#bee drabbles

[suguwu]

kita and his lean, sinewy strength. he hoists bags of rice with ease, only a glimmer of sweat on his brow. he rests them in the cradle of his shoulders—broader than you'd thought, the breadth of them hidden by his loose shirt—as if they're pillows. you watch him disappear into the back.

"yer starin'," osamu says from where he's blank-faced behind the counter.

you scowl. "you did this on purpose," you accuse.

the corner of his lips ticks up.

"you're the worst," you groan, burying your head in your hands. "you didn't even try to introduce me."

"didn't need ya embarrassing me."

"you're so mean."

osamu raises a brow. "i can take back that free onigiri, then."

you stuff it into your mouth. osamu sighs.

"you and 'tsumu," he mutters. "chew yer food."

you do, all while keeping a protective hand around your second onigiri.

"are you gonna tell me his name?" you ask.

he rolls his eyes. "no."

"bet atsumu will."

osamu sighs. "'s kita," he says. "he's our old captain."

"kita," you repeat, taking another bite.

"yes?" a voice says.

you choke on your onigiri. you cough, trying to dislodge the rice from your windpipe.

"are you alright?" kita asks.

you nod, still coughing.

he raises an eyebrow. "ya sure?"

"fine," you rasp. "thanks."

he inclines his head to you and glances at osamu. "everything's delivered," he says. "just let me know when ya need more."

osamu nods. "sounds good."

the two men exchange goodbyes as you try to regulate your breathing. kita glances at you as he turns to leave; his amber eyes practically glow in the afternoon light. you look away, your cheeks hot.

the door closes behind him.

"see?" osamu says. "embarrassing."

[bumblebee-otch]

.the sun.

The sun is warm on my skin, and I'm surrounded by flora and friendship.

The breeze is nice, and Compassion brought flowers, treats, and wine for our little get together.

She and I kick off our shoes to talk about men and art, and we watch our friends bicker with each other about who's taking up more space on their side of the picnic blanket.

My skirt is splayed across my corner of the soft fabric as I laugh along with her, and I feel like a young girl again, only much happier.

The music is playing loudly from the stage, and it’s not what we had expected by any means when we'd booked these tickets.

Music in the Gardens, the post had said. The name was backed by a string quartet, but not a single one had played for the first hour we'd been here.

"They're not very good," Loyalty sighs over to Compassion and I after watching the young band for a while. We snicker as Integrity lies dramatically across Loyalty's lap.

"Well," Integrity flinches and laughs as Loyalty flicks him on the forehead, "They're not all that bad for high school students."

Compassion smiles at them as they argue, and she snaps a photo of the two together as she asks me, "What do you think, Empathy?"

I watch as she snaps a couple more pictures and let the breeze and the wine and the moment wash over me, "I don't mind it all that much."

The music can’t be so bad, I muse to myself, I mean, it brought us here together, after all.

The sun is warm on my skin, and I'm grateful to be surrounded by flora and friendship.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shoto todoroki is fucking shameless. and surprisingly clingy.

he’d done a good job becoming a little more social little by little. he’s still a little wonky and awkward during the few times he tries to make conversation, but he tries and that’s the good part. you’re proud of him.

you’ve known shoto since you were kids, his closest friend, you’d seen him through it all and you’re so grateful that he’s found friends he feels comfortable and happy with, though he always reassures you that you’re dearest to him, which always makes you a little too giddy and flustered for somebody who’s supposed to be his closest friend and nothing more.

you’re in the cafeteria chatting with your mutual friends, shoto had told you to go off without him since he needed to go the bathroom and you found yourself sitting next to midoriya when he’d scooched in next to you, happy to see there was still a spot for him at the table. you liked midoriya a lot, he was sweet, cute and most importantly he made shoto come out of his shell in a way that you regrettably never could, plus the way he flails around when he gets embarrassed is pretty funny.

(you did notice ochaco’s face going completely blank for a few seconds, but you didn’t think much about it.)

after a few minutes of giggling and chatting shoto shows up, and something is immediately wrong with the way his natural straight face goes absolutely dead in the span of three seconds. it’s subtle, but you know him and it’s there. there also seems to be a chill in the room now.

he’s at your side of the table in three seconds, but he doesn’t register your smile in greeting as his cold gaze is glued to the green haired boy next to you.

“midoriya,” and his voice even sounds a little deeper, colder as he speaks like he somehow managed to use his right side on his mouth.

“that’s my seat.” he states calmly.

“oh ! my bad, todoroki !” izuku splutters an apology, but shoto’s eyes do not waver, staying fixed on the boy until he grabs his tray and makes a move to stand “i didn’t realize this was your spot, sorry !”

you feel a little bad at how intensely he’s apologizing, but you’re still shell shocked about that look. shoto seems unfazed though, his expression morphs slightly when izuku goes to squeeze in next to iida.

“i always sit next to yn.”

it’s so stupid. really, it is. how fast that makes your heart beat. because shoto does always sit next to you, he always has and he still always does when you come over to his house. but it’s the fact that he didn’t say he always sits here, in his unassigned assigned seat.

he said he always sits next to you. and your mind and heart races.

you don’t get much time to think because immediately he’s next to you, sighing before sitting as close to you as he can. he looks over to you and you look back, still a little startle but his features are soft again when he looks at you. he drops his utensils to thread his fingers with yours under the table.

“ did you wash your hands, mister ?” you tease, but you squeeze his hand when he squeezes yours. he frowns but it’s not the one from before. it almost looks like a pout and you snort.

“yes, i did.” he snips, you giggle and his eyes soften. even as you assure him you were just kidding he doesn’t mind, he couldn’t be mad at you.

you offer him a bite of your lunch as truce and he leans forward and plops a piece in his mouth from your chopsticks, then offers you a bit of his precious soba noodles and even holds a hand below them so they don’t spill because he insists on feeding you himself.

your friends pretend they don’t see the lowkey romantic exchange, but with the way shoto keeps insisting to have you eat his food and the soft barely there smile when you crack a joke that manages to break through his icey demeanor, they can start to figure out why he wanted to sit next to you so bad.

[superbat-love]

Dick: Bruce, what does it mean when someone’s heart rate increases around another person?

Bruce: Alright, I expected this question to be brought up eventually. It’s a physiological response mediated by both biological and biochemical processes when one experiences moments of arous-

Dick: And whenever you see this person, they just seem to light up the room?

Bruce: I can’t do this. Clark, you have a go at answering his question.

Clark: Well Dick, when a bat and a bee meet, though of different species, the bee’s heart starts to sing. And so, it shines as bright as the sun and feel the urge to sting…

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

[starrystevie]

"you're gonna make me fall in love with you, aren't you?"

eddie's room is quiet except for the ambient noise the trailer makes and the deep, sighing breaths steve is making against his chest. it's the same breaths he makes when he's sleeping, the ones that sound like once he's unconscious, he can actually let go and take in a full breath without all of his daily anxieties holding him back.

eddie assumes he's asleep now so he mutters out the secret he's been holding in for too long. eddie assumes incorrectly because steve's snuffling against his chest to resettle his ear over eddie's heart.

"would that be such a bad thing?"

steve's fingers drag slowly across his stomach before wrapping around the side of his bare waist, pulling like he could somehow get eddie even closer than he already is. he has half a mind to push steve off his chest so he can't hear how wildly the move makes his heart flutter.

eddie sighs, runs his fingertips over steve's freckled shoulder like an apology. like a promise. "i'm not sure yet."

they aren't just friends, they aren't dating but they're- they're something. something that's made up of too hard kisses and wandering hands and gazes that catch before darting away with dopey grins. they're a forest fire that can't burn out, can't be controlled until it's all scorched earth in its wake. they're a rainstorm, soothing and gentle, coaxing life back into the forest floor like it deserves a fresh start.

eddie's afraid but when is he ever not? eddie's confused but that's not exactly a first either. eddie's falling for steve and it has his brain tied up in knots as he tries to make sense of it all. steve wraps a leg over his while his fingers drum against his side. he has to be able to hear how everything he does, everything he is, affects eddie because he's leaning up to press a shock of a kiss over his heart. like the electricity from that alone will shock eddie's heart back into rhythm.

"well, let me know when you make up your mind about falling," steve whispers sleepily, his lips dancing over eddie's sensitive skin leaving goosebumps and lightning in its wake, "because i'm already down here waiting."

eddie's heart thuds painfully, steve covers it with a kiss once more.

he closes his eyes and feels, takes in the sharp bite of steve's cologne, matches his breathes to steve's, runs his foot over his bare calf to get them even closer. he doesn't have to think about it for too much longer because he already knows that he'll follow steve anywhere, even if that means tumbling and falling after him.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Do Stars Collapse Into Black Holes, Or Fall Into Something Unknown? Pairing: TA!Seokmin x TA!gn!reader Genre: uni au, rivals to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn romance Wordcount: 7.7k Rating: PG 15

Synopsis: Starting your second year of your master’s degree in astrophysics, and your first year as a TA, you were stressed enough - but the universe knows no bounds for your suffering. Seokmin, your handsome and annoyingly smart classmate, just had to become your colleague. As if you weren’t hard on yourself already, Seokmin’s presence only proved to fuel your self-loathing. But does he hate you too, or do you need to open your eyes and come back down to Earth?

