#before he got the courage to ask for his number

[toasttt11]

finally

summary: taking months to even ask her for a date and than weeks before their first day which was on valentine’s day

gabe perreault x reader

The first day of Gabe’s English class his sophomore year he looked over and saw a girl sitting there and his breath got caught and his cheeks were immediately turning bright red.

It took weeks for Gabe to even say more than few words with out stuttering or blushing, luckily for Gabe none of his teammates were in the class to see his crush on the girl.

A few more weeks getting close to the end of the first semester they started talking more and more before Gabe finally asked her for her number but he didn’t have enough courage to ask her out for a date before the semester ended.

Gabe got lucky when he came back for the second semester in a new class and saw her also there and he immediately crossed the room and sat next to her.

He finally had the courage to ask her on a date in the middle of January and she said yes smiling at his red cheeks but unfortunately they are both college athletes and don’t have a lot of spare time to go on a date.

Until Valentine’s day, they both had the night off so Gabe quickly planned the date he has been waiting to make and now he’s waiting outside her dorm room with a bouquet of her favorite flowers.

“Gabe.” She smiled as she opened the door and Gabe’s jaw dropped slightly seeing how adorable she looked in a white sweater with red hearts and her hair was curled softly and her lips were painted with a light red and he wanted that color left on his lips cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” Gabe smiled softly and he knew he was blushing especially when her smile turned slightly teasing.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” She smiled as he handed her the flowers and she quickly set them in the dorm before linking arms with Gabe and heading to his car.

Gabe opened the door for her letting her get in and he started the drive.

“Where are we going?” She asked resting her chin on her hand watching Gabe with a fond glaze, she waited months till he was comfortable enough to ask her out and has been looking forward to their first date.

“It’s a surprise.” Gabe glanced at her and quickly glanced away seeing her look at him and he quickly shut his eyes feeling his cheeks warming again.

She hummed softly but accepted his answer.

Gabe parked the car and opened the door for her and she gasped seeing where they are, “Pottery?” She looked touched.

She had told Gabe when they first became friends she had always wanted to do pottery.

Gabe sweetly smiled, “You said you always wanted to take a class.” Gabe just shrugged nonchalantly.

She smiled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek leaving a light mark from her lipstick, “Come on!” She grabbed his hand pulling him into the store.

Gabe helped her put the apron on before they sat down next to each other and he was more distracted watching her do everything perfectly and was barley patting attention to his own pottery he was supposed to he doing.

She looked up from hers and saw Gabe just looking at her softly and she saw his pottery barely touched, “Here.” She reached over setting her hands over his hands and made him look at his own pottery.

Gabe swallowed dryly with her close she is and her hands over his hands.

“Did you listen to anything i just said?” She looked up seeing Gabe not paying attention at all and smiled amused.

“Sorry.” Gabe sheepishly mumbled and she just smiled and leaned closer to him.

She watched his eyes stayed stuck on her lips and she let out a small laugh and leaned closer and finally did the thing Gabe has waited for, she kissed him.

Gabe happily kissed back and whined when she pulled away.

“Are you going to play attention now?” She asked teasingly.

“Probably not.” Gabe answered honestly she was what he wanted to look at.

[juneebuug]

A Recipe For Love

chris sturniolo x reader

Intro - chris and his brothers had just moved to LA. conveniently, your own bakery’s business had been booming in your small town. whilst chris was going on a short drive around the city to become familiar with his new home, he stumbled across a part of LA that he didn’t know existed. a very reserved, rural town with small homes and little shops scattered around. one of which was a small bakery, your bakery, adorned with bright colored flowers and all kinds of shrubbery. he decided to go give it a shot. what he didn’t know, was that entering this small bakery would change his whole LA experience by meeting his soon to be, significant other.

Warnings - this series contains usage of cursing and possible heavy topics, please read with caution if you are sensitive to the things said prior.

A/N - this is my first series on tumblr, please leave suggestions and recs and please please interact! anything is appreciated,

happy reading loves <3

1.) “ You New Here? ”

it was the usual monday morning, baking a few things last minute, putting things out on display, writing todays specials on the chalkboard. everything was set.

it was almost too perfect, placing the puff pastries on the glass, frosting the warm cupcakes, setting up the tables, jazz music filled the air. the vibes were spot on.

8am

wasn’t too busy, just some of my regulars. this elderly woman named violet, she always got hot chai tea with a homemade bagel and jam. she was a sweetheart and always gave me the towns gossip.

10am

usually when it starts to fill up a bit. more people are awake and most people stop by for a quick bite and a drink before they head to work or other important duties.

3pm

by this time my bakery was the calmest. just my jazz playlist playing in the back as i clean up the displays and do a couple of things last minute. it was the usual. or so i thought.

3:45pm

an odd time for someone to come by. especially someone i’ve never seen before.

a somewhat tall, slender man walked in. hair in tossled brown waves and a short stubbled beard scattered across his pale complexion.

shit. he was cute.

you’d never seen a young man like this in your small town. especially not a good looking one. because you lived in a small rural part of LA, most people that live here are elderly people or an occasional small family. but it was never this.

“hey—uh. what would you recommend?”

i froze. collecting my thoughts and as soon as they were recollected, i just uttered the first thing that came to mind.

“uhm. my personal fav is my homemade blueberry muffins. i uh— don’t know if you would like that, though.”

a light, airy chuckle escaped his mouth, “yeah, that sounds good. can i get a lemonade with that too?”

blueberry muffin and a lemonade? what person would get such a combo?

assuming he read my perplexed face, he light heartedly explained that he didn’t really like coffee or teas. i nod my head showing my understanding, apologizing for my judgment. he ushered to tell me it was okay, and that it truthfully was a pretty bizarre order.

after packaging and making his order, a dwelling question grew on my mind. did he just move here?

using my outstanding social skills, i mustered up the courage to ask as a rang him up.

“that’ll be $8.59. cash or card?”

“card.”

“alright. by the way, may i ask. you new here?”

before taking the bag and plastic cup in his grasp, he looked up at me to answer the question. icy blue eyes shining from the last bit of autumn sunlight peering through the windows. “yea, i am. why do i stand out or sum’?” he said before striking a stupid pose at my face. clearly, he was proud of this truly embarrassing move.

i cringed and laughed at his gesture, though, quickly being cut off by his next inquire.

“hey your pretty cool. can i like—have your number maybe?”

A/N: aaahhhh first part of this series!!!! hope y’all like it so far!!!! if you want to be added to my tag list, you guys can comment below!! <33

tags 🏷️: @channelbomb @chrepsi @evansturn @graciebrams @yigjshe22 @yoomimain @zerolovesyouu @idkwhatthisis2009

(for now, just mutuals! dm if u wanna be removed and if u wanna be added go here!)

[jjay09]

The cupid

February 14

I'm someone who believes in love a lot. Every February 14, I like to going to many place to blessing that I hope I could have some love with someone because throughout all this time I've never been in love, not even someone to talk to. Maybe it's because my appearance doesn't a type and I'm gay, it makes it even harder for someone to like or be interested in me, or.....it's impossible.

This year, I still have hope for love, but if I don't have a boyfriend this year, I will probably give up hope, continue working hard, and accept that I will have to stay single...

Normally, my friend would take me to places that are famous for wishing for love and getting it fulfilled. But this year, it was different because yesterday my friend chatted to me that this year, he might not be able to go with me because his company had urgent work to do. That mean....This year, I will have to go alone....And to make matters worse, I woke up late today......

But I still had enough energy and hope to go to blessing. I quickly got out of bed, took a shower, and wear a pink shirt to fit the Valentine's Day theme even more. Before I go to check my outfit in front of mirror and left the room to go to the place where I had made a wish for love that I had been to in previous years.

I arrived at the first place at almost 12 am, because I left the room late, the area was full of people who had hopes for love, waiting in line to ask for blessings from the Goddess of Love. From my eyesight, there must be about 300 people here, which was so many that I didn't know how long I would have to wait if I lined up now to get to ask for blessings from the Goddess of Love. But this year was the last time I would come to ask for blessings, so it might not be longer than I thought....

Yes, that's just what I thought but I had been waiting in line for almost 3 hours, but the number of people in the line didn't seem to decrease at all. Maybe it was because there were more people than usual this year, and with the limit of 10 people per round, it seemed like the wait would be endless. Some people in the line who didn't know each other started talking to relieve boredom, which was a general topic, which I heard and wanted to join in, but I didn't have the courage until they started changing the topic.

"โอ้คุณ คุณเชื่อเกี่ยวกับตำนานของคิวปิดไหม?" (Oh you, do you believe in the legend of Cupid?) A Chinese-looking man opened a new topic.

"อืมมมม....ฉันรู้จักคิวปิดนะ ที่เขาจะมีธนูไว้ยิ่งจับคู่ให้ผู้คนรักกันใช่ไหม? มันมีอะไรหรอ?" (Ummmm... I know Cupid, the one who has a bow to match people to love each other, right? What's the matter?) The taller man asked with an interested look on his face.

"ใช่ๆ ตำนานนั้นก็เป็นส่วนหนึ่งที่ทุกคนรู้กันแต่ว่าฉันไปอ่านตำนานนึง เขาบอกเอาไว้ว่าในคืนวันวาเลนไทน์ของทุกๆปี เทพแห่งความรักจะส่งคิวปิดลงมาให้พรแก่ผู้ที่กำลังหมดหวังในความรัก" (Yes, that legend is part of what everyone knows, but I read one legend that said that on Valentine's Day night every year, the god of love sends Cupid down to bless those who are hopelessly in love.)

"ให้พรแก่ผู้ที่หมดหวังในความรักหรอ?" (Blessing those who are hopeless in love?)

"ใช่ คือเหมือนกับว่าเทพแห่งความรักไม่ได้ต้องการมีใครรู้สึกหมดหวังในความรัก และต้องการมอบพรเล็กๆน้อยในการทำให้พวกเขายังมีความหวังต่อไป" (Yes, it's like the God of Love doesn't want anyone to feel hopeless in love and wants to give them a little blessing to keep them hopeful.)

"แต่ว่าก็แปลกๆนะ แทนที่เทพแห่งความรักจะให้นั้นโดยตรงเลย แต่กลับส่งคิวปิดลงมาให้พรแทน 55555" (But it's a bit strange. Instead of the god of love giving it directly, he sent Cupid down to give the blessing instead. Hahaha)

"55555 ก็อาจจะดูแปลกนิดนึงแหละเพราะมันก็แค่ตำนานจากนิยายโบราณน่ะ....แต่พอนายพูดเราก็แอบคิดนะว่าทำไมเขาไม่ให้พรนั้นโดยตรงเลย555" (It might seem a bit strange because it's just a legend from an ancient novel... but when you said it, I secretly wondered why he didn't give that blessing directly haha)

"หรือเป็นเพราะคิวเยอะหรือเปล่า เลยให้พรไม่ทัน5555" (Or is it because there was a long queue that I couldn't give the blessing in time? Haha)

"ก็อาจจะเป็นไปได้ดูอย่างแถววันนี้สิ โคตรยาวพระเจ้ารันคิวไม่ทันแล้วเนี้ย55555" (It might be possible, look at the line today. It's so long, God, I can't even run the queue. LOL")

They continued to chat happily. Actually, they seemed like a couple now. But then again, they probably just wanted to chat to relieve their boredom....But when they talk about Cupid....I've heard the legend of Cupid, but the legend that the god of love will send Cupid to bless those who are hopelessly in love? It seems unbelievable, but if it really happened, what would Cupid's blessing be?

The story of Cupid kept running through my head as the number of people in line gradually decreased, and it was finally my turn....I stepped inside, looked at the statue of the god of love, and closed my eyes and made a wish.

"ปีนี้ถือว่าเป็นปีสุดท้ายที่ผมจะมาขอพรแล้ว....ผมมาในครั้งนี้ก็อยากจะมาขอพรเหมือนกับปีก่อนๆ....ก็คือ....ขอให้ผมมีเจอความรักดีๆสักครั้งหนึ่ง....." (This year is the last year that I will come to ask for a blessing...I came this time and wanted to ask for a blessing like in previous years...that is...I wish I could find true love just once...)

I slowly opened my eyes and bowed my head to the statue before slowly walking out of the area. Normally, I would have to go and pray somewhere else, but because I was tired of waiting in line today, I thought I would just go back to my room. So, I quickly called a taxi on my phone and went back to my room.

______________________________________________________________

"เห้ออออ....เหนื่อยจัง...." (Hrrrrrrr…….So tired) I threw myself on the couch, exhausted from standing in line for almost 3 hours, and then getting stuck in traffic while taking a taxi. That got me home at almost 6 pm.

I lay on the couch and played on my phone for a while before walking to the fridge and taking out my usual frozen food and heating it up in the microwave. While I was waiting, I went to the bathroom to take a shower......So this is my usual boring daily routine, after which I will eat dinner, watch some TV or do some office work, and then go to bed around midnight before waking up to continue my boring work every day.

And yes, now I'm done with everything and I'm going to do my last activity of the day, which is going to bed. Because I was tired all day, it was very easy for me to fall asleep as soon as I fell asleep within a few seconds.

☁️In my dream☁️

"เฮ้ เฮ้ ตื่นได้แล้ว มนุษย์ขี้เซา" (Hey hey, wake up sleepyhead.) The voice of someone I didn't recognize made me slowly open my eyes to see who it was.

"อืมมมมม....ใครมากวนเวลานอนตอนนี้เนี้ย?" (Ummmm....who's disturbing my sleep at this time?) I tried to squint to adjust my eyes from the bright light in front of me that was making my vision a bit blurry.

"ข้าเอง....เจ้ามีปัญหาหรอ?" (It's me... Do you have a problem?) My eyes gradually adjusted until I could see the scene in front of me more clearly.

"ค.....คุณเป็นใคร?! มาอยู่ในห้องของฉันได้ยังไง?!" (W.....Who are you?! How did you get in my room?!) I was shocked and a little scared because the person in front of me was someone I didn't recognize. There was no way I had seen him before. Although he looked handsome and had a good body, his clothes didn't look normal like other people's.

"ชู่วววว....ใจเย็นๆ ฉันรู้ว่านายตกใจ แต่ต้องฟังฉันก่อน" (Shhh... calm down. I know you're shocked but listen to me first.)

"โอเค....โอเค....หายใจเข้าลึกๆ....พิ้ววววว~~" (Okay....Okay....Deep breathing....Phewwwww~~) I tried to calm down and take a deep breath

"ดีๆ งั้นตอนนี้เจ้าฟังข้า....ข้าคือกามเทพหรือพวกเจ้าเรียกข้าว่าคิวปิดนั้นแหละ" (Okay, now listen to me.....I am Cupid.)

"ห้ะ?! คิวปิดหรอ?!" (Huh?! Cupid?!) This can't happen. It's just a dream... Cupid is just a legend that has been passed down through the generations. There's no way he's really Cupid. I need to wake up now.

"หย��ดตบหน้าตัวเองก่อน เจ้าไม่ได้กำลังฝันและข้าคือคิวปิดจริงๆ" (Stop slapping yourself. You're not dreaming and I'm really Cupid.) The one who calls himself Cupid holds my hand.

"ค....คุณเป็นคิวปิดจริงๆหรอ....แล้วทำไมคุณถึงมาหาผมล่ะ?" (A...are you really Cupid? Then why did you come to me?)

"เจ้าก็น่าจะรู้ตัวดีไม่ใช่หรอว่าเจ้ากำลังจะหมดหวังในเรื่องความรักใช่ไหม?" (You should know that you are hopeless in love, right?) It's exactly what they say, Cupid comes to those who are hopelessly in love....and yes, I am

"ใช่แล้วครับ...." (Yes, that's right…)

"นั้นจึงเป็นเหตุผลที่ข้ามาหาเจ้าและมอบพรเล็กๆน้อยๆที่จะสามารถช่วยเจ้าได้ในอนาคต" (That's why I came to you and gave you a small blessing that will help you in the future.)

"พร?" (Blessing?) That's something I've always wondered about after hearing those stories. It always makes me wonder what blessing Cupid will give to humans.

"ใช่แล้ว แต่ก่อนที่ข้าจะให้พรกับเจ้าข้าอยากมอบหมายให้เจ้าทำอะไรสักอย่างเป็นข้อแลกเปลี่ยนสักหน่อย" (Yes, but before I give you my blessing, I would like to ask you to do something in exchange.)

"มันคืออะไร" (What is that?) I had no idea it would require a trade-off, but it seemed worth it if it wasn't too difficult.

"ตอนนี้งานกามเทพบของฉันมันค่อนข้างเยอะมาก ทำให้ฉันไม่มีเวลาทำงานจับคู่ของฉันเลย....ฉันเลยจะมอบพลังลูกศรแห่งความรักให้กับนาย" (My Cupid work is quite heavy right now, so I don't have time to do my matching work....so I'm going to give you the power of the arrow of love.)

"ลูกศรแห่งความรักหรอ?" (Arrow of love?) I've heard it said that Cupid shoots an arrow at two compatible humans, and they are going to fall in love.

"ใช่ เจ้าแค่ต้องหาคนสองคนที่เหมาะสมกันและทำให้เข้าสองคนรักกัน โดยการที่เจ้าเพียงแค่ชี้นิ้วและยิงไปที่พวกเขา" (Yes, you just must find two people who are right for each other and make them fall in love by just pointing your finger and shooting at them.)

"โอ้ นั้นดูเป็นงานที่สำคัญมากเลยนะ....ฉันจะทำมันได้หรอ" (Oh, that seems like a very important job… Can I do it?) I was a little worried if I accepted the deal because it seemed like quite a difficult task.

"ไม่ต้องห่วง ข้าจะช่วยดู���ีกที....เพียงแค่เข้าตอบตกลง ถ้าคุณต้องการ" (Don't worry, I'll look again...just say yes if you want it) I thought about it repeatedly, but....It doesn't come around very often, so I think......

"ฉันตกลง" (I'm agree)

"ดีมาก ตอนนี้รับพรนี้ไป!" (Very good, now take this blessing!)

Suddenly Cupid threw himself at me....and I

"ไม่!!....แค่ฝันหรอกหรอ?...." (No!!....Just a dream? .....) I took a deep breath before looking around at the still dark place. I guess I was thinking too much about Cupid.

"55555 คิดมากเกินไปแล้ว....อ่าาาาา....ทำไมจู่ถึงร้อนขนาดนี้...." (Hahaha I think too much... Aaaaahh... Why is it suddenly so hot.) Suddenly, my body became hotter and hotter, until sweat began to cover my body more and more. I slowly took off my shirt with an indescribable discomfort, it was as if the pajamas I was wearing were getting tighter. "อ่าาาาาา....นี้มันอะไรกัน....อากาศก็ไม่ได้ร้อนสักหน่อยทำไม?.....อ๊าาาาากกกก!!" (Aaaaahhhhhh.... What is this.... The weather isn't even hot, why?....Aghhhhhh!!!!) I screamed in pain. It felt like my body was being crushed. I could clearly hear my muscles and bones cracking, but I had no idea what was happening. The pain got worse every second. It was like… I couldn’t take it anymore… Everything slowly went black.

______________________________________________________________

February 15

"อืมมมมมมม....ยังไม่อยากตื่นเลย...." (Ummmmmmmm... I don't want to wake up yet...) I slowly woke up to the sound of my alarm clock going off. I twist and stretch every morning, but this morning I felt refreshed, energetic, and much stronger.

"หืมมม....ใครตรงนั้น?" (Hmmmm....Who is there?) I got out of bed and walked to the same mirror where I saw someone. "นี้มัน!!.... ฉันหรอ?!?" (This is!!....Me?!?) I started touching my face, my body and saw that it did everything just like me. Is this Cupid's blessing?

I hurriedly walked into the bathroom before checking my body. And this was the man I saw last night. He gave me this body… But it was really good. "อ่าาาาา....หล่อ.....หุ่นดี.....กล้ามใหญ่....แถมควยใหญ่" (Ahhhhh....Handsome.....Good body.....Muscular.....Plus Big dick) 

I grabbed my big dick and couldn't help but play with it. I started stroking and rubbing it....until it was hard....then I started stroking it and moaning in my now sexy voice. I am stroking it fast but hard until it.... "อ่าาาาาา แม่ง....ซี้ดดดด โคตรดี....อ่าาาาาาาา" (Ahhhhhhhh......Fuck so good.....AHHHHHHH) A lot of my cum leaked out of my tip. It made me feel so good to feel something good in the morning.

