn't see it happening any time soon. He had finally accepted there was not much he could do about it. Not really. He had been trying for years at the expense of his health and sanity and the best he had accomplished was giving him a superficially happy family with such a fragile foundation that it had taken just one small blow to tear the illusion apart. He couldn't fix someone that didn't think there was anything wrong with his current way of life. Leaving was one of the hardest things he had done but he didn't regret it.

That said, he still felt partially responsible. He knew Bruce's mess was his own and Tim shouldn't have to be there to clean it. Dick and Jason were all grown up and perfectly capable of making their own choices. Cass, Steph, Barbara and Duke had all moved on and found communities where they fit in with people they cared about out of the family. They were thriving. Damian, however, was still a child. He didn't have as many options or enough experience in interpersonal relationships to know anything was wrong to begin with or how to go about changing it. Tim couldn't let his little brother suffer without at least trying to help. He had decided to intervene.

It had taken him a few days to determine the best approach. He wanted Damian to know he had options and to show him how healthy relationships worked. He wanted him to be able to relax and let down his walls when he was around people he trusted, even if Tim was not included in that list. He did not want to interact with the rest of the Waynes. With that in mind, he had settled on a plan and gotten to work.

He had started small. He had talked to the Kents. At first it was just Martha and Jonathan present. He had explained the situation and his theories on what would help Damian. He had told them to find a balance to provide affection to Damian through touch without making him feel vulnerable or exposed to an attack. He had then asked Jon, with Ma and Pa's blessing, to start inviting Damian to the farm more often and for shorter trips. He had then started working on his own relationship with Damian.

He approached it slowly, being nearby without being perceived as a threat. Sitting close enough to count as company but not to touch if either of them extended their arms. Working on his homework or his projects without putting on headphones or making himself unapproachable. Keeping his body language open and inviting. Letting Damian be the one to decide if he wanted to interact and do so on his terms. Eventually, the kid took him up on it. It started with small gestures, Damian sitting closer and working on his drawings while Tim kept doing homework. Bringing him snacks or drinks if he got up to get his own.

After a while, they started talking as well. Damian was hesitant at first. Tim had seen him try and talk and had decided it counted as the first move and asked about his pets. It was easier from then. They talked about the farm, the Kents, Tim's independent projects, his major, Damian's drawings, his upcoming events. Damian had told him Bruce demanded his attendance at a gala later that week and Tim had given him tips and tricks to survive Gotham's elite. They still tiptoed around the topic of their family. Damian didn't talk about them, even if he mentioned their name every once in a while. Tim didn't push.

Eventually, Damian had gathered the courage to apologize about his early interactions with Tim. Tim had accepted the apology and taken it as an invitation to start a bigger conversation about healthy relationships and family dynamics. Damian looked thoughtful and sad. Tim had taken it a step further and made him promise to come to him if he ever felt unsafe in his current situation. Damian had looked perplexed and ready to snap his walls back up. Tim had given him enough examples and details to show that he was being earnest and had managed to extract the promise.

Now, Damian was at his door with too many bags to only be visiting but too little to contain everything he owned. Tim couldn't say he didn't see it coming. He had still hoped to be wrong.

The next few months went by quickly. They settled into a routine and Tim made sure to establish clear expectations and well defined boundaries around their arrangement. He started looking for houses, taking Damian to see the more promising ones. He knew his little brother would want to have his animals back with him and they needed more space than the apartment could provide. He bought enough psychology books to fill up a small library. He showed most to Damian. Some he kept to himself. He talked to Ma constantly, trying to make sure he was giving Damian everything he needed to thrive and grow knowing that he was loved. That he mattered. It was nerve wracking. It was worth it when Damian led him to his room, proudly showing his decorations and waiting for Tim's approval. The trust in his eyes was the best compliment Tim had gotten in a long time.

As they got used to living together and relying on each other, Tim kept adding new things to their routine that he thought would benefit Damian. He bought him materials for his art, clothes meant for comfort more than usefulness, things for his pets. He offered to teach him photography, Damian agreed and offered to teach him different drawing techniques. He started introducing Damian to new people, partly to ensure he had more people in his corner if Tim wasn't available but also to expand his bubble of trust and work on de-isolating him after all the years he had spent mostly alone in the manor. He started with people Damian already knew and trusted. Cass, then Steph and Duke, then Kon and Bart, then J'onn, Diana, and Clark, then Zatanna, then some of his university friends, and so on.

He took note of who Damian seemed to click with and arranged more outings with them. He wasn't expecting Damian to connect with everyone but he wanted to give him the option to do so and enough people for Damian to interact without any expectations outside of getting to know them for a bit. Only a select few were allowed inside their house. Tim's priority was for it to be Damian's safe space and he wasn't going to jeopardize that for anything. Only people that had earned Damian's full trust got to visit them in their sanctuary. Everyone else met them outside. It was a good system.

He also enrolled Damian into school, silently transferring legal guardianship of the boy to himself after he had gotten his permission to do so. He didn't think the bats had noticed yet. Bruce was still trying to get to Tim in any way possible (Tim saw his repeated attempts on his security systems and kept an eye on the times he tried to get people to give away his information). Dick had gone back to Bludhaven after the latest screaming match and wasn't aware there was anything out of the ordinary happening. Alfred had contacted Ma Kent to inquire about Damian's safety (his words, not Tim's) then had continued with his duties as Bruce's butler without doing anything else. He cared in his own way, just not enough to take a stand against his ward.

Life kept going. Damian's 13th birthday came and went, they spent it with the Kents and visiting Damian's animals. They moved to a bigger house and Tim started looking at blueprints to build something to house Damian's pets closer to the boy. As they moved in, they decided to turn the living room into a shared study for them both. On one side Damian's painting materials and all his drawings, on the other a sturdy table with comfy seats and enough space for Tim to work on his latest project. They included a couch and a few other places to sit and spend time together. They turned a smaller room into a game room with a big TV, board games and different consoles. They turned the rest of the rooms that weren't their own into guest rooms for the Kents and the few others allowed to visit. Slowly they started filling the walls with their own decorations. Damian's drawings of Titus and Alfred, Tim's pictures of the city and Damian's pets, a few of the ones they had taken together on their excursions. Damian lamented leaving all his old art projects behind but when Tim offered to get them he decided to just start new ones.

Damian's first big drawing in the new house had been a surprise to Tim. He had insisted on covering it whenever he wasn't working on it, making Tim promise not to take a peek and being careful not to show it to him whenever he added to it. Tim was curious but he wanted to respect his little brother's privacy and let him do things on his own terms. It took almost a month to complete. Damian had finished it while Tim was out of the house. By the time he had come back, Damian had been waiting impatiently at the door and had led him to their study as soon as he was within reach. Once they were there, Damian had started fidgeting before hesitantly turning his finished painting so that Tim could finally see it.

Tim felt his heart fill with warmth. It was a painting of him and Damian standing at the Kent's farm. It was breathtaking. Damian had managed to capture the welcoming essence of the Kent's while keeping the focus on him and Tim and their closeness. It felt more like a candid picture of them than a portrait. Full of life and love. Tim felt a few tears escape his eyes as he pulled Damian close and hugged him. Later that day, he got it framed in a design both him and Damian approved of and hung it up in the center of their living room. Even as Damian's collection grew and the walls started filling with art from both of them depicting their adventures, it remained his favorite.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

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[samkerrworshipper]

so win.

alexia putellas x reader

no fuel quite like my procrastination to not do other things i need to do. this is porn without plot, i’m not ashamed of it. it’s also unedited and has been worked on after a day of clinicals so if there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes i apologise. i wrote this in like 3 hours lol. i’m also a mess at the moment and actually avoiding my whole life so this is my outlet. anyways i wrote smut! for the first time in forever ;) also for the sake of this let’s ignore timezones bcus i couldn’t rewrite the start of this to make it work lol.

warnings: smut, 18+ viewer discretion advised

You’re not with Alexia when the campaign drops. You’re not even watching the game, you’ve never been quite able to wrap your head around the nfl thing or get into like your girlfriend, the rules of rugby have been so ingrained in your mind from childhood that seeing men run around in massive pads just gives you an ick.

You’re not even the person who sees it first, you’re sitting in a cafe trying to get some studying done because it’s impossible to do at home when your clingy girlfriend insists on sitting, holding, grabbing or clinging onto any part of your body when she’s bored. It’s like trying to keep a five year old entertained, and it always ends up with you sacrificing whatever coursework you have and being endlessly stressed when you fall behind. You simply leave studying for when Alexia is out of the house or when you have time to study elsewhere.

You’re heavily engrossed in rewatching a lecture you’d missed the previous week due to training when your phone lights up. It’s no exaggeration, your phone screen goes from being blank and dark to suddenly notification after notification pouring in. Different groupchats, instagram tags, text messages. There’s another ten minutes left on your study clock before you’re technically allowed to take a break but with every thing that pops up your only become more curious. Curious enough that you look down at your clock with complete disregard and reach for your phone. It’s sitting next to your laptop, it’s supposed to be upside down to minimise distraction but when you were watching the lecture it stopped you from being able to check the time and you liked to watch as the time ticked by.

You click onto you groupchat first, a mixture of Barca girls, mostly the older ones. Most importantly Mapi, who has bombarded the groupchat in a matter of seconds, with image after image of your girlfriend.

You click onto them harmlessly, Alexia has a series of campaigns that you’re aware of that are coming out in the next few months. As you’re waiting for the images to load you try and remember if she’d told you about any coming up, there was something for Cupra at the end of february and a big campaign for more than eleven in march, and a few smaller things amongst it but nothing you could think of that was due to release today, or in the next week.

When the first image loads, you’re eyes almost bug out. Your throat closes, the oxygen leaves your lungs and you feel almost dizzy. You have to blink multiple times to clarify that what you’re looking at is real, it’s not just a hallucination of some wet dream you’ve had, it’s a real photo that exists in front of you. As you flick through them, you only feel more unwell, and a little bit wet… or a lot.

The first one is just Alexia’s face, staring straight down the lense. The way she’s been captured is almost animalistic, pink sports bra, big earrings, her hair in the wet look. It’s her eyes though, pointed straight on, the eye fuck look, like she’s staring into your soul the same way she does before she’s about to rail you, except it’s all magically been captured in one photo. You want to look at it forever, you’re scared you’ve actually lost the ability to use your extremities and all the oxygen has stopped circulating inside your body from the mix of shock and awe.

With as much power you have you flick to the next photo, and if you were already feeling unwell this feeling is close to death.

Alexia, looking over her shoulder, flexing.

All of her tattoos are on show, every single muscle is accentuated and you almost drool on your phone as you study all of the different parts of the picture. Alexia’s skin is literally glowing, effervescently in a way you cannot even begin to describe. You know from thousands of hours of tracing the skin of your girlfriends back just how strong she is, yet with everything emphasised more in the photo you feel like no matter how many hours you’ve spent staring this is adding a whole new perspective. Her arms, her facial expressions, the illusion of her hair sticking to her skin, the pink contrast against her skin.

You have to scroll, because if you don’t you won’t be responsible for the actions you engage in whilst in a very public space.

The following few pictures are of other athletes, basketball players, gymnasts, runners, other football players. For the most part, americans, yet your girlfriend in all her glory is a part of it.

You get through quite a few photos before it comes to the video, you were already gobsmacked, but the video seals it for you.

Alexia looks flawless, absolutely ethereal in every way. It actually feels like you are living in one of your fantasies or dreams but no this is very much real life and you are actually dating the person on your screen.

There’s no chance you’re going to get any work done, you can’t even get a coherent thought that doesn’t involve Alexia. Alexia’s abs, Alexia’s back, Alexia’s eyes, Alexia’s face, Alexia. You pack up your books and laptop with one thought on your mind, seeing your girlfriend.

Mapi’s private messages to you are filthy, message after message of her reminding your of what is now out in the world and about how now even more people are going to be even more obsessed with her.

You drive home over the speed limit and slightly recklessly, it’s not a long drive from your favourite study spot to you and Alexia’s shared house, but it feels like it drags on for forever. Your knuckles are white from your tight grip on the steering wheel and your unoccupied foot is bounding furiously against your floormat. You run a couple of close yellows, which are mostly red and have a complete disregard for giving way to anybody. You have an end goal, and that goal is to get home before you combust from all of the built up energy and tension in your body from the reruns of the pictures you’d seen.

You’re not even sure if you put the car in park when you swing into the driveway, you practically sprint towards the door, leaving Alexia’s prized cupra to fend for itself. Your hand is so sweaty you struggle with the door knob for a few seconds, your brain is frantic and you struggle and jiggle with it until it finally turns and there is nothing between you and finding exactly what you’re looking for.

Alexia isn’t in the front room, not that she normally would be. You pace your way through the hallway, past your bedroom which seems unoccupied and into the living room.

Alexia.

Alexia is sitting, on your couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the shit eating grin on her face as she tries to make herself look comfortable and like she’s actually lounging on your couch. Her body is tense, it gives away her whole bravado, you don’t really care though.

“You’re home early? You said you wouldn’t be back till lunch time, no?”

There is no acknowledging of her comment, you take your jacket off and lay it on the edge of the couch before unceremoniously pouncing on your girlfriend.

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexia makes it easy enough for you to straddle her lap, opening up her legs and making plenty of room for you.

You stare into her eyes and all you can picture is the photo of her, the look on her face isn’t dissimilar to the one captured, but it’s not quite the same.

“The campaign? Did I not mention it?”

You roll your eyes before leaning down, alexia goes with ease, her mouth opening up for you as soon as your lips meet hers. It’s all teeth and tongue, not quite a fight for dominance, just pure arousal.

“You’re a brat, and really fucking sexy.”

Alexia smirks against your lips, and then she bites back, her tongue fighting against yours.

“So you like it?”

You move your lips to Alexia’s neck, licking a line down her neck and kissing up it before biting down, foregoing any kind of gentle.

“Do I like my girlfriend looking extremely fuckable on the internet? Jury’s still out on that one.”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head back to give you full access to her neck.

“Mm, muy fuckable.”

The laugh that leaves her mouth is enough fuel for you to nip her again, sucking a mark right above her collar bone, not directly visible but enough to make her sweat about keeping it hidden at training tomorrow.

“I’m going to need a private show in that outfit at some stage.”

You move back up to Alexia’s mouth, this time the make out is less frantic, you’ve gotten out some of your residual jitters.

“That can always be arranged.”