Warnings: angst, mentions of stress, academic pressure, self-conciousness

A/N: this is a collab by @gyuswhore and @highvern! thank you to @gyuswhore for helping me with planning for and reading through this fic! see the Back to School masterlist here!

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

Seokmin stood outside his supervisor’s slightly open door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The questions he had written down in his notebook were now floating around in his mind, lingering at the tip of his tongue. The golden light of the August sun filtered through the tall windows, casting long, cool shadows on the polished linoleum floor. He had come here to discuss a few pressing issues with his thesis, but as he approached, he heard a familiar voice from within the office.

Your voice.

Seokmin knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of him. He inched closer, careful not to let his presence be known. The door was left slightly ajar, and Seokmin decided to peek through it. Through the narrow gap, he saw you sitting opposite the professor, your posture tense, hands fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. It was how he saw you most of the time, other than the few times he would see you in the library - then, your shoulders were always relaxed, your nose was in a book so big that Seokmin seriously worried for the librarian’s back, and your eyes made it seem like you were in a different dimension, completely focused.

“What do you think about becoming my TA for the undergraduate class this semester?” the professor asked, his tone encouraging yet firm.

You hesitated, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. “I’m not sure, Professor. I mean, I have my thesis to focus on, and I’m not sure if I can handle the extra responsibility.”

The professor leaned back in his chair, a patient smile on his face. “I understand your concerns, but I believe this experience could be invaluable for your academic and professional growth. Plus, you’ve always been one of my top students. I have faith in your abilities, you should too.”

After a moment of silence, you nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Seokmin's mind raced. This was an unexpected development. He had always admired you from afar—you're beautiful, absolutely, but more importantly he admired your dedication and your passion for astrophysics—but he never had a reason to interact closely with you. Until now.

An idea sparked in his mind. If you were going to be a TA, maybe he could be one too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to be near you, to finally break the ice.

Just as you started gathering your things to leave, Seokmin quickly moved back, pressing himself against the wall to avoid being seen. You walked out of the office, your face a mixture of apprehension and determination. You don’t see him.

Seokmin took a deep breath, steeling himself. Any thoughts of his thesis vanished as he stepped forward and knocked lightly on the open door.

“Come in,” the professor called out.

Seokmin entered the room, his heart pounding in his chest. “Professor, do you have a moment?”

The professor looked up, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “Of course, Seokmin. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if there are any open TA positions for this semester,” Seokmin said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I think it could be a great learning experience for me, especially if I decide to continue on my academic career after graduation.”

The professor's eyebrows rose in mild surprise, but he quickly nodded. “As a matter of fact, there is an opening… and I appreciate your initiative. I’ll put you with one of my other students for the undergrad course in astrophysics. The other TA was worried about it, I’m sure they’ll appreciate your help.”

Seokmin couldn't help but smile. This was his chance—not only to assist in the course but to get to know you better. As he left the office, he felt a sense of excitement bubbling within him. The semester was about to get a lot more interesting.

You step into the classroom on your first day as a TA, and a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through you. The room is bright and spacious, with large windows letting in the morning light. The faint smell of chalk and old books fills the air. A smile appears on your face as you take it all in. Although you were nervous, this was your dream– or at least one step on the way to it. You set down your bag and begin organizing the materials for the lecture, trying to focus on the tasks at hand to calm your racing thoughts.

As you arrange the papers on the desk, you hear the door creak open behind you. Turning around, you're surprised to see Seokmin walk in, a confident smile on his face. He looks perfectly put together with his glasses on the tip of his nose, his button-down neatly tucked into his trousers, and his hair adorably messy. His presence catches you off guard, and you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. You had seen him around before, always talking with someone in a way that you could never execute. People often told you, when you confided in them about your awkwardness, that people who were good at academics often had a harder time socially. Therefore, Seokmin stood out to you as an enigma - a goal that you could never meet. An irritating paradox of a human.

“Hey,” he says casually, setting his own bag down and pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I—uh, the professor asked me to be his TA,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “What about you?”

“Same here,” Seokmin says, his smile widening. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

You force a smile in return, but inside, a sense of dread begins to build. Working with Seokmin is not what you had anticipated - and not what you needed.

As the students start to file into the classroom, you watch Seokmin with growing unease. He moves through the room with an easy grace, greeting the students warmly and making small talk with them. His confidence is palpable, and it sets you on edge.

In contrast, you feel more reserved, and your interactions with the students are much more subdued. You can’t help but compare yourself to Seokmin, feeling a pang of jealousy at how effortlessly he seems to connect with everyone.

When the professor arrives, he announces to the students what the course material is and the TAs tasks are for the semester. Seokmin is given the more engaging responsibilities: leading study groups, assisting with experiments, and even giving a few lectures. You, on the other hand, are assigned the more mundane tasks like grading papers and organizing materials.

As the professor continues to outline the responsibilities, you wonder why your professor ever even asked you to become a TA. Seokmin catches your eye and gives you a friendly nod, but you can't bring yourself to return the gesture. He’s been handed all the opportunities you had hoped for. While you aren’t much for small talk, you know that you could hold a lecture–talking about the subject you love most in life in front of eager listeners is all that you want.

The classroom buzzes with anticipation as Professor Jeon prepares for the next segment of the lecture. Today, he’s promised a demonstration, and everyone is eager to see what it would be. The whiteboard is filled with complex diagrams and equations, and the projector displays an intricate star map.

“Alright, everyone, I need a volunteer,” Professor Jeon announces, scanning the room. His eyes twinkle with enthusiasm behind his glasses. Most of the students are sitting still in their chair, their eyes revealing worry—as if the slightest movement would make the professor turn and pick them out of the rest.

Desperate to prove yourself, you step forward without having heard much of what the professor had said. “I can help with that, Professor,” you say, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Professor Jeon smiles warmly. “Excellent. You’ll be representing a star in our demonstration.”

You take your place at the front, slightly confused over what he was doing. The room feels larger and the students’ eyes heavier as they focus on you. Seokmin watches with interest, leaning back in his chair with a curious grin.

“Now,” Professor Jeon continues, positioning you in the center of the room, “imagine that our TA here is a star in a distant galaxy.”

Seokmin can’t resist. “Look at you, shining bright like a star!” he calls out, his voice filled with mock admiration. The class erupts into chuckles, the tension easing slightly.

You shake it off and try to stay focused on the demonstration. Professor Jeon continues, explaining how stars form, their life cycles, and how they interact with other celestial bodies, using you as the centerpiece of his explanations. He moves around you, gesturing animatedly as he describes the various phases of a star’s life.

“Stars, like our volunteer here, go through stages of birth, life, and death,” he explains, pointing to you as he illustrates each phase. “From a protostar to a main-sequence star, and eventually, to a supernova or a black hole.”

Professor Jeon continues to explain the star's relation to other galactic entities, bringing up other students—now less nervous because of your contribution—to play different roles.

Throughout the rest of the lecture, Seokmin continued to refer to you as “Star.” After the class, you stay behind to organize the materials for grading. Seokmin approaches you, a friendly smile still on his face. “Need any help with that, Star?”

“I’ve got it,” you say a bit too quickly, trying to hide your frustration. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” Seokmin replies, still smiling. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

You nod curtly and turn back to your work, your mind racing. He continues to complete his own tasks before saying goodbye and leaving. How could someone who seems so perfect be so infuriating? As you stack the papers, you can’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that his presence seems to amplify. Your resentment deepens, fueling a sense of rivalry that you know will only make the semester more challenging.

As you leave the classroom, you take a deep breath, trying to push aside your negative thoughts. But one thing is clear: working with Seokmin is going to be anything but easy.

Seokmin loved the first day of the semester. It was a fresh start, a new opportunity to connect with eager minds—not to mention that he got to work by your side. When he first saw you as he opened the door the the lecture hall he found himself feeling giddy for the first time in a while.

As he moved through the classroom, he made a point to greet the students, asking about their summer and what they hoped to learn this year. His easygoing nature made the students feel at ease, and soon enough, the room was filled with animated chatter.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Seokmin asked one student, who responded enthusiastically about something you couldn’t hear. He laughed and shared a quick, similar story of his own, making the students laugh as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you watching, a look of mixed emotions on your face. Seokmin wanted to include you, to make sure you didn’t feel left out. He knew how important it was for TAs to present a united front to the students.

“Hey, why don’t you tell them about that interesting project you worked on last semester? I’m sure they want to know what they could be doing in the future,” Seokmin suggested, turning to you with a smile.

You gave a brief, awkward nod and explained the project, but Seokmin sensed your discomfort. He tried to be supportive, but it seemed to make things worse. Nevertheless, he tried to seamlessly blend your short story with one of his own – taking away the attention from you.

Throughout the week, Seokmin continued his efforts to include you in discussions and tasks. While preparing for a lecture, he turned to you to share your insights.

“What do you think about this theory?” he asked, genuinely curious about your perspective.

You responded with a terse, “It’s interesting,” before quickly diverting back to your own tasks, having barely looked at what he was referring to.

Seokmin furrowed his brow, confusion clouding his eyes. “Have you really considered the implications of this? I’d love to hear more about what you think.”

You sighed, sensing his persistence. “I told you, it’s interesting,” you repeated, hoping he would take the hint.