"โอ้ นั้นหมายความว่า ฉันก็มีสอนแห่งความรักนั้นหรอ?! วู้วววววว~~" (Oh, does that mean I also have that teaching of love?! Wooowwww~~) I was so happy that I secretly shot for fun, but it didn't have any effect because I didn't shoot at anyone.

"อ่าาาา น่าจะเอาไปลองใช้สักหน่อยดีกว่า...." (Ah, I think I should try it first....) I left the bathroom before reaching for the swimming trunks that I had never worn before because I didn't have the courage to go swimming in the condo's communal pool. Now I finally got to put them on, and they fit my body perfectly.

I walked into the pool area and tried to strike a sexy pose to attractive some guys. Then I saw a guy with a pink aura and another guy swimming with a pink aura. That's when I knew what I had to do. I pointed my finger at the two men before trying to shoot and soon…

"เห้ย ได้ผลว่า!" (Hey, it's work!) I looked at the two men who looked at each other and smiled at each other. It was a fall in love.

"อะไรได้ผลหรอครับ?" (What works?) Suddenly, a guy came up to me and said hello. He looked good, handsome, and had a mustache, making him look hotter. "สนใจไปนั่งด้วยกันไหมครับ?" (Would you like to sit together?)

"โอ้....แน่นอนครับ" (Oh....for sure) I smiled friendly and went over to talk to him and found that we got along quite well, and I liked him a little bit.

1 week later

He and I continued talking and everything seemed to be going well, until he asked me to be his boyfriend.

Cupid's blessing really works.

______________________________________________________________

happy valentine's day Sorry I disappeared and didn't update my blog. But now I'm back but I'm not sure if I'll be able to update more haha

[sinnamonpork]

Teenage Shouto talking about his older brother that's "very emotional" and "is a big cry baby". Everyone in Class 1-A, especially those who have met Fuyumi, imagines Touya as this adorable angel who could do no wrong.

Cut to two weeks later and a black haired, piercing filled man with the most shit eating of smirks is seen at the entrance of the school, about to pick up Shouto. He almost got Bakugou to blow up one of the walls and definitely got the number of visiting pro hero Hawks while he was waiting for Shouto's class to end.

Class 1-A is very, very confused. This is the crybaby older brother Shouto was talking about?? Bitch where???

[girlatmirror]

does he know? jjk

‘she told you she’s celibate, she told me i could nail her shit’. in which your ex comes back to town, but you are in a new relationship.

ex bf! jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) cheating, there’s some angsty themes (but not rlly idk), mentions of alcohol consumption, yn is a little mean sometimes (but she’s so real), yn is the president of #ihatemybf nation, unprotected, penetrative sex (be safe), ass eating (yup, jk is a munch thru n thru), idk what else

___

Jungkook and your brother, Zane, were always attached at the hip as you grew up in the same neighborhood. Your house was across from the Jeons' house, and ever since you could remember, you had a crush on Jungkook. Jungkook, the boy who stole your heart the moment he came over to play soccer with your brother and accidentally kicked the ball against your head at the tender age of 10, then apologized with a warm hug. You were eight when that happened, but you knew everything. You knew you wanted to marry that boy, and you knew what you felt was real. What you did not know was that the same boy would steal your heart years later and take it with him to Singapore, leaving you stranded.

Your love story started when you began attending college, the same one that Jungkook attended; surprisingly, it wasn’t the same as Zane’s. To Jungkook, that meant he could make a move on you without the awkwardness of your brother and your parents around. After years of waiting for the right time, Jungkook took the chance when Zane told him you were unsure about where to apply to major in psychology. Of course, he recommended that you apply to his school, which, thankfully, had an amazing psychology program. You took his advice and started attending the same university.

Jungkook became your bodyguard, even though he was a computer science major in his junior year, guiding you everywhere and protecting you from any harm, basically never leaving your side. At first, he claimed it was an oath to protect his buddy’s little sister, but at one point, he finally gathered the courage to profess his love for you and asked you out; of course, you agreed, and that’s where your love story began. That’s where a year filled with love, princess treatment, and pampering started. Your relationship remained strong even after he graduated; you continued going on dates, making time for each other daily, and being completely and utterly in love.

Until he received an offer to become a CFO of a large Microsoft company in Singapore, he accepted the offer despite your objections.

___

(a year and a half ago)

“Jungkook, baby, I’m here!” you shouted as you entered his upscale apartment with your spare key, which he had given you the moment he bought the apartment. “Sorry, I’m a little early; I was bored and by myself.”

Jungkook was taking a shower, smiling as his heart warmed at the sound of your voice. “That’s okay, baby. Come join me.”

“No, I already showered before I came here, but you enjoy!” you exclaimed with a giggle, looking for something to occupy yourself until he got out of the shower.

His bedroom was spacious and very neat; Jungkook was a clean person, a quality you cherished about him a lot.

You were bored, trying to find something to entertain yourself with until he got out of the shower when you found something that made your heart race.

On the nightstand, under a book he was currently reading, were two plane tickets. You quickly grabbed one and thoroughly read what was written on it.

* Name: Jungkook Jeon

* Date of Flight: January 15, 2021

* Flight Number: SQ 25

* Airline: Singapore Airlines

* Departure:

* Airport: John F. Kennedy International Airport (JFK), New York, USA

* Time: 10:00 AM (EST)

* Arrival:

* Airport: Singapore Changi Airport (SIN), Singapore

* Time: January 16, 2021, 5:00 PM (SGT)

Class: Business

January 15 was just three weeks away. Jungkook hadn’t said a word about his trip to you. He mentioned the business opportunity he received in Singapore once, but you quickly shut down any further talk about it, completely against the idea of him leaving. He hadn’t talked about it since.

Your heart stopped for a millisecond, shock taking over your body. With shaky hands, you quickly grabbed the other ticket; it was the same flight but for a different passenger.

Your name was written on it.

Just as you tried to compose yourself, you heard a click from the bathroom door; Jungkook had finished his shower. You quickly put the tickets back where you found them. He entered the bedroom with a big smile, a towel hugging his lower body, strong arms and defined abs on display.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he leaned over your frozen body and planted a kiss on your lips before noticing the tenseness in your posture. “Hey…what’s wrong, my angel?”

“What’s wrong?” You let out a humorless laugh. “What’s wrong??”

Jungkook stood in front of you, confused and nervous, still half-naked in just a towel.

You grabbed the tickets and faced him. The color drained from his face.

“Baby, I was gonna tell you about it,” he tried to explain, but your harsh expression didn’t soften.

“When? The day you’re supposed to leave?” you said sarcastically. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, the day we are supposed to leave?”

“Yn…” the voice you usually loved suddenly angered you.

“No! Just no! How could you do that?! I told you, I don’t want this!!” Angry tears started forming in your eyes. “You can’t just make a huge decision like this without telling me!”

“I know it wasn’t a good move, baby, but this is a huge opportunity for me; you have to understand,” he tried to touch your waist, but you pushed his hands away.

“You’re joking, right?” you exclaimed, your hand in your hair as you chaotically walked around with the plane tickets in your hand before stopping. “It’s not like I don’t understand; I do! But I don’t understand how you can just decide something so big for both of us and assume I’m going to go along with it!!”

The tension between you and him could be cut with a knife, your words throwing flames of anger at him.

“Yn, if you would just listen to me for a second,” Jungkook’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of desperation. “I want you to come with me; you can continue your studies there, and we’ll get married. We can come back for every holiday and every vacation I get; it’s gonna be good. We’ll be fine.”

“And you haven’t once stopped to think about what I want? If I want to leave everything behind and move with you to Singapore, only to come back on HOLIDAYS?? Jungkook, my family is here; damn it, your whole family is here. Did you not think this through?” you yelled at him, pushing your fingers against his chest. “And what’s wrong with your current job? It pays well; it’s here! There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I just graduated from college last year! Do you know how often I could get an opportunity like this? Probably never, and let’s be honest, nobody’s getting any younger, so I’m going to take this job!” he exclaimed, but then his voice softened again. “I can provide for us with this position, Yn; I’m going to be a millionaire my first year. This is what I dreamed of ever since I started college: to get a good job and be set for life, not just for myself, but for my future wife as well, for you.”

“Well, I guess your future wife’s a very lucky woman then, but I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you took a deep breath, tears still brimming in your eyes. “It’s not going to be me.”

Jungkook got on his knees, his head touching your leg as he begged. “Don’t say that, Yn, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry; I just cannot do this. Not right now.” You left the bedroom hastily, Jungkook immediately following you, grabbing your arm. “Let me go, please.”

“No! I’m not going to let you go!” he snapped. “You can’t just give up on us this easily, Yn. We have one fight, and you’re ready to leave? What the fuck!?”

“I’m sorry; I don’t even think this is a fight! This is you disrespecting me, my freedom, my opinion, and stepping all over my life like it’s yours to control!” you argued, cheeks flushed from overwhelming anger. “I am not your property! You can’t just control things in my life like you’re in charge of it, okay?! I won’t go to Singapore with you. Goodbye.”

As you moved to the door, he stepped in front of you, his body towering over yours. “You didn’t even think about it, Yn. Singapore is a great place; if you transfer to a school there, you’ll still get a very good education. The quality of life is amazing; the house I bought for us is huge. You’ll have enough space for yourself, and there’s even a library, baby; you’ve always wanted a library in your house. I found you a school with an amazing psychology program near our house and my work; you don’t need to think about money at all; I’ll pay for everything. I’ll get you whatever you want, baby; just come with me.”

“Our house??” You asked in disbelief. “Did you just completely lose it? You didn’t ask me if I want to come with you, and you already bought me a ticket and a house?”

It was evident that Jungkook’s patience was wearing thin as he jabbed his cheek with his tongue. “I’m sorry that I want to move forward with our relationship, Yn. I thought we talked about this: we want to get married, get a house together… have kids. What’s suddenly so wrong with that?”

“You’re right; we did talk about these things, but for later and for here! After I graduate, not when you suddenly decide you’re ready, Jungkook,” you explained, your voice a little less harsh than before. “A relationship means working together as a team. It doesn’t mean you get to make life-altering decisions behind my back.”

“So, what does this mean now?” he inquired, his heart pumping with fear.

“I don’t know; I don’t know,” you fidgeted with your hair intensely, eyes shut, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “I just really don’t want to see you right now.”

And that was the last time you saw Jungkook. You didn’t attend the farewell party your brother threw for him, nor did you say goodbye on the day he left. You successfully fought all the urges to reply to his messages or call him back, which led to an empty feeling in your heart.

You were not ready to forgive him.

At one point, you unfollowed him on all social media, muted his number, and refused to look at the pictures and messages he sent you from Singapore; you simply couldn’t.

Deciding to focus solely on college, a little over a year after Jungkook left, you graduated with honors. During the time you learned to navigate life without the love of it, you also learned to be happy within it. You cut off any thread that led you back to the feelings you had for Jungkook.

Eventually, you started living without the aching emptiness in your heart again, yet there was always something missing. You always feared you knew what – or who – it was.

___

You didn’t really know how to describe your current state.

Now 23, you had graduated college, had a steady job, and were in a relationship that was going well. From the outside, it seemed your life was perfect; there was nothing more you could possibly wish for.

You were content with where you were, but there was always something missing. Something indescribable that you subconsciously searched for.

Work was your way of distracting yourself from feeling like that, avoiding confronting your feelings at all costs, which was ironic, considering you studied psychology.

You were working on a report on your day off when Eric, your boyfriend of eight months, called your phone. You couldn’t help but sigh, yet you picked up reluctantly. “Hey.”

“Hi, baby! How is my superstar doing today?” Eric’s cheery voice spoke. “I miss you, and I thought since it’s your day off, we could go get bagels and coffee. I’ll pick you right up!”

Bagels and coffee... you were sick of getting bagels and coffee with Eric. You couldn’t remember the last time he planned something new or exciting for you.

“I’m sorry, Eric, I can’t,” you said in a distant voice. “I’m working on a report, and I have to finish this one... but we could do this another time, right? I mean, there’s always bagels and coffee.”

Eric felt uneasy with the idea that you felt so comfortable not seeing him for weeks and not even checking up on him; he was always the one to call you. If it were up to you, he wouldn’t know where you were half the time.

“Everything okay, babe?” Eric asked. “You want me to come over, cook you something? Give you a massage? Help you with your research?”

‘No, god, no,’ a voice in your subconscious mind said.

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured him, still focusing on the MacBook in front of you instead of your boyfriend. “We’ll just see each other sometime this week, alright? I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

This conversation summed up your relationship with Eric.

He was a sweet, respectful guy who worshipped the ground you walked on, seemingly always a step ahead of you in the relationship. He was already talking about your future together while you were unsure of spending a full weekend with him alone.

It freaked you out. You had only been in one relationship before, but with Jungkook, everything seemed to fall into place: both completely and utterly in love with each other, (almost) always on the same page, never wanting to leave each other’s sides, no subconscious voices in your mind or feelings in your gut telling you something was wrong; just pure excitement and joy.

You told yourself it was you growing up, becoming a ‘real adult,’ but the more you told yourself that, the more you recognized it was a lie.

At least your relationship with Eric gave you one thing you were looking for: peace.

___

Jungkook was back in town after exactly one year and seven months.

It was a small town; people talked and gossiped about everything and everyone, but that’s not how you should have found out about it, given that your brother was the one who picked him up from the airport.

It irritated you that your brother thought you were too fragile to let you know that his best friend, your ex, was coming back to town.

He didn’t know exactly what happened between you and Jungkook; neither of you went into the details of your breakup. He only knew how much love there was between you and that you weren’t willing to talk about Jungkook or hear his name during the initial months after the breakup.

He assumed it was a bad one.

You decided to call him just to see if he would mention anything about Jungkook being back.

“Hey, sis, how’s it going?” your brother answered after a few rings.

“Hi, Zane,” you bit back any snappiness. “I’m doing well. Where are you?”

He hesitated for a few moments, then you heard his footsteps, obviously walking away from whatever scene he was in before. “Just out with some friends…”

You loved how much of a bad liar your brother was.

“Who?” your curiosity was palpable.

“Damn, why do you care so much?”

“I don’t know, Zane; maybe because I heard from some girls at the nail salon that you picked Jungkook up from the airport two days ago,” you said, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed into the phone, tsk’ing lightly. “I’m sorry, Yn; I just didn’t know how you were gonna react, you know?”

“Oh my god, I am not a baby! I can handle it,” you declared. “So what if Jungkook is back? What am I gonna do now? It literally changes nothing about my life. You could throw him a party and invite Bella Hadid for all I care.”

Truthfully, Jungkook being back in your orbit did mean something to you. Your first love was back where he belonged after long months without this place seeing him; it almost made you emotional to imagine him back in his childhood home, back in his first apartment after graduation, and back with your brother playing basketball in the yard and…

“Actually, I am,” your brother hesitantly revealed.

“You’re throwing him a party and inviting Bella Hadid??” You only realized how ridiculous that sentence sounded after it came out of your mouth.

“No, just throwing him a welcome back party,” he chuckled a little. “You can come if you want! But only if you want; like, don’t feel pressured to be there. If you don’t come, I’ll totally understand–”

“I’ll be there!” you interrupted your brother’s rambling, who was nervous because he knew what you turned into when you were mad. “And Eric will also be there.”

“Eric?” Confused, he asked, as if he didn’t remember where he heard that name before. “Oh, yeah, your new boyfriend. Yeah, sure, take him with you.”

Even though Zane truly felt it wasn’t a good idea for your current boyfriend and Jungkook to be in the same room, he was inclined to agree with you.

You were going to attend Jungkook’s welcome back party with Eric, and you were going to look absolutely beautiful.

---

After visiting every boutique in New York with your girlfriends to find the perfect dress for your brother’s party, you finally found it and called Eric last minute to inform him that he would be your plus one for this party.

The dress you picked out was a gorgeous red number with a flattering off-the-shoulder cut and delicate lace accents, striking the perfect balance between sexy and classy, accentuating your curvy silhouette; you aimed to impress.

Eric wasn’t aware that Jungkook was your ex; he only knew that the party was for your brother’s best friend who had returned from overseas. He didn’t care whose party it was; he just thanked God that you finally called him and let him see you.

Your girlfriends knew you were indulging in self-destructive behavior by going to a party solely for your ex-boyfriend after not seeing him for almost two years, but they also knew nothing they would say could stop you, and they seemed to think you deserved closure. All of them suspected that you were still hung up on Jungkook, but none dared to speak of it until you decided to, which you hadn’t.

As you arrived at the bar your brother rented, hand in hand with Eric, his friend Marcus was the first to greet you with a big grin, evidently already too drunk for his own good.

“Hey, Marcus, you know where Zane is?” you asked, only to receive a drunkenly slurred ‘nah, but probably in the back somewhere’ as an answer.

While you walked into the place, you couldn’t help but silently praise your brother’s dedication; the venue looked good, nicely decorated with a huge sign that said ‘Welcome Back, Jungkook’ on it.

The crowd was enormous, making you almost trip in your high heels, but thankfully, you caught yourself on Eric’s arm.

“This will be the first time I meet your brother. I can’t wait!” Somehow through the loud noise, Eric still managed to be audible. “It’s about time, you know? I mean, you’ve met my entire family; I was wondering when I’d get to meet yours.”

“Yeah,” you sent a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes his way and walked forward, until you finally saw a glimpse of Zane, seemingly engaged in an animated conversation. “He’s there!”

With gathered confidence, you gripped Eric’s hand and walked over to Zane; even though your eyes didn’t see him yet, you knew that if Zane was there, Jungkook couldn’t be far.

“Zane!” you called out to grab his attention, but the music was too loud and he was too engaged in the conversation to hear you, so you approached him closer, gripping Eric’s hand like your life depended on it.

When Zane finally saw you, he waved at you, excitedly signaling you to come closer, so you did. But there was no sign of Jungkook yet.

“Yn!!” he shouted, having indulged in some drinks himself. “Hey! Come here; let me get you a drink.”

He didn’t even spare Eric a glance before turning around, but thankfully, you gave him a subtle nod in Eric’s direction, which he immediately picked up. “Hey, man, I’m Zane, Yn’s brother. You must be Eric. How’re you doing?”

Zane gave him a friendly smile and offered him a hand, which Eric immediately shook. He was giddy to say the least, just as he opened his mouth, a deep voice from behind you interrupted him before he could speak. “Ey, Zane, there’s no fucking pizza left! It’s my damn party, and I didn’t even get a piece of pizza!”

Jungkook’s playful voice halted you for an instant. Your back was still turned to him, but as he approached the three of you, he slowly recognized who stood in front of him.

Now, he stood next to your brother, paralyzed for a second before he let his eyes wander down your face, then your entire body; a shimmer of desire and longing that could not be overlooked formed. He studied your familiar body, every curve that was once only his to touch, to explore, and the eyes that looked back at him with an innocence he could not resist.

His attention flickered to Eric for a second before fully turning to you again, with darkened eyes and flared nostrils; you were sure from his expression that Zane told him you were in a relationship now.

Your eyes wandered just the same, spotting new tattoos and much bigger biceps; he looked disgustingly handsome. He was bigger, and his presence seemed even more powerful than before he left. His hair had grown a few inches, but what always stayed the same were his eyes that never stopped looking at you the same way.

There was an awkward silence that even Eric detected before Jungkook spoke up. “Yn… it’s good to see you. You look beautiful, of course.”

There was something deep about the way he said those simple words; it was evident there was a lot more behind them.

And there was so much you wanted to say too, but all you could muster was, “It’s nice to see you too.”

You felt Eric’s and Zane’s gazes swinging from you to Jungkook while you two were lost in each other’s eyes; Eric was confused, trying to figure out what was going on, while Zane was amused yet cautious of what would happen if he left you two to it, with your boyfriend by your side.

“So, I think we should all get something to drink,” Zane was the one to break the silence before patting Jungkook on the shoulder. “C’mon, man; I’ll get you that pizza.”

They moved along, leaving you and Eric alone for a moment.

“So, do you know that Jungkook guy?” Eric carefully asked, not wanting to push you.

“He’s my brother’s best friend; of course I know him,” you answered a little snappily. “And he used to be our neighbor.”

Eric simply nodded, his grip on your shoulder tightening a bit before you slipped out of it, saying, “I’m gonna get a drink too.”