You tug at the hem of Alexia’s sleep shirt that she still hasn’t gotten out of yet.

“Bed first, fashion show after.”

In the swiftest motion possible Alexia is bringing herself up onto her feet, and lifting you with her. You wrap your legs around her torso, never breaking the makeout.

She makes it to your bedroom at a record speed, dumping you onto the mattress before climbing back on top of you, her shirt being thrown haphazardly into the air somewhere as she lowers herself down. There’s no bra to fight with and you reach for her breasts before her lips are back on you, grabbing and rolling at her nipples until she gets the message and has climbed fully onto the mattress on top of you.

Alexia stays on top of you, making out for a while, until she get’s bored with her hands and decides that you need to mirror her level of undressed. She flips you on top with so much ease that it doesn’t even surprise you, the photos on the internet showed Alexia’s muscles, but they didn’t show just how strong your girlfriend truly was.

Alexia didn’t mess around with your tank top and bra, tugging them off with the same kind of urgency that you’d been in to get back to the house earlier. As soon as the clothes are gone you’re flipped back onto the mattress, Alexia retaking her position. Her hands go straight to your tits, pinching and pulling in a way that makes your back nearly arch off the bed. You’re already aroused from your session in the coffee shop, but this is only adding fuel to the fire.

It takes everything in you not to moan immediately, you clench your jaw and bite your lip as Alexia elicits all different kinds of sensations.

‘Sé ruidoso bebita.”

As per usual, not much gets past Alexia, you try to relax just slightly, let yourself feel it all completely.

“How wet are you going to be when I finally touch your pussy, hm? How wet did my photos get you? All hot and bothered in the coffee shop like a little slut.”

There is no point in shaking your head, you just smirk, you’re proud of it, you’re proud that you get to come home to this and everyone else just has to enjoy Alexia from a far.

“Show me, reach into your panties and show me how wet you are and maybe I’ll think about touching you.”

You hesitate for a second, but then Alexia pinches on of your nipples and rolls your other breast in her hand and your hand naturally moves downwards, your hips canting up as you do so.

Your fingertips are glistening and dripping as you bring them out of your shorts, Alexia doesn’t hesitate to pull them straight into her mouth, sucking all of your arousal straight off.

“Alexia, please.”

Alexia licks her lips in a way that makes you so certain that she’s desperate for more, she’s just as turned on about this as you are.

“Pants off.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth your reaching for them hem of your pants and kicking them off, your panties go with them.

Alexia doesn’t wait, she moves her body downwards until her mouth is hovering right above you.

She looks up at you, hesitates for a second, it’s the exact same face as the photo, beautifully feral.

She doesn’t hold back whatsoever, her mouth goes straight to your clit and you’re already aroused, already dripping everywhere but you reach another level. Your moans are breathy and free falling.

“Fuck baby, feels so good.”

You’re a stuttering mess and far too aroused to try and pretend like you aren’t already close.

Alexia keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking at your clit and occasionally living long strips up from your pussy. It feels so good, earth shattering good.

“Ale, close.”

You expect her to pull back a little bit, normally she likes to prolong your pleasure just a little bit, the wait is worth the reward. But it seems like the both of you are too aroused to ignore the urgency of the situation. Alexia doubles down, her arms pushing your thighs further apart and reaching up behind you to grab at your ass whilst she enjoys having more access.

When you realise she isn’t going to let up you unclench your hands from the sheets and push them into Alexia’s hair, grabbing at the root and pushing her exactly where you want, grinding down against her chin.

It doesn’t take long at all, alread close as it was. Then Alexia grazes her teeth over your clit and doubles down and you see stars. Your body goes with you, shaking and tensing before relaxing as your enjoy the aftershocks. Alexia takes the opportunity, pushing two fingers into you and setting a brutal pace.

“Alexia, need a second.”

Alexia doesn’t stop, if anything she only goes harder, her fingers searching for your g-spot and finding it with ease. The overstimulation makes your stomach tight and yoru clit ache, in the best way.

“Una mas.”

You shake your head, even though it’s blatantly clear you’re going to give her another one, there isn’t really a world where you wouldn’t, not when Alexia makes it so easy to feel so good.

“You can give me one more bebita.”

Alexia’s palm grinds against your clit gloriously, it’s a bit too much for a few seconds but it fades as the pleasure overtakes.

Alexia’s favourite activity is amking you fall apart, watching you experience a kind of pleasure that is unmatchable, all at her own hands. Alexia adds a third finger, knowing that it’ll give you what you need.

It’s more than enough for what you need to reach a release. This time the initial orgasm lasts longer, you tense for a few seconds before you go boneless on the mattress. You melt into the sheets, your head lulling against the pillow as you breathe your way through.

Once you’ve stopped clenching against Alexia she pulls her fingers out, licking up every part of your orgasm, not leaving a single drop behind.

She crawls her way up to you, lying down on her side next to you, looking at the blissed out expression on your face.

Your eyes open lazily, a big smile on your face.

“You’re unreal, literally, how did I get this lucky?”

Alexia leans in, it would be rude to not kiss your lips at every possible chance, especially when your smiling at her like that.

“The real question is how I got this lucky.”

It the same kind of phrase that would elicit vomiting noises from your teammates in the locker room, and yet you love it all the same.

The kiss is soft, everything you need in the moment. It gives you enough confidence to reach your hands down inbetween the two of you, pressing down against Alexia’s front with one intention.

Alexia gasps into your mouth, and it’s enough guidance for you.

You walk your fingers up to the waistband of her pyjama shorts that she still hasn’t changed out of at nearly midday. You trail them down on the inside, unsurprised at her lack of underwear.

Alexia’s wet, the cotton of her shorts sticking to the insides of her thighs.

You part her folds, enjoying the way she moans and gasps into your mouth as you map your way through a different part of her body.

When your fingers find her clit, it’s easy to tell just how turned on she is.

You set a pace of fast tight circles, you’re well educated on Alexia’s body and when she’s this worked up this is the best way to get her to an orgasm.

You know she’s getting closer when her kisses get sloppier and desperate, her lips hang onto yours like they’re becoming an extension of her, like she’s scared that if you separate it’ll take part of her with her.

She shakes and grinds into you, searching for that last bit of stimulation she needs. When she infds it she groans into your mouth, her hips jerking one final time before they go weak, her body goes still for a few seconds. You slow down but don’t come to a full stop, pulling every last bit of her orgasm out for her until she’s tugging your hand out of her shorts.

Alexia presses some soft kisses to your lips before pulling you into her with one arm.

“If that’s what I get every time I take some nice pictures, maybe I should do it a bit more. See if I can get a job with Victoria’s secret or a swimsuit company.”

Alexia doesn’t need to see the look on your face to know exactly how all of your features would clenhc up and your eyes would roll.

“If you do that there will be a whole lot less sex for you and a whole lot more sessions with my vibrator for me. You’re cute, but I’d like to keep some of it for me.”

Alexia snorts, before tugging you in tighter.

“The fans would like it so much though, maybe I should just post some of the photos from the beach over the summer in Ibiza, the topless ones were cute.”

You elbow Alexia straight in the gut.

“How about you model the nike outfits for me first, and then we can decide how far you can take your new found modelling career.”

You’re still in slight disbelief that Alexia managed to keep something this big from you. She was obviously always having ongoing things going with nike, but something this big, and this special was hard to keep underwraps.

“I looked that good, huh?”

You roll even further into Alexia, pressing your whole body into hers.

“Muy bueno. New additions to the wank bank right there.”

You snort when you look over your shoulder and see the confusion on Alexia’s face, her english is good, but her english slang lacks in certain departments.

“Wank bank?”

You snort again, the innocence behind her voice makes it so much better.

“Just my folder for when I’m very alone on camp, and need some extra assistance.”

Alexia’s brain clicks, she laughs, and then the meaning must click in because she blushes beet red.

You stand up, already searching for your forgotten articles of clothing.

“Wait a minute, wank bank? What else is in this folder?”

You’re already tugging your pants on and trying to find your tank top which had apparently vanished into thin air.

“Hopefully whatever new photos I can find in the album of spares that was left over from this shoot.”

Before you can hear what else Alexia says you’re racing off in search of her laptop.

“Wait, I need to see this folder. Bebita, I need my own folder. WHAT IS IN THIS FOLDER.”

—————-

anyways have a wonderful day/night! i love you! somebody out there loves you! you are blessed to have this day and every other one to come <3

[sillywizardinthewoods]

I am the token straight man, I know what he thinks this means. I suck at this sort of thing, which I think makes me a subject matter expert because this guy also clearly sucks at this sort of thing.

Disclaimer: I know the correct thing to do when seeing a young woman alone at a restaurant is to ‘mind my own gosh darn business’, not that my social anxiety would let me try this anyway. I also know that what he refers to as ‘traps’ are in fact reasonable reactions to creeps. A good rule of thumb is that pickup artists are wrong about everything and any video evidence to the contrary is staged.

Crucially, there’s a picture of a woman attached to the original tweet he’s responding to that has been cropped out. I reckon this makes a bit more sense if we could see the picture, but I’m making some inferences based on what he wrote.

Complimenting her manicure is a very safe compliment in that it’s hard to take the wrong way or be offended over, and asking about the cross earrings is just a setup for the religious pickup line, and a possible conversation starter if this guy is anti-smalltalk. Saying he used to believe in angels but the devil is a fallen angel is him saying he’s just gotten out of a rough relationship (his ex being the angel who fell and caused him to stop believing). This very specific fantasy woman wearing cross earrings with a perfect manicure is also drinking apple juice*. Asking if angels drink apple juice is therefore a way to imply he’s hoping she could be the angel who restores his faith, but is prepared to accept no for an answer.

*Possibly beer or cider, I don’t have the image but I’m making an educated guess. It’s more likely beer or cider (can’t speak for everyone but if I’m in a restaurant and have the choice between cider or apple juice, I’m picking cider every time), but I’m guessing our wannabe Casanova has Opinions on what is appropriate for women to drink, saw a yellowish liquid in a glass, and made an assumption.

The two traps are an attempt at a compliment that makes someone uncomfortable and comes across as a catcall, which he avoids by complimenting her manicure, and by coming on too strong by insisting that she is an angel, which he avoids by instead asking her if she’s an angel.

I’m going to finish my critique by pointing out that while this whole opener is a red flag, if I’m right about this then he actually mentioned his toxic ex girlfriend in the second sentence he spoke to this poor imaginary woman, which is honestly a worse red flag IMO. Rookie mistake tbh.

This has got to be the most incomprehensible thing I’ve ever read this is a reply to a dumbass pick up artist twitter thread but it sounds like a riddle that you’d be given 3 chances to solve before getting thrown in the gallows

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

It was the weekend.  

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.  

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.  

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.  

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.  

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.  

He checked his phone. No messages from you.  

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.  

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.  

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”  

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”  

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”  

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”  

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.  

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.  

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.  

Pedro knocked.  

Nothing.  

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”  

Still nothing.  

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if—  

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.  

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.  

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.  

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.  

Snoring.  

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.  

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.  

God, you were adorable.  

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.  

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.  

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.  

He’d give you another hour.  

Maybe two.  

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING  

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.  

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.  

The problem?  

You were not a morning person.  

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.  

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”  

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”  

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”  

“No.”  

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”  

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”  

He smirked. There we go.  

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”  

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”  

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”  

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.  

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.  

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.  

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.  

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.  

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."  

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."  

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.  

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.  

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.  

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"  

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."  

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."  

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."  

Your stomach twisted at that.  

He had noticed.  

Of course, he had.  

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.  

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"  

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."  

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"  

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."  

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."  

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."  

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.  

Damn it.  

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"  

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON 

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away café—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.  

For one, he had somehow procured a car.  

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.  

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”  

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”  

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”  

“Would I lie to you?”  

You didn’t dignify that with a response.  

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.  

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”  

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.  

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.  

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.  

And then—  

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.  

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”  

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.  

Okay. Fine.  

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.  

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.  

Your brows furrowed.  

“Wait a minute—"  

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.  

Not just any bookstore.  

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.  

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”  

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.  

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”  

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.  

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.  

It was perfect.  

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.  

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”  

He smirked. “No catch.”  

You narrowed your eyes.  

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”  

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”  

Your jaw dropped.  

“Excuse me?”  

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”  

The words were simple.  

Too simple.  

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.  

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.  

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.  

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”  

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON  

You took your time browsing.  

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.  

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.  

It made your skin warm.  

It was still so bizarre—this thing between you two.  

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.  

Because this was Pedro Pascal.  

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—  

Oh god, were you on a date?  

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.  

No. Not a date.  

Just… Pedro being Pedro.  

Right?  

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.  

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.  

“That one, huh?”  

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.  

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”  

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”  

You blinked. “Do what?”  

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”  

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”  

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”  

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”  

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”  

Your stomach flipped.  

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.  

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”  

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”  

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.  

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.  

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.  

You nearly choked.  

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”  

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”  

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.  

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”  

You exhaled, nodding.  

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.  

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”  

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”  

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”  

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”  

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.  

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”  

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”  

You looked up.  

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”  

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.  

He made it sound so simple.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”  

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.  

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.  

Just Pedro. Just this.  

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.  

And maybe it did.  

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."  

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."  

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"  

You blinked at him. "Little me?"  

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"  

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."  

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."  

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."  

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."  

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."  

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"  

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"  

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."  

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."  

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."  

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."  

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.  

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"  

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.  

You snorted. "Of course you were."  

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."  

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."  

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."  

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.  

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.  

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"  

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."  

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.  

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."  

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.  

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."  

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"  

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.  

You glanced up.  

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."  

Your stomach flipped.  

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."  

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."  

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"  

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."  

You groaned. "Oh my god."  

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.  

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.  

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.  

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”  

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”  

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.  

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”  

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”  

The camera counted down—three, two, one.  

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.  

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.  

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.  

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.  

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.  

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.  

The flash went off.  

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.  

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.  

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.  

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.  

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”  

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”  

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”  

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”  

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.  

For a beat, neither of you moved.  

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”  

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”  

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”  

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”  

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”  

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.  

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.  

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.  

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.  

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.  

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.  

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.  

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”  

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”  

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”  

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”  

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”  

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”  

You couldn’t argue with that.  

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.  

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.  

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”  

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”  

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.  

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”  

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.  

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.  

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.  

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.  

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.  

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.  

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”  

Your breath hitched for a split second.  

Right. The room.  

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.  

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”  

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.  

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”  

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”  

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”  

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.  