Seokmin couldn’t understand why his attempts to include you were met with such resistance. He genuinely respected your intelligence and wanted to collaborate. He knew that the professor told him not to stress you out with lectures, but he couldn’t picture you as the type to get stressed out about talking about your thesis topic. Especially not when he had offered to take on the responsibilities that he thought would be the hardest for you to do. Nevertheless, every time he reached out, he felt like he was hitting a wall, further complicating the dynamic between you.

“Is everything okay?” he ventured cautiously, concern lacing his voice. “You seem... distant.”

You paused, looking up from your notes for the first time. “I appreciate your help, Seokmin, really. But I work better alone. It’s just how I am.”

He nodded slowly, trying to process your words. “I understand that, but teamwork is also important. We could achieve so much more together.”

“Maybe,” you conceded, “but I need to focus right now. Please.”

Seokmin sighed, reluctantly stepping back. “Alright. Just know that I’m here if you need anything.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding but still feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you. As Seokmin walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration and confusion. He respected your need for independence, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was more to your resistance than just a preference for working alone.

The library had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could immerse yourself in your work without distractions. Other than the librarian, Jeonghan, you didn’t have to speak to many people there–and talking to Jeonghan was hardly a difficult task for you. Although he acted as if he hated you for always asking him to bring out the “biggest and dustiest books he had ever seen,” you knew very well that he enjoyed your presence. But lately, even this haven was being invaded by Seokmin. Every time you saw him, he seemed perfectly at ease, balancing his research and TA duties with an effortless grace that you envied.

One evening, you walked into the library, your mind preoccupied with the growing pile of tasks. As you made your way to your usual spot, you saw Seokmin at a nearby table, surrounded by a stack of books and papers. He looked up and smiled warmly.

“Hey, how’s it going? How’s your thesis coming along?” he asked, his tone casual.

You forced a tight smile and replied, “It’s fine, thanks.” Inside, his question felt like a reminder of your own struggles, and it irritated you that he seemed to handle everything so easily.

Seokmin’s presence, once a minor annoyance, was becoming a constant source of irritation. His casual greetings and questions about your progress felt intrusive like he was keeping tabs on you. You tried to focus on your work, but his presence loomed large, a constant reminder of your perceived inadequacies.

During a late afternoon, as you were going to the professor’s office, you overheard a conversation that stopped you in your tracks. The door was slightly ajar, and the professor’s voice carried into the hallway.

“Seokmin has been doing an outstanding job,” the professor said. “His work ethic is impressive, and his contributions to the class are invaluable.”

You felt a pang of jealousy and frustration. Hearing the professor praise Seokmin so effusively only intensified your feelings of inadequacy and rivalry. It felt like no matter how hard you worked, you were always a step behind, always overshadowed by Seokmin’s achievements. It wasn’t like you could do something about it – the professor never allowed you to show what you were truly capable of. During the times that he had offered for you to hold lectures or seminars, Seokmin came in and took the opportunity away from you. The most you had managed to do was hold a few study groups, and it was only when Seokmin had been away.

As you walked away, your mind raced with thoughts of how to prove yourself, and how to step out of Seokmin’s shadow. The rivalry that had been simmering under the surface was now boiling over, driving you to work even harder, even if it meant pushing yourself to the brink.

The library was dimly lit, the scent of old books mingling with the sterile tang of late-night coffee. Although you appreciated Jeonghan letting you borrow the coffee machine in the librarian’s office, it truly tasted horrible–you were convinced the only reason Jeonghan liked it was that he poured in at least two packets of sugar in his cup. Around you, stacks of papers towered like miniature skyscrapers, each one a testament to the endless stream of work that flooded your life.

Grading papers had become a nightly ritual, sandwiched between frantic attempts to wrangle your thesis into coherence. The weight of it all pressed down on your shoulders like an invisible burden, threatening to suffocate any semblance of calm. Meanwhile, Seokmin got to have the job with all the glory and all the fun – at this point, you were starting to question if your professor had something out for you.

Fingers numb from hours of scribbling notes, you slumped forward, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the headache that had been your unwelcome companion for days. The clock on your laptop blinked mockingly, its digits crawling towards midnight with relentless indifference.

It was then, in that hushed sanctuary of knowledge, that the dam finally burst. Tears welled up unexpectedly, blurring the lines of formulas, calculations, and the horrible handwriting of some of your undergrad students. The sound of your own choked sobs startled you, but you were too exhausted, too overwhelmed to care about appearances.

Unbeknownst to you, Seokmin had been nearby, engrossed in his own research until the echo of your distress reached his ears. Concern etched lines of worry across his normally composed features as he approached cautiously, unsure of how to breach the invisible barrier that separated you. 

“Hey,” his voice was soft, tentative, like a gentle breeze through a storm. He offered a tissue from his bag, the simple gesture more comforting than any words could convey. “Are you okay?”

Your initial instinct was to brush him off, to hide behind the façade of resilience you had painstakingly crafted. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were tired—bone-deep exhaustion that rendered you defenseless against the kindness in his eyes.

“I don't know.” The admission was barely a whisper, but Seokmin heard. Without hesitation, he settled into the seat beside you, the library chair creaking slightly under his weight. He didn't pry, didn't offer unsolicited advice. Instead, he simply began to gather the scattered papers, organizing them into neat piles with practiced efficiency.

You watched him in silence, marveling at the unexpected gentleness in his actions. Here was Seokmin, the academic rival who had seemed so untouchable, now offering a lifeline without expectation of reciprocity. He continued working, dividing the papers that you had graded and the papers that were untouched into two piles. Then, he silently started grading the latter. No words were needed. You wiped your tears and picked up your computer to begin working on your thesis again.

Minutes stretched into hours as the two of you worked side by side. Seokmin handled the grading, his elegant script flowing effortlessly across the pages. Meanwhile, you poured your fragmented thoughts about your thesis onto the screen, finding solace in the rhythm of typing keys.

In that shared silence, a subtle shift occurred. Walls that had once stood tall and impenetrable crumbled, revealing vulnerabilities neither of you had dared to expose before. As the night wore on, Seokmin's presence became a lifeline, anchoring you amidst the storm of deadlines and doubts.

By dawn, the library was bathed in the soft hues of morning light. The papers were graded, and the thesis draft was finally completed. Jeonghan came in just as the two of you were packing up, his long hair tied up and his glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. He looked at you with raised eyebrows and a disapproving glance—while he did allow you to stay in the library even after closing, he didn’t exactly encourage it. You sent him a tired, apologetic smile. He started walking towards you and finally spotted Seokmin. Jeonghan cleared his throat, gaining Seokmin’s attention from the pile of graded papers he was organizing.

“I’m assuming you two stayed here all night,” he said, “Otherwise, you’ve broken in before opening hours– and then I’d have to call the police.”

Seokmin immediately got flustered, profusely apologizing. The blubbering mess he became was probably from shock and sleep deprivation, but you had never seen him like this. A smile appeared on your face, and you put your hand on his shoulder.

“He’s joking, it’s fine.” You looked up at the librarian. “Right, Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He waved his hand nonchalantly and started to walk away now that there was no more teasing to be done. “Clean up properly and be out of here in like ten minutes. I can’t have people knowing that I give you special treatment.”

You hummed and started packing up your things. Seokmin put the graded papers into a folder and stood up, stretching out his legs and arms.

“Do you do this a lot?” he asked.

“Not for this long, usually,” you muttered. “But yeah, why?”

“... no reason.” He shrugged and sat back down. “I thought that grading papers was the easier job.”

You scoffed and sent him an irritated glance.

“You’re the lucky one,” you said. “Holding lectures actually seems fun – most of the time, I’m just trying to decipher what most of these students are even writing.”

Seokmin nods solemnly and hands you the file. You stand up and bid him goodbye, before hurrying to administration to get the grades filed.

The lecture hall was almost empty, save for a few scattered students gathering their belongings after Professor Jeon’s rigorous class on quantum mechanics. Seokmin lingered near the doorway, watching you pack up your notes with a furrowed brow. He couldn't shake off the image of you from last night in the library, vulnerable and overwhelmed. Now he had to watch you sit through the professor’s lecture, pretending like you hadn’t just stayed up all night, and soullessly give out worksheets to the students.

Newfound awareness weighed heavily on Seokmin's mind as he replayed the events of the previous evening. He had always admired your intellect and dedication, but now, seeing the toll it took on you firsthand, he understood the gravity of your struggles. The pressure of expectations, both self-imposed and external, seemed to suffocate every moment of your academic life. He thought he had been nice to you, making your life easier by taking care of all the social aspects, but his perspective had been too narrow.

With a resolve born out of newfound understanding, Seokmin decided to act. He spotted you exiting the lecture hall, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion. Without a second thought, he hurried after you, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

“Hey, Star, wait up!” he called out gently, reaching your side just as you reached the exit. “I thought you might need this.”

Exhaustion still fogged your mind, the remnants of last night's breakdown lingering like a dull ache. He was holding a cup of coffee out to you, you looked down at the paper mug and then back up at him. At Seokmin's gesture of kindness, your immediate reaction was instinctive—a defensive snap, laced with frustration and misunderstanding.

“I don't need your pity, Seokmin,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as guilt flickered in your eyes.

Seokmin's heart sank at your words, but he didn't retaliate. He knew your reaction stemmed from exhaustion and vulnerability, not malice. Taking a deep breath, he waited patiently, understanding that healing wounds of insecurity took time and patience.