But you actually left to catch a breath of fresh air on the balcony. You felt someone following you, but convinced yourself it was paranoia until you felt the warmth of a larger body lurking behind you. You turned around and saw Jungkook looking at you with an indescribable expression.

“Please tell me that’s your new gay best friend,” he started, now standing next to you, hands on the balcony railing.

“What?” You turned your face to look at him, a sigh escaping your lips.

You were pretending that his presence didn’t affect you, pretending that you were even slightly annoyed he followed you, but you knew you wanted him to and you were glad he did.

“The guy you came with,” he clarified, a waiting gleam in his eyes.

You knew he knew that Eric was your boyfriend; he was just acting oblivious to get you to feel bad and to start a conversation about how Eric wasn’t ‘the right one for you.’ He might have been gone for over a year, but you knew Jungkook. He was predictable to you.

“No... he’s my boyfriend,” you clarified with a huff. “And what’s it to you anyway?”

He put his hand up in defense, a small smirk forming on his pretty face. “Nothing, nothing... just didn’t think he was your type is all.”

Despite not having figured out your feelings for Eric, Jungkook’s words pushed you to defend him.

“What do you mean ‘not my type’? Eric is a sweet guy, the sweetest actually, and any girl would be lucky to be with him,” you asserted, your heart racing. “He is gentle and a good communicator, and he loves me. And he would never do anything behind my back.”

Jungkook’s nostrils slightly flared as you talked about another man; he had always been the possessive one. He noticed how your stance wasn’t firm and the knitted expression on your eyebrows; a sign of uncertainty on your face he knew too well. “He loves you, huh? No doubt about it... do you love him though?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt faint for a second, not knowing how to compose yourself; you didn’t love him, no matter how much you tried. You always found yourself longing for something else... someone else. You didn’t know what to say, so you replied, “He treats me right.”

“I’d hope so...” he started, with an indescribable expression. “At least one person in that ‘relationship’ has to treat you right.”

You knew exactly what he was trying to do: making you overthink your relationship to come to the conclusion you two belonged together. But your half-healed heart refused to bring you to that place.

“What are you trying to accomplish, Jungkook?” you asked, saying his name as if it were venomous. “You left for Singapore almost two years ago; what was I supposed to do? Wait around for you until you remembered you had people who wanted to see you here? People who missed you?”

Now, he wore a spiteful expression, jabbing his cheek with his tongue. “No, you should have picked up my calls, answered my messages, let me know how you were doing. You should have at least let Zane let me know. You blocked me out of your life entirely; we are – we were in love, Yn. That doesn’t just go away overnight.”

You scoffed sarcastically to mask the pressure in your heart, affected by his words. “You think it was easy for me to do that? Guess what, Jungkook! It took a lot longer than ‘overnight’ for me to get over you, and if I had answered your calls and messages, maybe I still wouldn’t be over you!”

At that point, the loud party was a soft background noise for the two of you; you were too indulged in the rising tensions - your raising voices the only thing consuming you. Even during fights, there seemed to be no one else around you - for you.

“I wanted you to come with me! I got you a ticket, remember? The house is designed exactly how you envisioned your dream house,” he started, pain evident in his voice. “Yet, I have to live in it alone while everything reminds me of you.”

Your heart was breaking all over again, the sorrowful reflection in his gaze influencing you more than you wished. Yet, there was a rational part of you that recognized you had to stand your ground, defend yourself. You had good reasons to do what you did.

“Maybe you should have told me that before you bought a ticket for me without consulting me first!” you ranted, reminiscing the shock you felt at finding the tickets. “Or maybe you shouldn’t have taken the job offer and just stayed here like I wanted you to!!”

Jungkook had envisioned multiple scenarios about what would happen when you would see each other again. He thought about it all the time, while he was working, during sleepless nights without you by his side, while showering, working out, or fucking women that meant nothing to him... he knew exactly what you were going to say, if you would be willing to talk to him. And you were, and that made him feel happy despite the arguing because at least you were willing to argue with him, to talk to him.

He knew you, maybe more than anybody else did. He was convinced that the love between you two transcended any boundaries or obstacles.

“I know,” he admitted defeat, his voice velvety. “And I’m so fucking sorry, but please, baby, just give us another chance. I’m staying here for six months straight, and the offer to come with me after still stands.”

You felt conflicted; on one hand, you could not believe his audacity, and on the other, you were satisfied to know that he still wanted you, just like the last time he saw you.

“You can’t be serious!” you snapped. “I’m with Eric, and you can’t just come here and pretend like nothing ever happened.”

Jungkook felt your patience spreading thin and decided to go against his usual instincts to persuade you further. “Alright, I’m sorry. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Is he fucking you good?” he inquired, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

The question hung in the air like an unanswered prayer for a moment. You stood frozen before him as if you weren’t expecting him to ask that, as if you weren’t sure how to answer it.

And you truly didn’t.

“I don’t know,” came out in a whisper.

The truth was, you hadn’t let Eric that far yet, and you weren’t planning to do it anytime soon. He had an inability to make you wet, and whenever he went any further than touching your waist, you felt a slight sensation of disgust, like you would rather be fighting in a war than let Eric be inside you. You opted for telling him you were celibate, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jungkook was confused, trying to decipher what you were trying to say.

“It means,” you started, slowly regaining your snappiness, “that I don’t know! I’ve never had sex with him.”

It was now Jungkook’s turn to say ‘what?!’ and it suddenly made you very aware that there were crowds of people just inside, Eric being one of them. You were lucky there were so many people blocking the view into the balcony, because if there weren’t, Eric would have found you a long time ago.

Jungkook was evidently happy with the revelation, smiling like an idiot.

“Stop smiling like that!” you hissed, motioning with your hands. “I’m just not ready yet. I told him I’m celibate. It’s none of your business anyway; why am I telling you any of this?”

Jungkook obeyed your wishes and stopped smiling; instead, he burst out laughing, so amused. “So you’ve been dating for eight months, and you still haven’t fucked? Damn, ma... we did it after the first date... and every day after.”

Before you could answer, your brother entered the balcony. When he saw you and Jungkook face to face, deep in a conversation or rather an argument, he gazed between you with an indescribable expression.

“Yn, Eric’s been looking for you everywhere,” Zane informed you with what you called ‘warning eyes’ digging holes into your face as you went back inside, leaving the two best friends alone.

___

The two weeks following the party were filled with work, for you and Jungkook alike. You didn’t run into each other again, but you did decide to unblock him.

You thought it was petty and unnecessary to deny him access to you when you would surely see him during his six-month stay here. You also wanted to see if he would notice and maybe hit you up occasionally; which he did.

Good morning texts and daily ‘how are you’s?’ filled you with an unspoken joy that you felt shouldn’t have been there, but you defended yourself by thinking, ‘I cannot control my feelings.’

Your conversation on the balcony made you think a lot through, specifically your relationship with Eric. You decided it was time to open up to him, giving him a chance to take you out properly, which he had been trying to do for a while.

So, you were getting ready for a romantic night out with Eric, putting on a gorgeous, tiny black dress that accentuated your curves and applying makeup that made you resemble an effortless beauty.

You planned to be honest with him about where you thought the relationship was headed.

---

You met up with Eric at a nice Italian restaurant in the middle of the city.

After a little small talk and finishing your meal, you sat in an awkward silence as he admired you.

You could feel something unusual but brushed it off as your usual paranoia. Eric was always a jolly person who wasn’t afraid to show his love in sometimes very overbearing ways.

“You know, Yn,” he started and suddenly got on one knee. His loving gaze spread pity over your conscience, his position weighing heavily on your chest. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody; you are bright like the stars and beautiful like a flower. I find you in everything around me. You consume my soul, Yn. I... I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

He took out a red box and opened it, revealing a small diamond ring. Eric waited a moment for your answer, but you sat frozen; it was too much. With the people around you watching, and Eric’s slowly saddened eyes gauging your reaction, you did not know what to do.

You questioned Eric’s self-awareness more than anything; when had you ever given him the impression that you wanted to marry him? You were sure you had never even given him a reason to think you wanted to be in a relationship with him!

You knew Eric’s lack of self-awareness would present a problem sooner or later, but you just wished it wasn’t in such a public setting, in front of at least twenty people.

Your breath quickened, and your heart tightened. You couldn’t do this anymore.

So, you grabbed your purse, stood up, and left with a hurried, “I’m sorry; I can’t do this,” leaving Eric with a humiliating crowd and a broken heart.

It felt like the right thing to do.

- - -

Once you ran to your car without looking back, you drove away from the scene.

You were so lost in thought that your subconscious acted; you set off in a direction you had not intended to go. You drove in the exact direction of Jungkook's apartment, as if it hadn’t been two years since you were last there, as if you were returning from work and it was your house.

As if your heart, and not your head, had guided you. If you had been thinking clearly at that moment, you would have given yourself a slap and reminded yourself who you were.

But you didn't, because as your grandma used to say, “Love makes a person lose their mind.”

You parked your car next to his luxury car. He still lived in the same apartment where you last fought, where you had countless sleepovers, where you lost your virginity, where you shared secrets, and made love in every corner.

You cursed and loved that apartment at the same time.

With a fog-clouded mind, you entered the complex and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Finally, you knocked on his door, '4B,' a few times before a confused Jungkook opened it.

He stood there in all of his glory, wearing grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, looking back at you with a questioning yet yearning gaze. “Yn?”

His voice immediately sent shivers down your spine, and you wanted to live in the eyes that devoured your lightly clothed body. “Can I come in?”

Your voice was smaller and weaker than it had ever been; he could tell there was something wrong but did not ask right away. He simply stepped aside and said, “Of course. Always.”

His eyes ran over the prominent curve of your breasts and your naked legs, begging to be wrapped around his head.

Before he had the chance to ask what was wrong, you threw yourself into his arms and whispered a desperate, “Can you just hold me?” into his ears.

He simply kissed your forehead and carried you to the couch.

You wrapped your exposed thick thighs around his waist and your arms draped around his neck, his hands resting on your hips, holding you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You hadn’t felt so safe since he left.

The realization that Jungkook was your safe space suddenly hit you, making you hide your face further in his neck.

He sat on the huge sofa, which led you to sit on his lap, your face still hidden in the hollow of his neck.

His large hand moved from your back to your hip, and you would have loved nothing more than to let yourself melt into his body. You had searched so long for that feeling – the feeling of being back in the arms of the only man you could love.

“What happened?” he asked solicitously, his voice rushing softly in your ears.

You refused to say anything for a few moments, totally unsure of how to explain your situation to him, or if you even wanted to.

Slowly coming out of your hiding place, you looked deep into his eyes; your eyes held a melancholy he noticed immediately. He stroked your goosebump-filled arms and brought his forehead close to yours. The atmosphere was just loving and peaceful.

“Eric proposed to me…” you sighed softly, fingers tangled in his soft black hair.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?? Did you...” He coughed a bit before continuing, “Did you say yes?”

You sighed even louder. Even though you did not want to discuss it, you knew you had to eventually.

“No,” you answered, trying to maintain eye contact. “I just ran away and drove here.”

It was obvious Jungkook was trying hard to suppress a smile, so he simply wrapped his arms around you comfortingly and gently rocked you back and forth without saying a word.

You were hyper-aware of the fact that the only thing separating your wet pussy from leaving marks on his sweatpants were your thin, almost see-through panties.

You stayed in that position for a while, before leaning in and starting to place wet kisses on his neck, your fingers tightening around his hair.

His breath grew heavier as he held onto the thick flesh of your bare ass, unsure whether to let you go further or stop you.

“Yn...” his tone was uncertain yet aroused. “We really shouldn’t…”

You continued the trail of desperate kisses, unable to resist, with his familiar scent and the feel of his skin against your lips.

You already felt his dick hardening in his boxers as you gently caressed it with your hands, making him groan at the friction.

“Why not?” you asked with a pout, before palming his dick harder while grinding on his thigh. “Don’t you want to fuck me? Do I not make you hard anymore?”

You knew that neither of those things was true; you were just playing dumb to get him to give in to something you wanted, craved desperately. Your body hadn’t been properly touched in nearly two years; you were starting to get needy.

“You’re in a vulnerable state,” he stated in a raspy voice, heavily affected by your behavior. “I don’t want to do something with you that you might regret later.”

You shook your head almost vigorously, gently punching his chest; it was only gentle because your arousal was weakening your body. “No, you don’t get to leave for Singapore for two years and then come back to deny me. If I say I want you, I better get you, okay? I’ve been lonely for almost two years, Kookie; my fingers are starting to cramp from how much I touch myself thinking about it... don’t you dare deny me.”

Despite the urge to chuckle at your approach, your words made him think about you craving him just as much as he craved you; it made him feel validated and less pathetic for thinking about you after all the time and distance.

He was always convinced the love between you two transcended any boundaries or obstacles.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, which you reciprocated with whimpers against his familiar lips. There was no way to describe how much you missed this feeling.

Suddenly gripping your hips tighter, he stood up, carrying you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing, your pussy and his clothed dick touching delectably, evoking even more arousal from both of you.

At his bedroom, he gently placed you on the bed, looking down at you with desire-filled eyes. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes!” Your patience was wearing thin. “Just fuck me, Jungkook, and stop talking so much.”

You tugged at his shirt, and he quickly took the hint, stripping it off to reveal well-defined abs and bulging biceps, arms that looked like they could kill someone.

The last time you saw him, he was already muscular and fit, but it was evident that he took his fitness seriously while in Singapore.

You dreamily stared him up and down. “Now, the pants.”

He chuckled at your bossiness but obeyed without hesitation, leaving him in just his boxers.

You were getting impatient, already reaching for your panties to rub your pussy in anticipation, letting out small ‘hmmm’ sounds that drove Jungkook insane.

Now, he was determined to take off your dress, zipping it down hastily and almost ripping it off you if it weren’t for your hands stopping him from ruining a perfectly good dress.

“Baby, you don’t know how much I missed this,” Jungkook breathed out, eyeing you hungrily while you carefully took off your dress.

Once the dress was off, you revealed nothing more than your panties; you decided not to wear a bra because the dress was strapless and it would look silly with one.

Jungkook’s breath hitched, clearly overwhelmed by the sight of your generous breasts. “No bra?”

You shook your head and slowly approached him, roaming your hands all over him and grabbing him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Your chest pressed against his, or more accurately, against his solid stomach because of your height difference; he was acutely aware of your hard nipples.

“Fuck, Yn,” he groaned, his hands roaming your body just the same. “Need to be inside you.”

“Then fuck me,” you urged, tugging at his boxers with hooded eyes and parted lips, desperation and horniness visible. “Just want you to fuck me, Kookie.”

He tilted his head back at your words, muttering a low ‘fuck,’ before positioning himself to enter your pussy. He quickly glanced into your eyes for any uncertainty, and finally, when he didn’t find anything other than an eager, awaiting expression, he entered your tight pussy with a low groan.

Your mouth widened for a second as you tried to adjust to the feel of his dick again, eliciting loud moans of pleasure and slight uneasiness.

He pressed you against the wall for more support, thrusting deeper into you. He watched his dick enter your pussy; it was almost poetic to him how perfectly made for him your pussy felt.

There were no afterthoughts about the situation being wrong, absolutely no overthinking about Eric, who was blowing up your phone while you were getting your back blown by your ex.

It felt right; you and Jungkook knew you were meant to be, and there was nothing that could happen, no one that could come between you. At the end of the day, you were always going to be back in each other’s arms.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he panted, his lips pressing against your cheeks. “Still so fucking tight for me...”

You let out an aroused purr, already fucked out before even starting. Your hands were gripping his big arms, and your hips were moving towards him, seeking more friction.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment, baby,” he admitted between low groans, moving in and out skillfully. “You know how many times I fisted my dick thinking about fucking you again?”

“Me too,” you desperately moaned back, bouncing slightly; the sound of slapping skin surrounded the air. “Fuck, Jungkook… love that dick… yes, I fucking love that dick…”

Your barely comprehensible words drove him crazy, gripping your hips and fucking you like you were a fuck toy. “Shit, baby, that pussy’s mine, yeah? Only mine. No one else gets to - fuck - no one else gets to have you like this.”

You nodded, burying your fucked-out face in his broad shoulder, vocalizing the pleasure you felt at every thrust. Your breath tickled his skin, and the warmth of his hands contrasted the coldness of the wall beautifully.

His big dick moved inside of you in a steady rhythm, each thrust making your eyes roll back further.

Your bodies pressed against each other sexually, big breasts spilling out against his strong chest, your hands moving around his back to scratch him harshly, and his grip on your ass and hips becoming almost painful; you were both begging for release.

“Harder, Kookie. Do it harder,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “That dick feels so fucking good. Oh god, Jungkook.”

He indeed started to fuck you harder, heavy breaths becoming even heavier, lips connecting again and again in sensual kisses. His moans against your lips drove you wild.

The raw intensity of the moment was driving you insane; you felt every inch of his beautiful dick, and he was feeling your pussy entirely, without the almost restrictive feeling of a condom.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he panted with every quickened motion of his dick, his mouth forming an ‘o.’ “Baby, I’m g’na cum. Shit, I’m g’na cum so fucking hard.”

Feeling your high approach as well, you didn’t care about the consequences at all; you planned to go on birth control first thing in the morning, saying, “Cum inside, Jungkook. Please, just fill me up with that cum.”

Your bodies moved together rhythmically, his steady thrusts hitting exactly the right spots as you chased your orgasm. Your eyes locked together and your moans became intertwined.

Low ‘fuck’s and ‘oh god’s were all you heard, as both of you were too deep into the pleasure to formulate real sentences.

With one final thrust and a muttered ‘yes, just like that,’ he found his release, his thick, warm cum deliciously filling you. You closely followed, your back arching and head thrown back, the two of you coming hard.

His broad body momentarily collapsed against yours, both panting hard, still pressed against the wall. He whispered praises and sweet nothings in your ear while trying to regain composure.

“I’m so happy I came here,” you softly kissed him, and he agreed with your words, muttering a ‘me too’ against your lips.

You felt hazy and tired, but you tried to slowly get off Jungkook and get to the bathroom, which you eventually did with his help; he carried you all the way there.

After you finished cleaning yourselves up, you headed straight to the bed. You lay bare on your stomach, still somewhat overstimulated and hazy from the orgasm.

Jungkook gently stroked your backside, muttering things like, “You did so good for me, baby,” and “You don’t know how much I missed this fucking pussy,” before leaning in and biting into your shapely ass playfully, eliciting a gasp from you.

He spread kisses on your ass cheeks and slowly separated them; he stuck his head in between and gave your hole a few licks before gently sucking on the skin of your ass with his skillful tongue.

Your legs started to tremble from pleasure and mild discomfort; Jungkook had eaten you before, but you seldom did that in the bedroom.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized how terrified your brother would be if he knew what you two did.

“Jungkook!” you purred, arching your back for more pressure against his tongue. “Oh fuck… oh my god, oh god.”

Jungkook’s groans and low chuckles sent vibrations through your body, deepening the pleasure and making you seek your high more.

“Fuck, this fat ass is still as good as I remember,” he praised against the sensitive skin, still kneading and spanking it hard. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

He returned to licking and probing your asshole, clearly enjoying your squirming figure. You pushed your ass up, hoping for more friction.

You were practically already fucked out and overwhelmed that you couldn’t answer with more than a simple agreeing moan.

You started grinding your ass against his face, desperately wanting to cum again, enjoying the feel of his tongue against you.

His licks and your grinding quickened, which quickly turned into a series of ‘ah, ah, ah’s as you came undone on his tongue.

When your panting lessened, you turned around, lying on your back in bliss.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms almost immediately.

Jungkook thought this was the nicest way you could have welcomed him back.