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”  

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.  

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.  

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”  

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”  

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”  

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.  

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”  

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”  

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.  

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”  

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”  

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.  

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.  

But tonight?  

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.  

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”  

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.  

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.  

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”  

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”  

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”  

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”  

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”  

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”  

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.  

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.  

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”  

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”  

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.  

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.  

But tonight?  

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further. 

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ NOBODY KNOWS

❛ 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. ❜

timeline: 2020

synopsis: After a year of stolen glances and secret meetings, one reckless moment in the practice room turns Jeonghan and Luna’s hidden relationship into the group’s loudest revelation.

warnings: this is a short but sweet one!!, cursing, fluff, short fic, sneaking around, established relationship, some slightly suggestive moments, pda, they are whipped for each other, somewhat chaotic and comedic, LOTS of screaming (mainly from BSS)

this is long overdue and i am sorry it took a while, i completely forgot this existed after being buried in my drafts 🫠 anyways, hope you guys enjoy and happy reading!!

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Sneaking around was fun.

Jeonghan never thought it would be this fun, but sneaking around with Luna?

It was exhilarating.

There was something about stolen moments, the quiet thrill of being together without anyone knowing. It wasn’t that they wanted to keep secrets from their friends, but the world they had built for themselves, just the two of them, was intoxicating.

Every glance, every brush of the hand when no one was looking, held more weight, more intimacy. They shared something that no one else could see, and the act of hiding it made everything so much sweeter.

It was a game, really— one they never planned to play but found themselves drawn into. The way they would lock eyes across a crowded room, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Or how Jeonghan would casually sit beside her during rehearsals, his fingers lightly grazing her leg under the table, completely unnoticed by everyone else.

The secret made the connection between them even more intense, amplifying the quiet, unspoken moments they shared.

Ever since that one night…

It all started one passionate night— a night that neither of them would ever forget. They had been close for so long, their bond deepening naturally with time. But that night changed everything.

The tension that had been simmering for months finally broke, and they found themselves in tangled each other’s arms, both of them giving in to what they had been feeling for so long. It was like a dam had burst, and from that moment on, there was no going back.

After that night, they were inseparable.

There was a new intensity to the way they existed around each other, a magnetic pull that neither of them could resist.

If they were in the same room, they gravitated toward each other, always finding some way to be close— whether it was sitting next to each other during team dinners, or slipping away for a quick moment together during breaks.

The honeymoon phase was real, and they were living it.

Every moment they could steal for themselves was golden. Jeonghan would find ways to be alone with her, whether it was a late-night talk after a long day of practice or sneaking out to the rooftop to enjoy the quiet, starry night together. They would talk for hours about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes, it didn’t even matter what they said; it was just about being together.

Jeonghan often found himself watching her, completely mesmerized by the smallest things she did. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed.

And Luna, too, couldn’t help but get lost in the softness of his gaze, the way he would quietly take her hand under the table or brush a stray hair from her face when he thought no one was looking. They were locked in their own world, so attuned to each other that the rest of the world faded into the background.

Their whole relationship was a secret by accident.

They hadn’t planned on keeping it a secret. It wasn’t like they had some grand scheme to hide their relationship from the rest of the group. But life had a way of getting in the way.

There were practices, recordings, filming schedules, performances— everything piling up one after the other. Their lives were so hectic that there never seemed to be a perfect moment to tell the other members— not that they realized anything was going on… Luna and Jeonghan were just being the exact same according to them.

At first, couple thought they would sit everyone down, have a proper conversation, maybe even laugh about it afterward. But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the perfect moment never came.

The idea of revealing their relationship over a rushed text message felt wrong. This was something significant, something that deserved more than just a casual mention in passing.

It wasn’t about not trusting the other members; they knew that their friends would be nothing but supportive. It was about finding the right time— when they could explain things fully, face to face. When they could show just how serious they were about each other.

But the right time never came.

The longer they waited, the busier they became.

And so they didn’t tell.

They just… let it be.

Every time Jeonghan or Luna would think about bringing it up, something would happen. A sudden practice session, an emergency meeting. And with each passing day, it just became easier to keep it to themselves.

It wasn’t that they were trying to deceive anyone. It was just that life was moving too fast, and their relationship— this precious thing they had created— felt too sacred to rush an announcement.

However, there was something thrilling about it.

Over time, sneaking around became a part of their routine. The thrill of catching glances, of brushing hands in secret, of exchanging knowing smiles when no one else was looking— it was like living in their own secret movie.

They would send quick, playful texts when the others weren’t paying attention, or find ways to meet in secluded spots during their schedules. They had their little hideouts— places in the company building or backstage at events where no one would think to look for them. There, they could steal a kiss or two, holding each other tightly in moments where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them.

Jeonghan loved the moments when they’d sneak away after hours, meeting in quiet corners where they wouldn’t be found. Like that time they slipped out after a late recording session and sat on the rooftop, huddled together under the stars, away from the noise of the world.

They had laughed quietly as they whispered about how none of the members had any idea. Or that one time backstage during a performance, when he had pulled her into an empty dressing room, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they both had to rush back on stage.

Then there were the fleeting touches— Jeonghan brushing his fingers along the back of her hand when no one was watching, Luna squeezing his knee under the table during a team meeting.

These were their secret ways of communicating when words weren’t enough. The thrill of not being caught, of knowing that this was something just between the two of them, made every touch feel electric.

There were a lot of impulsive moments where both Jeonghan and Luna threw their caution out the window.

A lot— a concerning amount.

Like that time at the recording studio…

The studio was buzzing, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out Jeonghan's thoughts.

They were supposed to be focusing on the new track, practicing harmonies with the rest of the group. But every time Luna moved beside him, her elbow brushing against his arm, his focus slipped. It was maddening, the way she was so close yet felt so far.

Jeonghan cast a sidelong glance at her, watching the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the music sheet. He could see the hint of a smile on her lips, and it drove him crazy knowing she had no idea what she was doing to him.

He leaned in, his lips just grazing the shell of her ear, voice barely audible as he murmured, "Come with me."

Luna's fingers froze mid-tap, but she didn't look at him, her eyes still on the paper. "Now?" she whispered back, pretending to stay focused on the task at hand.

She knew exactly what he wanted, but the room was filled with people— members, staff, producers.

It was reckless.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning just a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Right now."

A soft blush crept across Luna's cheeks, but she kept her voice steady. "We're supposed to be practicing." Her eyes darted toward him briefly before looking away, her resolve weakening with each passing second.

Jeonghan, though, knew her well enough by now. He saw the way her lips quirked at the corners, the slight shift in her body language that told him she was already considering it.

"We won't be long," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Just a little break."

She finally turned her head, her eyes locking with his, amusement dancing in the depths of her gaze. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he teased, his hand already gently tugging her wrist beneath the table where no one could see. The others were too engrossed in their own parts to notice. He gave her a knowing look, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. "Come on. Ten minutes."

“That’s a long fucking time for a ‘little break’.” Luna tried reasoning with him but she knew it was no use.

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Jeonghan sassed back before smirking.

Luna hesitated for a fraction of a second, casting a quick glance around the room. No one was paying attention. Her heart raced as she weighed the risk, but deep down, she knew there was no saying no to Jeonghan when he got that glint in his eye.

“Nana-ya,” Jeonghan whispered as he tugged on her arm again, more insistent this time, and she exhaled softly, surrendering.

"Fine," she muttered, but the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her excitement.

Without a word, Jeonghan stood up, casually stretching his arms as though he was just taking a break from the session.

Luna followed suit, quietly slipping behind him. They walked out of the room, their steps in perfect sync as they made their way down the narrow hallway. The further they went, the faster her pulse raced, anticipation curling in her chest.

Jeonghan glanced over his shoulder, grinning as he led her to a small, unused room at the end of the corridor.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Luna felt the immediate change in the atmosphere— the quiet, intimate space wrapping around them like a blanket.

She barely had time to react before Jeonghan was in front of her, his hands sliding up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her in. His smile was playful, teasing, but his eyes were intense. "I've been wanting to do this all day," he murmured, his voice low as he dipped his head closer to hers.

Luna's heart skipped a beat, but she shook her head, half-heartedly trying to keep some semblance of control. "We're going to get caught."

He hummed, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her cheek. "Maybe." His lips hovered just inches from hers, his breath fanning across her skin, making her stomach flutter. "But isn't that part of the fun?"

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Jeonghan closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was slow at first, a gentle press of lips that quickly deepened as he coaxed her to respond. Her hands instinctively found their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric as she melted into him, the tension in her body slipping away with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, Jeonghan rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "You always give in," he whispered, his tone light but filled with affection.

Luna huffed a soft laugh, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. "You make it impossible to resist."

He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "Good."

She playfully pushed his chest, though there was no force behind it. "We really shouldn't be doing this here."

Jeonghan leaned back, his hand sliding down her arm to lace their fingers together. "You say that every time, but here we are."

She gave him a mock glare, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her as they quirked upward. "One of these days, we're actually going to get caught."

He shrugged, unbothered, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Then I guess we'll deal with it when it happens." He tugged her a little closer, leaning down to kiss her again, this time slower, savoring the moment. When he pulled away, his eyes were soft, the teasing edge replaced with something more sincere. "I just want to be with you. Doesn't matter where."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she smiled, resting her head against his chest for a brief moment. "Yoon Jeonghan, you're impossible, you know that?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And you love me for it."

Luna sighed, pulling away just enough to look up at him, her eyes twinkling. "Yeah. I do."

They stayed there for a moment longer, the world outside that tiny room fading into the background. There was nothing but the two of them, their shared breath, their intertwined fingers. And in that quiet space, everything else ceased to matter.

That time during one of their team dinners…

The restaurant was alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the chaotic chatter of thirteen boys— fourteen, counting Luna, who sat across from Jeonghan at the long table. The night was loud, but neither of them noticed. Their attention was pulled away from the noise of their friends, entirely focused on each other.

Luna sat back in her chair, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, pretending to listen to the conversation next to her.

But beneath the table, her foot brushed against Jeonghan’s leg. It was a light touch at first, so subtle it could be mistaken for an accident. But the moment she felt him shift slightly in response, she pressed her foot against him again, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jeonghan looked up, meeting her gaze across the table, his eyes narrowing just slightly in amusement. The lively atmosphere around them melted into the background, fading into a blur of laughter and voices. His foot moved under the table, lightly nudging hers back, playing along with the silent game she’d initiated. His lips twitched as he watched her reaction.

Meanwhile, the rest of the members were oblivious, deep in their own world of boisterous conversation and drinks. Mingyu was loudest, his laughter booming across the table as he slapped Woozi’s back, nearly spilling the contents of his drink.

“Hyung, you should’ve seen it! I swear, he tripped over his own feet!” Mingyu exclaimed between laughs, his large frame shaking with each burst of laughter.

Woozi shot him a deadpan look, pushing his drink aside. “You’re exaggerating. I didn’t trip. You’re clumsy one.”

“I’m not clumsy!” Mingyu protested, but his voice was lost to the noise of the table as the others chimed in with their own comments.

“I think you are,” Hoshi teased from the other end, raising his glass, clearly drunk out of his wits. “To Mingyu, our tall and graceful giant!”

The group erupted into laughter, but Jeonghan barely heard it. His focus was entirely on Luna. Her foot grazed against his again, the touch sending a jolt of anticipation through him. She was watching him closely now, her eyes gleaming with a mix of teasing and mischief. Jeonghan, never one to back down from a challenge, pushed his foot back against hers, this time more firmly.

The corners of her mouth lifted, just enough for him to notice, and she pressed her foot against his again, slipping it between his calves, testing how far she could push before someone caught on.

He leaned back in his chair, arms casually resting on the back of the seat next to him, as if he was completely unaffected. But the truth was, his heart was pounding in his chest, excitement swirling in his stomach.

The game they were playing, right under everyone’s noses, was intoxicating.

Luna tilted her head, pretending to listen to something Seungkwan was saying next to her, but her focus remained on Jeonghan. Her foot slid up along his leg, slowly, deliberately. Jeonghan bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to smile too widely, knowing the members would notice.

Seungkwan, oblivious to the under-the-table antics, was going on about his latest variety show appearance, hands gesturing animatedly. “And then they asked me to do the aegyo thing— again. Can you believe it? I mean, I’m more than just cute, you know!”

Vernon raised a brow, taking a sip of his drink. “Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Seungkwan gasped dramatically, slapping Vernon’s arm. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Let’s be honest,” Joshua chimed in with a grin, “you do the aegyo thing too well. They’re never going to stop asking.”

The group burst into laughter again, but Jeonghan remained silent, his gaze locked on Luna’s. She was clearly enjoying herself, watching him squirm under her subtle touches. Her eyes flickered to his leg, and she pushed her foot higher, grazing the inside of his knee.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, trying to maintain his composure, but it was getting harder with each passing second. The heat between them, the secret they shared, was making it difficult to focus on anything else. He could feel her foot teasing him, slow and deliberate, as if daring him to break first.

He wasn’t going to let her win that easily.

In one swift motion, Jeonghan pushed his foot forward, trapping hers between his legs. Luna’s eyes widened in surprise, and her lips parted in a small gasp. She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing with both challenge and amusement.

Jeonghan smirked. Got you, his eyes seemed to say.

But before either of them could make another move, Jeonghan suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance Luna had put him in.

“Hyung, you alright?” It was Dokyeom, his brow furrowed as he leaned in, clearly noticing Jeonghan’s unusual silence. “You’ve been staring off into space for the last five minutes.”

Jeonghan blinked, quickly forcing a nonchalant smile. “Oh, yeah. Just… thinking.” He gave a lazy stretch, trying to shake off the tension that had built up during his and Luna’s silent exchange.

Dokyeom raised an eyebrow, unconvinced as he teased. “Thinking? You? Since when?”

Jeonghan laughed, deflecting with ease. “Since always, Dokyeomie. I have a lot of deep thoughts— plus I was listening to you guys.”

Dokyeom rolled his eyes but seemed satisfied with the response. “Yeah, sure. I’ll try to believe that.”

Jeonghan gave him a light shove.

Dokyeom laughed, oblivious to the real reason behind Jeonghan’s distraction, before turning back to the rest of the conversation. But Jeonghan’s attention had already shifted back to Luna. She was watching him, her foot still trapped between his legs, her lips quirking into a knowing smile.

As the conversation around them picked up again, Luna pressed her foot against him one more time, her silent message clear: This isn’t over.