The next day, Seokmin found you in the same lecture hall, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes. This time, he approached cautiously, his usual confidence tempered by humility. “Can we talk?” he asked softly, careful not to startle you.

You glanced up, surprise flickering across your features at his persistence. Relenting, you nodded slightly, allowing him to join you at the table littered with equations and diagrams.

“I didn't realize,” Seokmin began quietly, choosing his words with care. “I didn't realize how much pressure you were under. If I had known, I would have never added to it.”

His sincerity resonated in the quiet sincerity of his voice, catching you off guard. 

“Added to it?” you questioned.

“I asked the professor to let me take care of the lectures and study groups,” he admitted. “I was truly only thinking of you, I thought I could make it easier for you.”

A bitter taste lingered in your mouth. All this time, this had been his fault – all of the doubt over whether or not your professor wanted to break your spirit had been nothing more than a request made by Seokmin. However, you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for just a moment before looking back at him.

“You wanted to make it easier for me?”

“I thought, since you don’t talk that much… it was dumb, I’m sorry.” He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up his forehead. “I’ll go tell the professor about it, we can reschedule things.”

“... thanks.”

The days following Seokmin's gesture of understanding were a delicate dance between acceptance and wariness. Despite the lingering skepticism, you couldn't deny the shift in dynamics between you. Seokmin's actions spoke louder than words, his genuine concern slowly chipping away at the walls you had erected. He asked the professor to change some of the duties, as he had promised, and even went so far as to offer to help you with your thesis. You allowed him to proofread it for you, and the two of you started spending more and more time with each other.

Reluctant acceptance crept into your interactions as you begrudgingly allowed Seokmin's presence and assistance. He no longer seemed like an adversary lurking in the shadows of your achievements but a partner navigating the same stormy seas of academia. His willingness to help without expectation of reciprocity was both unsettling and oddly comforting.

Late afternoons in the university's coffee shop turned into impromptu discussions about the mysteries of black holes that you were writing about as well as Seokmin’s thesis on altermagnetism. Your shared passion for space and astrophysics brought you closer together, each conversation revealing layers of depth and curiosity you hadn't anticipated.

One afternoon, amidst a lively debate on the implications of quantum entanglement, you found yourself sharing a piece of your past—the months you spent as a museum guide at the Jeju Starlight World Park and Planetarium. The memories flowed freely, painting a picture of a younger version of yourself enamored with the cosmos and its infinite wonders.

It was during this conversation that Seokmin proposed a trip—an invitation wrapped in sincerity and a hint of nervousness. “There's a free weekend coming up," he began tentatively, eyes fixed on yours with unwavering determination. "I thought... maybe we could visit the museum together."

Surprise mingled with nostalgia as you considered his proposal. The Jeju Starlight World Park held a special place in your heart—a sanctuary where stars glittered like promises against the velvet canvas of the night sky. Seokmin's offer to drive felt like an extension of his desire to understand you better, a chance to revisit a place where your love for astrophysics had taken root.

After a moment's hesitation, you nodded, a tentative smile curling at the corners of your lips. “I'd like that,” you admitted softly, the weight of uncertainty lifting with each heartbeat. In Seokmin's eyes, you glimpsed a flicker of gratitude and relief, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile bond blossoming between you.

The weekend arrived with a crispness in the air, promising a respite from the relentless pace of academic life. Seokmin pulled up in front of your apartment in his modest car, a hint of nervous anticipation in his eyes as you climbed into the passenger seat. He smiled warmly, trying to hide his nerves. "Ready for a little break, Star?"

You nodded, clutching your bag tightly. "I brought some work to catch up on during the drive."

Seokmin chuckled softly. "Of course you did."

The drive to Jeju Starlight World Park and Planetarium was long, and you were determined to work during the entire trip. You pulled out your laptop and began typing furiously, barely glancing up. However, as soon as the car started moving, the soft humming of the motor and the quiet songs coming from the radio lulled you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in weeks. Before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, you were just about to roll up to the museum. You noticed that your computer was neatly tucked into your bag again, and that you had Seokmin's jacket draped over your lap. He must have stopped by the side of the road to help you, but you decided not to ask about it. Seokmin noticed you stirring and gave you a gentle smile. "Hey, sleepyhead. We're almost there."

You rubbed your eyes, a bit disoriented. "I can't believe I fell asleep."

"It's okay," he said. "You needed the rest."

Arriving at the museum, you were greeted by the familiar sight of the dome-shaped building, its façade adorned with twinkling lights that mirrored the stars above. Memories flooded back as you stepped through the entrance, the air scented with nostalgia and the promise of new discoveries.

Inside, the museum buzzed with activity. Visitors young and old marveled at interactive exhibits and life-sized models of spacecrafts, their faces alight with wonder. You led Seokmin through the exhibits with the confidence of someone revisiting a cherished haven, explaining the intricacies of stellar evolution and the beauty of the night sky.

In the planetarium, darkness enveloped you both as the dome above transformed into a canvas of celestial wonders. A hush fell over the audience as the narrator's voice guided you on a journey through the cosmos—galaxies swirling, stars born and dying in spectacular bursts of light. Beside you, Seokmin watched in awe, his usual composure giving way to childlike fascination.

After the show, you found yourselves outside under a sky strewn with stars. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the promise of a clear night. Seokmin broke the silence, his voice soft against the backdrop of the universe. “Thank you for coming with me, Star,” he said sincerely, eyes tracing the constellations above.

You smiled, touched by his gratitude. “It's always been a special place for me,” you admitted, your gaze following his to the heavens. “Even after I stopped working here, I used to come here to find inspiration when things felt overwhelming... I don't really have time for that anymore, of course.”

After a day filled with awe and shared moments at the Jeju Starlight World Park and Planetarium, Seokmin navigated the car through winding roads leading away from the museum. The sky had darkened, and stars peppered the canvas above, casting a soft glow over the landscape. Under the stars that had witnessed countless stories of love and longing, of dreams and discoveries, you and Seokmin found a moment of quiet peace.

“We should find a place to stay for the night,” Seokmin suggested, glancing at you with a gentle smile.

You nodded in agreement. Seokmin found a quaint motel nestled on the outskirts of town, its neon sign flickering a warm welcome in the darkness. The receptionist greeted you with a friendly smile, which you couldn't seem to return out of pure embarrassment, as Seokmin checked you in for the night.

“... and here’s your key,” the receptionist said and handed you one key.

“Oh, we’ll need two rooms,” Seokmin said.

“I’m sorry, we only have one.” The receptionist gave you an apologetic smile. “We could contact someone further down the road–”

“It’s alright,” you said. “We’ll just sleep in separate beds.”

“I’m sorry.” The receptionist paused and let out an awkward chuckle. “There’s only one bed in that room.”

Both you and Seokmin looked at each other. Neither of you were fit to drive, and even if you didn’t want to sleep next to him you realized that you would have to.

Entering the room, you were met with simple yet cozy accommodations—a bed draped in crisp linens, soft lighting casting a warm ambiance. The air hummed with the unspoken understanding that lingered between you, a growing tension that spoke volumes in the silence.

Moments passed as you both settled into the space, the weight of the day's experiences hanging in the air. Seokmin's eyes searched yours, his usual confidence giving way to vulnerability as he spoke softly, “Today has been... incredible.”

You nodded, mirroring his sentiment. “It really has,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You both got into bed, laying on your backs so as to not get too close. But as the night went on, neither of you could fall asleep. It was getting cold, and even the comforter wasn’t enough. 

“I’m freezing,” Seokmin admitted.

“Me too,” you replied.

“Star... do you… want to sleep next to me?” he asked tentatively.

“I already am, stupid.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

“No I mean–” Seokmin sighed. “I don’t want to be a creep, please just tell me if this is weird… but do you want me to… hold you? Just since it’s so cold, that's all.”

“... just because it’s so cold.”

The distance between you closed with each heartbeat, drawn together by an undeniable magnetism. Tentative touches turned into embraces, hands finding solace in the warmth of each other's presence. Words became unnecessary as the night unfolded, emotions spoken through lingering gazes and tender caresses. His heart was beating fast, but with every minute that passed he calmed down. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and he got comfortable under your head and slung around your waist. He smelled of florals, and something expensive and woody. Even his cologne was perfect. You sighed and nuzzled closer to him, and his embrace 

As dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, you awoke to find Seokmins fingers tracing patterns on your skin. You pretended to be asleep for just a little longer. In that quiet morning light, amidst the remnants of dreams and the promise of new beginnings, you both understood that the journey you had embarked upon was far from over. Eventually, he got up and got dressed and you pretended to wake up as well.

Back at the university, the air between you and Seokmin crackled with new energy—a silent understanding that transcended words. Your interactions became charged with unspoken feelings, lingering glances that spoke volumes, and moments of shared laughter that echoed long after they had passed.

In lecture halls and quiet corners of the campus coffee shop, you found yourselves drawn to each other like celestial bodies caught in orbit. Seokmin's kind comments and gestures of support became a lifeline amidst the tumult of academic pressures, each act deepening the connection that had silently taken root.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, you found yourself seated with Jeonghan at the library. Although he would often tease you and be relentlessly cocky, he had always been a calming presence – his gentle demeanor and insightful advice made him a trusted confidant. 