___

i hope you enjoy this!! idk if i wanna give this a second part or just leave it like this (cause i have no idea what i would do in the 2nd part actually), but i’m thinking i’ll see if people enjoy it and then think about a part two💋 love uuu

[wqnsho]

resurface | kang dae-ho x gn! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after years of heartbreak and betrayal, you’ve learned to bury your emotions to survive. but when your high school sweetheart, kang dae-ho, unexpectedly appears in the deadly game you're also in, the walls you built around your heart begin to crack. As past and present collide, survival becomes about more than just staying alive *.✧ word count: 10.1k (yeah) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, trauma, toxic relationships, cursing, fluff, angst. your number is 389. *.✧ note: dae-ho won against in-ho by just .2%! thank you all so much for the support. my in-ho fanfic reached 1K notes already, while 1k+ of you participated in my poll! I'm very thankful for the support :> i was in the middle of editing in-ho's fic when the polls finished, when i saw how close the votes were i laughed. luckily i only needed to tweak a bit in this fic for it to be done. enjoy reading!! >:) dae-ho is such a cutiee!! long italicized texts are flashbacks. masterlist | request here

“Shit, I just moved didn’t I?” Player 196 asked in a lighthearted tone after swatting the bee that landed on her. Before anyone could answer, she dropped dead to the ground, a bullet from god knows where piercing through her skull.

The area erupted in chaos as players realized the horrific truth: to be eliminated meant death. Others tried to make a desperate run for it, while some froze, paralyzed from fear, and you were one of them. 

Your eyes trailed down to the corpse laying a few feet in front of you. Your heart dropped. That could’ve been you.

You should've trusted your gut. You should’ve known that whatever bullshit that shady man in a suit said was too good to be true. But here you were, paying the price of your stupid decisions.

The air was thick with panic as a bloody massacre unfolded before your eyes. People who ran got shot left and right, while those who stayed survived. Once it cleared those who moved, the mechanical doll turned around, its eerie voice rising in song. The players were too stunned to move. Only one person had the courage to act—Player 456. With unwavering resolve, they ran ahead and instructed you all to hide behind someone bigger than you.

The rest of you followed suit, moving quickly. You ended up behind Player 230—Thanos, a rapper drowning in 1.19 billion won of debt. You didn’t trust him, and your instincts proved right. As the game progressed, he shoved people ahead of him, ending their lives without hesitation. Yet, you had to give him some credit: the man could hold a pose.

One by one, players crossed the finish line. As the timer reached 0, the hellish game finally ended. You were shaking, your body trembling with the aftershock, but at least you were still alive. The guards escorted everyone back to the main area, where the survivors collapsed to their knees, begging for mercy, begging to go home. You could hear them, desperate, pleading. It was almost unbearable.

“There must’ve been a misunderstanding,” the square guard’s voice rang out, cutting through the despair. His tone was flat and devoid of emotion. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

His words did little to reassure anyone. Your eyes rolled at their response. Misunderstanding my ass! The chance of survival, of escape, felt more like a cruel joke than anything else. But before the guard could continue, a voice rose above the rest, sharp and commanding.

“Clause three of the consent form!” Player 456 called out, his voice filled with defiance.

Everyone turned to look at him, some surprised, others hopeful. You were no different. You hadn’t expected anyone to stand up in this situation. You didn’t even know what clause three was, you skipped that part and immediately signed the form, but there was something in the way he spoke that made you believe he knew more than the rest of you.

“The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, correct?” he demanded, his eyes never leaving the guard.

The square guard responded without missing a beat, his tone unchanged. “That is correct.”

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 pressed, his voice firm and unyielding.

There was a brief silence before the guard spoke again, acknowledging the request with a chilling calmness. “Of course, we respect your right to freedom of choice.” He paused, and in that moment, you could feel the hope that had been buried deep inside everyone start to stir. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “But first, let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.”

With the press of a button, the room shifted. The cold, sterile space took on a strange new color, bathed in a soft, eerie glow. A massive piggy bank, almost comically large, descended from the ceiling, its mechanical limbs creaking with the weight. The sound of bills filling it echoed through the room, a surreal sound that only added to the strangeness of the moment. It felt like something out of a twisted casino, a game that didn’t care about the lives it destroyed, only the money it could accumulate.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard continued, as the money filled the piggy bank at a steady pace. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you choose to quit the games now, the 365 remaining players can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

“How much is that?” Player 100 asked.

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard answered flatly, almost as if it was an insignificant amount.

You could hear the gasps of disbelief that rippled through the crowd. It was hard to wrap your mind around it. You almost died for that? The amount seemed insignificant compared to the terror you’d experienced. You could hear others murmuring, their frustration and disbelief growing louder. What good was 24 million won when you had been pushed to the brink of death, when you had witnessed so much suffering?

“Twenty million? You said 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

The guard’s response was cold, calculated. “The rule was that a hundred million won would be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

The answer felt hollow, like an empty promise that was meant to keep you on the hook.

“Then how much will it be if you survive until the very end?” someone asked, their voice tinged with desperation.

“As I already told you, the total prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. Those who make it through all six games will equally divide the 45.6 billion won.”

A hush fell over the room, as the reality of the prize set in. 45.6 billion won. It was an obscene amount of money. The sum felt impossible, unreal. But at the same time, it was exactly what so many of you needed. The temptation of that massive prize loomed in the air, a beacon in the darkness. Could you really leave with only 24 million? Was that all your life was worth?

“So, if you’re the only one to survive, you get 45.6 billion won?” Player 230 asked, as if the question needed to be confirmed, just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood.

“That is correct,” the guard answered, his voice detached, like it was just another part of the game.

For a brief moment, the room seemed to breathe in unison. The weight of the prize, the gravity of the situation, pressed down on everyone. People began to murmur among themselves, the excitement in their voices unmistakable. The idea of that unimaginable sum of money—more than they had ever seen in their lives—became a tangible thing in the air. People who had been trembling in fear moments before now looked around, their eyes glinting with a new kind of hunger. The atmosphere shifted, the air thick with the scent of greed and desperation.

“So we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, voice laced with uncertainty, but also with a flicker of hope.

“As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote after each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point,” the guard confirmed. “We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

The voting began, and the room filled with tension once again. Player 456  was the first one to vote. He stepped forward, pressing X without hesitation. Others followed, some pressing X, others O. When your turn came, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t hesitate. You stepped forward, pressing O with a sense of finality, the sound of the button clicking louder in your ears than it should have been. You placed the patch on your jacket, marking your decision, and walked back to your side of the room.

You didn’t look back.

You weren’t sure when you had made up your mind, but the choice was clear. Despite everything, despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your resolve, you knew you couldn’t walk away now. 

Out there, in the real world, the debt that had dragged you into this nightmare would still be waiting. The vultures would circle, just as they always had, but now you could fight back. You could take a step toward something better. The thought of going back to the crushing weight of your debts, to the life that had led you to this point, filled you with dread. There was nothing for you out there anymore.

The prize, the money, the possibility of escaping this endless cycle—this was the only chance you had left. There was no turning back now.

As much as you sympathized with those who wanted to leave, You just couldn’t. Here, at least, there was hope. A sliver of it. And if you survived, you could finally break free. You could pay it all off. You could start over. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a chance—one that you couldn’t let slip through your fingers.

Your gaze wandered to the others, watching as they made their decisions. Some pressed X with shaking hands, their faces filled with desperation to leave and go home. Others pressed O with grim determination, their eyes locked on the future, no matter how uncertain. And yet, the overwhelming weight of it all crashed down on you again, heavy and suffocating.

You looked up at the piggy bank hanging high above, its golden glow mocking you with promises of salvation. If you made it—if you became the lone survivor—you’d earn it all. 45.6 billion won. Enough to erase every debt. Enough to silence the loan sharks who haunted your dreams. Enough to leave it all behind and disappear.

But as you stared at it, bile rose in your throat. Was this all your life had become—fighting for money, sacrificing everything just to survive? Your stomach twisted as your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms.

Reaching for your necklace, you clutched it tightly, the familiar weight grounding you for a moment. Its warmth offered a flicker of comfort, but even that couldn’t silence the emptiness creeping in. Here, hope felt like a dangerous thing to hold onto.

Out there, you had nothing. No one. Over time, everyone had given up on you. Your friends had drifted away, unwilling to carry the weight of your problems. Your family had turned their backs, tired of the chaos and the shame. And then there was... him.

He left without a word. No explanation, no goodbye. Just gone, as if you had never mattered at all.

When he disappeared, it felt like the last thread holding you together unraveled. You tried to move on, to make sense of it, but the truth was simple: no one stayed. Out there, you were invisible—a burden no one wanted to carry.

But here? Here, you had a purpose. As twisted and brutal as it was, the games gave you something to hold onto. Every step forward felt like proof that you could still fight, still matter, even if it was only to yourself.

You tore your gaze from the piggy bank and stared down at your shoes. It used to be white— pure. Now it’s scuffed and worn, much like you. Each scratch and stain told a story of a life lived in survival mode, clinging to scraps of hope. You couldn’t help but wonder—if you walked away now, what would be waiting for you? Nothing but the same endless cycle of despair.

At least here, you had a chance. A sick, twisted, blood-soaked chance.

And that was more than the outside world had ever given you.

In the midst of your inner turmoil, you didn’t notice someone standing beside you. They were looking at you, as if they wanted to make small talk yet didn't know how.

There was something bugging Dae-ho and he didn't know what it was. He couldn't stay still, couldn't think properly, couldn’t stay calm. He desperately needs a distraction, and he needs it now. But what could he possibly do? He can't just slap himself or shout. No way, that's too embarrassing. 

The male thought deeply before an idea popped up in his head. Eureka! He could try and talk to someone! His excitement died down as fast as it came. Yeah, he could try and talk to someone but who? His eyes scanned the crowd. To his dismay, most of the people surrounding him were scary oldies, and he was not willing to take the risk. He looked to his left, spotting a full head of hair. 

His gaze landed on you. You're young, he thinks— the white spots in your hair were less than those around him. He felt a little nervous, unsure of how to approach you, but he had no choice. This was his chance.

He coughed lightly, a test to see if you would notice him. 

No response. 

He tried again, this time a bit louder. 

Still nothing.

He began to get irritated, were you deaf or something? Shaking his irrational thoughts, Dae-ho got ready to fake cough again.

Then, out of nowhere, an old man in front of him turned and glared, sending a shiver down his spine. The male stopped, his face flushing. He needed to stop being a coward. He steeled himself, like the marine he was before doing it the right way.

He then stared at your unresponsive figure with intense, wide, and bulging eyes hoping that you would feel his intense stare and finally look at him. When that didn’t work, he began chanting “Hey! Look at me!” in his head just in case you were a mind reader. 

To nobody's surprise, his ‘plan’ flunked. Letting out an audible sigh, Dae-ho shook his head. He stopped being a wuss and garnered courage like a true marine. He should just approach you the right way, a single tap on the shoulder wouldn't hurt anybody right? Right.

As soon as his hand touched your shoulder, you ducked down and sneezed—an odd timing. He froze, unsure whether this was a sign to stop or if you were actually a mind reader and was avoiding him. But before he could pull his hand away, you reverted back to your original position— bumping into his outstretched hand.

He jumped back, startled. His cheeks flushed again as he realized he’d intruded on your space. In a sudden burst of nervous energy, he bowed deeply— a perfect ninety degrees, his hands clasped in front of him.

“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to... you see, I was feeling a little bored and wanted to talk to someone. Between you and me, I don’t want to talk to some old gray-haired people in debt. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, you’re free to slap me and ignore me!”

He spoke in one long breath, the words tumbling out faster than he could control. Then, he froze, bracing himself—waiting for a slap, a harsh word, anything to tell him he had crossed a line. Or maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to give him a sign that it was all okay. The silence that followed was suffocating, hanging between you like a heavyweight, neither of you dared to break.

When you didn’t respond, he began to doubt himself. Was this a joke? Was he imagining everything? Had he pushed too far?

And then—

“…Dae-ho…?”

The silence that was there from the beginning stretched even further as Dae-ho froze, his heart pounding. He could feel his chest tightening with every breath, his thoughts spinning in circles. Was this really happening?

He slowly lifted his head, praying, hoping that what he was thinking wasn’t true. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign that this was just some cruel illusion. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but it didn’t help. You were still there, staring back at him, just as real as the cold walls of the room around him.

“[Name]...”

How could this be real? The years apart, the silence, the pain—it had all carved its place deep inside you, wounds that never fully healed. And yet, here he was, standing before you like a ghost dragged from the past to haunt you. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You stared at him, unable to look away, yet every second felt like a fresh wound. How could he just stand there, shaking and silent, as if you weren’t the one left to pick up the shattered pieces of your life when he walked away? Your chest tightened, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

He looked so different, yet so heartbreakingly familiar. Those same eyes that used to meet yours with warmth now avoided your gaze like a coward. The same hands that once held yours trembled at his sides, as if they carried the weight of something unsaid.

You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers to the questions that had haunted you for years. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye? The questions burned in your chest, but no words came. The silence between you was louder than any explanation he could give—louder than the ache of the years he left you to carry alone.

And yet, some small part of you hated yourself for hoping, for wanting him to say something that would make it all make sense. But as his lips parted and nothing came, his silence was louder than any excuse could ever be.

Cheers suddenly filled the room as the two of you looked away from each other. Looking at the scoreboard, you released a sigh of relief as O won, meaning the games would still proceed. 

Following the guards orders to disperse, you walked away as fast as you could. You needed to run away for a while, away from everyone, away from him. You weaved through the sea of players, ignoring the chaotic mix of relief and despair filling the room. Every step felt heavier, your mind still reeling from the sight of him. Why here? Why now?

Your chest ached. The large room offered little solace, the murmur of restless voices and distant footsteps a constant reminder of where you were. You sought refuge in the thin, scratchy blanket of your assigned bed, pulling it over yourself as if it could shield you from the weight pressing down on your chest.

Laying in a fetal position, you tried to steady your breathing, to stop the trembling in your hands. But his face—his eyes—kept flashing in your mind, a painful reminder of everything you thought you’d buried.

Anger simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. You clenched your fists, an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. But no amount of control could erase the gnawing ache in your chest.

“[Name]...”

The voice froze you in place. 

“Can we… talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

Under the covers, you exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to keep your tone steady. “What’s there to talk about, Dae-ho?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a cautious step closer to your bed. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you here. I didn’t think I’d see you again at all.”

“Neither did I,” you replied curtly. “And yet, here we are.”

He flinched at your words, guilt flashing in his eyes not that you could see it. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “An explanation? After all these years? After you disappeared without a word? You think I need that now, here of all places?”

His lips parted as if to argue, but he stopped himself. Instead, he looked down, his hands gripping the fabric of his jumpsuit. “I wanted to explain. I really did. But I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how?” you repeated, incredulous. “You didn’t know how to tell me you were leaving? That you were giving up on us? That you—”

Your voice cracked, and you stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. You refused to let him hear you cry. Not here. Not now.

“I didn’t give up on you,” he said softly.

His words hung in the air, but they did nothing to soothe the ache inside you. You shook your head once more, your voice trembling. “You left me alone, Dae-ho. You walked away without a word, and you left me to deal with everything by myself. Don’t tell me you didn’t give up.”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating. You could feel his eyes on your figure under the covers, before hearing footsteps walk away. You didn’t expect much, knowing that all he does is run from his responsibilities. But why did it still hurt? 

As you went to collect your dinner, you couldn’t help but overhear familiar laughter. Laughter that you used to love listening to. Silently gazing at Dae-ho’s figure, you watch in silence as he makes small talk with a group of men in the corner of the room. A small smile crept up your face, even after all those years he still has his charming laugh. You moved your gaze to the guard as they handed you your food, with a small bow you thanked them before going back to your bed. 

Looking at him one more time, your eyes widened in surprise as a set of eyes clashed with yours. Thankfully, it wasn’t Dae-ho. It was 001. There was something in his stare that made you scared. Maybe Dae-ho told them about your history and now they were angry at you, either way, who were you to care? You broke eye contact first, setting your gaze elsewhere as you retreated back to your assigned bed. Little did you know Dae-ho was doing the same, looking at you with longing eyes every time you had your back turned from him.

The next day came quickly, the game even quicker. You convinced a group to let you join their team with your gonggi skills. They were reluctant at first but had no choice but to let you in as the timer was nearing its end. Your team went through the games with ease, everyone was a pro on the games— you included. 

As the guard placed the table in front of you, you and your team squatted, the familiar weight of the stones in your hands grounding you. It reminded you of something, something far simpler, back when you were young.

“The slowest will have to buy the winner dinner, deal?” you said with a playful grin, your voice filled with mischievous confidence as you laid out the challenge.

Dae-ho’s eyes widened, shaking his head dramatically. “That’s unfair! You only say that because you’re a pro at gonggi!” he shot back, his voice half-laughing and half-complaining, clearly trying to defend himself.

Currently, the two of you, still in your high school uniforms, are sprawled on the floor of your room, surrounded by an amusing mess of half-done activities. The afternoon had been a carefree escape from schoolwork and responsibilities, as you had decided to skip school for the day. Your parents were away, so you had the house all to yourselves.

The floor was scattered with papers, a few textbooks left open, and snacks you’d absentmindedly snacked on while getting lost in your own little world. Dae-ho’s hair was a chaotic mess of clips, ties, and failed attempts at creating something resembling style. 

Meanwhile, your face was painted with makeup. Your eyes were covered in uneven eyeshadow, and your lipstick had smudged onto your cheeks in a way that had you wondering if you'd even be able to wash it off later. It was ridiculous, but it was also perfect. There was no need for perfection when you were together, just moments of unfiltered fun. You didn’t mind looking silly—it was a shared experience, after all.

You leaned back on the floor, hands resting behind your head, watching him with an amused expression. He had always been competitive, and you knew he wouldn’t let this challenge slide without giving it his all. But you also knew he wouldn’t back down.

"You're just mad because I'm about to beat you,” you teased, raising an eyebrow and holding the gonggi stones in your hand. “I’ve got this in the bag."

Dae-ho let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be defeated, but his eyes betrayed him—the challenge was on. “Fine. The loser buys the winner dinner.” he said, as the fire in his eyes burned brightly.

You smiled, leaning closer and placing the stones carefully in front of both of you. “You’re on,” you replied, your voice light but determined.

The game, which was just supposed to be a simple way to pass the time, had suddenly become a full-blown competition, complete with stakes. Dae-ho didn’t like losing, and you knew that meant he would give everything he had to win, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

With that, the tension between you both shifted. You could feel the energy change as you both focused on the stones in front of you, your hands hovering over them, ready to begin the game. The silly banter was still there, but now it was mixed with a more serious undercurrent—a challenge that was both fun and a little bit intense.

Dae-ho glanced at you once more, his expression playful but competitive, and you could see the slight smirk forming on his lips. “Get ready to buy me that dinner,” he said with mock confidence, ready to show you he was the better player.

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that, Dae-ho.”

And with that, the game began, the stones flying through the air as you both competed to see who could win the challenge, the promise of dinner hanging in the balance.

After breezing through the first rounds, you placed all the stones on top of your hand, heart racing. You nervously exhaled, forcing yourself to focus.

“I’m honestly jealous of your gonggi skills,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you sat beside Dae-ho at your favorite hotpot place, a small smile playing on your lips as you stirred your bowl of soup.

Dae-ho, who had just taken a sip from his drink, blinked at you in mock surprise. “You? Jealous of me? You’re the one who won!” he said with a playful glare, his tone lighthearted.

You laughed softly, shaking your head at him. “Not that part, silly! I always notice that you always catch all five stones with ease. Even if I’m fast, I still mess up once in a while.” You looked down at your half-eaten bowl, the warmth from the hotpot filling your chest, but it wasn’t just from the food—it was the company that made everything feel so right.

Dae-ho’s expression softened as he put down his chopsticks, giving you his full attention. He nodded thoughtfully, then smiled, and for a moment, you felt as if the world outside didn’t exist, just the two of you, sharing this simple, quiet moment together.

“Well, my lovely [nickname],” he said, his voice taking on that playful, teasing tone you knew so well. “I can always tell you a trick,” he continued, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “But it’ll cost you. My secrets aren’t free, you know.”

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, giving him a playful. “Go on, then.”

Dae-ho’s smile widened as he turned his cheek toward you, tilting his head just enough to make it clear what he wanted. You giggled, rolling your eyes but giving in, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his left cheek.

He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes making your heart skip a beat, and without missing a beat, he pointed to the other side, silently asking for more. You couldn’t help but smile, kissing his right cheek just as lightly.

Then, Dae-ho tilted his head again, offering his forehead with that trademark mischievous smile. “And this one?” he asked, his eyes glinting with excitement.

You didn’t even hesitate, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, your heart fluttering in the simple affection. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and the more you kissed him, the more the world around you faded away.