Jeonghan bit back a laugh, but in his attempt to regain control, his knee accidentally bumped into the edge of the table with a loud thud. The plates and glasses rattled, and several heads turned in his direction.

“Hyung!” Minghao exclaimed, his eyes wide with amusement. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan waved it off, rubbing his knee with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I uh— just got a little too comfortable.”

But across the table, Luna chuckled quietly, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched him squirm under the scrutiny of their friends. Jeonghan shot her a playful glare, mouthing the words, You’ll pay for that later.

She only smiled wider, her foot giving him one last teasing nudge before retreating, her expression one of pure satisfaction.

It was risky, but that was part of the fun.

Every shared touch, every secret kiss carried a weight of excitement that was almost addicting.

They never meant to hide it.

It was never supposed to be a secret for this long. But as days turned into months, they realized they liked it— this bubble they had created for themselves, away from the chaos of their public lives.

Their relationship was something they could protect, something that was purely theirs, away from the spotlight. It wasn’t about hiding from their friends, but about keeping something precious between the two of them for a little longer.

They knew they would tell the members eventually, but for now, this was theirs.

And they weren’t quite ready to let that go.

Until they accidentally did…

Which was strange— they had been careful. Hyper-aware of their surroundings.

But it was bound to happen.

A reckless moment, a stolen kiss, a door left unlocked. That was all it took.

And it happened in the practice room.

The room was empty, dimly lit by the white glow of the ceiling lights, the faint hum of music still playing from the speakers. Hours of practice had drained them both, and now, with the studio vacant, it felt like their own little sanctuary.

Jeonghan sat against the mirrored wall, legs stretched out, his arm draped lazily over Luna’s shoulder as she sat beside him, mirroring his posture. The air between them was thick with exhaustion, but also with something softer— something indulgent.

They had been talking, murmuring quiet teases about who had fumbled more during practice, until the teasing had dwindled into comfortable silence. Then, it had happened naturally, like second nature. Luna had turned her head toward him, and Jeonghan had already been looking at her. His fingers traced along her jaw, brushing back the stray strands of hair sticking to her slightly damp skin.

And then he kissed her.

Slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke of familiarity and comfort, but also of something greedy, something that thrived in the secrecy of these hidden moments.

Luna responded just as eagerly, her fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Jeonghan sighed into her lips, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, drowning in the feeling of just them.

They were completely lost in it.

So lost that they didn’t hear the door swing open.

Didn’t hear the footsteps.

Didn’t hear the chorus of gasps and the sharp inhale of about twelve different people collectively losing their minds.

“OH MY GOD— WHAT THE HELL?!”

Luna and Jeonghan froze.

For a split second, they stayed completely still, lips barely apart, breath mingling, before reality crashed down on them like a landslide. Luna jerked back like she had been burned, heart hammering against her ribs as her wide, horrified eyes darted toward the entrance.

A sea of stunned expressions met her.

Seungkwan had a hand over his mouth, eyes stretched so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Vernon blinked once. Then twice. Then again, as if he was still processing what exactly he had just walked into. Dino, on the other hand, had taken a step back, his hands clutching his head as if he was physically trying to comprehend what he just saw.

“NO FUCKING WAY—”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“Oh, I knew it! I KNEW IT!”

“Wait, wait, hold on —what— how— WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!”

Luna felt her entire body turn hot, her face burning in complete mortification as she let out a choked squeak and immediately buried her head in Jeonghan’s lap. Heaving in embarrassment, she curled into herself, as if the earth could swallow her whole if she just made herself small enough.

But Jeonghan?

Jeonghan, that insufferable man, merely leaned back against the wall with a lazy, unfazed grin.

“Well,” he drawled, “that could’ve gone better.”

“What do you mean ‘that could’ve gone better’— ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” Seungkwan exploded, still gripping his chest like he was about to have a heart attack. “We just walked in on you two making out and THAT’S YOUR REACTION?!”

Dokyeon let out a loud cackle, slapping his knee. “This is unreal! You guys were hiding this from us?! No, no, hold on, we need answers—”

“Answers?! We need a damn timeline!” Joshua exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I— this entire time?! This entire time? I mean… I had a feeling…”

Minghao folded his arms, letting out a small huff through his nose. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“I KNEW IT!” Hoshi screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at them. “I had a feeling! You two were always acting weird! The glances! The whispers! The suspicious disappearing acts! I CALLED IT!”

“You literally never said anything,” Jun pointed out.

Hoshi spun on his heel. “IT WAS A GUT FEELING.”

Woozi, who had remained silent this entire time, simply exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, muttering under his breath, “You guys are unbelievable.”

Meanwhile, Vernon blinked again, finally processing everything. “So… are we not gonna practice anymore?”

“VERNON, PLEASE—”

Through it all, Luna refused to lift her head, her ears burning, her entire body screaming in secondhand embarrassment. “Oh my god,” she mumbled against Jeonghan’s thigh, “I’m never showing my face again.”

Jeonghan chuckled, bringing a hand up to lazily ruffle her hair. “You’re fine, baby.”

“BABY?!”

A fresh round of chaos erupted.

Seungcheol, who had been standing in the center of it all in complete silence, finally let out a long, deep sigh. “Alright, everyone, calm down—”

“CALM DOWN?! HYUNG, WE JUST WALKED IN ON JEONGHAN HYUNG AND JIYEONIE—”

“I know.” S.Coups raised his voice just enough to cut through the noise. He ran a hand down his face before dropping it to his hip. “Honestly? I had my suspicions.”

A sharp gasp came out of Hoshi’s mouth. “YOU TOO?!”

“Well, yeah,” he deadpanned as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I have eyes.”

Amidst all the screaming, the different reactions, the teasing, and the sheer chaos of the moment, there was one person standing at the back, watching it all unfold with a quiet, unreadable expression.

Mingyu.

His lips were curled in a small, wistful smile, but there was something else there, something deep in his eyes— a flicker of something sad, something resigned, something understanding.

But he didn’t say a word.

He only let out a soft breath, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and looked at the two.

Then, he smiled.

Genuinely.

And that was enough for now.

Luna was still curled up in Jeonghan’s lap, her face burning hot enough to rival the sun, as the chaos continued to erupt around them.

Her mortification knew no bounds.

The teasing, the yelling, the absolute lack of any sense of order— it was everything she feared would happen if they ever got caught. And yet, there was no judgment, no tension, just an overwhelming surge of disbelief, excitement, and too many voices screaming at once.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, was still as cool as ever, his fingers lazily running through Luna’s hair like this was just another Tuesday. He wore a smug grin, as if he wasn’t the least bit sorry they had been found out. If anything, he was enjoying this.

“You knew this would happen,” Luna mumbled against his thigh, voice muffled.

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning down to whisper, “l didn’t, Nana-ya. But it was worth it, don’t you think?”

She groaned and smacked his knee.

Meanwhile, the members had barely taken a breath before the flood of questions began.

“Alright, hyung,” Dokyeom huffed, crossing his arms. “You better start talking! How long has this been going on? When did you two start?”

“Yeah, what the hell, man?” Seungkwan gasped, still dramatically clutching his chest like he was recovering from a near-death experience. “A YEAR? A WHOLE YEAR?! WE SEE EACH OTHER EVERYDAY! HOW DID I NOT KNOW?”

“You see ALL of us everyday,” Joshua pointed out.

“THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT.”

“I just wanna know…” Dino lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Who confessed first?”

That made Luna’s entire body tense.

Finally, she lifted her head— reluctantly— peeking up at them with a shy, thoroughly flustered expression. The moment she did, every single one of them zeroed in on her like predators finding their prey.

She gulped.

“Oh. Oh, she looks guilty as hell.” Hoshi grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Jiyeonie, you confessed first, didn’t you?”

Luna sputtered, her ears burning. “I—I—”

“She did,” Jeonghan answered smoothly, flashing that infuriatingly handsome smile.

Luna’s head snapped toward him, betrayal written all over her face. “Yoon Jeonghan, I swear to God—”

“Wait, wait—” Seungcheol, who had been oddly quiet until now, suddenly blinked in realization. He turned to Mingyu. “Bro. Remember? The 2017 thing.”

Fuck was all Luna could think of at the moment.

Mingyu’s eyes flickered slightly, but his reaction was calm as he nodded. “Yeah. I remember.”

“What 2017 thing?” Dino asked, tilting his head.

Joshua exhaled, shaking his head with a knowing smile. “Ah… I see now.”

“Okay, WHAT ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT?” Seungkwan shrieked.

Dokyeom gasped. “JIYEONIE CONFESSED IN 2017, DIDN’T SHE?”

“I am going to kill someone.” Luna looked absolutely murderous.

Jeonghan, still wearing that stupid smirk, poked her cheek. “What’s wrong, baby? Embarrassed?”

The way her entire body flared at the pet name, especially with twelve pairs of eyes watching, was something the others would never let her live down.

“Hold on, I need a second—” Dokyeom leaned against Seungkwan for support, wheezing.

“Hyung, you’re cruel.” Minghao snorted, shaking his head. “You’re really throwing her into the lion’s den.”

“I just think she looks cute when she’s embarrassed,” Jeonghan said, eyes twinkling.

Luna smacked his arm. Hard.

Seungcheol finally decided to step in, rubbing his temple as he sighed despite the smirk on his face. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down—”

“OH NO, WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED,” Seungkwan interrupted, rubbing his hands together like an actual villain. “Alright, guys, be honest. Who knew? Who had a feeling?”

“Me,” Minghao deadpanned. “I had a feeling.”

“It was obvious,” Joshua added with a smirk.

Jun raised his hand lazily. “I had a gut feeling.”

Hoshi gawked. “SO EVERYONE BUT ME?!”

“Hyung, you said you knew earlier,” Dino pointed out. “I didn’t know though.”

“THAT WAS FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT.”

“Honestly,” Woozi finally spoke, looking far too amused for someone who had just been subjected to this madness, “it was kind of inevitable.”

“Oh?” Jeonghan raised a brow.

Woozi shrugged. “I mean, we all saw it coming. Even during trainee days, you two were glued to each other. It was like… written in the stars or some sappy shit.”

Luna groaned. “Not you too.”

Woozi smirked. “I just call it like I see it.”

At this point some of the members mainly BSS we’re giggling, squealing, and pointing at Jeonghan and Luna while the rest were smiling, enjoying the show.

And at this point, Luna was just accepting her fate.

She was the only girl in SEVENTEEN. That meant all of them were going to have a field day with this. And there was no escaping it.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve embarrassed her enough,” Seungcheol finally said, though the amusement was clear in his voice. “We should probably get back to practice.”

“Fine,” Hoshi groaned, disappointed.

“I love you, Cheollie.” Luna gave him a smile as he winked back at her in return.

“BUT THIS ISN’T OVER,” Seungkwan declared. “YOU TWO WILL BE INTERROGATED LATER.”

“Can’t wait,” Jeonghan said dryly.

As the members finally— finally— began gathering themselves to resume practice, Luna let out a heavy breath, rubbing her temples. Jeonghan turned to look at her, his gaze softening just slightly.

“You okay, Nana-ya?” he murmured.

She sighed, then glanced up at him. Despite everything— the absolute hell she had just been put through— she found herself smiling.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m okay, Han.”

Jeonghan smiled back.

And just like that, they knew…

Everything was going to be just fine.

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[unsung-idiot]

been looking through my art folder and stumbled over this unfinished drawing i started a few months ago.

it was supposed be of Stan and Ford finding a giant (dragon?) skeleton but i didn't like how the whole thing was turning out and didn't continue it.

still decided to post it though, maybe someone likes it anyway lol

i didn't even draw Stan yet, it's only Ford there taking notes, so just pretend that Stan is behind the camera taking the picture lmao

[aren-after-hours]

Okay but each of the other movies are just as emotional. They may be more action packed, but they have just as much meaning.

Ice Age 2, as previously mentioned, highlights the struggle of survivors guilt, Manny thinking he's the last Mammoth, finding Ellie, the complexity of their relationship (love vs "save the species), it's very focused on Manny the entire movie.

The third movie, Dawn of the dinosaurs, is focused on Sid. Manny and Ellie are happily together and expecting their baby, Sod is trying his best to be helpful and supportive and involves but he keeps fucking up. Despite his best efforts, he is always doing the wrong thing and making Manny more stressed. He copes with this by claiming the eggs as his children: he's lonely, he wants to nurture, and did not think through the consequences of his actions bc of that purity and innocence mentioned earlier. The whole movie for Sid is about realizing, he can't just make these dinosaurs his family. He can't project his longing and need on this random family that he disturbed. There's subplots, obviously, such as Buck, and the groups' quest to retrieve Sid, but those are secondary. This movie is about Sid and his growth.

The fourth movie, Continental Drift, is so very obviously about the complexities of parenting. Manny has a strained relationship with his now teenage daughter which is left unresolved do to natural disaster. Him, Sid, Diego and Grammy get caught up by pirates, who I see as akin to looters after hurricanes in real life, individuals who are taking advantage of people in a time of crisis. Also in this movie, Sid reconnects with one member of his family, the other "black sheep", his Granny, who is ditched on him by the rest of his family. If I remember correctly, this is the only time we ever see his family on screen, too. She's not kind to him, but he loves her anyway and it is an excellent depiction of an elderly person and their caregiver, to an extent. Granny very much reminds me of my grandmother, who suffered from dementia, and because of it was prone to aggression. It's also to be inferred that Granny initially abandoned Sid as well, and the only reason she hasn't left him is because she can't, she needs him to take care of her. Furthermore, this is the movie where Diego finally begins to show much more vulnerability, cracks forming in his solo tough guy act by having a love interest introduced. Diego had previously never had a love interest of any kind, or even reference to relationships or even family. He had his pack, but that was more like being in a gang than anything else, not loved, romantically or familially. He has that familial bond now, with Manny and the others, but begins to realize that maybe he needs more than that. His love interest, Shira, is exactly like he used to be. She's in a dangerous group, doing dangerous and questionable things, just to survive. She's a foil of him, and reaching out to her is both healing and painful for him. Of course Peaches is also introduced as a strong female type character, and she also is learning who is really there for her and who was, for lack of better terms, was being a fake mother fucker, which is an important lesson for a teenager to learn.