“I've been feeling... confused,” you admitted softly, uncertainty lacing your words as you wrestled with emotions that had blossomed unexpectedly. “Seokmin... he's really been there for me recently, supporting me in ways I never expected.”

Jeonghan listened attentively, his warm gaze encouraging you to unravel the tangled threads of your thoughts. With each word, clarity began to emerge—a realization that the admiration and warmth you felt for Seokmin ran deeper than mere professional respect.

“He's not just a rival anymore,” you confessed, a hint of awe coloring your voice. “He's been impressing me with his kindness, his understanding...”

The admission hung between you like a delicate veil, its weight buoyed by the relief of finally voicing your inner turmoil. Jeonghan nodded knowingly, a reassuring smile gracing his lips.

“You like him,” he said.

“What? No, I don’t– he’s a friend.”

“You slept in the same bed together, didn’t you?”

“Friends can sleep together…”

“Friends don’t describe the way someone smells like you just did,” he argued, referring to what you had told him earlier of your time in the motel.

“But I can’t like him… that doesn’t seem right.”

“Sometimes, the heart finds its way through unexpected paths,” Jeonghan mused, his words carrying the wisdom of someone who had witnessed the ebb and flow of countless emotions within the walls of the library. “What matters most is how you choose to navigate this journey. Trust your heart, but also trust in Seokmin's intentions. He seems like a good guy.”

“I keep forgetting that you can actually give good advice instead of just sly remarks,” you teased him and Jeonghan scoffed.

“What do you want me to say?” He chuckled. “‘Let me know how big his dick is when you get there?’”

“Jeonghan.” You groaned as your friend laughed – you were lucky that no one was in the library at this late hour.

“Seriously, though.” Jeonghan wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Seokmin seems good for you. You’ve definitely been less stressed since I caught the two of you in here-”

“You’re making that sound weird on purpose!” you exclaimed and Jeonghan grinned.

“Whatever, whatever…” He waved his hand as if to swat away his previous words. “Just think about it– by the way you’ve been describing him, he’s probably into you too. Maybe talk to him about it?”

With Jeonghan's words echoing in your mind, you knew that the time had come to confront your feelings, to acknowledge the unspoken connection that had blossomed between you and Seokmin—a connection that promised not just the possibility of romance, but a partnership grounded in shared dreams, understanding, and the quiet strength found in moments of vulnerability and acceptance.

After Jeonghan locked up the library, Seokmin ended up meeting up with you outside the faculty building. He looked tired, probably from grading papers or looking over reports, but he still smiled when he saw you walk past him with Jeonghan.  You excused yourself to the librarian and left to walk home with Seokmin – not without Jeonghan telling you to “Go get him,” of course.

The night draped the university campus in a serene quietness, the lampposts casting gentle pools of light along the pathways as you and Seokmin strolled together. Laughter still echoed softly between you, a rare moment of levity amidst the academic rigors.

In a playful jest you quipped, “You know, Seokmin, Jeonghan suggested you might be in love with me.”

The words spilled out almost reflexively, laced with a hint of nervous humor to disguise the vulnerability beneath. Your heart skipped a beat as you waited, half-expecting Seokmin to brush off your comment with a laugh. Seokmin stopped walking, and you followed suit. 

His expression shifted, his gaze intensifying. “Actually, I think I am in love with you,” he confessed quietly, his tone devoid of jest or uncertainty.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis at that moment, your breath catching in your throat as you processed his words. The playful banter melted away, leaving behind a raw honesty that shimmered between you.

“You... you're serious?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, disbelief and hope mingling in equal measure.

Seokmin nodded, his gaze unwavering as he took a step closer. “I am,” he affirmed, his voice steady and sure. “I've been struggling to find the right moment to say it, but I've known for a while now.”

His confession washed over you like a wave, carrying with it a flood of emotions—joy, disbelief, and a profound sense of connection that surpassed the academic rivalry that had once defined your relationship.

In that quiet corner of the campus, under the canopy of stars that bore witness to your revelation, a shift occurred—a mutual acknowledgment of the feelings that had quietly blossomed amidst shared moments of vulnerability and understanding.

“I don’t know what to say…” you whispered.

“Don’t say anything, Star,” Seokmin said with a sad smile. “I don’t want this to get in the way of what you want out of your career – you shouldn’t be thinking about my feelings for you when you’re about to finish your thesis… we can always take it later.”

“... okay.” You nodded. “Please, don’t take this as me rejecting you.”

“I’m not.” He gave you a big grin. “It’ll be my motivation to finally finish my thesis.”

You smiled at him in return. As you continued your walk, the air between you hummed with newfound depth and possibility—a promise of a future yet to be written, illuminated by the light of a love that had bloomed unexpectedly, nurtured by the guidance of friends like Jeonghan and the quiet courage to embrace the unknown journey ahead. Your hand brushed against Seokmin’s several times on your walk home, but neither of you mentioned it. You only relished in the sparks the small touch ignited – waiting patiently for more.

As the final weeks of our graduate studies drew near, the campus was abuzz with anticipation and fervor. It was the climax of numerous years of hard work, late nights spent poring over books, and scholarly pursuits. Both you and Seokmin immersed ourselves in meticulously shaping our theses, balancing the demands of being teaching assistants with unrelenting commitment and a strong, unwavering sense of purpose. Somehow, you got there in the end. Your theses were approved, your opposition went smoothly, and you finally got to graduate together.

Amidst the excitement and wistfulness on the morning of graduation day, the campus bustled with energy. The sight of fellow graduates dressed in gowns and mortarboards filled the air with a sense of anticipation. In the midst of it all, you and Seokmin were inexplicably drawn to each other, the atmosphere around you filled with unspoken emotions.

As the festivities and goodbyes filled the air, Seokmin decided to take you to a secluded section of the campus garden. His face held a serious, yet affectionate, expression, creating an atmosphere of warmth that couldn't be missed. You couldn’t read through his gaze, but the silence between you was deafening. 

“I heard Professor Jeon gave you a reference for the new doctorate position here, congratulations,” you said to break the silence.

“Ah, thank you… you already got accepted, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Only because I was so pushy with my reference–” You downplayed your achievement but stopped yourself once you heard what you were saying. “I did.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

Confess to you.

“Why did you take me here, Seokmin?” you asked. “Isn’t the ceremony about to start?”

“Just a minute, I won’t be long… I want to say something,” he began, his voice carrying a clarity and certainty that resonated deep within you.

Seokmin, with the depth of intimacy that comes from sharing emotional journeys across galaxies, once more poured out his feelings, this time with an unshakable and unwavering conviction. “I love you, Star,” he declared, his eyes locking with yours, laying bare the depth of his emotions.

When he professed his feelings for you, you found yourself overcome with a rush of emotions. Your response was filled with a deep sense of appreciation and a newfound bravery that filled your heart. “I love you too,” you whispered.

He blinked at you, momentarily speechless, his carefully thought-out plans unraveling in the face of raw emotion. His stunned expression was almost comical, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. The sound of your laughter seemed to break the tension, and you reached up, your fingers gently cradling his face. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the slight roughness of his day-old stubble.

Seokmin's eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he savored the delicate touch of your lips. His hands settled lightly on your waist, fingers barely pressing into the fabric of your clothes, as if afraid to break the spell. The kiss was brief, a mere whisper of the deep emotions swirling between you. When he pulled away, you could see a myriad of thoughts floating in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. Almost immediately, Seokmin groaned and put his palm against his forehead, realizing how awkward his words sounded. You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, the sound light and teasing.

“I don’t want the first thing I say after our kiss to be ‘thank you,’” he muttered, looking embarrassed.

He gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “Don’t laugh at me…”

“Sorry–” you said, still giggling. Then, with a playful glint in your eye, you pulled him down to your face a second time. “That one doesn’t count, then.”

You kissed him again, a quick, soft peck, and then pulled back, looking at him expectantly. Seokmin's mind seemed to be spinning as he searched for something to say. Your kiss had left him so dizzy he could hardly tell up from down.

“You’re out of this world, Star,” he finally managed, his voice breathless and sincere.

You let out a groan, shaking your head at the cheesiness of his words. Seokmin couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine. He then pulled you into a tight embrace, resting his chin on top of your head, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

The tender moment was interrupted by the intercom crackling to life once more, reminding the students to proceed to the grand hall for the ceremony. With a sigh, you both reluctantly pulled apart, the reality of the event bringing you back to the present.

The graduation ceremony was a blur of speeches, applause, and the bittersweet feeling of an era ending. As the sound of applause gradually faded away, you and Seokmin found yourselves standing side by side at the entrance of the university building. The excitement of the moment mingled with a deep sense of nostalgia, the weight of the years spent here settling over you both.

You looked at each other, the shared understanding that this was both an end and a beginning reflected in your eyes. With fingers intertwined, you walked hand in hand towards the grand doors, feeling a profound sense of achievement and anticipation for the future.

Outside, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for you to step into it. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the campus, and as you walked together, you knew that this was just the start of a new journey. The path ahead was uncertain, but with Seokmin by your side, you felt ready to face anything. Together, you stepped out into the world, ready to embrace whatever came next.

feedback is always welcome!