He stretched his hand out next, offering the back of his left hand with an expectant grin. You chuckled at how silly this game was becoming, but you still kissed it gently, your heart swelling with warmth. His grin only grew wider, and before you knew it, he was extending his right hand, offering it up for another kiss.

You kissed it too, your heart fluttering again at how effortlessly he could make everything feel so special. Each little moment, each silly gesture, you loved it all.

Finally, with that signature grin of his, Dae-ho turned fully toward you, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. “And this one?” he asked, tilting his face toward yours, the question hanging in the air like an invitation.

Without even thinking, you closed the space between you and kissed his lips, a soft, lingering kiss that felt full of promise and affection. The moment was so pure, so simple, that it left you breathless in the best way. Nothing mattered but the two of you, sharing this quiet, tender connection.

Dae-ho smiled against your lips, his arms subtly drawing you closer as he pulled back just slightly, a lovestruck expression on his face. “You’re the best, [nickname].” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he nuzzled you gently. His voice was soft and full of affection, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with warmth.

You leaned in, your voice teasing. “So? What’s the trick?”

Dae-ho let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be exasperated but still smiling. “Can’t I have a lovely moment with you?” he asked, his tone light and affectionate.

“Dae-ho.” you said with a small laugh, nudging him playfully.

“Fine, fine! You’re a party pooper!” he joked, giving you a nudge back before getting serious. He shifted slightly, sitting up straighter and showing you a more focused expression. “Alright, listen carefully.” He mimicked the motions as he spoke. “What I do is first calm myself down. Inhale... and exhale.” He demonstrated the breathing technique, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

He paused before looking at you expectantly. Rolling your eyes, you copied his movement. Inhale and exhale.

Satisfied, he continued. “Once you find your peace, you put all your might in your palm so the stones don’t fall. Strong foundation.”

You nodded, watching him carefully. “Got it,” you said, your gaze fixed on his hands as he continued with his instructions.

He smiled, clearly pleased by your attention. “Then you throw your hand upwards—just right. Not too low, not too high,” he said, raising one hand and showing you the perfect motion. “Count one...” He paused dramatically, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Count one,” you repeated, laughing softly at how serious he was being, yet how cute he looked while teaching you.

“Then catch!” 

You threw your hand up. It felt natural. It felt right. The stones landed, and you caught them all in one smooth motion.

“Hey! I caught it on the first try!” You grinned, excitement rushing through you. You looked up, expecting to see Dae-ho’s proud smile, the one that always made your heart race.

But instead, you met the cold, expressionless face of a guard. Reality hit like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t Dae-ho. This wasn’t your favorite hotpot place.

Your heart twisted, the warmth you replaced by the emptiness of this place. You tried to smile, but it felt hollow. The distant cheers of your teammates did nothing to drown out the silence in your mind.

You couldn’t shake the memory, his teasing smile, his quiet words, the way his lips brushed against yours. Those were moments you could never go back to. As you moved on to the next station, the sting of that memory lingered, sharp and painful. The sweetness was gone. It was just you, alone in this game, with no place for memories of simpler times.

Everything was a blur after that, your mind occupied by what happened during the second game. Gonggi was something you always bonded over, and that game brought unwanted memories back. It got to a point wherein the way you’d always made decisions, small or big, was by playing gonggi. Where to eat? Play gonggi. Who’s paying the bill? Gonggi. 

But now, as you lay at your bed, staring at the ceiling, it wasn’t the same. Your mind wandered back to that moment, remembering his smile, the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you. That warmth, that sense of belonging, was gone. The past felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the memory away. Suddenly, the light went out. 

The light went out? That wasn’t right.

You opened one eye and saw Dae-ho standing above you, looking down at you with that nervous, familiar expression.

“Congrats, [Name]. I knew you could do it.” he said softly.

You looked up at him, emotions swirling in your chest. “Congrats also, Dae-ho.” you replied quietly. 

You stared at him as the weight of everything hung heavy in the air between you. You had so many emotions running through your veins—hurt, betrayal, confusion, anger—and yet, here he was, standing in front of you, trying to explain himself, trying to make sense of everything.

“[Name]... Please, talk to me.” he repeated, his voice soft but desperate.

You didn’t move at first. The space between you, filled with so many unspoken words. Finally, you stood up, leading him to a quiet corner between the bed frames, away from the chaos. The moment felt strangely intimate, but so far removed from anything you could have ever imagined.

Dae-ho was the first to break the silence, his voice shaking with the weight of his confession. “I didn’t want to leave, [Name]. I didn’t... but I had no choice.” He paused, his face twisted with guilt as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

“My father...” His voice cracked as he spoke, his words thick with regret. “He was... always trying to control me. Pushing me into things I didn’t want. He never let me make my own decisions. But when it came to you... he saw how much I cared. He saw how soft I was because of you, and he hated it. He thought I wasn’t strong enough to survive—how I wasn't becoming a real man, so he sent me away. He made me join the Marines. He didn’t even let me choose. I tried to fight him. I tried to say no, but he didn’t care.”

You felt your heart break all over again. “But... Why didn’t you fight harder for us? Why didn’t you try harder to stay? To... tell me?” The words were out before you could stop them, and they stung more than you’d expected.

“I... I couldn’t,” he whispered. “He had me. I thought if I left, if I did what he said, it would all be over. That he’d leave me alone. But when I came back, you were gone. I couldn’t find you. I looked for you everywhere, [Name], but you and your family were gone. And I thought... I thought I lost you forever. And I couldn’t fix it.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. “But you didn’t even try to find me, Dae-ho. You just... disappeared. I waited for you. I thought I was worth waiting for, but you made me feel the  opposite. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces of my life without you.”

“Please don’t say that. You are worth fighting for [Name].”

His eyes filled with sorrow, and he reached out for you, but you pulled back slightly, not ready for his touch just yet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I could make it right when I came back, but... it wasn’t the same. And now I’m afraid I’ve lost you for good.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your emotions in check. “You didn’t lose me, Dae-ho. If anything, I still think about you. Every street I walk, every place I visit. I always tried to find any sign of you. You just… you never gave me a chance to be part of your life anymore. I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend everything’s okay, because it’s not.”

“I understand,” Dae-ho said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I know you’ve been through so much. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I’m here now. Let me make it right. Please…”

He paused, swallowing hard before speaking again, as if the weight of his words was too heavy to bear. “If you just vote to go home, we can leave all this behind. We don’t have to keep playing. We can go back to the way things were. We can be free. We can live together.”

His words hit you like a punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was asking. He wanted you to vote to go home? That’s all it took? To end this nightmare?

You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. The sudden flood of emotions was overwhelming—confusion, anger, hurt, all rolled into one. “Is that what you think this is about, Dae-ho? You think you can just tell me to vote to go home and everything will magically go back to normal? That we’ll just go back to living in some fairy tale together?”

His face faltered with guilt, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The words were already tumbling out, and the anger was building with each second. “You have no idea what it’s like for me out there. I don’t have anything left. No family. No safety. No way out. If I leave without the money, I’ll be dead before I even make it out of the game. The people who own me—they’ll come for me. They’ll end me.”

You couldn’t stop the rise of panic and fury in your voice. “You think voting to go home is going to fix everything? Do you think that’ll save me from what’s out there? You think that’s going to protect me?”

You were shaking now, your words louder, sharper with each passing second. “I’m not here by choice. I didn’t sign up for this game to have some fun. I’m here because I have no other option. I need the money. I have to win. I don’t have the luxury of walking away. If I don’t make it, I’m dead. They’ll take everything I have left. They’ll take my life. And you want me to just throw that away?”

His face went pale, his hands trembling as he reached out, but you stepped back, your emotions running too high. You were drowning in your own fear, your own anger, and he was standing there, asking for something you couldn’t give. Not now. Not when your very existence was on the line.

“I’m not going to die for you to feel like you’ve done something good,” you spat, your voice cold and full of finality. “I’ll keep playing. I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep voting O if that’s what it takes to stay alive. Because I don’t have the luxury to just quit. I don’t have the luxury to go home. If I die here, then I die here. But at least I had a chance. A chance to keep living.”

You could see the regret flooding his face now, the guilt in his eyes clear as day. But it didn’t matter. You had already crossed the line, said everything you needed to say. The wound had already been made, and nothing would heal it now.

“They took everything from me,” you whispered, voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “I don’t have anything left. This game, this nightmare is all I have. If I leave without any money, without anything... they’ll take me. They’ll take my life.”

His expression was full of pain now. The words hit him hard, and you saw the guilt swirling inside him. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came. You saw the regret in his eyes, the apology he couldn’t voice—but it was too little, too late.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered finally, his voice thick with regret. “I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was this bad. I didn’t know you were fighting for your life.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping back from him. “You didn’t know? You never bothered to ask. You didn’t care enough to understand what I was going through. You just assumed everything would be fine, that we could go back to normal. But you didn’t ask, Dae-ho. You didn’t care.”

His face crumpled with the realization of what you were saying, and the weight of your words hit him like a ton of bricks. But you didn’t care. Not now. Not when you were holding on to the one thing that mattered to you right now—your will to survive.

“I’m sorry, Dae-ho,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but full of emotion. “But I care about surviving. I care about living. And if I have to vote O, if I have to keep playing to do that, then that’s what I’ll do.”

For a long moment, you stood there, facing each other in the silence, your hearts both full of unsaid things. But the anger slowly began to fade, replaced by a deep sadness, a sorrow that neither of you could fix.

He stepped closer to you, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry... I never wanted this for you. But I’ll always be here, [Name], even if you hate me for it.”

You looked at him one last time, the weight of everything you had said sinking in. And for the first time in a long time, you let the tears fall—not from anger, but from the overwhelming fear of it all. The fear of what your life had become, of how far you’d fallen, of the choices you had to make that never felt right.

Dae-ho stared at you as you quietly wept, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Without a second thought, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you in the comfort of his embrace, guiding your head to rest against his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t speak at first, just held you tightly, as if trying to shield you from the world, from everything that had happened, and everything you feared. His hand gently rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering what comfort he could in that moment.

“I’m sorry… I know I can’t take away all the pain,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m here, [Name]. I won’t leave you. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore. Please... just let me be here for you.”

You clung to him, not knowing if you wanted him to fix everything, but just needing the solace, the warmth that came with knowing he was still here. Still trying. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly forgive him for the past, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel something you hadn’t in so long—comfort, even if it was fleeting.

He tightened his hold on you, letting you cry, never pushing you away. “I’ll always be here. I promise.”

You didn’t know how long it had been, but eventually, the tears started to slow. The tightness in your chest eased just a little, and you found yourself breathing a bit easier. Dae-ho, still holding you gently, never let go. He simply let you rest against him, giving you space to process everything, even if that meant staying silent for the moment.

You looked at him, your chest heavy with everything you’d just let out. “I’m sorry too,” you murmured, voice low and shaky. “I... I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I was just... I don’t know. I was scared. I couldn’t—couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything. But I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Dae-ho shook his head softly, his fingers brushing your cheek again. “No... I deserved it. I made you carry too much, and I never gave you the chance to say how you really felt. I was so focused on my own guilt, I didn’t see how much I was hurting you.”

The weight of the words sank in, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, though this one wasn’t filled with anger—it was filled with a sadness you hadn’t let yourself fully feel until now. “We both messed up,” you whispered, the ache in your heart growing.

Dae-ho’s gaze softened, his hand gently squeezing yours. “But I’ll try to make it right. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll keep trying, [Name]. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

You took a shaky breath, finding comfort in the sincerity of his words. “I don’t know where we go from here, but... I can’t pretend like it’s all fine. I need time.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just... sorry. For everything.”

The air between you was thick with unspoken apologies, regrets, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you could both find a way to heal from this. You both had a long road ahead, a game to survive. But for now, the silence was no longer heavy with tension. Instead, it was filled with a quiet understanding, one that neither of you had expected to find, but one that was slowly, carefully beginning to piece things together.

"This time, the vote will begin with Player 001. Player 001, please cast your vote."

The moment the announcement was made, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. Voting had begun. This time, you were going first—before Dae-ho. He stood beside you, his presence steady and calming, but there was an undeniable tension in the air. His hand brushed your back, the soothing gesture almost feeling out of place in this chaotic, life-or-death situation.

“Choose what you need,” Dae-ho whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be mad.”

His words settled over you like a gentle blanket, but they couldn’t remove the weight of the decision you had to make. To survive, to keep moving forward, you knew you had to vote for O. You had to keep playing if you wanted a chance at surviving, but even as you stood in front of the voting machine, you felt a sickening sense of dread.

Was it really worth it? Pushing yourself, forcing the belief that survival was your only option, knowing the outside world would swallow you whole. What was the point of living if the only person who ever made you feel truly alive has always been Dae-ho? The thought echoed in your mind, and the walls of the room suddenly felt like they were closing in around you. Dae-ho had become your anchor in this madness—your reason for pushing through.

But now, you had to choose. You needed to choose for your own survival.

Your finger hovered over the button for O, but then you thought about everything you’d been through, everything you’d sacrificed already. At that moment, it was no longer just about survival. It was about the life you had left to live. You didn’t want to keep going without him.

X.

You slammed your hand down on the button, your choice made in an instant. The harsh reality of it stung as you tore off the patch you had placed on your jacket earlier, replacing it with a new one. As you made your way to the X side of the room, your heart felt heavy, but there was a strange sense of finality to it. You have made your decision.

You couldn’t help but look over at Dae-ho. The surprise on his face was so pure, so raw. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, like a fish caught out of water, and the shock in his gaze hit you harder than you expected.

Despite the tension and the gravity of the moment, you found yourself quietly laughing at him, unable to hold it in. The absurdity of it all—of choosing to walk away from everything that had kept you going—made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. God, you felt like a fool. After your dramatic show earlier, how you had confidently claimed that you would continue voting O, ready to survive, ready to keep playing. Yet here you were, choosing X, choosing to stop. Choosing him.

Dae-ho just stood there for a moment, still processing, before going up the platform to vote. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to piece together what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him. The moment was so surreal, so at odds with everything you’d said before. 

You watched him, heart hammering in your chest as he stood at the voting machine. His back was turned to you, but you could almost feel the confusion radiating off him. His hesitation was palpable, and you wondered if he understood. If he saw why you made the decision you did.

The sound of his vote pressing echoed in the silence, a soft click that seemed too loud for the room. He immediately walked to where you stood, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “Why... why did you choose X?”

The answer was too simple, too complicated, and maybe too painful to say out loud. Instead, you gave him a small smile, one that held so many unsaid things. “Dae-ho, I’ll always choose you.”

In the end, your vote didn’t matter. Since O won by a landslide, the next game was inevitable. But for the first time in days, or maybe even years, you found yourself smiling—a real, genuine smile—as you were introduced to Dae-ho’s little group. You exchanged pleasantries, introduced yourselves, and felt something warm stir inside you.

The following day came quickly, and with it, the next game. One moment, you were lying in bed, your mind running wild with the uncertainty of what was to come. Next, you were on a spinning platform, waiting for the music to stop. Your eyes immediately sought out Dae-ho, and when you met his gaze, he reached for your hand, gripping it tightly, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, a promise in his words. “I won’t let go.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I know.”

The rounds passed, too smoothly, almost disturbingly so. You all survived the first four rounds with ease.

But everything was about to change. 

7.

“Five women, and two men. Go!” Gi-hun’s commanding voice cut through the noise, demanding attention. Without hesitation, 007 shot his hand into the air. “I’ll go with my mother!” he announced, stepping forward. Gi-hun nodded, relieved to have a volunteer. He scanned the group again, waiting for the next person to step up.

Dae-ho raised his hand, his voice strong as he called out, “We’ll go!” He pulled you closer to him, offering a small smile that was laced with worry. His eyes betrayed his calm demeanor, revealing the weight of what was happening. The air around you both felt heavy with the uncertainty of the situation. Still, you clung to each other, walking together toward the door.

Your group of seven—007, 149, 120, 095, Jun-hee, you, and Dae-ho—ran toward the nearest empty room. The sound of your hurried footsteps echoed in the tense silence. But just as you were about to step inside, something caught your eye and made your heart drop.

Player 095, frail and struggling, was being shoved aside by a group of players. Seeing her so helpless, you couldn’t just stand by. Without thinking, you yanked your hand from Dae-ho’s grasp and rushed to her side.

Dae-ho’s heart skipped a beat the moment he felt the loss of your hand. Panic surged through him. Where did you go? He scanned the chaos around him, his eyes frantic as he searched for you in the crowded room. His heart tightened when he saw you helped 095 into the room, making sure she was safe. He could see the determination in your eyes as you ensured her well-being, but once it was your turn to come into the room, to rejoin him, disaster struck.

A group of four players, each desperately fighting for their own survival, barreled into you.

The impact was brutal. Your body was slammed to the ground with overwhelming force. Everything around you seemed to blur and slow down as you hit the floor, your breath knocked from your chest in a violent rush. A sharp wave of pain shot through your body—your limbs aching, your head spinning—but strangely, you couldn't feel it all at once. The shock of the fall seemed to disconnect you from your body, like you were floating in a painful haze.

In that split second, time seemed to stretch out. You felt a sudden sense of numbness as your body tried to process the damage, and your heart raced as you struggled to breathe. Your vision blurred, and for a moment, you feared that you wouldn’t be able to get up again. But then, the rush of adrenaline kicked in.

Determination surged through you like a lightning bolt. You couldn't afford to stay down. You had to survive.

You pushed yourself off the ground, ignoring the throbbing pain in your limbs, and scrambled to your feet. Gritting your teeth, you ran with every ounce of strength you had left, your focus fixed on the door. You had to get inside—it was the only chance left. The room was just a few feet away now, but each step felt like an eternity as you sprinted, your legs shaking with exertion and fear. Every part of you screamed for rest, but you couldn't stop. Not yet.

"[Name]! Let’s play Mingle!" Dae-ho’s voice rang out with excitement, pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised an eyebrow, already knowing his playful nature.

“With just the two of us?” you asked, teasing him. A grin tugged at your lips despite yourself, knowing that whatever he had planned would likely be a mix of fun and absurdity.

“Well...” Dae-ho scratched the back of his neck, pretending to think deeply, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. He was already scheming.

It was your third anniversary together, a day you both decided to celebrate in your usual style: by skipping class and spending it alone in your room. Both of you were still wearing your high school uniforms—uniforms that no longer felt like the serious attire they were supposed to be. The two of you had spent countless afternoons like this, laughing and simply enjoying each other's company, without a care in the world.

“I’ve got it!” Dae-ho suddenly exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he dashed to your bed. He scooped up a handful of stuffed toys with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Let’s use our children!” he declared, holding them up like he had just discovered the most brilliant idea.

You stared at him, your laughter bubbling up instantly. "Our children? Really, tiger?" you chuckled, wiping away the tears that had already begun to form from laughing too hard.

"Hey, don’t laugh! This is serious!" he protested, feigning offense, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes that told you he was only pretending to be upset. He adjusted the toys in his arms, a determined look on his face.

“Alright, fine,” you replied, still laughing but wiping your eyes. “Let’s play.” You were already game—who could resist when Dae-ho was this excited?

Dae-ho carefully arranged the toys in front of you both, giving each one a position with a level of care that made it clear he was taking this game very seriously. “Okay. For this round… Three!” he announced dramatically, holding his hands out in front of him like he was preparing to start a battle.

You didn’t even wait for him to finish before snatching up two of the nearest toys. His jaw dropped in mock betrayal, and he huffed loudly, feigning offense. "Not fair! You should partner with me. Always!" he said, acting like you had broken some sacred rule.

You stuck your tongue out at him, teasing. “Stop being a sore loser! I’m just playing by your rules.”

"Fine," he grumbled. He pouted dramatically, a little over-the-top for someone so competitive. He then scurried around the room, gathering two more toys to prepare for the next round.

The game continued in the same playful vein, with the toys being eliminated one by one. The room filled with the sound of laughter, teasing, and mock outrage as each round got more dramatic. The toys “lost” in ways that made no sense, their plush bodies being thrown to the side in exaggerated defeat.

"For this round,” Dae-ho said, his voice suddenly turning serious. “Two!” He gave you a look, as if to challenge you to keep up with him.

You smirked, ready to grab him this time. But before you could react, he swooped down and grabbed the last remaining toy, holding it close to his chest with a triumphant grin. “Hey!” you cried out in mock outrage, throwing your hands up.