Finally, Collision Course. A bit more campy and comedy based, yes, I will admit. But it again, focuses on that complex father/daughter relationship. Manny is watching his little girl fall in love with a guy that Manny perceives as a full out idiot. He's worried for her, for her future, for her happiness. Ellie and Peaches are very defensive and it's causing a rift in their family unit. Diego and Shira are navigating being carnivores in a predominantly herbivore community. Kids are scared of them, which makes them worry if their own children would be able to make friends, if they had them. Sid is now chasing romance, giving the impression of a more teenage mindset than a child like one. He has had girlfriends, but he goes too much too fast, and they don't last. Buck is forced to come to the surface, which is a HUGE change for him. He had the chance to in Dawn of the Dinosaurs but ultimately decided to stay because it was his home, but he left that familiarity to try and warn Manny and the herd, which is monumental. When they get to Geotopia, the community inside the original asteroid, it's very similar to a cult. The one charismatic leader, who turns out to not be so charismatic. Sid finds the love of his life, a perfect match. His antics come in gain though, and when the crystal falls apart, Brook is aged. The way they both respond to this is so so so so important. He still loves her, still thinks she is beautiful, does not understand why her being older would prevent them from being together. Brook, as well, is still enamored by him, even though she's lost her home and youth because of him. The Llama LOOSES it and blames Sid very angrily and Brook DEFENDS him. They both continue to love each other despite their perceived flaws. He's no longer alone or abandoned because he "messes up". To her, he is perfect, and vice versa. Manny and Peaches sort their shit out in the typical "near death experience" kind of way, but Diego and Shira, we don't see things change for them till the very end, at Peaches' wedding. The children that were previously scared of them, are eager to hear Diego and Shira's story about helping save the world. They still have their fangs and claws, but their actions proved that they are kind and caring and the children noticed that. In return, it eases the fear the two sabers had about their own future children.

In summary, do NOT bullshit me and say that the series as a whole is not impactful, because it is. There's so much more I could say about it, if I included historical context as well but I didn't to keep it a little shorter.

I think a lot about how in Ice Age 1 a huge theme is the slow but unstoppable advancement of the human species as they start to threaten previously unchallenged megafauna (hunting the pack of the antagonist sabertooth and killing Manny the mammoth’s family) and then in all the sequels they just fuckin disappear

[soveryanon]

What about eating your own beanie, Mr Clown.

EAT YOUR OWN BEANIE

[arandomao3user]

"Jason was just a replacement for Dick." I have heard people say, "Bruce never loved him."

And, to an extent, I agree Jason was just a replacement for ROBIN, but not as a son, no, because Dick was Bruce's son and pride alright, he became his pride, the pride of Batman. But Jason did something Dick often failed to do, not from lack of TRYING but, because, it only lasted a week, maybe two before Bruce went back to that deep, dark hole he carved out for himself.

(Tim Drake: Pride Special)

Something I feel people can't possibly grasp, because maybe they can't relate or don't fully understand the significance or impact? The fact that it was the anniversary of the Wayne's deaths, Bruce's parents deaths that have haunted him for the majority of his life. He was in the cowl, he was BATMAN in the moment and it was his parents deaths, and in the same place he stayed, kneeling between the cooling corpses of his parents, knees drenched in their blood, he stayed there for possibly an hour or more. And yet, as Batman, in the cowl in the same place on the same night-- he laughed.

He laughed. Some punk, little bony street brat with a tire iron stole his tires, hit him with said tire iron, and called Batman a "big boob." and I believe Bruce was fond of Jason the moment he saw him.

Bruce and Dick were the dynamic dup, but there was also some small sense of obligation for Bruce to take Dick in. Bruce feared what Dick would've become, didn't want him to turn out like Bruce did. But with Jason? Oh, with Jason.

"Jason was the first thing Bruce allowed himself to want since his parents deaths." Is what my friend said when I was rambling to them about this, and it hit me how true it actually was.

Dick was Bruce's son, and he loved him, yet, but with Jason? BRUCE chose Jason, and he was the first Robin that Batman chose. Dick made himself Robin, Dick gave Robin to Tim and Damian, and I believe even with Stephanie it wasn't entire because Bruce WANTED her to be Robin.

Bruce, after seeing how Ma Gun's school wasn't what he thought it was, he made Jason Robin, took him home the same night (kidnapping is valid if you're Batman and he's up for grabs anyways--) and made him his SON.

He replaced Robin, but Jason was never a replacement as a son.

(Tim was the replacement as a son but we won't get into that today since that is more of my fanon over analysis of the characters--

so, yeah--)

Bruce adopted Jason about... Two weeks, I wanna say(?) after meeting him, taking him home, and I don't wanna say it was some sort of automatic attachment, but I believe Bruce saw the chance to make a proper family, and that's what he WANTED for Jason.

That's what he GAVE Jason.

I'm not digging for anymore panels, this isn't easy work for a post--

But my point stands, and even after Jason dies, Bruce wouldn't hesitate to come save him. Not out of guilt anymore, but because Jason has and always will be his son, not his favourite, because that'd make people mad if I say that (I read comics now, and even after, I still say that Jason is the favorite, but I won't make it a whole thing in this post--)

(Batman: Urban Legends #4)

Bruce, evidently, even with the violence and abuse he's shown Jason after Jason came back from the dead, has proven he'd come for him, that he won't ever give up on him.

Jason is rarely ever called his son in the comics anymore, he's rarely acknowledged to be Batman's son, and some may say "Well, that's because Jason doesn't see him as a Father." And I BEG you look at these comic panels and think that still. The words aren't said, maybe because it's to painful for Bruce to acknowledge he lost another family member, and for Jason? Hell, Bruce keeps punching him, we've all seen the panels, we've seen Dick's crash out.

Their relationship isn't perfect, Bruce has made so many mistakes, called Jason a failure, and Jason has certainly reciprocated those feelings a few times. Jason openly admits they were no dynamic duo, and says there wasn't trust between them-- something I disagree with. Entirely.

(Aaaand there's my image limit. Guess I won't show y'all the panel of Bruce holding Jason's corpse, thinking, "Did he hate me?" Because that was Bruce's thoughts after losing Jason. Guilt. And fear that Jason's final feelings for him were HATE.)

Can we also just... THIS PANEL!? HOW can anyone say "Well, Jason was just Dick's replacement--" then why was the worst fear the BATMAN can imagine, can conjure in his mind, losing Jason? Losing Jason was Bruce's greatest fear, something so terrifying to Bruce, to Batman.

Dick, Tim, Damian... They're all good Robin's (no Tim hate here, that's my boy) but Jason was a good son. In the movie, and comic, (Under The Red Hood) everyone agrees that Jason knew he was loved, he knew he was loved even as he grew older and began getting more reckless and violent-- things he wasn't as Robin, not for the majority of his run-- because he was a teenager who was beginning to go through stupid staged in his life where he could make mistakes. Unfortunately, he had all the supplies to make those mistakes fatal, and they proved to be...

But nobody replaced Dick as a son, something he was to Bruce, but things were to rocky, that first child syndrome hits hard and Bruce was young and so, so stupid with Dick... A good Father, but he wanted to be better with Jason, and maybe this is all to fanon territory, but I don't wanna hear a lick of "Bruce never loved Jason." Because Dick was Bruce's pride, but Jason was every last lick of joy in Bruce's body.

Jason was worth breaking his rules in Batman's eyes, briefly, but at a point he was worth it.

Jason, to Bruce, was worth dying for if he couldn't live in a world with him, Jason had Bruce crying for an hour once, after he was taken away from him during his Robin years.

Bruce loved Jason, because that was his son. Unfortunately, things got messed up, their relationship is messy now, yes, but that is still Bruce's son, and deep down, I think he knows that. It's something easier to admit than other times, and I forever hate the title of "Batman's Greatest Failure" because the only failure was not reaching Jason on time, Jason himself was no failure.

ANYWAYS, THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK :D

---

[quarterlifekitty]

Gaz who frequents your flower shop

I think he’s a big believer in getting ephemeral gifts. Things that are so so good that have a short window of time to enjoy. Fresh fruit, freshly baked breads, flower bouquets.

So he’s at your place for almost every occasion. Promotions at work, birthdays, holidays— even if it’s just a single rose, fresh flowers always brighten things up, don’t they? He thinks it’s a tradition that needs to make more of a comeback.

Anyways, one Valentine’s Day, one of your busiest days (full of rush orders from rude people whose romantic relationships apparently hang in the balance, and probably for good reason), you see Kyle coming in around closing. For anyone else, you’d say you’re afraid you’re closing up for the day, but for him? You can stay open a little while longer and do a quick arrangement.

Only he’s already got flowers in his hands. Beautiful ones. You recognize the work and the signature filler— it’s from an extremely nice shop. Not a competitor— because it must be at least a 3 hour drive from yours.

The bouquet is dwarfing the little teddy bear that’s got its arms wrapped around it, backdropped by the satin ribbon on what looks like a beautiful chocolate assortment. You smile, a little puzzled.

“I’d ask for your order, but it looks like you’re already kitted out for the holiday, hm?”

He almost looks a little nervous.

“Well, I— these are for you, love. I figure you spend the whole year making romance come alive for everyone else, I wondered if someone thought to get you a little something…. Then again, maybe you have a boyfriend and I look like a right prick right now,” he says with a little smirk, realizing he kind of just assumed you’d like the gesture. “Or maybe you’re a bit tired of flowers, hm?”

You take them gratefully from his arms into yours, the sound of the cellophane and tissue gently crinkling. “I… I don’t remember the last time someone got me flowers.” You look closer at the arrangement. Smell them. Bleeding hearts— an appropriate choice, but not very popular in the arrangement world. “Would you… would you want to come back to mine? Help me pick a vase to put these in. In my line of work, you tend to accumulate them, and it becomes so hard to choose. I can make coffee,” you offer hopefully. He sighs in what can only be described as elation and relief.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

[222doll222]

Today was challenging.

I almost lost control. Its so strange. It was so hard to fight the food thoughts. I was already restricting successfully for a whole week, so sure of myself that I finally got my mind only focused on restriction. This morning I even repeated this mantra that only my weight loss is important and that it´s the only thing I need to focus on and everything else doesn´t matter

But still. After school and after eating my OMAD for the day (potato soup btw) which was also very filling, asked me my mother to bring her some ice cream. Ofc I was going to the freezer, already afraid to open it and maybe seeing stuff I like. But I put some of the ice cream in a bowl and took a bite. no two. And I tried it.

After a whole week of being perfect. A whole week of eating no sweets. A whole week of omads.

But that was it. I thought of just getting myself some ice cream too. But I resisted. I did it. I only took two small bites and i didn´t eat the whole pantry. Ofc I could have just not eaten anything at all from it. I know. But on the other side I know that if i allow myself to just get a "little" treat it ends in binging and completely ruining my progress because I think fuck it. But I actually got it under control today.

Later in the evening my mom opened a packet of biscuits and offered me some but I said "No thanks. I don`t want any." It could be as easy as that. But there is a war in my mind anyways, constantly. Always urging me to just take it. To just eat it. To just swallow it.

Sometimes it´s such a hard mental game but I can´t lose.

I need to win. I need to reach my goal. I need to be thin.

You'll regret eating that food, But you'll never regret refusing to eat it.

[servndipityz]

Hii! I wanted to request a Nam-gyu x reader smut story where it's Obviously Readers first time at a club despite only being a year or two younger than him. Maybe with the reader being a virgin too? I can't get this idea out my head 🙏 Rest is up to you, thank you so much<3

a/n ── hope you like it! absolutely loved the idea :)

CLOSER

warnings ── SMUT! MDNI, takes place after the games (don't ask me how they got out lmao i just know that they're alive and happy), porn v plot, p in v, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, virginity loss, corruption kink kinda? oral (f receiving)

word count ── 8k

────────────────────────────────────────────

a month. a month and a half, if nam-gyu was being precise. but who’s counting?

it had been a month and a half since they’d gotten out of those fucking games. a month and a half since he’d started to get to know you better.

and more than a month and a half since nam-gyu had had sex. but who’s counting?

as shitty as his old life was, he couldn’t have been happier to have it back. promoting club pentagon again, getting high every weekend, slipping right back into his little trashy life.

plus, now he had something he didn’t have before. you.

he’d met you there, in the games, and he’d been doomed from then on. it was a strange sort of thing, really. nam-gyu was never the type to feel things. at first, he actually thought he’d caught the flu. then he figured it was just some kind of ptsd after the games—which, to be fair, he definitely had, but that was a whole other thing. but no, the tingling in his fingertips whenever he touched you, the stupid flip his stomach did when you talked... that wasn’t a mental disorder, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was.

he’d never felt that way about a girl before. almost... caring. maybe it was more than caring, but he’d never admit it. anyway, you and him were in some kind of limbo. you weren’t something, but you weren’t nothing either. you hung out multiple times a week, texted semi-regularly, and had messy make-out sessions more times than he could count—but less than he would’ve liked. never more than making out, though. and yeah, that thought crossed his mind sometimes. he wasn’t an expert on these things, but he’d taken girls to bed for much less.

you always seemed to stop things right before they got too intense, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. having to beat his meat every time after hanging out with you wasn’t exactly fun. but somehow, you seemed worth it. so he, the most impatient man in the world, had decided to be patient. for once.

anyway, even though he knew you weren’t really used to clubs, he figured he’d invite you to club pentagon. he wanted you to have a fun time, see where he worked, see how his life was before the games. he wanted you to let loose a little.

"thanos will be there, it'll be fun," he’d said, and it hadn’t taken much to convince you.

so there you were, the cold biting at your legs in your short skirt, gripping your purse tight as you eyed the long line of people waiting to get in. then, skipping it—feeling very glamorous all of a sudden.

"i'm, uh, friends with nam-gyu," you said, the words coming out almost like a question as the bouncer looked you up and down. you gave your name, and after a moment, he finally spotted you on the list, letting you in without much fuss.

as you stepped into the club, you were almost left in awe. you'd never really liked clubs—not really. when all your friends started partying, you gave it a shot before deciding you preferred a more chill vibe. getting drunk with friends, sharing a blunt, that sort of thing. but then again, the shitty clubs your friends dragged you to in your teenage years couldn’t compare to club pentagon.

several stories high, you could barely make out the ceiling. lights of different hues illuminated the space, smoke spilling from canisters, the bass-heavy music pulsing from a dj booth stationed at the center of the main floor. to say it was packed was an understatement, and you didn’t wonder why. the place was incredible.

you looked around, suddenly awkward. what now? what were you supposed to do? where were you supposed to go? how—

"nam-gyu!" you called out, spotting him weaving through the crowd toward you. he glanced up at you, nodding in greeting. kept it cool. he always kept it cool.

nam-gyu wasn’t expecting you to look this good. which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

your hands found their place on his shoulders before you even thought about it, familiar but not entirely effortless. still getting used to this. to him. to the way he let you in but only just enough.