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[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[bugboybuck]

boys will be bugs, right.

read on ao3

Evan turns up at Tommy's door on a morning Tommy wasn't expecting him with a manic look in his eyes. Tommy - who'd been dragged out of bed by the doorbell, still wiping sleep out of his eyes - doesn't immediately know what to make of his expression. It's never a bad thing to see his boyfriend unexpectedly; in fact, if Tommy had his way, he'd see Evan all the time. But he's also not a sucker, and he knows that when a guy like Evan looks at you all pink-cheeked and dimpled, you're at risk of being talked into some of the dumbest decisions of your life.

"Hey, baby," Tommy greets him, trying not to sound wary. "Did I forget a breakfast date? I'm still kind of out of it from my shift."

"No, you didn't forget," Evan tells him, leaning in for a kiss. It's a sign of what a simple man Tommy is that the press of Evan's warm pink lips and the smell of him all close, the feel of one of his thick hands sliding onto Tommy's waist, is enough to distract him for a solid ten seconds, even when Evan pulls back and says, "Sorry, did I wake you? I just need to measure some stuff in your back yard."

He squeezes Tommy's hip and kisses him once more and then pushes past him, heading right for the kitchen, where the door to Tommy's back yard sits.

"I've been meaning to get you a key cut so you can just let yourself in," Tommy says, more to himself than to Evan, who doesn't seem to have heard him anyway. Brain still getting online, Tommy closes the front door, makes to follow Evan - and only then processes the next part of Evan's statement. "Wait, what about my back yard?"

Evan's already bounced out the back door. Tommy briefly regrets getting a boyfriend ten years younger than him with a seemingly endless well of energy like a puppy. He rubs his eyes, presses the button to turn on the coffee machine, and then follows Evan out the door.

Tommy's proud of his back yard. He doesn't have the time to garden much, but he has a little planter of herbs, which Evan has been delighted by ever since he first came here and now cooks with on every possible occasion - he has a nice spread of lawn which is good for hosting barbecues, one large tree which casts a dozy shade from the sun. Most pleasingly to Tommy, the yard stretches around both sides of the house, putting him a decent distance away from his neighbours. The house itself is small, a one-story, two-bedroom Spanish revival thing he'd bought in the market crash, but he'd wanted it for the double-garage and the spacious yard, and he's never once regretted buying it for those reasons. He's glad his boyfriend likes it too, but the way he's currently mapping around the base of the Palo Verde tree with a measuring tape is putting a kind of dread in Tommy's stomach that he can't accurately explain.

"Evan, can you communicate with me in some kind of human language? My usual mindreading powers have been dampened by the fact I'm still half asleep. Why are you measuring my tree?"

Briefly and optimistically, Tommy thinks maybe Evan just wants to host a barbecue. Maybe he's plotting space for a slip'n'slide for the 118's kids, or something. But unfortunately -

"It's for the bees!" Evan tells him, bouncing back towards Tommy. He's got a smile like an angel. Tommy's stomach erupts in butterflies like he's not a fucking forty year old man as Evan slides both his arms around Tommy's waist, pulls him close, the warm smell of him invading Tommy's space. "I know you haven't forgotten - I texted you!"

Tommy remembers the texts, which he'd sent a couple heart emojis back to the night before immediately prior to passing out from a shift from hell. Evan had sent him some fun facts about the importance of pollinators and a link to a local bee society saying he wanted to 'get involved'. Tommy had thought maybe Evan was planning to volunteer the firehouse for an awareness event, at most.

Now, a much more worrying reality is worming its way into his vision.

"Evan," Tommy says, "Please tell me I am not getting bees."

"Babe," Evan says, sounding exasperated. "Of course not. I know you don't really like insects. I'm getting bees. I just need to keep them in your garden because my landlord said no to putting them on my balcony."

Evan rolls his eyes, like that is somehow a ridiculous stance in his opinion. And, look. Tommy is a tough guy. He was raised tough. He knows how to hunt, how to shoot a gun. He doesn't like that stuff, but he's done it. He's seen war, he's seen tragedies as a firefighter. He's seen people die, he's held people's guts inside their bodies with his bare hands. He's not scared of bugs.

He just doesn't like them or the way their weird legs move or the way they buzz around your head when Tommy thinks helicopters should be the only things allowed to fly.

He adores Evan's enthusiasm for the natural world and seemingly endless well of untapped optimism. It's a huge part of why Tommy has fallen so hard and fast he can't even see the sky anymore. But in this moment he does, in fact, briefly consider locking Evan out of his home forever.

"Evan, we are not putting bees in my garden. No way. You don't have time to come here every day and I'm not gonna look after them when you're working!"

"They don't need looking after every day! They're not like puppies, Tommy. I promise, you won't even notice they're there."

Evan kisses the cleft of Tommy's chin and then the hinge of his jaw with his hot wet mouth. Inside, the coffee machine beeps. He can't believe he's having this conversation without caffeine.

"I'm pretty sure I will notice they're there, on account of the fact my garden will be full of bees."

Evan's thick, calloused fingers are sliding underneath the hem of Tommy's t-shirt, rubbing at the taut skin of his waist.

"Don't you want to help the pollinators, Tommy?" Evan asks. Tommy looks to the heavens and thinks, help. "Plus, think of everything we'd be able to bake with the honey! Have you ever had honey cake? I bet you'd like it."

"Evan." Tommy attempts to sound firm. He's not really a firm sort of guy. He's more a go-with-the-flow, embrace-the-chaos sort. But there are occasional moments, like this one right here, where push comes to shove, and you just have to put your foot down. "We are not getting bees."

Evan pouts.

______

They get bees.

[shxtodxroki]

𝙾𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢

Send me a character's name (of the fandoms I write for) and a word/phrase and I'll write you a drabble :]

Tap, tap, tap.

Your knocks are quiet, soft with the effort of not waking the others in the house as a sappy grin plays on your lips. The hallways are almost eerily silent at this time of night, and the only sound that rings through the air at this time is the soft grumbling coming from Lucifer’s office down the hall. Though your knocks breathe a sudden spark of energy into the room in front of you now as well, as rustling sounds grow louder and you’re able to briefly catch the sound of something (or someone) tumbling to the floor in the occupant’s haste to open the door. Even without being able to see the commotion you let out a small giggle at the thought, knowing the man in question must know it’s you who’s come to see him this late at night after the way he left off your conversation over text only moments ago.

“Hmph. Thought I told ya I was going to bed.” Mammon grumbles as the door clicks open and reveals his disheveled form behind it, clearly flustered as he stands in his room, clad in only his loose-fitting pajama pants. Despite his standoffish ruse and his flustered expression, though, he leaves the door open for you to join him in his room as you make your way over to him with a knowing grin.

“Well, you ran away before I could respond to what you said.” You retort as you close the door behind you, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him as you embrace the musky scent of his cologne. Your eyes easily flutter closed as you press your head against his skin and feel his arms wrap around you on instinct. “I had something I wanted to say to you too, you know.”

The easily flustered demon quickly begins to sputter in response to your words, floundering for a moment before settling as his arms rest around your waist with a comforting warmth. 

“I love you too, Mammon.” You lean in further to whisper in his ear in response to his earlier message, a smirk unfurling across your face as you can feel the heat emanating from his cheeks in response to your flirtations.

“Uh yeah, obviously. Ya didn’t need to come all the way here to tell me that.” He grumbles out in response, though he’s unable to hide how flustered and giddy he feels at your words despite what he says. You can feel how quickly his heart beats beneath his skin as your head leans against his bare chest, and when you tilt your head towards his and cup his cheek in your hand, you can feel the way his skin burns with a passionate fire as he stares back at you in eager anticipation of what he knows you’re about to do.

And despite his nonchalant act, the second your lips begin moving towards his he’s quick to meet you halfway, cradling the back of your head in his large hand as his lips tangle gently with yours. The kiss is short and sweet, little more than a peck, but you both pull away with obvious lovestruck grins across your faces, despite Mammon’s brief attempt to appear unaffected by the affection.

"…..Alright, alright. If you’re gonna come all the way here, ya may as well spend the night. Come on, let’s get to bed.” He mutters after standing awestruck for a moment following the kiss, and you’re quick to reach down and lace your fingers with his as you allow your stubborn boyfriend to drag you to bed. His attitude and his words do little to mask his affectionate nature as he clings to you all night long, but you can’t bring yourself to tease him for it, not when you’d rather focus on simply enjoying the small, adorable moments like this you get to share with your childish lover. These are the moments you wouldn’t trade for the world, and as his strong arms encase you in their hold from behind and his soft snoring echoes in your ear, all you can do is smile as you allow his love to engulf you.

A/N: Hey guys, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten any writing out but I’ve had this one sitting in my drafts for a while so I finally decided to edit and post it :) I just got this idea a while ago while reading the text above in the game, but I’m also doing a bit of a drabble game for all the fandoms I write for rn which I’ve linked above, so please feel free to check that out! I’m having a pretty rough week right now, so I may write slower than usual, but still feel free to send in any requests you have and I’ll do my best to get to them as soon as I can :)

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[suguwu]

listen it's kinda crazy but hear me out hear me out—kita who had a near-death experience as a child and now sees through the veil. he doesn't pay much attention to it; he keeps to his routines, keeps his steady approach to life.

someone is always watching, granny says. kita scrubs at the engawa harder, the barely-there suds catching on his fingers, seafoam against sand.