"Sore loser!" he teased, clearly pleased with his victory.

You crossed your arms, pretending to sulk. “Whatever.” you muttered, rolling your eyes for effect.

Dae-ho chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. He set the toy down, then knelt in front of you. “Wait, wait, don’t be mad!” he said, holding the toy up to his face like a little puppet. He moved its tiny arms in a dramatic fashion, as if it was trying to “walk” toward you.

"Eomma! Please don’t be angry at Appa! Pleaseee!” he said in a high-pitched, exaggerated voice that made you burst out laughing.

Your faux anger crumbled immediately, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. He was ridiculous—and that was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Still holding the toy, Dae-ho slowly lowered it from his face, a more tender look in his eyes. You hadn’t noticed at first, but there was a delicate necklace hanging from the toy’s tiny paw. Your breath hitched as he gently removed the necklace and held it out to you.

"Here," he said softly, his voice unexpectedly gentle. You could feel the warmth in his words as he looked at you with such sincerity. Without warning, he leaned forward and clasped the necklace around your neck. The touch of his fingers against your skin sent a shiver through you. "Happy anniversary, [Name]."

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat as the rush of emotion hit you unexpectedly. His gesture felt like everything—a simple, yet deeply meaningful way of showing how much he cared. You blinked back the sudden welling of emotion in your chest.

Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his lips in gratitude. You then buried your face in his shoulder, hiding the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Thank you.” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Dae-ho chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, comforting hug. “Anything for you.”

In that moment, everything else faded away. There was just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth, sharing a quiet, simple happiness that felt bigger than any words could express. Time seemed to slow down, and you didn’t want to think about anything else.

As you pulled back, your laughter bubbled up again, light and carefree. You couldn’t resist teasing him once more. “You’re still a sore loser, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dae-ho replied, rolling his eyes but still grinning. “But you love me anyway.”

You smiled, your gaze softening as you looked at him with affection. “I do. Now help me with this necklace!”

Your hand stretched toward the door, the cold metal just within reach. 

Then everything went silent.

[mattybsgroupie]

— homework ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: making out; oral (f receiving); handjob (m receiving); sub!matt

— NOTES: my plan was to post this during the weekend but im anxious to go back to college and i couldn’t help myself and ended up writing everything yesterday lol very nerdy subby matty receiving his first handjob ♡ as usual not proofread but hope you enjoy it lots! tysm for over 1,1K followers ♡ much much love always!

i heard three rhythmic knocks on my bedroom door and quickly got up, unlocking it and suddenly bumping into matthew, the smartest guy in my class. matt was clever, but extremely quiet - which only made him more charming. i recalled his ears turning a bright red when i asked him for help with my homework, shyness taking over him as he briefly nodded his head.

“hey!” he greeted me, offering a handshake. i touched his hand, slightly caressing his palm with my index, watching as he tried to look away. “we talked yesterday, about… some lessons? you need help with homework?”

“yes!” i happily agreed, spreading the door open. “come in matt, make yourself comfortable”

matt nodded, holding tightly to the books hidden under his arm. “is it really okay for me to be here?” he chuckled. “i mean… it’s the girls dorm”

“don’t worry about it, boys come here all the time” i winked at matt’s figure, balancing his weight from one foot to another, clearly anxious. “unless you… wanna go to the library or something?”

“no!” he eagerly answered. “i-i can teach you here. it’s okay”.

i wasn’t listening to a single world he said.

matt’s blue eyes underneath the round glasses seemed agitated, following the numbers i had previously written on my notebook. i could see matt’s lips trying to hold a smile at each wrong result, his digits tapping on the yellow pencil between his fingers.

“… so if you divide it by 100, it’s easier to find the percentage” he took me out of my trance, turning his head to stare at me with a confused expression on his face. “am i doing good? are you getting it?”

“you’re doing so good, matt” i let it slip out of my mouth without even thinking, my head resting on my hand while i admired matt’s cheeks flushing red as he gulped. “look at me” i said, raising my finger to his jaw as he tried to look away.

i could feel his breath getting heavier, lips slightly parted as he stood still, not moving an inch. i got closer to him, brushing my lips over his before sealing them together in a small kiss. matt’s hand quickly went to the back of my neck, deepening the pressure of his lips against mine. when i opened my mouth so he could slide his tongue in, matt pulled away - but not far enough, a string of saliva still connecting us to each other.

“i-i’m sorry” he looked at me, panting heavily. “i shouldn’t have done that, i’m really sorry”.

“don’t be” i cupped his cheeks in my palms, giving him a soft peck. “i want it matt, i really do”

“but” he started, eyes traveling through the room, as if he was checking if someone caught us. “i thought y-you wanted to study”

“you already taught me so much” i jokingly pouted, pretending i was tired. the more matt talked, the wetter my panties would get. “why don’t i teach you a few things?” i said, letting one of my hands rest on his thigh.

“like what?” matt asked me hesitantly, looking at how my hand caressed his covered skin. i reached closer to his crotch, accidentally brushing my digits on his half-hard cock, tenting starting to form on his pants.

i smashed our lips together once more, this time hungrier, the wet sounds of our tongues interlocking taking over my dorm. my fingers tangled on matt’s brown curls, carefully pulling his hair so i could get easier access to his neck. i unbuttoned the closed collar of his shirt, traveling down the fabric and repeating the process over and over again.

matt took his glasses off, tossing it over my study table, his hands finally coming to my waist. he didn’t have the courage to tighten his grip and i knew this was the boldest move he’d be able to make, so i grabbed matt’s wrist and brought his palm to my chest, letting him grope my covered tits.

i gasped from the sudden touch, noticing how this made made hesitant to keep kissing me. “a-are you okay?” he asked with puppy, blue eyes.

“yes, fuck- you’re being so good to me”, i sighed heavily and matt nodded eagerly, bringing his mouth to my neck, sucking onto my skin. “what got you so worked up hm?” i asked as i watched his pants getting tighter, fully hard cock.

“fuck! i’m sorry- i didn’t even notice” matt looked down, eyes widening. “you’re just so pretty” he confessed.

“you’re so cute, matt. do you want me to help you out?” i asked, palming him over his jeans.

“please” he let out in a choked moan, “please touch me”

the grin on my face grew wide as matt sunk his teeth on his bottom lip, trying to cover his soft whimpers as i kept on stroking his clothed cock.

i unzipped his jeans, sneaking my fingers into his underwear so i could pull out matt’s dick, which quickly sprung against my palm, almost hitting his own belly. matt adjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs apart as his mouth hang open. i finally got a proper grip of his shaft, wrapping my fingers around his surprisingly large cock.

matt let out a loud groan when i finally started twisting my hand, lifting his left arm to cover his own face. “why are you so shy, baby?” i whispered in his ear.

“n-never… never done that” matt said, squirming on his sit as i pumped him.

“never had a girl touching you like that?” i cooed, watching matt nodding vigorously. “it’s okay, i promise it’s gonna feel good”

“it- mhm- feels good!” he bucked his hips forward when i moved my thumb upwards, circling his leaking tip. “i’m not g-gonna last long” matt said as i tightened the grasp on his length. he kept on jointing his hips, trying to fuck into my fist in a pathetic, sloppy pace.

“you wanna cum for me, matt? wanna show how much of a good boy you are?” i kissed his cheek and tucked his hair behind his red ear, continuously jerking him off.

“fuck, please!” he said, the loudest he’d been the entire night. “i’m your good boy! wanna cum, p-please”

“go ahead” i allowed him, peppering pecks on his damp forehead, sweat dripping from his neck all the day down to his tummy, which was soon painted white from matt’s release. he threw his head back, whimpering as he came on my hand, thick spurt messing us both. 

i got up to wash my hands and grab him a towel, letting matt rest as he came from his high, chest still rising rapidly.

“thank you” he mumbled when i offered to clean him up. “i’m sorry i made such a mess” matt chuckled, watching as i wiped his cum off. “don’t apologize, you did really well babyboy” i praised.

“can… can i try?” he asked me, reaching for his glasses over the table. he quickly put them on again, reading my confused expression. “i wanna make you feel good too” matt said, turning his body to face me.

“you want me to teach you how to please a girl?” i teased him, bringing both of my legs to my chest, exposing the back of my thighs to him.

matt checked me out from head to toe, stopping where my feet landed and not being able to take his eyes off the panties i purposely wore. i knew he’d love pink. “no, not any girl. you- wanna be good for you” he confessed, sliding off his chair and kneeling on the ground.

i widened my eyes, not expecting matt’s sudden move. he touched the hem of my shorts, silently asking me to take them off. i quickly removed it, letting it slide down my legs along with my panties, fully exposing my pussy to him.

“oh, fuck” he mumbled. “it’s so pretty and it’s… it’s all wet”

“you did that to me” i told him, moving my hair to the side so i could get a better look of matt eating me out for the first time.

“how should i do it?” he asked, blue eyes looking for reassurance. my hands went to his brown curls, bringing his face closer to my crotch.

matt stuck his tongue out, slowly licking my lower lips. he widened his eyes once again, probably surprised by the taste and gave it another try as i giggled at his shy performance. matt’s large hands went to my thighs, forcing my legs open as he fully went for it, pressuring a kiss against my clit. i gasped when he started to swirl his tongue on me, spit drooling down his chin as he licked me in the messiest, sloppiest way.

“matt” i called but he didn’t even listen, still eating me out, only raising his eyebrows as he looked at me through his glasses. “you never done this before?” i sighed deeply, tangling my fingers on his hair as i lowered my hips on him.

matt hummed something, probably agreeing with what i had asked, but this only send a wave of vibrations through my folds, my thighs suddenly closing around his head as i felt my orgasm approaching. he was way too good for a virgin.

“matt- fuck!” i moaned loudly, the knot on my lower belly begging to be released. “i’m gonna cum!” i warned as he was about the have a taste for the first time. he moved downwards and started to tease my entrance, his tongue pushing inside my slit as i kept on moving my hips, practically humping his face.

matt continued to eat me out as my orgasm washed over me, making me throw my head back and my body tremble due the overstimulation. i had to pull his hair so he’d remove himself from me, watching his swollen lips covered with my cum. matt licked my release and went back to my thighs, biting my bare skin. “enough, baby” i moaned, feeling his hands holding me in place. “matthew, i said enough”.

he groaned in protest, not wanting to stop. matt gave a few more kisses down my legs, pulling away and staring at me with puppy eyes. i caressed his brown strands, soon cupping his cheeks and sealing our lips. “you did really well for a first time, matt” i thanked him as he got up, sliding his jeans back on.

“so…” he started. “i’m guessing you gave up on your homework?”

“of course not” i rolled my eyes, watching as he buttoned his shirt. “i’m gonna need this good boy to help me every week”.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, love your work and can’t wait to see what you do with this. Eddie/reader. Reader is Chrissy’s best friend since childhood. She’s not popular, is more of a nerd and is always overlooked, used or ignored for Chrissy. A school event is coming up and Eddie, who has always seen her, wants to ask her out. Reader gets confused and thinks he wants to ask Chrissy out and wants her help. She’s super insecure. Can Eddie show her his true intentions in time.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Not her, you

Y/N loved having Chrissy as her best friend. She was a sweet girl who'd do anything for Y/N and Y/N would do the same for her. The only struggle she faced was living in Chrissy's shadow.

Y/N wasn't in the same crowd as Chrissy and they were only best friends because they met as children. Chrissy got popular and Y/N wasn't meant to be. She was a nerd, she liked nerdy things and didn't find an interest in sports or clubs.

It was a common occurrence for people to use Y/N to get to Chrissy. Y/N was positive that every guy that has ever talked to her, was interested in getting to Chrissy. Which sucked and knocked Y/N's confidence down to hell but she wasn't going to dread it. Plus Y/N was too shy to have a boyfriend anyway, she'd never go for a guy like she liked. And well no guys liked her.

At least that's what she believes. Unknown to her, Eddie has spent the last two weeks trying to get himself to talk to her. A school carnival was coming up and he wanted to ask her to go with him. He knew he shouldn't be scared. She was nice and shy, it wasn't like she would scream in his face and laugh about it with her friends. But the thought of rejection held him back.

Before he knew it the carnival was happening tomorrow and tonight was his last chance. Chrissy was throwing a party and Eddie knew Y/N would be there. He hoped with liquid courage he could get the damn question out of his head and out his mouth.

~

Y/N grabbed more beers from the garage and set them on the table. The party was loud but luckily mostly everyone was outside. A few loners inside and a few couples who disappeared down the halls.

Y/N kept to herself during the parties. Chrissy often got busy with everyone but always checked in on her. Y/N wasn't much of a partier but she'd never say no to Chrissy.

"Y/N, right?"

Y/N jumped as a voice came from behind her. She held her hand over her chest and turned around. She smiled when she saw Eddie standing there, a red cup in his hand.

"Yes, and Eddie?" She asked to clarify, even though she knew exactly who he was. He was a pretty boy with long hair and a perfect smile. He nodded and she smiled.

"So awesome party, huh?" Eddie asked, cringing at how stupid he sounded. Y/N lightly laughed.

"Um yeah. Not really my scene but it's not horrible," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, I get that. I'm not well liked so parties aren't my thing," Eddie lightly laughed. He reached behind her to grab a beer. Y/N felt her body stiffen from having him so close to her.

"I wanted to ask you something about the carnival tomorrow," Eddie said, he took a deep breath. He prepared to say it all. Her eyes were waiting for him to continue and he got nervous. The alcohol was wearing off faster than he wanted. He opened his mouth and-

"Are you and Chrissy going?"

He wanted to smack himself

"We are, kinda like a girls' night out," she said with a smile

"Oh that's a bummer, I mean! Good for you guys. Friendship is important. I know it's kinda like a date and couple spot, you know? Maybe it can be a date" Eddie ranted. He blabbed when he was nervous and boy was he nervous.

"I mean I could probably talk to her and rearrange things," Y/N smiled. "If you were interested, I mean. We can have many other girl nights."

Eddie beamed happily, smiling, "Yeah, that would be great. I wrote down my number in hopes I would get this far."

Y/N laughed and accepted the piece of paper.

"It was nice talking to you," Y/N smiled. Eddie waited until she was out of sight before he pumped his fist in victory.

Y/N walked outside in search of Chrissy. She found the pretty blonde standing alone.

"Hey, got something for you," Y/N said, handing the paper over to her. Chrissy smiled and took the paper.

"What's this?" Chrissy asked as she read the number

"Eddie Munson's number. He wants to take you to the carnival on a date. I promise I'm cool with it." Y/N explained.

"Well, I'm not! You've had a crush on him for months. I'm not going on a date with him," Chrissy scoffed.

"Chris, he was so happy when I said I'd rearrange things. Who cares if I have a crush on him. If he likes you, my crush is pointless." Y/N shrugged

"It's not pointless. And I'm not going on this date."

~

The next morning Eddie was beaming with excitement. He was waiting on the phone for hours, waiting for her to call to talk about the details of the date.

When the phone rang, he was fast to answer it on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Eddie, It's Chrissy,"

"Oh hi, what's up?" Eddie asked. He was confused as to why Chrissy would be calling him and how she got his number.

"I'm sorry but I can't go on a date with you tonight," Chrissy said, she felt horrible. She was never good at telling people no.

"Date? What date?" Eddie asked, the longer the conversation went on the more confused he became.

"At the carnival? Y/N gave me your number last night at the party," Chrissy explained

"Oh, um, I actually was trying to ask her out. My number was meant for her,"

"That's amazing!" Chrissy squealed, "Grab a pen, I'm giving you her number."

~

Y/N twirled in front of the mirror, terrified for her date.

"You don't have to be nervous! He likes you," Chrissy said as she placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"But what if doesn't once we are alone together? We've never truly talked. Maybe he'll hate my personality."

"He's going to love your personality! There is nothing to dislike about you,"

Y/N tried to believe her words and tried to boost her confidence as she heard a call pull up. She walked over to her window and saw Eddie walking towards her front door.

"Take a deep breath and have fun," Chrissy said before she sent Y/N out the door.

~

Y/N already was feeling comfortable around Eddie as they arrived at the carnival. She didn't dress up too much but still put a little effort into her appearance. With the amount of compliments Eddie gave her when she opened the door, she felt as if she did a good job.

They walked around the carnival, stopping at a few stands to play games.

"How are you so good at this?" Eddie laughed

He tossed the basketball and it smacked the rim and bounced at him. Y/N smiled as she easily made basket after basket.

"No idea, I don't even do sports," Y/N laughed

"WINNER WINNER!"

The loud alarm blared as the worker reached up and grabbed a small stuffed bear. She smiled as she grabbed it. Her smile grew bigger as she handed the bear to Eddie.

"Isn't the guy supposed to win a prize for the girl?" Eddie joked, but more than happy to take the bear with a smile

"Maybe if he was good at basketball," Y/N teased

Eddie laughed and shoved her shoulder. "Next stand, I'm creaming your ass."

~

After a few hours of winning prizes and spending most of their money, they made their way to the parking lot.

"Want any yet?" Eddie asked as he held his bucket of cotton candy

"Sure," Y/N said as they made it to his van. She went to reach for a piece when Eddie grabbed a piece and fed it to her. She blushed as she leaned in and ate the piece of cotton candy from his fingers.

She felt nervous at how close their faces were. She swallowed the candy but didn't move away. He stared into her eyes, loving the way the moon shined on her.

She gulped as he began to lean in. He closed his eyes and she followed his lead. They moved closer until their lips met. Y/N felt her stomach erupt in butterflies as his lips moved against hers. He moved his right hand to cup her face as his left held the candy.

She wasn't sure what to do but she moved her hands to lay flat on his stomach as she lost herself in the kiss. He tasted of cotton candy and his lips were soft.

She waited until he began to pull away before she did. She kept her hands on his stomach as she opened her eyes and met his brown ones.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Eddie smiled and walked around to open the door for her. She smiled and got into the van. Her fingers touched her lips softly as he closed the door and headed to the driver's side.

The ride was full of laughter and easy conversation. She couldn't remember why she was nervous in the first place. Everything with him felt right and they clicked well.

She felt a little bummed that the night was over as he pulled back into her driveway.

"I had a lot of fun. Thank you," she said. Her voice was so quiet that Eddie barely heard her.

"Thank you for saying yes," he said with a smile, turning to face her. She opened the door but before she got out, she leaned over and softly touched his chin. She slowly leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It felt even better than the first one.

She pulled away leaving him wanting more.

"Goodnight, Eddie," she got out of the car and closed the door. Eddie was fast to get out of his van and follow her up to her door.

"Can we do this again, sometime?" He asked, she turned around to look at him.

"Absolutely"

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[whosashan]

I've got my eyes on you

In which - How did you and the LaDS men start dating? Reader is not mc - except in Caleb's section.

Xavier

The moment you laid eyes on Xavier, you knew you had to have him. How could you not? That strikingly handsome face, those curious blue eyes, and an effortlessly captivating presence—it was impossible to resist.

The first time you approached him was at a grocery store. Your heart pounded against your ribs, threatening to break free from your chest, but you forced yourself to remain composed. Summoning your courage, you struck up a conversation.

He didn’t seem particularly interested, responding with brief, lackluster answers.

‘It’s fine, he’ll warm up to me,’ you assured yourself, determination flickering in your gaze. You had never pursued a man before, but this time was different. There was something about him—something magnetic—that refused to let you walk away.

Somehow, you managed to secure his phone number, and you wasted no time texting him, attempting to revive the conversation from earlier.

With persistence, you chipped away at his guarded demeanor, gradually uncovering bits and pieces of who he was. One particularly useful detail you learned? He lived close by. Another? His cooking skills were, to put it lightly, atrocious.

‘Perfect,’ you mused, making a beeline for your kitchen. It was time to put those cooking classes to good use.

Weeks turned into months, and an unspoken routine formed between the two of you—you would cook, and he would eat. As cliché as it was, the old saying held true: the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. Your bond deepened, not in a whirlwind of passion, but in slow, comfortable moments. And you didn’t mind one bit.

Late-night arcade outings, spontaneous hangouts, and occasional movie nights became the norm. And every time he fell asleep beside you, his face soft, his messy hair falling over his slightly flushed cheeks, your heart stuttered in your chest.

But with familiarity came a new problem: you had started to care, truly care, and with that realization, your once-unshakable confidence wavered. Flirting had been easy before, playful and teasing, but now? Now, every word felt heavier, every glance more meaningful. And the worst part? You were sure he didn’t even notice.