"you came." he smirked slightly. his hand found your waist without thinking, the fabric of your shirt soft beneath his fingers. he barely had time to process it before you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. barely there. almost shy.

you weren’t used to that either. you pulled away just as quickly, catching the way nam-gyu’s dark eyes flickered over you before he schooled his expression into something more detached. not detached enough, though. the way his thumb ghosted over your side told another story. he was playing it cool. always.

"this place is super cool," you said, spinning slightly to take it all in.

the music pulsed, deep and low, the bass rattling the floor beneath you. the air smelled like expensive liquor and cheap cologne, bodies pressing close under flashing lights.

nam-gyu scoffed, pleased despite himself. "yeah?" he chuckled, tilting his head at you, his expression settling into something smug. "c'mon, i’ll show you the vip section."

and of course, you let him.

he led you through the club, already losing track of its winding paths, but nam-gyu moved like he owned the place. and he liked it—you could see he liked it. guiding you like he held any real power, his hand still pressed firmly to your lower waist as he did so. he liked being the one guiding you, showing you his world like it meant something. like he meant something here. and maybe he did. maybe you saw it too.

"look who it is!"

the voice cut through the air just before you reached the top of the short staircase. thanos. loud as ever, his grin splitting his face as he all but threw himself up from the couch. the two girls draped over him barely had time to react before he pulled away, arms open wide as he closed the distance between you.

you barely had time to brace yourself before he engulfed you in a hug, laughter rumbling from his chest. the scent of cologne and alcohol clung to him, heavy and overfamiliar, like he had been here for hours.

"damn, lookin' good!" he said as he pulled away, giving you a quick once-over—no real interest behind it, but enough to make you giggle.

it really was crazy how being stuck in some life-or-death games could make people this close in such a short time.

"okay, chill." nam-gyu rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips, his hand never leaving your waist.

thanos ignored him. "have a seat, señorita." he gestured toward the black leather couch, and you, along with nam-gyu, walked over to sit down. thanos dropped back into his seat, slinging his arms around the two girls, who seemed more than happy about it.

you ordered a drink as soon as you saw an opening, your nerves slowly starting to settle. though, judging by the weird looks you got for passing on the white powder on the table and the little bags of funky-colored pills, not everyone was on the same page.

there were other people you didn’t recognize lounging on the couches—probably some of nam-gyu’s friends or co-workers. thanos started rattling off introductions, including the girls, and as the alcohol finally started running through your veins, you felt yourself relaxing, settling into the atmosphere a little more.

you weren't sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your limbs, making everything feel just a little bit softer. the music vibrated through your chest, the flashing lights casting shifting colors over the VIP lounge, and you were beginning to understand why nam-gyu liked this place so much. it was loud, chaotic, a little grimy—but undeniably alive.

"you good?" nam-gyu leaned in, voice low against your ear. his breath was warm, his hand sliding from your waist to rest on your thigh, fingers pressing absentminded circles into your skin.

"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head toward him. "it’s actually kinda fun."

"yeah?" he smirked, like he knew he'd be right all along. of course he did. "told you."

his hand squeezed your thigh lightly before retreating, but not before dragging his fingers a little too slow against your skin. you rolled your eyes, but you didn't move away.

"hey, hey!" thanos suddenly called out, raising his arms to make sure everyone was listening. "how about we play a game?"

some people groaned, others laughed. a game?

"what game?" someone asked. thanos smirked, clearly pleased that he had everyone's attention.

"never have i ever," he said, his grin widening as more groans followed.

"aren't we a little too old for that?" you asked, smirking like the idea amused you.

"i'm not." he shrugged. "are you girls?" he leaned back, and both girls shook their heads vigorously.

you turned to nam-gyu, who seemed more interested in watching you than the conversation. your cheeks warmed when you caught him staring.

"wanna play?" you asked. he just shrugged. he wasn’t really into these kinds of games—he wasn’t into any games, really—but he didn’t care enough to argue. whatever passed the time.

eventually, everyone gathered around the table, all eyes on thanos as he ordered a round of the strongest drink he could think of for everyone.

the first few rounds were harmless enough. “never have i ever gotten a secret tattoo.” “never have i ever been arrested.” stupid things. you sipped your drink when necessary, laughing at some of the stories that followed, the warmth of the alcohol sinking deeper into your skin. nam-gyu barely participated, only taking a sip when he absolutely had to, but his hand had found its way back to your thigh, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against your skin.

then the questions started shifting.

"never have i ever hooked up in a club," one of thanos’ girls said, grinning like she already knew the answer for most people here. a bunch of hands reached for their drinks, nam-gyu included. you hesitated just a second too long before passing. his eyes flicked toward you, but he didn’t say anything.

the next one wasn’t any better.

"never have i ever had a one-night stand," some guy threw out. almost everyone drank. except you. you felt it before you even looked—nam-gyu was watching. his fingers stilled against your thigh for half a second before they resumed their lazy tapping, like he was processing something.

it wasn’t weird, not really. plenty of people hadn’t had one-night stands before. but it was the way you hesitated every time, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed.

"never have i ever had sex in a public place," thanos threw in, laughing when half the group groaned.

nam-gyu took a sip. you didn’t.

you looked up at nam-gyu, meeting his gaze for just a second too long. you knew what he was thinking. knew he was piecing it together. maybe he’d already suspected—maybe he already knew—but this was confirmation, wasn’t it?

"wait," thanos interrupted, a slight crack in his voice from how drunk he was. "you're cheating!" he pointed at you.

"what? i'm not." you frowned, confused as everyone turned to look.

"c’mon, your glass is almost full. you haven't been drinking."

he wasn’t wrong. sure, you’d taken your fair share of gulps, but considering most people were on their second drink—some even on their third—it was true.

a flicker of anxiety crept in, the alcohol in your system making you let out a stupid giggle. "i'm not cheating," you shrugged shyly.

"she hasn’t been drinking on the sex ones. i've seen it."

your smile vanished completely. one of the girls next to thanos had spoken, but it was nam-gyu you worried about. you’d caught him noticing earlier, but you kind of hoped he wouldn’t actually put the pieces together.

hoped he wouldn’t realize you were a virgin.

but now, with everyone watching, you were running out of luck.

"yeah, because... because i haven't done some of those things."

it was normal, you told yourself. being a virgin. the right time had never come, and you weren’t about to give it up for some scumbag at a club. you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed. but this? definitely not something you wanted everyone to know.

"what?" some guy blurted out, brows furrowed. "those were easy. you're telling me you never had a one-night stand?"

you pressed your lips together awkwardly. what did he expect you to say?

meanwhile, nam-gyu hadn't stopped watching you, his hand—resting on your leg—now completely still.

it was driving you nuts.

but as you looked over at thanos, you knew it was definitely over for you. a slow smile crept onto his previously confused expression as realization dawned. "holy shit, you're a virgin!"

your stomach twisted. a hot wave of embarrassment rushed up your neck, burning under the weight of every pair of eyes on you.

"what? no," you scoffed, trying for casual, but it came out a little too forced, a little too breathless.

thanos’ grin stretched wider. he could smell bullshit from a mile away. "oh, come on," he laughed, leaning forward like he was about to drag this out, like he was about to make it a thing.

panic prickled at the edges of your brain. you needed to get out of here. fast.

your phone. yes. a perfect excuse. you yanked it out of your bag, squinting at the screen like you’d just received the most urgent message of your life. "shit," you muttered. "i gotta go."

you were already pushing up from your seat before anyone could react. nam-gyu's hand slid off your thigh, his fingers barely catching against your skin before falling away completely.

"wait—what? already?"

"yeah, sorry," you said quickly, grabbing your coat, your bag, whatever you needed just to make a clean escape. "totally forgot i had something early tomorrow. can’t stay."

someone called after you. maybe thanos. maybe one of the girls. you weren’t sure. you weren’t listening. you were already weaving through the crowd, heart hammering, barely remembering to toss a quick "bye!" over your shoulder before the club swallowed you whole.

still sitting on the couch, nam-gyu's mind was spinning, and he was barely even drunk.

of course you were a virgin.

it all made sense now. the way you looked at him sometimes, the hesitation, the way you could go from teasing to flustered in seconds. the way you pulled back like you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. and maybe he should’ve known, maybe it was obvious, but somehow, it still caught him off guard.

he hazily glanced toward where you'd just left, the rest of the crowd still laughing and talking around him.

nam-gyu wasn’t the type to walk girls home.

but then again, he also wasn’t the type to like girls.

so he did the only thing that made sense—he downed the rest of his drink, got up without bothering to say goodbye, and pushed his way through the club.

it was late. the streets were dangerous. he didn’t want you to die or whatever.

when he finally stepped out, the streets were dark, damp from earlier rain, and the air was sharp against his skin. he scanned the sidewalk, found you a few blocks ahead. you were walking fast, arms tucked close, head slightly down.

he hated this. hated how he cared. hated how natural it felt to push through the lingering crowd, to break into an easy jog—casual enough to not look stupid, but fast enough to close the distance. he just hoped everyone else was too drunk to remember him, of all people, running after someone.

“hey!” he called out once he was just a few steps behind you.

you turned at the sound of his voice, startled.

he caught the flicker of something on your face before you wiped it away—too fast, too practiced. a tear.

“nam-gyu?” you asked, confusion in your voice. “what—”

“i’ll walk you home.” he shrugged, casual, like it was no big deal. like it was just something to do. he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he caught up to you, his face carefully neutral.

you gulped. the last thing you wanted was to be around him right now.

“okay.” you trailed off, unsure of what else to say. how had it come to this? you’d survived hell together, yet suddenly, everything was so awkward. he wondered the same thing as he walked beside you, lighting up a cigarette.

you felt bad. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it. a million times, actually. nam-gyu seemed so experienced, so mature, and you were just… a virgin. all those times you’d stopped things before they got too heated, all those times you’d held yourself back.

you weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend. you didn’t want to burden him with the responsibility of taking your virginity. it was stupid, but you knew how men felt about it. they didn’t want some little girl who didn’t know what she was doing. they didn’t want to deal with it.

so ever since the games, ever since you two had started… whatever this was, you’d felt like you were leading him on. you knew you couldn’t keep it up forever. sooner or later, he’d find out and leave. you just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

after a whole block in silence, he finally spoke.

"so you're a virgin?" nam-gyu blurted out, though he already knew the answer.

it wasn’t a judgment, just an observation—dry, matter-of-fact. he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light before fading into the night air.

you cursed under your breath, shutting your eyes like that might somehow erase the last ten minutes of existence. as if not seeing him would make this less mortifying.

“…yeah.” the word barely made it past your lips, your voice low, hesitant.

when you finally risked a glance at him, he wasn’t even looking at you. his gaze was fixed on the cracked pavement, the faintest furrow in his brow betraying some kind of thought process.

you sighed, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “i know it sucks. i’m sorry for not telling you, but it’s not exactly something that comes up after almost dying multiple times playing kids’ games! like—hey, i know we just survived the most traumatic experience of our lives, but by the way, i’m a fucking vir—”

"'s fine."

the words were abrupt, cutting your rambling off before you could spiral any further.

you blinked, arms falling to your sides as you realized you’d been gesturing wildly, like that might somehow defend your own inexperience. meanwhile, nam-gyu just kept walking, cigarette perched between his fingers, deep in thought.

"really? you're fine with it?" you asked.

the truth was, nam-gyu wasn’t exactly thrilled.

it wasn’t even about you being a virgin, not really. it was the fact that he’d thought about fucking you ever since the games. which was humiliating enough to admit to himself. a man had his needs, after all. but once again, he found himself in the unfortunate position of giving a shit.

he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"…yeah." his voice was low, clipped. he wasn't mad—just thinking. weighing his options. where would this leave you?

he hated himself for liking you this much. not being an asshole was unfamiliar territory.

"if you don’t wanna have sex, i understand," he added after a beat.

you widened your eyes. "no, no!" you rushed out. "i do wanna have sex."

his brain stalled.

you swallowed, hesitating as he watched you, gaze steady but sharp, like he was trying to read between the lines. you shifted, tucking your hands into your sleeves. "i've just… never done it. and i don’t know… i didn’t wanna bother you or… anything."

it sounded beyond awkward.

nam-gyu frowned, processing. not because he thought anything bad about it—just because it never occurred to him. he’d assumed you weren’t interested in having sex at all, or that you were waiting for some deep, poetic reason, for someone that wasn't nam-gyu. but now you were here, telling him this, cheeks burning, voice all soft and uncertain.

and now he had to keep his shit together.

"so… you want me to, like…" his dick twitched in his pants, betraying him immediately. no way this was happening.

"i mean—only if you want to…" your cheeks were burning, you were sure of that now. you felt like a teenager talking to her crush.

if he wanted to? his jaw went slack for a second, a breath slipping out as he stared at you. it was barely a question.

"fuck yeah, i want to," he let out, low and firm, like he needed you to understand.

something shifted then. the air got tighter, the weight of the moment settling between you. you bit your lip, eyes flickering over his face like you were still trying to wrap your head around this. then, slowly, a smile crept onto your lips—breathless, nervous, electric.