(there's a third person on the porch.

granny never notices.)

they never approach him.

until you.

kita's never sure what did it. what gave him away. but you come to a halt and stare at him with wide eyes.

"you can see me."

kita goes back to his task. you draw closer, hovering over him. the water in his bucket starts to ice over, crystals spreading like spiderwebs, delicate, dainty strands.

"hey," you say. "hey, i know you can hear me."

he scrubs harder.

"please," you say. "i'm not like them."

you pause. the next words seem to come from your very marrow; it charges the air around the two of you, the breath before a lightning strike.

"i'm still alive."

[bumblebee-otch]

.empathy & friends.

-the beginning-

Hello.

I'm sure you're wondering who I am, and why you should care. In truth, I don't have an answer for why you should care... but I can tell you who I am.

My name is Empathy. They used to call me Insecurity, a long time ago.

Back when I spent time around characteristics that weren't as lovely as the ones I'm surrounded by now. Characters like Greed, or Lust, or Pride. Privilege, Ignorance, Hate, Anger, Malice, Fear, and Disrespect.

Turns out, the characters you surround yourself with really do affect your own identity. I'm grateful to have changed, both in company and in identity.

My rebirth into Empathy was entirely thanks to my friends.

Trust, who I met when we were both drowning in darker times. She pulled me out of one of the worst mental and emotional ruts I'd ever experienced. She was Anger, then, and I was still Insecurity.

Loyalty, who managed to transform my multi-faceted anxiety into confidence. She showed me the strength that I didn't even know I had within myself.

Integrity, who constantly reassured me that I was not alone, and that I had more talent to offer than I'd dared to admit to myself. He allowed me to shed my worries when it came to friendship security, and he always made me feel like I was seen, even when I felt silly.

Compassion, who I clicked with immediately upon meeting her. She understands me and my psyche on a fundamental level, because she was once Insecurity, too.

Faith, who taught me that being scorned by those in the past should not shake my beliefs. She brought a light into my life that I'd not known that I needed, and I will thank her for that for the rest of my days.

Stability, who's been with me longer than anyone else. She was the first genuine friend that I'd ever had, back when Insecurity was the only identity I thought I'd ever wear. Her kindness was the one thing that gave me the hope that ultimately kept me alive.

I would not be here, would not be Empathy, if it were not for them.

They may not realize just how much I love them or how grateful I am, no matter how often I tell them.

I tell them so so so often.

I only hope they know how deeply it runs, how much I care for them, how lucky I feel to be their friend, how incredible they are to me, how quickly I'd shed blood if they only needed it.

I'd say, "I've truly never known a kindness like this before. I've never had a circle of people who've cared so deeply for me until you. You all make me feel like staying alive was worth it. That I walked away from dying at my own hand and into a different kind of light. Thank you."

but it's not normal to say these things, so instead I say, "I love you guys" "Thank you for being so cool" "I really appreciate you all"

and I just hope that they all know what I mean.

One day I'll find a way to tell them. One day.

[freedomfireflies]

pussy plug pt. 2 today?? 👀

Harry is angry with you.

Even without the explicit words, you can tell by the shift in his expression that you’ve displeased him. That he’s refraining from dragging you out of this restaurant and into the hallway so he can have a word.

You don't mean to, really. But what does he expect after edging you for hours and then plugging you full of his cum? Forcing you to sit through this prolonged evening with nothing more than some tantalizing memories and promises of release to hold you over?

“Bee,” comes the low warning, discreetly whispered into your ear as you both await the arrival of your parents. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Can’t help it,” you pant quietly, hand on his thigh as you squeeze for dear life. “You keep turning it up—”

“And I also keep telling you to hold it,” he hisses, scooting closer as if to hide you from the rest of the restaurant. “Are you gonna disobey me, baby girl? Are you gonna make me put you over my knee in front of everybody in this goddamn room?”

You squirm a bit harder in your seat, lashes fluttering quickly as you wrestle against your orgasm. ��Har, please—”

“No.” His rejection is resolute, his voice thick with disappointment. “You are not to cum until I say so.” 

You suck in a sharp gasp as a wave of pleasure explodes between your thighs, the tip of the plug lightly grazing the bottom of your chair. “H, I can’t…I can’t hold it, I’m sorry—”

“You will,” he reminds you, fingers curling around the edge of your seat as if to warn you. “You fucking will, Bee, or I’ll spank you right here in front of your parents. Is that what you want? Want your dad to see you get punished by your daddy?”

You’d slap him if this were any other time, but right now, you devote your energy to keeping the orgasm at bay. Nearly sweating from the strain. “Harry—”

“No,” he repeats, a bit icier than before as his eyes flick toward something just behind you. “Promised you’d be my good girl. So I want you to be good and fucking take it. Yeah? Fucking take it.”

With that, he’s standing from his chair, a wide smile on his face as you wilt by the table.

“Maggie, Richard, so nice to see you,” he calls loudly, arm outstretching to welcome your parents closer, and that’s when it hits you.

Because suddenly, the vibrations from the plug are abruptly changing in rhythm, and it’s exactly what you’d needed to tip you over. You try to fight it, you really do, but it washes over you like a fucking wave until you’re choking on a gasp and shivering in your seat.

Nobody else seems to notice, with Harry quickly stepping in front of your body to block you from any prying eyes.

But you’re humiliated, nonetheless, and it’s all you can do to keep from whimpering right then and there.

After a bit of small talk, your parents sweep around the table to take their place on the other side. Exchanging their greetings with you as you finally begin to find your footing again.

“Oh, honey, are you getting sick?” your mother coos, hand on her cheek in worry. “You look a little warm.”

“I’m…no, I’m all right,” you manage to stammer, ignoring Harry’s smug smile from beside you. “It’s just hot in here. How was your drive?”

“Absolutely dreadful,” she sighs. “The traffic was a nightmare, we didn’t move for at least an hour, I mean…I don’t know how you two put up with it every day.”

And thus begins the lively reenactment of their journey, with your father nodding along dutifully while you and Harry attempt to listen.

And you’re happy for the distraction because at least it means you’re offered a moment of reprieve. Even though you know Harry is currently stewing from beside you. Unable to reprimand you the way he’s so apt to do.

However, your momentary escape from his wrath is brought to a sudden halt when your parents declare they’d like to wash up. Standing from the table and disappearing toward the bathroom, thus leaving the two of you to…chat.

“Well, well, well,” is the first thing he murmurs once you’re alone. “Obeyed me for all of…what? Twenty seconds?”

Swallowing thickly, you glance over. “It’s not my fault. You kept turning it up—”

“Because you kept cumming without my permission,” he retorts, nodding his chin toward your thighs. “And after I was kind enough to keep you nice and full.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you lean a bit closer and whisper, “I’m sorry, okay? I really tried. Really, really. But it just…it was too much. I won’t do it again, I swear—”

“Oh, you will,” he interrupts again, forcing you to blink at him. “No, yeah. If you wanna act like a brat and cum whenever you feel like it, then I’ll let you cum. Let you cum as many fucking times as you want.”

The switch in tactics nearly makes your head spin, and you look over his expression curiously. “Okay…?”

“In fact, I’d like you to cum at least two more times while we’re at this table,” he tells you, and instantly, your heart drops. “Think you can do that, baby girl?”

“Har…Harry, you aren’t…you can’t be serious—”

“I think you can,” he decides for you, ignoring your outrage. “And I think you will. Think you’ll cum as many times as I’d like. Won’t you?”

And you want to respond – want to scream at him for this sadistic little game – but your parents are sliding back up before you get the chance. Forcing you to do nothing but gawk at him.

Pleased, he leans back over, and hums, “Starting right fucking now.”

With that, he hits a button on his phone, and brings the vibrating pussy plug back to life. Instantly shoving you up that peak of pleasure as your poor, overstimulated cunt is toyed with yet again.

You cough to hide a gasp, and you’re lucky that your parents are otherwise distracted by their menus to notice.

But Harry notices.

He always notices.

As the evening progresses, you attempt to keep your thighs pressed tightly together. Attempt to avoid any extra stimulation or accidental grazing to the plug. But Harry is on a mission, and his insistence on making you orgasm is relentless.

“Bee,” he warns quietly as your parents begin to relay their order to the waiter, “none of that. I want you to keep your legs spread, yeah? So I can have a feel. Make sure you’re doing what I asked.”

You bite back a glare – while also biting at your lip – and bring your eyes to his. “Har…I can’t, really. Please…please—”

“Shh,” he whispers, scooting closer to press a seemingly harmless kiss to your cheek. “Yes you can. And I don’t want any complaining. You asked for this, didn’t you? By disobeying? You asked to be punished.”

“No,” you argue quietly, head shaking. “No, I promise. I tried. I really tried—”

“I know,” he finally concedes with a sympathetic coo, running his hand over your back soothingly. “I know, baby girl, but you didn’t try hard enough. I know you can do better, yeah? So I’m gonna make you do better. And this is how I do that.”

Whimpering softly, you plead with him through a frown, desperately needing his mercy more than ever.

However, he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand merely moving down to your lap as his fingers curl around your thigh firmly. “What did I say, hm? Want them open, Bee.”

You force your expression to remain stoic and unbothered as Harry’s hand continues to tug your leg closer to him. Creating the perfect space for access while he shoots a grin toward your parents from across the table. And keeping his little game a secret.