The final straw came when you noticed a certain colleague of his getting too close for your liking. That was it. You couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Hey, Xayxay, can you meet up? I want to talk to you about something,” you texted, before promptly throwing your phone onto your bed as if that would somehow lessen the weight of your nerves.

You waited. And waited.

It felt like an eternity.

Then, a sudden knock at your door.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to open it. And there he was—Xavier, slightly breathless, eyes laced with concern, like he had practically run to get here.

“Did something happen?” he asked, stepping inside with the ease of someone who had long since made themselves at home in your space. And you loved that.

You sighed, wringing your hands together.

“Look, I don’t want to put this off any longer…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Xavier, I like you. More than a friend.”

You braced yourself for rejection. But instead, you were met with his puzzled stare.

“…Aren’t we dating?”

“…What?”

“…What?”

So, it turned out you had nothing to worry about after all.

Zayne

On your way home, you stepped into a charming little pastry shop near the hospital. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. You could already picture yourself sinking your teeth into a rich, decadent cake.

As you stood in line, your gaze landed on a man whose face was so strikingly handsome it felt almost unfair. There was an air of quiet composure about him, an effortless grace that made it nearly impossible to look away. You found yourself studying him, mind racing with ways to strike up a conversation. How often did you come across someone this captivating?

"Excuse me, sir." Your voice took on a honeyed sweetness that made you cringe internally, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You seem like quite the pastry connoisseur. I don’t come here often, so I’d love a recommendation." A harmless lie.

He turned his gaze toward you, expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he seemed to consider your question carefully before responding.

"If you’re looking for something light, the macarons are an excellent choice. If you prefer something more substantial, the caramel cheesecake is exquisite." His tone was smooth, assured—like a man who always knew the right answer.

At least he had good taste.

"Ahh, thank you! I’ll definitely try both," you said, flashing him a bright smile. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you added, "If you’re not busy, maybe we could enjoy them together here?"

Where had this sudden boldness come from?

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a small nod, he answered, "I do have a break from work right now. Alright."

You nearly leapt with joy, but just as you were about to celebrate internally—

"Ahh, Y/N! My favorite customer! What can I get for you today?" the cashier called out cheerfully.

You froze. Busted.

Despite the momentary embarrassment, the interaction led to an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t get to see Zayne often due to his demanding career as a doctor, but he always found time to text back, even indulging your occasional rants. Sometimes, he even called. The slow progression of your relationship was something you treasured, a delicate dance of growing affection.

Time passed, and though you longed to ask Zayne out, you hesitated. He almost seemed too good to be true. Would he ever truly be interested in you?

Then, there were the little things—how his gaze lingered a second too long, how his hand seemed to hover over yours before pulling away, how, despite his overwhelming schedule, he always carved out time for you. Were those hints? Or were you reading too much into it?

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft ping of a notification. Your heart jumped as you picked up your phone. A message from Zayne.

"Are you free tonight?"

Such a simple text, yet it sent heat rushing through your body.

"For sure! What do you want to do?" you replied, fingers trembling slightly as you awaited his response.

"I’d love to take you out."

Your breath hitched. Take you out. As in… a date?

You stared at the message, searching for any alternate meaning, but there was none.

"I would love that, Zayne," you finally typed, hands shaking.

"Lovely. I’ll pick you up at 7."

You practically sprinted to your room to get ready.

The evening was nothing short of perfect. He took you to a refined restaurant, surprising you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers—proof that he had been listening all along. The air between you was charged with something different, something new yet thrilling.

After dinner, the two of you strolled beneath a sky blanketed with stars, the crisp night air adding an almost cinematic touch to the moment.

"You’re shivering," he observed, his voice as calm and measured as ever. Without hesitation, he slipped off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric—and of him—enveloping you.

"Thank you…" you murmured, smiling softly but avoiding his gaze, afraid he’d see just how deeply he affected you.

"Y/N." He came to a halt, prompting you to stop as well. His tone was composed, yet there was an unfamiliar weight behind it.

"I would love to take you out more… What I mean is, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" His face remained impassive, but you swore you caught the faintest hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

Your heart nearly exploded.

"I would love nothing more, Zayne."

Rafayel

Being an art enthusiast, you often found yourself wandering through exhibitions, losing yourself in the beauty of each piece. Tonight, however, felt different. This was Rafayel’s exhibition—a name that had long held a certain power over you. His art possessed an almost hypnotic quality, evoking emotions so profound that you struggled to put them into words.

As you moved through the gallery, your gaze inevitably found him. Rafayel stood amidst a small group of admirers, answering their questions with an effortless confidence. His voice was smooth, steady, rich with an underlying intensity that made it impossible to ignore.

But it wasn’t just his voice that captivated you. He was a masterpiece himself—dressed in a crisp white blouse, his dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp eyes carrying a quiet depth. There was something about the way he carried himself, as if knowing the effect he had on people.

You didn't want to appear as just another admirer swooning over the artist. Your fascination went beyond that—you were genuinely intrigued by his mind, his process. So, when the crowd around him began to disperse, leaving him momentarily alone, you took a steadying breath and approached him. He stood before one of his paintings, his gaze heavy with contemplation.

"You truly know how to capture a moment," you mused, your voice steady but tinged with admiration. "This piece in particular—it feels almost melancholic, like someone longing for something just out of reach."

Rafayel’s eyes flicked toward you, scanning your face, weighing your words. For a brief moment, you feared he might dismiss you with the same aloofness he granted others, but instead, his lips curved into something almost thoughtful. And just like that, an unspoken understanding passed between you, giving way to a conversation that carried on far longer than you had expected.

That first meeting was the spark. You found yourself returning to his exhibitions more often, drawn not just to his art but to him. It became a quiet routine—the two of you engaging in deep discussions, learning the intricacies of each other's thoughts and mannerisms. At first, Rafayel maintained his usual air of arrogance, teasing and enigmatic, but with time, you glimpsed something more—something raw and unguarded beneath the facade.

It wasn’t long before your admiration deepened into something more. You had fallen for him, hopelessly so. And you liked to think, in stolen moments of lingering glances and fleeting touches, that perhaps he felt the same.

One evening, you found yourself in his studio, sitting on the floor as he worked, the only sounds being the occasional stroke of his brush against canvas. The atmosphere was comforting, intimate in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

“And you’re talkative, as always.” A soft smile played on your lips as you stood and walked toward him.

“Rafayel, can I ask you something?” The hesitation in your voice made him pause. He turned to face you, one brow arched in curiosity.

“Why so serious?” he asked, studying you intently.

You scoffed lightly. “Never mind, then.”

He let out a small sigh. "You’ve already started. Might as well finish."

You hesitated for a beat before finally speaking. “Do you… have someone you like? More than a friend, I mean.”

For a fleeting second, something unreadable passed through his gaze. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Curious, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle before answering, “There is someone. She’s insufferably stubborn, a little reckless, and quite possibly the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” His gaze softened, a rare warmth creeping into his tone. “And yet, she’s also the most endearing.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “You need to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “If you weren’t so oblivious, you’d figure it out.”

A teasing smile spread across your lips. “Wait—are you talking about me?” You nudged him playfully.

He said nothing, his focus returning to his painting.

Oh.

“YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME?” you blurted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a small crush,” he scoffed, though the faint pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

A laugh bubbled out of you, pure and unrestrained. “Aww, Rafayel! I like you too.”

His expression flickered with surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual confidence. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

Despite his words, his actions spoke differently—pulling you into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Perhaps, just this once, he didn’t mind wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Sylus

Sleep had eluded you, leaving you restless and craving the crisp night air. The city was bathed in the gentle glow of streetlights, the sky an endless expanse of inky black adorned with shimmering stars. Their quiet brilliance was captivating, an ethereal distraction that kept your gaze skyward as you wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure in your path until you collided with him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” you started, but your words caught in your throat as you looked up at him.

The man before you was striking. Towering in stature, his silver hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, tousled in a way that made it appear effortlessly elegant. But it was his eyes that truly seized your breath—deep crimson, piercing and intense, as if they could unravel every secret hidden within you. His features were sharp, sculpted to perfection, and his presence exuded an air of undeniable dominance.

He regarded you with a smirk, his amusement evident.

“Worry not, sweet thing,” he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your senses. The smoothness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine, deepening the warmth blooming in your cheeks. His gaze flickered over your face, noting your reaction, and his smirk grew ever so slightly.

Only then did you realize what else you had stumbled upon. A few feet away, a man knelt on the pavement, head bowed, his entire posture trembling before the silver-haired stranger. The sight sent unease prickling up your spine.

What exactly had you just walked into?

The silver-haired man followed your gaze before exhaling softly. “Ah,” he mused, as if debating what to say. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be wandering alone at this hour. The night is filled with monsters, after all.”

The way he said it, with that knowing glint in his crimson eyes, sent a fresh wave of unease through you. Somehow, you knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. But instead of pressing for answers, something in you decided it was best not to ask.

“I was just out for some air. I should…probably head home now.” You forced a steady voice, willing your body not to betray the apprehension creeping into your bones. Every instinct in you screamed to run, yet your legs remained locked in place, unwilling to reveal your fear.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Allow me to escort you.”

Your breath hitched. “You seem more dangerous than whatever else is lurking out here.”

A rich chuckle escaped him, dark and amused. “A fair observation.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. “But that decision, my dear, is entirely yours.”

Despite every warning sign flashing in your mind, you hesitated. There was something about him—his presence was undeniably commanding, yet oddly reassuring. And then, there was the nagging feeling that he was familiar, though you couldn't place why.

Eventually, you gave a small nod, curiosity overpowering reason.

And so began your entanglement with Sylus. The enigmatic man came and went like a shadow, slipping in and out of your life at his whim. Some nights, he would appear unexpectedly, gifting you your favorite sweets or leaving a new dress draped across your doorstep with no explanation. Tickets to your favorite concerts would mysteriously find their way into your mailbox, the sender unstated but obvious.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. He was impossible to understand, yet he made you feel desired—seen in a way no one else ever had.

But after monthsof his unpredictable vanishing acts, your patience wore thin. So when he strolled into your apartment one evening, pouring himself a glass of the wine you had bought earlier, you finally snapped.

“You’re confusing me,” you blurted, frustration lacing your tone. “What am I to you, Sylus?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He raised the glass to his lips but paused, considering your words. Slowly, he set the drink down and approached you, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. When he reached out to cup your cheek, you instinctively pushed his hand away, resolve burning in your gaze.

He sighed. Vulnerability did not come easily to him; that much was clear. But you were different. You had made him a little softer, a little weaker in ways he didn’t quite understand.

“I can’t keep living in uncertainty,” you continued, voice steadier now. “Either tell me what you want, or leave me alone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke, his voice low, certain.

“I want you.”

The simplicity of the statement sent your heart racing. You hadn’t expected him to be so direct, nor for his words to carry such weight.

Your face grew hot. “You’re an idiot.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest as you sighed, resting your head against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled of something rich and warm, a scent you couldn’t quite place but already found comforting.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus merely hummed in amusement, his arms wrapping around you with the quiet possessiveness of a man who had no intention of letting go.

Caleb

After your reunion with Caleb, an unfamiliar feeling took root in your chest—no, not unfamiliar. It had always been there, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial. But now, it was impossible to ignore. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how much of a man he had become.

His kind yet brooding eyes, that boyish grin, the intoxicating scent that lingered on his clothes—had he always smelled this good? Broad shoulders, strong arms, hands that had always handled you with ease, lifting you effortlessly whenever. The thought alone sent heat creeping up your cheeks, and the man sitting across from you clearly took notice.

“What’s got you all blushy-blushy, pipsqueak?” he teased, pinching your cheek with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

You scoffed, turning your face away. “Don’t touch my face, Caleb! I have makeup on.”

Lately, you’d found yourself caring more about your appearance around him. It was absurd. He’d seen you at your absolute worst—bedhead, tears, even the aftermath of too much liquor. Yet now, every glance he sent your way made you feel… shy? What was happening to you?

He only chuckled in response, leaning back against his chair.

The two of you had met up at a café to play Kitty Cards, an old favorite. He always let you win, though he never admitted it. You pretended not to notice, but every time you did, it made you smile—just a little.

“Alright, come on. The movie’s gonna start soon.” He stood, extending his hand toward you. Without hesitation, you took it, savoring the warmth of his rough palm against yours.

The movie of choice was a horror film—Caleb’s idea, of course. You had agreed, partly to humor him and partly because any excuse to spend more time with him was welcome.

Inside the theater, you sat beside him, the glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. The flickering light made his eyes glimmer, and for a moment, you were caught staring. You quickly looked away, but not before he noticed. Of course he noticed.

“You’re acting weird.” His gaze lingered on you, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I—uh—I’m on my period,” you blurted, grasping for an excuse. “That’s all. I just feel a little unwell.”

His expression softened instantly. “You should’ve told me. Do you want to go home? I’ll cook you some soup, and we can watch something there instead.”

There he was again—always caring, always thinking of you. It made your heart race, and you hated how easily he could do that to you.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”

As the film progressed, it proved to be far scarier than you’d anticipated. Without realizing it, you had latched onto Caleb’s hand. He chuckled at your reaction but didn’t pull away.

Then came the jump scare.

Out of reflex, you turned toward him, seeking comfort. But at the same moment, he turned toward you.

Peck.

Your lips brushed against his.

Your breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Just stared.

“I’m so sorry!” you yelped, whipping your head away in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine, pipsqueak.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “It was an accident.”

You didn’t know why, but his words stung a little.

“…Yeah.”

By the time you returned home, your shoulders were weighed down with something heavy, something unspoken. It gnawed at you, clawed at your chest.

Caleb, as if sensing your turmoil, placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him. “Alright, that’s enough. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to the floor before gathering the courage to meet his eyes.

“Caleb… would it be selfish of me if I said I want to kiss you again?”

Silence. A single, tense moment stretched between you, thick enough to drown in. Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hands cupped your face, disregarding your earlier complaint about ruining your makeup, and with a quiet exhale, he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, tender—yet it held the weight of something long overdue. In that moment, you knew he was no longer only your best friend.

[heart-writesss]

some would say connie’s type in the past has been girls that fall under the category “bitchy”. girls with stank attitudes that he’d have to constantly stop from fighting in public. it’s just what he’s also attracted until one day he met you.

it was a pretty day and you were at the quiet little boutique you worked at. you had worked a morning shift and it was now 3 in the afternoon so you were heading out. “bye girls! are you sure you don’t need me to stay because i’d be happy to?” you ask the younger employees taking over for the night shift. they reassure you that they’ve got it covered and you grab your tote bag and head out. you live in a loft apartment not too far from your job so you walk on days like today. you begin walking down the sidewalk when your stomach starts to grumble lowly making you remember that you’d only eaten a bagel for breakfast and sipped on water. “ugh i don’t feel like cooking.” you mumbled to yourself so you decided to stop at a local pizzeria for a quick slice.

connie and eren were in connie’s black benz truck heading to one of their favorite places, benny’s pizzeria. “what’s going on with you and ole girl con? haven’t seen her since she was getting carried out of the club a few months ago.” eren questioned connie. connie huffed dramatically thinking back to that night. the girl he was referring to was one of his short term flings with big time anger problems. it was never a peaceful moment with her and after her major club blowout including her getting detained connie had wiped his hands clean of her. he just couldn’t handle the constant bickering and fighting and embarrassment that came with it. “nah man that’s been done for. i’m off women for while.” connie says as he parks the car.

you finally make it to benny’s and walk right in and breathe in the saucy aroma in the air. it was quite empty inside. just you and a young couple sitting together. seeing the couple together giggling makes you remember your lack of romance in your life today. lately it’s been just work and home with an occasional hangout with your friends. you’re content with life currently but sometimes it would be nice to have someone to hold at night and to go on dates with. you’re snapped out of your daydreaming state when you hear the doorbell ring and not long after a body trips into yours.

“oh my god i’m sorry i wasn’t paying attention.” you exclaimed as you turned around to see the man who was standing behind you. as you turned around you were met with a tall man covered in patchwork tattoos and a buzzcut. your insides were freaking out just from looking at him. maybe it was the tattoos or the hair or the way he was looking at you or that deep voice or even all the above but his aura was captivating.

“no i’m sorry. didn’t mean to almost knock you down.” he states while taking in your appearance. you were around 5’7 with big curly hair all over framing your face perfectly, big black frames over your eyes, a white tee with a pair of blue jeans on, and a pair of pink sambas on your feet. you were gorgeous. before connie could find any other words you gave him a sweet smile and headed to the counter to order. “you can stop staring now.” eren jokes at the table they sat at. ever since your interaction connie hadn’t taken his eyes off you for more than 15 minutes at a time. he couldn’t let you leave without saying something else to you. he didn’t know what but he had to say something. the soft look in your eyes made him feel all jumbled around inside. but he liked it.

you ordered your food to-go and waited till your number was called. super cute buzzcut man was inside and you could feel his eyes on you from time to time but you just ignored it. once your number was called you grabbed your bag and dropped a $10 dollar bill in the tip jar and headed out the door. on the inside you were wishing for mysterious buzzcut guy to say something to you or maybe even you gain the courage to say something to him but it didn’t seem like your day.

as you head down the street towards your apartment you hear yelling and footsteps trailing behind you. curiosity won the best of you and you turned around only to find buzzcut guy seemingly trying to flag you down. in seconds he’s standing in front of you smiling. “we didn’t properly introduce ourselves a moment ago. i’m connie.” he says and reaches his hand out to shake yours. “and i’m y/n.” you couldn’t stop the big smile from spreading across your face. “well y/n i wanted to ask if i could have your number and-“ before he could even finish you had said “yes!” leaving connie surprised he was used to the chase of it all with his past flings. you exchanged numbers and were prepared to go yalls separate ways. you say to connie before heading home finally, “it was nice meeting you connie. hopefully we’ll get to talk again soon.” you turn your back to connie no longer having to contain your giddiness.

as connie returns to the restaurant he thinks about you and just how kind you were. it was something new he’d never been on the receiving end of. an image of your smile keeps flashing in his head. when he sits back down eren goes “well are you actually gonna call her?” looking at his friend curiously.

“yeah i am. she seems different than the others y’know. she seems sweet.”

part 2

[star-sim]

boy's night ☆ riki nishimura

☆ summary: riki had no game, no rizz, which was why he employed the help of his six friends to text you. warning: having seven boys on the phone trying to text a girl does not give good results! ☆ genre: fluff, all enhypen members make an appearance, boys being boys, very stupid, it's getting rizzy in here but clearly i have negative game ☆ warning(s)? no just silliness :3 ☆ word count: 1.7k words

"Oh my god, she texted me!" was the sentence that completely destroyed Jake Sim's house.

Tonight, Riki was having a sleepover at Jake's house. It was supposed to be a chill night, a night in which Riki could bask in his friends' presence before they went off to college again.

There were many perks to being the youngest in his friend group. It seemed like Heeseung, Jay, and Jake forever saw him as their baby, after all, when they all met as children, Riki was a snotty little four year-old, constantly tattling on the older boys. Regardless, it was nearly impossible for them to not fuss over him, constantly asking if he ate yet or if he needed help. Sunghoon teased the ever-living shit out of Riki, sure, but the older boy never hesitated to take Riki's side whenever there was an argument. Sunoo and Jungwon were closest to Riki in age, but that didn't stop them from watching over him closely, like mother cats stalking their cubs.

Though, there was one thing that Riki had to admit that he hated about being the youngest: he was the most inexperienced.

Whenever his friends got their 'firsts,' he was always too young to care. It seemed like all his friends got to experience their first crushes and heartbreaks almost simultaneously, only for them to not be there when Riki had his.

Even when he was now a senior in high school, he had absolutely no idea how to talk to girls.

He'd heard all the stories about Heeseung and his antics at college, all the flirting tips that Jake liked to give out to Sunghoon and Jay, and all the crazed texts that Sunoo and Jungwon sent as they went through relationships.

Even so, Riki had never experienced teenage love for himself.

Enter: You.

You were the cute girl that sat in front of him in his Macroeconomics class. If it wasn't for the fact that Riki absolutely hated Macro, he would blame the fact that you were just so pretty that he couldn't bring himself to focus on the lecture about the New York Stock Exchange.

Initially, Riki had no intention of pursuing you.