"okay." you let out a shaky little laugh, grabbing his wrist. your grip was warm, solid, like you’d made up your mind and there was no going back now. "okay, let’s go."

nam-gyu nodded, following your lead, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked up the pace. your apartment wasn’t that far.

the apartment was quiet when you stumbled in, breathless, a little drunk, and buzzing with something you didn’t quite know how to name. nam-gyu followed, the door clicking shut behind him as he leaned back against it for a second, exhaling like he was trying to steady himself.

the air between you was thick, charged with a long time of yearning. your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you toed off your shoes, glancing over at him. he was watching you, the way he always did—like he was already thinking ten steps ahead, figuring out how this was going to play out.

he hadn’t touched you yet. he was letting you decide.

so you did.

you took a step closer, then another, until you were right in front of him, your fingers hesitating before curling around the hem of his jacket. his breath hitched, just barely, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

you pushed up onto your toes, closing the space between you. his lips were warm, the taste of smoke lingering faintly as he kissed you back. he let you set the pace, his hands coming to rest lightly on your waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your dress.

it wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but something about this was different. more urgent. more deliberate. maybe because, for once, there was no stopping this time.

your fingers tugged at his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. he let it fall to the floor, his hands finally pressing into you properly, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. a quiet sound slipped from your lips, and you felt the way he stiffened at that, his grip tightening.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. he pulled back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes flicking between yours. “you sure?”

you nodded, chest rising and falling with each breath. “yeah.”

a muscle in his jaw twitched. his fingers brushed the side of your neck, then curled around it, his thumb ghosting over your pulse. “we stop if you change your mind.”

you swallowed. “i won’t.”

the look he gave you was unreadable—something dark and determined—before he tilted your chin up, kissing you deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it.

nam-gyu wasn’t soft—he wasn’t sweet. he wasn’t the kind of man to whisper tender nothings or stroke your hair. he didn’t coddle. but the way his hands moved told you everything you needed to know.

the drag of his fingers down your spine. the slow, deliberate way his palm flattened against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. the heat in his touch, like he was holding himself back, forcing himself to move slow, to let you set the pace. it sent a shiver through you, and his grip tightened in response, like he felt it too.

you let out a breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and he exhaled sharply against your lips before pulling back just a fraction, enough to look at you properly. his dark eyes roamed over your face, pupils blown, jaw tight.

"you're nervous." it wasn't a question.

you swallowed. "a little."

his thumb brushed against your waist, almost absentmindedly. "yeah. that makes sense."

you let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was an edge of vulnerability to it. he could see it. you could tell.

he tilted his head, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. then he exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing over your skin with a gentleness that was completely at odds with the sharp, rough way he usually carried himself.

"you know i won’t fuck this up, right?" his voice was low, almost casual, but there was something else beneath it. something steadier.

you hesitated for half a second before nodding. "i know." and you did. maybe that was why you'd never let anyone else touch you like this before. because it wasn’t about inexperience, not really. it was about trust.

and god help you, but you trusted nam-gyu.

the realization sent a flush through you, warmth blooming in your stomach as you let your hands slide up his abdomen, tracing the firm lines of chest beneath his shirt. his breath hitched just barely before his fingers flexed against you, like he was restraining himself from just taking.

"you wanna do this?" he asked, one last time, voice rough.

"yeah," you breathed.

his jaw clenched. "then tell me what you want."

you blinked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he'd stopped moving, waiting, his hands resting heavy against your hips but not pulling, not pushing.

he was making you say it.

bastard.

you bit your lip, pulse hammering as you tried to work around the knot of tension in your throat. "i—i want you to touch me."

his fingers twitched, his entire body going still for a second. then he let out a breath through his nose, and his grip on your waist tightened.

"yeah?" his voice was just a little lower, a little rougher.

you nodded, heat pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you now—like he was barely keeping himself in check.

"get on the bed," he said.

your breath caught.

for a moment, you just stared at him, heart hammering, and then, slowly, you walked to your bedroom, him following you close. you backed up toward the bed, your knees hitting the edge as you lowered yourself down.

he followed, standing at the foot of the bed, watching you with that unreadable expression—half lustful, half like he couldn’t believe this was real. his hands went to his belt, and your eyes flickered down, pulse spiking at the sound of the leather slipping through the loops.

then, instead of undressing fully, he leaned down, hands bracketing your hips, pressing you back against the mattress.

"you ever let anyone touch you like this?" his voice was rough, like he already knew the answer.

you shook your head, breathless. "no."

a low sound escaped him, something dark, something pleased. his hands slipped under your skirt, palms dragging slow over your thighs as he pushed the fabric up. he took his time, tracing the shape of you, pressing just firmly enough to make you squirm.

"you thought about it, though," he murmured. it wasn’t a question. his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin at the tops of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours.

you swallowed hard. "…yeah."

his lips twitched, almost a smirk. "yeah? thought about me?"

your face burned. he was being cruel on purpose, making you say it.

"…yes."

"fuck," he muttered, like the confirmation did something to him. his hands moved higher, fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, but instead of pulling them down, he let them rest there, teasing.

"how’d you think it’d go?" his voice was lower now, almost a growl. "thought i'd just take you fast, rough? pin you down, fuck the innocence out of you?"

you sucked in a sharp breath, thighs twitching beneath his touch. he huffed a quiet laugh.

"bet you didn't think i'd take my time," he murmured, leaning down, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck. his lips dragged over your pulse, then lower, leaving a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your collarbone. "but i like knowing i'm the first one."

you gasped softly as his hands finally moved, slipping under your top, dragging it up inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. your arms instinctively came up to cover yourself, but he caught your wrists, pushing them aside.

"none of that," he muttered, his gaze dropping to your bare chest. he exhaled sharply, running his thumbs along the curve of your breasts before cupping them fully, testing the weight in his palms.

"fuck, look at you," he muttered, voice low and reverent. "so fucking pretty."

you whimpered as his thumbs brushed over your nipples in slow circles. he watched your face the whole time, reading every tiny reaction, every sharp intake of breath.

"sensitive," he noted, almost to himself. then he leaned down, tongue flicking over one peak before wrapping his lips around it, sucking just enough to make you gasp.

heat coiled low in your stomach as he worked, alternating between each breast, slow and thorough. it was overwhelming, the way he was handling you—not rough, not rushed, just taking his time, learning every inch of you.

one of his hands trailed lower, down your stomach, to the waistband of your panties. he paused, looking up at you, waiting.

you nodded, exhaling shakily. "please."

his smirk deepened. "good girl."

he peeled your panties down your legs, his fingers skimming over your skin like he was savoring the moment. you shivered at the sensation, at the weight of his gaze as he settled between your thighs.

“fuck,” nam-gyu muttered under his breath, like he hadn’t been prepared for what he was seeing. his hands splayed against your inner thighs, pressing them further apart, baring you completely to him. he didn’t look away, eyes dark and hungry, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he could already taste you.

your body burned under the scrutiny. you weren’t used to this—being seen like this, having someone take their time looking. you twitched, about to press your legs together, but his grip tightened.

“uh-uh,” he murmured, almost amused. “you’re gonna let me look.”

you swallowed hard, breath catching as he leaned in, his nose brushing the soft skin of your inner thigh. his breath was hot, sending a shiver through you as he exhaled, slow and controlled.

he dragged a single finger up the length of your slit, just enough to make you jolt, to make your breath stutter. "you're soaked, girl. you sure you've never done this before?"

heat surged through you at the teasing lilt in his voice, and you let out a shaky breath. "i—fuck, nam-gyu—"

"yeah?" he smirked, but it wasn’t cocky. it was something else, something almost fascinated. like he was enjoying this in a way he hadn’t expected.

his fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, barely any pressure, just enough to make you whimper. your hips twitched, and his grip tightened, keeping you pinned.

"relax," he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle. "let me make you feel good."

then he leaned down.

you barely had time to register the shift before his tongue was on you, warm and wet and unbearably slow. your breath caught, your fingers twisting into the sheets as his mouth worked you open, his tongue dragging through your folds, lazy and thorough.

"fuck," he muttered against you, his voice rough. "you taste so fucking sweet."

the way he said it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach. his hands pressed into your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open as he ate you like he had all the time in the world.

it was overwhelming—the way he was licking you, slow and deep, like he was savoring it. like he was getting off on this just as much as you were. his nose brushed against your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and it was too much, not enough, all at once.

your back arched, a desperate sound slipping from your lips. he groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending a shudder through you. "that's it," he murmured, his voice almost slurred against your skin. "let me hear you."

one of his hands slid up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles as he pressed his mouth lower, flicking his tongue against your entrance, teasing the edge.

"nam-gyu—" your voice broke on his name, breathless and desperate, and his grip tightened.

"fuck, you sound good," he muttered. his tongue pushed inside you, and the sensation sent a sharp bolt of pleasure up your spine, made your thighs shake.

"think you can take me?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "gotta get you ready for me."

you gasped as he pushed a finger inside, slow and steady, curling it just right. he groaned at the way you clenched around him, his tongue lapping up every reaction, every sound.

"shit," he muttered. "so tight. gonna feel so fucking good."

the words alone made your stomach tighten, the heat coiling low, winding tighter and tighter. he added a second finger, stretching you open, thrusting slow, deep, his tongue still working your clit.

it was too much. the pressure built fast, overwhelming, unbearable. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"i—" your breath hitched, your body tensing.

he growled low in his throat, his fingers pressing deep, his tongue flicking faster, relentless. "come for me."

and you did.

the pleasure hit hard, shattering through you, knocking the air from your lungs. your back arched, your body tightening around his fingers, and he groaned against you, drinking in every last tremor, working you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking beneath him, gasping for breath.

only then did he finally pull back, his breath ragged, his lips slick and swollen. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark, almost feverish as he looked at you.

"fuck," he muttered, voice rough, almost awed.

he climbed up over you, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, then your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his hands framed your face, thumbs brushing against your skin, steadying you.

his exhale was sharp, controlled, but his grip on your waist betrayed him—fingers digging in, like he had to hold himself back from wrecking you completely. his forehead dropped to yours for half a second, just long enough for you to feel the way his breath came heavy, ragged.

"you're gonna kill me," he muttered, half a groan, half a laugh, before he pulled back, eyes flicking down your body—like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. his fingers traced your thigh absentmindedly, like he still couldn't believe you were letting him touch you.

then he sat back, unbuttoning his jeans.

your breath hitched as you watched him work, his knuckles going white with how tightly he was gripping his belt. the leather slid through the loops with a sharp snap, and your thighs pressed together instinctively at the sound. his lips curled slightly—he noticed.

"don't get shy on me now," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but he wasn't smirking anymore. no, his expression was darker, sharper. his fingers moved with slow, measured precision as he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

your stomach flipped.

you had no idea what you'd been expecting, but whatever it was—it wasn't this. he was…big. thick. a flush creeping up his shaft, his tip swollen and slick with arousal. you stared, suddenly feeling very aware of your own inexperience, of the way your body still trembled faintly from the orgasm he'd just given you.

nam-gyu noticed.

"yeah?" his voice was rough, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something dangerously satisfied. his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, lazy stroke, like he was savoring the moment. "that nervous?"

you swallowed hard, forcing your eyes back to his face. he looked wrecked, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. his chest rose and fell heavily, like it was taking effort not to just pin you down and take—

"i can take it," you said, before you could second-guess yourself. your voice was breathless but steady, your chin tilting up just slightly in challenge.

his jaw locked.

for a second, he just looked at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time. then, suddenly, his grip on your waist tightened, dragging you down the mattress until your thighs framed his hips.

"yeah," he murmured, almost to himself. his hand brushed over your stomach, your hip, sliding back down between your legs. his fingers traced your entrance, feeling the way you were still soaked for him. "i think you can, too."

your breath stuttered as he pressed two fingers inside you again, stretching you open. his thumb found your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles—not enough to push you over, just enough to make your breath hitch.

"nam-gyu—" you gasped, hips twitching under his touch.

his free hand came up, catching your chin, tilting your head so you had to look at him. his eyes were dark, blown out with something almost ravenous.

"you still sure?" he murmured, voice low. "tell me you want it."

your pulse pounded.

you could feel how badly he wanted you, how much effort it was taking for him to hold back. and yet—he still gave you the choice. he was still waiting.

your heart clenched.

"yes," you whispered. "please."

his restraint snapped.

the second your lips formed that word, he was on you—pulling his fingers from your slick heat, gripping himself, pressing the thick, flushed head of his cock right against your entrance. he didn't push in. not yet. instead, he rocked against you, rubbing his length along your slit, smearing himself in your wetness, letting you feel every ridge, every inch of his size before he even tried to fit.

your breath hitched. your nails dug deep into his forearms, your body instinctively tensing.

"relax," he murmured, voice tight, nearly hoarse, like he was fighting against the instinct to just take. his free hand smoothed up your thigh, over the curve of your waist, warm, steady, grounding. "breathe."

you tried. you really did. forced your lungs to expand, to exhale, to let go of the tension gripping your muscles. but the second he started to push in, all that breath stuttered out in a sharp, broken gasp.

it was too much. the stretch, the slow, inch-by-inch burn as his cock forced your body to open around him, to take him. a kind of ache you’d never felt before, raw and overwhelming—too much and not enough, like your body was fighting him even as it craved more.

"fuck," he gritted out, his jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscle jump. his hands flexed against your skin, his entire body trembling with restraint. "jesus, baby—you're so fucking tight—"

your stomach flipped at the words, heat pooling deep in your core. he never talked to you like that. never called you things like that. but now, here he was, panting above you, voice wrecked and reverent, murmuring praise like he couldn’t help it.

after a few seconds, you whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders. "more."

his control broke.

he pushed in, slow but deep, a smooth, deliberate thrust that seated him all the way inside you in one stroke. your breath tore from your lungs, your back arching as the stretch bloomed into something fuller, hotter, the ache curling into something dangerously close to pleasure.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "holy fuck," he rasped, voice wrecked, almost pained. his fingers dug into your hips, like he was holding on for dear life. "so fucking good—you're so tight, so perfect, fuck—"

your pulse pounded in your throat, your entire body thrumming with sensation. there was still a burn, still that overwhelming fullness, but beneath it was something else—something deeper, something good.

you shifted your hips, testing, trying to ease the pressure.

his entire body locked up.

"don't—" his voice was strangled, desperate. his hands tightened, pinning you down. "don't fucking move, or i’m gonna lose it."

every muscle in his body was taut, locked, like a predator barely holding back from sinking its teeth in. his fingers bit into your hips, warning you, anchoring himself—but you could feel it. the way he was shaking. the way his cock twitched, buried so deep inside you you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

you swallowed hard, pulse hammering, skin burning where he touched you.

it was too much. too deep. too thick. your body fought to adjust, pulsing around him in helpless, desperate flutters.

he groaned, low and guttural, pressing his forehead harder into your shoulder like he was in pain. “jesus christ.” his breath was hot against your skin, ragged, almost like he was laughing. “gripping me so fucking tight. gonna break me."

you shivered at the rasp of his voice, your fingers sliding up his back, feeling the strain in his muscles. the raw need in him. you were doing this to him. you, all wet and trembling underneath him, still adjusting, still unsure—and he was losing his mind over it.

you swallowed, tried to steady your breath. "you can move," you whispered.

his entire body tensed.

you barely had a second to register the shift before he pulled back, just an inch, and then—slow, deep—he thrust in again.

your breath shattered. your mouth fell open, no sound coming out at first, just a strangled, breathless whimper.

then, before you could so much as blink, he started moving—pulling out halfway before snapping his hips forward again, setting a rhythm that had your breath stuttering in your throat.

he wasn't just fucking you—he was making sure you felt every inch of him, dragging it out, taking his time. and god help you, but it felt so fucking good.