Leaning into his shoulder, you turn your face and try again. “Harry, please—”

However, his hand simply squeezes the top of your thigh from beneath your dress, and you choke on a whine as you pretend not to notice. “All you had to do was behave, baby girl. All you had to do was sit here, nice and full of my cum, until I could take care of it for you. So I could take that pretty little plug out and have a taste of us.”

Your lashes flutter, and it’s getting harder to pretend as though the two of you are engaging in nothing more than innocent conversation.

“But you just had to cum. Just had to disobey me. And now…” His thumb suddenly finds the tip of the plug and he grazes it softly before shooting you a smirk. “…I’m gonna make you sit here at this table. All goddamn night while cum as many times as I see fit.”

Reeling, you shoot him a piteous look for leniency, to which he merely grins.

“And you?” He presses his finger against the toy – hard. “You’re you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Previous Part:

~ Harry and Bee Use A Pussy Plug*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposva @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream @finelinesss

[gallawitchxx]

whipped up a lil outside pov to celebrate @galladrabbles 3rd anniversary! 🥳 congrats & thanks to vey & evie for keeping us creating every single week! this one’s for the early prompt: “spark a fire” by danny vera, which is such a gallavich vibe 🔥🖤

- - - - -

Besides Carl, who’d swept her off her feet despite her best efforts, Ian and Mickey were Sera’s favorite Gallaghers.

“Can’t believe you were cellmates once,” she laughs, passing the joint to a bloodshot-eyed Ian.

Mickey snatches it before he can take another hit, which Ian allows. “Believe it, new girl. Was way better than gettin’ locked up alone.”

“He landed in juvie days after we first sparked something.”

“Took a bullet for this babyface too,” Mickey coos, grabbing Ian’s chin.

Sera knows shit about love, but after sixteen years of good and bad, clearly they’ve got something beautiful and true.

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love part 1

Eddie really is just that nice and friendly, but Steve is convinced that Eddie is flirting with him. He’s flirting back, less confident and more subtle than he usually would, but he’s never liked a guy that way.

Not in a way that made him really want to spend every waking moment just hearing them ramble. Not in way that made Steve want to keep him the way he wants to keep Eddie. Everything is so new. It feels, delicate. Precious.

His heartbeat quickens each time Eddie leans into his space and it’s been happening all the time now that Steve worries he’ll develop a heart condition if he doesn’t deal with it soon. When Eddie laughs and leans his face closer to his own, looks into Steve’s eyes through those lashes in a way that Steve can’t help but take a quick glance at those lips curled is mischief.

He’s always so happy to see Steve, wasting no time in bouncing his way to greet him and pull him into the conversation with an arm slung around his shoulder. Then there’s the moments of shared glances when someone says something particularly astounding. And how Eddie will make his way into Steve’s space when they sit together, throwing his feet in his lap or leaning into his side.

Sure, Eddie is friendly but not to this extent. Not with everyone else. Steve feels it. Knows it. That electricity between them that makes this thing between them different. Special.

But one day (another that Steve spends trying to work up the courage to do something), they’re in the city shopping for music in an alternative store that’s tucked away. Steve is talking to Eddie, giddy and happy because it just them today, and Eddie is nodding along while he browses through the tapes and then,

Eddie looks up and stills, eyes widening just a bit. And Steve is still rambling along, but he can tell his words are just going through one ear and out the other. He trails of caught in the middle of his story because he’s never seen this look on Eddie face.

Eddie’s mouth is slightly agape, eyes alight caught in wonder and soft as he looks at something across the room and when Steve turns to see what caught his eye—

A guy stands a couple tables away looking at some vinyl and shyly smiling at Eddie in small glances. He’s a bit taller than them, dressed in black with a couple of piercings decorating his face, the sides of his head shaved short. Attractive, dementor coy and kind.

His heart skips a beat again, but it feels different this time.

Steve looks back at Eddie whose cheeks are slightly dusted in pink.

“Eddie-“

Eddie takes his lower lip between his teeth before smiling back at the guy and continuing without casting a second glance at Steve, “yeah, uh, give me a second, okay?” And he’s crossing the room without waiting for a response.

His chest. It feels…

Like those few seconds before plummeting down a rollercoaster… when your way up high, at the very top, the moment still with the anticipation of the fall, and there’s nowhere else to look but down.

You finally plummet and caught in the whiplash thinking you must have left your heart back at the top.

There’s static there on the bottoms of his feet and at the palm of his hands. The world goes a bit distant as he watches them.

Eddie’s leaning against the wall with a sultry smile adorning whatever sweet words he’s speaking.

Steve’s drowning in the honey, it’s palpable. doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that he can’t hear the words.

Eddie’s fiddling with a curl that’s draped over his shoulder, pulling it slightly over his face like a young school girl.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie appear anything but confident and loud; the image of the person in front of him is foreign, strange.

Eddie’s speaking to him but his eyes are locked on the guy’s lips that are wet from the tongue that peaks to briefly lick them as he listens.

Eddie’s shoe is nudging the guys own, as he talks, playful.

Oh.

Oh.

Mouth dry, Steve’s throat clicks.

It’s hard to swallow.

Part 2

[starrystevie]

"what's that?" dustin asks one night, eyes zeroed in on steve's chest.

confused, he glances down to where his button up has opened a bit at the neckline, not seeing anything on his skin other than the chain around his neck and bits of chest hair.

"what's what, henderson?"

the chain is simple silver, and at the bottom hidden under his shirt is a ring. he was gifted one of eddie's when they made whatever they were official. eddie let him pick, let steve trail his fingers feather light over his hands and over heavy silver until he found one he liked.

"you gonna pick one in this century?" eddie teased, looking up at him from under his lashes, smirking in the way that gives steve butterflies.

"this is an important decision," steve murmured out in a low voice, his light touch sending shivers down eddie's spine. "i can't just settle on one."

he ends up with a mood ring, one that eddie swore he only had because he needed something on his otherwise bare hand but steve knows it's because he thought it looked mysterious. sliding it off his finger is easy, placing a kiss on the pale bit of skin left behind is even easier.

it doesn't fit on his finger, not even close. he could barely squeeze it onto his pinkie but even then they had to use strawberry lube to get it off after it gets stuck.

"you don't have to wear it," eddie said, defeated with his big brown eyes breaking steve's heart into pieces.

but the thing is, steve is a little more than head over heels for him. he'd do anything to make eddie happy, make him feel loved, and being offered a ring in the first place had him feeling like he could fly. he wanted to show it off, flaunt it around like it was more than a mood ring because it was.

just because his fingers were too big didn't mean he couldn't keep the ring on him at all times. which is how he ended up with it on the simple silver chain around his neck.

the night he showed eddie for the first time, crawling up the bed shirtless to push him into the pillows with a searing kiss, was a night he wouldn't soon forget. eddie stared up at him with something that looked like love dancing behind his eyes as the ring dangled between them, glinting in the moonlight coming in through the bedroom window.

"you're wearing it?" eddie's voice was soft, reverent, as he took a hand up to cover the ring with his hand, pushing it into steve's chest right above his heart. he bent down to give eddie another kiss, relishing in the quick bite of pain that comes from the pressure of him pushing the metal into his chest.

"of course i'm wearing it, babe," steve said against his lips with a smile. "not gonna be able to get me to take it off now."

true to his word, steve never takes it off unless absolutely necessary. he wears it in his sleep, when he slides in behind eddie and curls around him. he wears it to work under his shirts, the metal warm against his skin as it thumps along with his heartbeat. he wears it around the house, when they go out on dates, when he showers. he wears it when he knows eddie will see the outline of it peeking through a tight shirt, driving him crazy.

it becomes habit for eddie to find it, fiddle with it over steve's clothes while they watch tv on the couch. they'll be pressed up against each other, limbs entwined, with his hand directly over the ring, rising and falling with every breath steve takes.

wearing it at all times, however, seems to be causing a bit of a problem. one that even dustin can see.

"don't be obtuse," he tuts as if he was chastising a child, "who gave you a bruise on your chest?"

"what are you talking about, i don't have a bruise on my-"

steve rolls his eyes and goes to the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light and pushing his chest out to get as close the mirror as possible. sure enough, sitting right above his heart, is a barely there bruise. it's a little green, a little brown, but definitely there.

there's something to be said about having eddie bruised above his heart. something to be said about having the indent of his ring pressed into his skin where he's the most vulnerable. the place where he had to learn how to take his armor off to let eddie see in the first place.

steve looks between the bruise and his face, back and forth and back again and watches as his smile grows wide, grows soft around the edges, grows into something that is vaguely eddie shaped which somehow makes it grow even softer.

he can hear eddie get home, the front door slamming as he shouts a too loud welcome to dustin and drops his toolbox onto the floor. his heart thuds a little bit like it always does when he realizes eddie is nearby, and he thinks if he could look close enough, he'd see his eddie shaped bruise jump along with it.

carefully, steve strokes his fingers over the discoloration, presses down just enough to feel it zing through his nerves like the lightning that eddie himself is. he watches as the skin turns pale before blooming back to life again.

steve thinks there's something there that he can't put his finger on. something thrumming through his veins that he can't give a name to.

"baby, you've got to come see this!" he yells into the living room.

something that he has all the time in the world with eddie to eventually figure out.

crossposted on twitter here