"shit—" you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.

his hand slipped between you, his thumb pressing right against your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. your entire body jerked, pleasure sparking through your nerves like lightning.

"yeah," he muttered, watching you like he was starving. "that’s it. let me see you fucking fall apart."

nam-gyu’s rhythm grew rougher, sharper—his control slipping, his hips snapping forward with a force that had you gasping, clawing at his back. every thick inch of him dragged against your walls, the stretch now molten pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of fullness making your head spin. his body caged you in completely, heat rolling off him in waves, his skin slick with sweat.

"fuck," he rasped, voice ragged, his breath hot against your lips. "listen to you." his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles. "moaning like that—so fucking needy, aren’t you?"

"fuck," you gasped, your nails raking down his back, desperate for more.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his head to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "shit, you're taking me so fucking good," he muttered, his teeth grazing over your throat before he kissed you there—open-mouthed and messy, dragging his tongue over your pulse like he could taste how wrecked you were for him. "never had anyone inside you, huh? no one’s ever had you like this—"

his words made your stomach flip, a desperate, aching heat blooming in your core. you shook your head, gasping. "no—"

"fuck, baby," he groaned. "you don’t even fucking know—" his lips found your collarbone, biting down just enough to make you jolt, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. "how long i've been thinking about this. how long i've wanted to have my cock inside this pretty pussy."

his hands slid up, gripping your tits, squeezing, kneading the soft flesh in his palms. his fingers flicked over your nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, and you whimpered, the pleasure making you arch into his touch.

nam-gyu groaned, his tongue darting out to trace the swell of your breast before his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard.

"oh my god—" your back arched, your fingers twisting into his dark hair, holding him there.

he chuckled, a low, breathy sound against your skin, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucked again, harder this time, drawing a desperate whine from your lips. his hips kept moving, slow but deep, every thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you, making your stomach coil tighter.

"you're so fucking good," he murmured against your skin, moving to your other breast, giving it the same attention—his lips wrapping around the stiff peak, sucking, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. "so fucking tight, taking me so well—fuck, i knew you would."

you whimpered, the heat inside you winding tight, too much and not enough at the same time. your thighs trembled around his waist, your nails dragging down his back.

"nam-gyu," you gasped, voice wrecked, desperate. "please—"

"please what?" he pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes dark, burning with something almost possessive. his fingers slid down between you, finding your clit again, circling it with slow, precise movements. "tell me what you need, baby."

you sobbed at the pressure, at the way it made your body twitch beneath him. "i—i wanna cum—"

his jaw tightened, his thrusts growing sharper, faster, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

"yeah?" his voice was strained, breathless. "you wanna cum all over my fucking cock?"

"yes—yes—"

"then do it."

he pinched your clit, just the right amount of pressure, and the coil inside you snapped.

your orgasm hit hard, crashing over you in sharp, shuddering waves, making your entire body lock up beneath him. you let out a high, broken moan, your walls fluttering around him, pulsing, milking his cock as he fucked you through it.

"fuck—fuck—" nam-gyu groaned, his hips stuttering as you clenched around him, the tight grip of your body dragging him right to the fucking edge.

"shit," he rasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his fingers digging into your hips as he snapped his hips forward, harder, rougher. "gonna—fuck, gonna fill you up—"

your entire body shuddered at his words, at the realization of what he was about to do, and you let out a breathless, desperate "please."

that was all it took.

he came, hard, his body trembling as he filled you, his grip tightening almost painfully as he groaned your name, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath ragged, wrecked.

the heat of him spilling inside you made your entire body tremble.

he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed, breathing heavy, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his hands—no longer rough, no longer gripping—slid soft over your skin, smoothing down your sides, your waist, your thighs, as if he was soothing you.

you were still shaking, your body aching in the best possible way, your mind swimming in a haze of heat and exhaustion.

nam-gyu shifted, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. his lips pressed to your temple, then your cheek, then—finally—soft against your lips.

"you’re a fucking dream," he murmured almost to himself, voice soft, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

your heart skipped.

then, before you could say anything, before you could think—

his hips rolled again, slow, lazy, his cock starting to harden again inside you.

"think you can handle another one?"

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© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[rosylix]

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.” 

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you. 

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze. 

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly. 

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look. 

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide. 

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts. 

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix. 

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working. 

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes. 

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.” 

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.” 

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.” 

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend? 

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months. 

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm. 

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you. 

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided. 

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up. 

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours. 

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

[elodieunderglass]

What is Killie’s guilty pleasure?

Thank you so much for asking! This was very difficult to answer. what is the guilty pleasure of Killie, an incredibly competitive, stoic-beyond-reason racing jockey with generational orthorexia, who was raised by racing-obsessed lunatics for the sole purpose of being a champion of a completely unhinged and unhealthy sport? we must remember his personality is that of a stray dog being sent on a one-way mission to space in an experimental capsule and not expected to return; he has Oldest Daughter syndrome; he said the wrong thing one time and lost his own twin brother; and the background radiation of his entire life was. Catholicism.

Start with smoking. He shouldn’t do it! Nobody should do it!

Cheers Ma, that’s the nationality I’ve been my whole life, which incidentally started with quite a lot of difficulty that could have been prevented by your not smoking a pack a day while pregnant, you absolute witch (Killie does not say out loud)

If your profession has historical dress codes and you need to have your menswear hand-tailored anyway, you may as well get a little flashy with it

In absolute fairness it is very exciting. You’ll note that Derek also gets up at 4:45 a.m. to celebrate Omelette with Yolk In. He wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t peak.

Lower stakes, rough terrain, hardly any audience… just a guy and a horse and the big wide world. Live fast ride hard throw your heart over!!

the guilt here is Killie’s awareness of not being an especially good boyfriend. He’s not very handsome and not very nice and he’s barely even gay and takes a lot of work to love and he doesn’t see what Derek gets out of it. Oh well. Get bonked, idiot.

[ladycremecaramel]

So this was my ask from a long time ago, and I had thoughts of mgit (modern girl in thedas) story for this, but it never came to fruition. What I did do, though, was write a drabble from the Inquistor's POV. I thought it was long gone, but I stumbled upon it through my Google docs. After reading it, I thought I would post it here.

For context, the woman's name is Nora, and she is married and has a kid. There was an accident of some sort where the husband and child didn't survive, but she did and wound up in Thedas with the mark on her hand. She didn't want anything to do with the Inquisition as her spouse and child were her whole world and was grieving. She didn't care if she lived or died, but her moral compass of wanting to help those in need prevented her from outright killing herself.

Over time, the grief becomes...less in a way. After the fall of Haven and becoming the Inquisitor, her depression ramps up again but also has conflicting feelings about Cullen.

Then she becomes kidnapped red templars and...I forgot what they called the evil mages that worked for Corypheus were called. The ones that went crazy or were they called blood mages? Anyway, their plan was to 'kill' the Inquisitor and then use necromancy on her dead body to have control of the mark. Obviously, that doesn't happen cuz the Inquisition comes to the rescue juuuust in time.

So here it is. Below this is a TW of depression, blood, thoughts of suicide, and mentions of rape

Whack.

She yelped in pain as he punched the side of her face again. Another swollen bruise to add the collection on her body and face. She tried to wrench her wrists free of her binds, but the rope held tight was starting to cut into her skin. “Why am I fighting this? Don’t I want to die?” She thought to herself as her body struggled against her captors. 

She wasn’t sure, but her thoughts were stilled when a rough hand grabbed her by the throat. The red templar forced her to look up at him as he tightened his grip. Staring into the glowing crimson eyes, he snarled. “Should I let them rape you, mage? If you keep fighting, I won’t let you have any dignity left.” 

Nora froze upon hearing those words. To be raped and let whatever was to be become of her? His grip was tightening as she went limp with fear. If she were to die anyway, she wanted to at least have the choice to stay intact. The man stilled his tightening grip and slowly loosened his hold to see if she would struggle again. She didn’t move. Taking as a sign of surrender, he ordered the other men to bind her legs quickly. 

Everything moved quickly in a blur for her after that as she was carried to the open wooden box and placed inside. Her eyes began to sting with tears while her captors placed the lid on top and hammered it down with nails. She couldn’t see anything, but she could hear their voices. 

Soon she heard what sounded like chanting. It sounded low and in another language. What was going on out there? Did it matter? She watched interior of the box glow at the seams with a dark purple energy. It glowed brighter and brighter what felt like the longest time before it faded away, plunging her back into darkness. 

The next thing she knew was that box was being lifted and then lowered back down. She rocked back and forth with the casket, but it soon lurched with a soft thump. Nora fidgeted around with her hands tied in front of her until she heard the sound dirt being poured on top of the box she was in. Her eyes grew wide, and she sobbed. “This is it. This is how I die.” She thought as she tried to calm herself and accept her fate as she was being buried alive. 

“It shouldn’t be painful. I’ll fall unconscious as I lose oxygen. I’ll get to see my boys again soon. Just like I always wanted. I would have already offed myself if I didn’t have this fucking curse on my hand. They wanted their world saved though. My stupid guilty, noble do-the-right-thing just HAD to win out…” 

She thought like this as the sound of the dirt grew fainter. She assumed it was because her grave was almost filled up. She wondered how much time she actually had. It could be a few minutes to possibly a few hours or so she was told by Google. Looks like she was going to test that theory. 

Nora let her mind sift through all her memories. From her childhood to her adolescent days to adulthood. Then it went to more recent memories of losing her husband and child in a flash of green and then winding up in Thedas. Going through the story of the game or most of it anyway. She thought about the companions she met and actually becoming friends with them. She even thought about him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him still but he definitely made her heart race. 

She wasn’t sure how much time has passed but the sound of the dirt stopped and she heard muffled shouts and what sounded like metal clashing. She strained her ears as best as she could. She couldn’t tell how deep she was buried but it didn’t sound like she was buried too deep or she wouldn’t have likely heard anything. 

She was starting to feel tired. When she heard a muffled angry voice that sounded like...

“Cassandra?”

They came all this way for me?

--------------

Aaaaannnnd end. That's it. Then my ask picks up from there.

You don't have to do this one. DAi: LI's only. After locating the Inky's they find that their leader is nowhere in sight. After some fruitless interrogating, they hear a faint THUMP THUMP THUMP and muffled screaming. They search for the source and find a half filled grave and the sound of their leader under the dirt. Their reaction: Discovering their Inky was buried alive.

Cassandra: Her heart drops, and the panic doesn’t even have time to settle before she is loudly barking orders and trying to steady her breathing. The second she gets the Inquisitor out of his shallow grave; she grabs him in a big hug and refuses to let go. The seeker is far from a merciful person, any may Andraste protect whoever dared do this to the person she loves. For a second she looks up at the man she loves, dirty and bruised with a mixture of panic and fear in his eyes. She doesn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if they hadn’t gotten there sooner. 

Solas: Bring along the fury of a wolf and you will end up being ripped apart by the pack, this is very much apparent with Solas. The apostate is quick on his feet, helping his vhenan out of the grave and staring at the people responsible whom they just questioned; he has murder in his gaze. The only thing stopping him from acting then and there is the soft touch from his lover, her shaking body quickly moving closer to him for comfort. He would never forgive the people who did this and the ones who survived his visit later that night were the unlucky ones.

Dorian: At first he is rather unsettling, extremely calm and soft-spoken, only to lash out when someone makes a rather poor comment as the Inquisitor is helped out of his grave. Dorian feels utterly helpless and furious when he sees his Amatus like that, the man has bruises around his wrists showing he was tied; a busted lip and a tired gaze. he knows that if they had been slower the man he loved would’ve been underneath them all along but lacking the consciousness to ever speak up about where he was. One wrong clue or details lost could’ve led to being one minute too late. And that terrifies him.

Sera: May whatever god these people look up to be a just and forgiving one; because Sera sure as hell isn’t. As soon as Inky is out of that grave, an arrow is lodged into the leg of the nearest guilty person; and she has to be held back from jumping the man. She has no mercy for these people, and absolutely no pity for them as their screams reach her ears. Sera is scarily silent as she calms down, quickly finding her girlfriend and latching onto her- a shaky breath escaping her as she promises that she won’t ever let this happen again.

Blackwall: Honestly; it would surprise noone if Thom admitted to having done this himself, seeing as how calm he was when he was met with the issue itself; quick and steady hands knowing what to do right away. He doesn’t speak much when the Inquisitor stumbles out of the grave, clinging onto him and gasping for air and shaking. The tears in her eyes is enough to send his very being into a angry rampage; but he simply stays silent. Comforting his lover as he leads her away from the site, the others can deal with the vermin.

Iron Bull: May whoever did this rest in peace, because honestly they messed up the second they dared to mess with anyone who had contacts within the chargers. Bull is extremely gentle and careful with his lover; the poor thing shaking and it breaks his heart the second he sees the bruises on their face. Being buried alive is not fun, he would know. He is more aware than anyone else how lucky they were; because you loose oxygen fast in a casket. He lets out a shaky breath before kissing their face, muttering an apology for taking so long.

Josephine: When she had heard the word of what happened, she couldn’t help but close herself inside the office and just cry. Leliana had made sure she got time to let out all the worry and stress as she awaited for her lover to return. When they did? They were met by Josephine, puffy eyes and a lip that she had clearly chewed on more than enough to draw blood. And she only started crying again when she saw their bruised face, just about starting to heal from traveling back. She hated that she had to let them go on these trips; but she knew stopping them would only make things worse. With a tired sigh she grabs their hand, they needed a few hours. Just to be.

Cullen: He was the one leading the rescue operation, and he thought he had the ability to act cool. But when the Inquisitor is helped up from the casket and is finally able to see in the much brighter area; she sees him acting extremely out of character. The man on the ground is bleeding heavily from his face as Cassandra pulls the commander away from him. Cullen had been scared, he had felt so lonely when he found out that his rage blinded him and for a split second he wanted nothing else but to kill the person responsible. He feels his anger melt when the hand of his loved one is carefully placed on his cheek, as she whispers for him to calm down. She is bruised, tired and was probably on her last breaths. He would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen to begin with, but may the maker have mercy on the people responsible. They would face the wrath of Cullen Rutherford.