You were cute, obviously, but hearing you talk to your partner in class was enough for him. Plus, it wasn't like Riki had any experience— even if he wanted to talk to you, he had no idea how to!

Except, thanks to his nosy friends, your name had been discussed what felt like a million times by the end of the week.

"So... [Name], eh?" was the first thing Sunghoon said as Riki's camera turned on during their weekly weekend FaceTime calls.

"This is so exciting, Riki," Heeseung said as he joined the call.

"Wait, how do you know her again?" Sunoo's voice cut in. "Sorry, my Wi-Fi is bad. You said you know her from Macro?"

With a little more prying, his friends managed to get a middle-school level confession out of Riki.

"I-I just think she's really pretty, and like, she's really smart," Riki huffed, "I don't think she likes me like that— I've never even spoken to her! Like, I can't talk to women, I straight up am a mess and the other day—oh my god— she looked at me and I think I almost passed out. What do I do? I actually cannot do thi—

".... But you think she's pretty, right?"

And that's how Riki managed to get your phone number. With the help of his friends (that felt more like them feeding into his delusions), he worked up the courage to stutter out a simple question.

And when you smiled, nodding enthusiastically as you typed your contact into his phone, Riki felt his soul leave his body.

So, it wasn’t hard to imagine the havoc that engulfed Jake Sim's house (the place of the sleepover) as Riki's phone pinged, your contact name showing up.

It was already late at night, so the boys were raiding Jake's pantry to get midnight snacks. 

The moment that Riki announced that you had just, in fact, texted him first, everyone stopped in their tracks.

"Oh shit!" Jay shouted as he jumped over Jake's sofa, bowl of cereal still in hand.

The sound of crashing as Heeseung knocked over the ramen cups, as well as cutlery dropping abruptly and cabinets slamming filled the house.

"Oi, don't mess up my kitchen!" Jake yelled as his feet pounded against his stairs, scrambling so fast that he practically glided downstairs. After Jungwon spilled milk on his shirt, he was half-way through putting on a new shirt as he clambered down.

"What did she—" Sunoo pushed Jay out of the way, knocking the older boy over as he plopped down next to Riki on the living room carpet and peeked over his shoulder— "What did she say?!"

Within seconds, all six of his friends were huddled around Riki, pushing each other out of the way to catch a glimpse of what you said.

"Move your fatass head!"

"I can't see!"

As his friends argued, Riki stared at his phone, chewing on his bottom lip. His heart was pounding in his chest. He only saw the notification, and didn't see what you said yet.

What if you said something crazy, like "I just found out about that one time in first grade when you peed yourself at the playground" even though Riki and all his friends agreed to never speak of that incident again?! Or, what if you confessed your everlasting love for him in a long paragraph?

His head was spinning.

"Wait, did you open the message yet?!" Jungwon abruptly yelled into Riki's ear.

"No..." Riki answered slowly, watching the way all of his friends' once tense faces soften with relief.

"Oh my god," Jake sighed in relief.

"Phhhhheeewww!" Heeseung said dramatically.

"Why?" Riki frowned. "What's wrong with opening the message?"

"[Name] can see if you read her message if you open it," Sunghoon said matter-of-factly. 

"Why is that a bad thing?"

All of his friends groaned.

They taught him a trick: swipe just enough so that he could see the message, but not enough that the system marks it as read.

Hey, was all you said, much to Riki's relief.

"What do I say?" Riki asked, clutching his phone. His eyes flickered to his friends as he sucked his bottom lip under his teeth pensively. "How do I respond to this?"

"Just say 'hey' back!" Jay blurted.

"No!" Heeseung shook his head profusely. "Anything but that!"

"Why not? You want him to say haiiii instead?" Sunghoon nudged the older boy.

"No, no, no!" Jungwon reached across to smack Sunghoon's knee. "All of you are wrong."

Jungwon turned to Riki. "Just respond with an emoji."

They all groaned loudly.

"Okay, anything but a goddamn emoji!"

Riki ended up typing out a simple hey in response. He had to make Sunoo press send for him, squeezing his eyes shut. Riki immediately shut his phone off, placing it face down.

"I don't want to see if she responds or not!" Riki moaned. 

Within a minute or two, his phone pinged again.

"She responded!"

Even though you only asked, How was your day?, the entire house was once again invigorated. The boys shrieked, whooping and hitting Riki's shoulder, so loud that the house probably shook.

"Oh my god, it's happening!"

"Ouuuuu, she wants you, Riki!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up, it's time to lock in, oh my god it's actually happening—"

And just as everyone settled back down, ready to give Riki their mind-blowing advice, his phone dinged again.

[Attachment: 1 photo]. It was a silly picture of you, one of those cute ones that showed your eyes, clearly taken on the spot. 

"OHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Shewantsyousobadohmygo—"

According to Jake, if a girl sends you a picture of herself, no matter how silly or cute it is, she is head over heels for you.

"One message at a time!" Jay yelled over Jake's shoulder as they tried to figure out how to respond. "You need to answer her question first and then respond to the picture!"

"No! Don't respond to the picture!" Sunghoon, who was all the way in the guest bathroom, yelled from behind the bathroom door, his voice both booming and muffled. "She'll think you're weird!"

"I agree," Sunoo said.

"I agree," Jungwon mocked him in a nasally voice, earning a slap to the shoulder. "Just heart the picture!"

But their arguing fell upon deaf ears.

"Riki, what are you doing?!"

Riki was on his own, his heart beating at the tip of his fingers.

I hung out with my friends today and it was fun, how was yours? was his first response. Pressing on the picture, he responded, You look cute.

When Riki glanced over at his friends, they were sprawled across the floor, crying aloud dramatically.

"It's over."

"You're insane."

"Fumbled."

Riki threw a pillow at them. "I didn't fumble— Oh shoot, she's typing!"

The house was once again filled with screaming and crashing as they scampered to Riki's side.

You typed for a few moments. Everyone was at the edge of their seat, simply begging to see how you'd respond. But then, you stopped.

"Good game, guys."

"100% over."

Riki chewed on his thumb, his eyes glued to his phone screen. Did he creep you out? Was it weird for him to say that you looked cute? Did he fuck up?

But then you finally replied.

My day was just filled with homework, very boring, you replied. Maybe if I spent it with you it would have been more fun.

Oh.

My.

God.

Riki's hands shook as he typed back another response, completely ignoring the complete and utter disaster around him. He didn't know what came over him. He wouldn't say any of the things that he typed out loud, let alone to your face. It was like he was possessed by some spirit that gave him the courage to type. Without even noticing it, his heart was palpitating in his chest, his entire face, neck, and ears covered in a red shade.

I'm free tomorrow, he typed. 

"RIKI WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU—"

Okay, you simply responded. 12PM. The Block. Let's have fun.

"D-Did she just ask you out?"

Riki glanced at this phone, then at his friends, who stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and their jaws dropped to the floor, then back at his phone. He blinked. "Yeah."

"Yes?!"

Riki blinked again. "Yeah."

.

.

.

And then it hit him.

"Oh my god, [Name] asked me out...!"

[yuvany]

WHEN YOU PUT ANOTHER MEMBER ON A "HEAR ME OUT CAKE"

─── ( on point ) OT7 ENHYPEN x 𝒇 ! reader contains: fluff + tiktok trend + jealousy + est relationship + idol!reader for some parts + not proofread 𝐰𝐜: 1.1k

完美 : I know I'm late for the trend, but i hope you'll still enjoy it !!

reblogs and feedback appreciated!!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

To say that he was shocked was an understatement. The sight of Ni-ki, his idol member, gagged him. "What?" You awkwardly chuckled when seeing his expression. "Tell me if you ever have any problems, I'm here to listen, babe." His words confused you, but you sooner realised what he was aiming at. Now, you're the one with the shocked expression. "BUT really, really for real, hear me out alright." You try to persuade your boyfriend, but he only lays down on the couch, his head resting in his palm that was propped on the cushion. "I am not hearing you out, he's literally like a younger brother to me." Heeseung yawns, "Is it my turn now?" You nod disappointedly. He turns around to his stack of paper cut-outs of mainly game characters before he turns back around and stick a picture of one of your group members. "WHAT!"

(more under the cut !!)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

The look that Jay gave you the second he saw that you pulled out a small Sunoo selca was hillarious. "Tell me why he is there but not me?" He says, the hand placed on his chest exposing his secret demeanour. "Let's be honest, Sunoo is magestic." You argue, and you see how Jay quirks an eyebrow. "What have I done to deserve this? Has he tricked you into this?" His voice sounds questioning as he grabs onto each side of your shoulders, his fingers slowly grabbing you harder. "Jay, babe, I promise he didn't. I just have free will." You give him a kiss on the cheek and his grip softens. "Don't worry though, you're still my number one. No one beats the handsomeness you possess." You say with a chuckle, but Jay just shakes his head slowly with a worried expression.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗬𝗨𝗡

He watches as you place the Sunghoon cut-out on the messily frosted cake that you baked together. "Sunghoon? The Park Sunghoon?" Jake archs an eyebrow as he leans down closer to the cake to inspect the photo you chose. With a hum you nod you head. "I've got to admit, I am absolutely hearing you out on this guy." jake rubs his palms together and has a smirk on his face. Instead of worrying him, he worried you. It was supposed to be a little prank, but now you're wondering if he's pranking you in some way. "really?" You drag out. "100% Have you seen this guy's jawline, it's so sharp it could cut this cake." "And you're not worried I'm gonna go after him?" He scoffs mickingly as he says, "As if! He's way out of you league anyways." "But I'm in your league, so we're both in the same boat, no?" You raise an eyebrow. "Wait a moment."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

"Why do you have the courage to do this in front of me?" Sunghoon let out a long sigh. "Do what?" "Why did you put a shorter guy, a less handsome guy and a 'I-want-women-to-ask-me-out' person on this masterpiece of a cake we baked." He was dramatic, something you were used to by now, and you simply rolled your eyes at him. "You mean Jake," you corrected him. Sunghoon mocked a gag as he crumbled the cut out and threw it away. The paper flung right over his shoulder before hitting the wall, the sound echoing through the silence. "Why want him, when you have me?" You felt your cheeks flushing red with embarrassment at the question. You tried to dismiss it by absently waving your hands in the air until he grabbed you by the wirst, almost forcing you to look him in the eyes. "So?" He asked with curious eyes. "Well, it's not like he's better than you anyways,"

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

The game had gone smoothly, him placing a fictional character that was universally agreed upon, and you did the same. But Sunoo flipped out when he saw Jungwon on the cake. "Why him, babe." He whined, and you shrugged. "Something about him is just like that." You shrugged, causing your boyfriend to raise an eyebrow. "Like what?" Sunoo interrogated, this being the main subject now. "I mean, he's got that leader quality, no?" "He also abuses me, he hits me. Do you like that?" He asked, a feigned look of sadness present on his face. "Jungwon would never." You almost shout, getting too invested in this persona for the prank. Sunoo sighs and continues with the game. Thus after it was finished, he made a point again, "Would you like me to call him?" he asked, and you were confused, "call who?" "Jungwon, of course." You burst out laughing. "No! Babe, I was pranking you." He rolled his eyes.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

This man finds stuff like this fun, but the idea not so much. Jungwon enjoyed baking the cake with you, but when he saw that you sneakily placed a small laminated picture of Sunoo, he gave you a side glare. This had shocked him quite a bit, and he dropped the ones he held in his grasp. "You dared do this to me?" It sounded playful with the tiny scoff he let out afterwards as a way to contain his giggles. "Well..." You dragged out, not fully knowing what to say. "Put that out of my sight." "But why!" You argued, to see how angry he'd get. "Babe, tell me one thing." You nodded, trying to hold his hand, but he made no effort. "Is this your way of saying that you want to break up with me? Am I not pretty enough?" He asked, and you scrunched your eyebrows. "What- no! I love you, you're making me feel about about this prank now. Sorry, baby." You apologised and threw the cut-out away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

"Heeseung hyung?" Riki was almost flabbergasted by the look on his face and tone. It had come out so suddenly without having time to proccess what you meant when putting his elder on the cake. You nodded confidently, not wanting to retreat from this prank. You wanted to get back at him for all the times he left you clueless and shocked. "Damn, didn't know you liked them older, babe." He sighed dramatically as he placed his palm against his chest, acting hurt by the sight in front of him. "What, no-" You began to explainn only for him to cut you off quickly, saying, "If you wait a couple of years, I'll be older, so I hope that's okay for you." Now you were confused by what he was yapping about. "Ki, it was just a prank." You declared, a hand over your face as you were fed up by his shenanigans. "i know, hun, I know."

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd NETWORK TAG : @k-films @en-diaries

[novelistwriter]

A Phantom of a Bat

DP x DC Prompt

Tucker had noticed something different about Danny. He's been acting more seriously, not making as much puns, and is generally getting smarter and better at dodging attacks without using his powers. Tucker also noticed that Danny is spending more time in the Ghost Zone than before.

So, as a good friend who is concerned for his best friend, he stalks Danny in the Ghost Zone. But what he finds is shocking, Danny is learning how to fight, solve crime, and improvise under the freaking BATMAN. But it shouldn't be possible, as Batman is still alive and well in Gotham. So, with his smarts, he concluded that Danny is learning under the Spirit of Batman, a Neverborn that was in the Ghost Zone, but the Gotham that the Spirit if Batman is looking over doesn't look like the Gotham he knows, it looks... more sinister, and has some buildings that aren't in the real world Gotham, like Lex Corp, Queen Industries, it has those buildings and other newer buildings that are being built over old ones, and the most ominous thing he's noticed is a big Arkham Asylum looming over the Gotham of the Ghost Zone. He concluded that this is a Batman and a Ghost Zone equivalent of the Gotham of a different timeline. He's heard before that the Ghost Zone can connect to different timelines, and with Danny's luck, it was bound to happen.

Tucker was building up his courage to ask Danny about his more frequent visits to the Zone a few days later. Because this is obviously a big secret Danny had kept from him, Sam had slowly drifted away from them when her and Danny broke up. They just weren't meant for each other.

And then something very bad happens. Either the GIW becomes more competent or the Fentons find out about Danny's Ghostly half and attack him. And now Danny is missing after telling Tucker over the phone about what happened while running away.

Maybe Tucker should contact his aunt on his mom's side, who is a high ranking Government Official who has worked with and told him herself the deeds of the Bat to help him get his best friend back. So he frantically searches for his phone that his aunt got him and dials the number she had him memorize and waits. And when she finally picks up, he lets out a sigh of relief.

"Amanda Waller speaking"

(Kinda surprised no one commented that Danny is learning under the Spirit of Arkham Batman)

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[my-castles-crumbling]

pizza - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 283

Barty took three deep breaths before answering the door, trying desperately to appear calm as he revealed the boy on the other side.

"Hey," he mumbled, deciding short but sweet worked best as a greeting, fighting back a giant grin.

"Hey," the delivery boy responded, face completely void of emotion.

That didn't matter, though. Barty was already more than obsessed. Biting his lip, he allowed himself a few moments to stare, taking in the blonde braids and tattooed skin. Fuck, he wanted to add more marks there.

"It's 22.50," the man said flatly, jolting Barty from his fantasy.

"Erm. Right." Turning and grabbing the cash he'd left on the counter, he handed the man $30. "Keep the rest," he breathed, shifting from foot to foot.

"Right."

Barty took the food eagerly and watched him walk away, nearly drooling from the view. It was only as the man reached the street that he got the courage to speak up. "Oi!" he called, heart hammering.

All he received in reply was a single, raised eyebrow.

"What're the chances you wrote your number on the inside of the box?" he asked, smirking.

Delivery Boy tilted his head to the side. "Zero."

Barty's heart sank. They'd been playing this game for weeks now, and his hopes were slowly running out.

"But if you're smart enough to check the back of the receipt, you might find something."

With that, the man drove away, not bothering to look back.

Turning, Barty went back into the house, grinning like a madman, only to find Regulus about three feet inside the door.

"Guess I know why you wanted pizza so badly," Regulus rolled his eyes, snatching the box from his hands.

[miedei]

heyoo🫶 idk if your spencer requests are still open but all I've been able to think about for weeks is s4ep9 spencer being the most adorable nerd when he was warning the women at the club about the serial and them being the reader's friends going back to the reader with like drinks or whatever laughing about "that nerdy loser" at which reader's practically frothing at the mouth asking them "WHERE" and then hardcore flirting with an oblivious (and/or blushing mess) spence to the team's amusement and reader just thinking "need me a pathetic loser like that" (affectionate). im not even sure this makes sense but i just go feral for nerd reid. im really looking forward to reading this and thank you in advance if you do write this🥰

REAL REAL REAL need me a pathetic loser boy

peacocking

spencer gets hit on at the club!!

cw: none i think?? spence is cute and pathetic, r is the kind of flirty i only aspire to be

wc: 1.2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The club is busy, lighting dim, the music so loud that you can feel the bass thumping in your chest. It's a stark difference from the brightly-lit bathroom you just emerged from, wearing three new products of makeup courtesy of the drunken friends you've just made.

The crowd is thick, and you can just barely spot your friends, huddled around a hard-won table. You push through people, not bothering to apologise, until you've returned to the group.

You're greeted with whoops and cheers, and a drink is pushed into your hand before you can even sit down. Alcohol-fueled shouts leave their mouths, and you get the distinct feeling that they've somehow had at least two more rounds in the time you've been gone. You can barely focus on one person's speech, the words overlapping in their excitement.

"-and he was, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen!"

"-but he wouldn't take my number because he was working, and-"

"-his friend was pretty awkward though-"

"-like a string bean! Nerdy as hell, think it was his first time in a club-"

"-was like he'd never spoken to a woman before, kept talking about the serial killer-"

You hold up a hand, a little bewildered at the bombardment of information.

"Hold on- serial killer?" One of your friends shakes her head a little, as if clearing her mind.

"Not here, at least they pretty sure. Some creep's been picking up women and killing them at clubs, so there were cops or something here giving out fliers." A flier is thrusted into your hand, a sketch of a guy looking up at you.

"And, one of the cop guys was gorgeous! Adonis, Casanova, whatever the fuck you'd call him, he was so pretty..." She sighs wistfully, pointing across the room to a gaggle of women surrounding a well-built guy holding fliers like the one in your hand.

"The other guy was a little sad, though. Real nerd type."

Another voice butts in. "Yeah! I mean, look at him, I feel a little bad for him, he's clearly striking out and he's here for his job."

The pointing finger shifts, and your attention is directed to a lanky guy standing towards the edges of the crowd, near the bar. He looks nervous, hands fiddling with the stack of fliers he's got, and he doesn't seem to be trying to approach anyone anymore.

He's clearly uncomfortable, skittish in his stance. A nerd to his core, probably never the type to be wading through a crowd like this. He looks a little pathetic.

You've got to have him.

You tell your friends as much, and are met with drunken encouragement, slaps on the back and reminders to use protection. Setting down the flyer and your drink, you steel yourself, smoothing back your hair before walking with purpose across the room.

Once you near him, you slide onto a barstool, flagging down the bartender and pretending not to notice the new love of your life. He's clearly clocked you, and seems to be trying to work up the courage to approach you. Once you've given your order, you decide to make it easier for him.

Turning on the stool, you look up at him, eyes slightly hooded.

"You not having fun? It's a club, you should probably unbutton that shirt a little." It's thrilling, the way his eyes widen and he looks around him, as if you could be speaking to anyone else right now.

"Well, I actually- I'm actually here for my work, so..." His cheeks flush, and you continue with the oblivious act.

"Work? I've got to say, you're gorgeous, but I didn't think you were the type to be hired as a waiter here." You gesture to the scantily-clad waitress that passes you. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, before seemingly remembering something. He rifles through his leather bag, producing a wallet with ID.

"Um, no, I don't work here. I'm- I'm an FBI agent. Doctor Spencer Reid. H-hi." Cute and smart? It's a wonder you haven't slid right off your stool.

"Yeah? And what are you doing here, Doctor Reid? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate being able to ogle you, but this doesn't exactly seem like the place for the FBI to be doing their investigating." You nod your thanks at the bartender, and run your finger along the rim of your glass, eyes locked onto Spencer's.

"Oh! Yeah," He fumbles with the papers in his hand, before holding one out to you. "There's a, um, serial killer? He's in the area, and he's targeting women at clubs like these... so," You lean forward, eyes not wavering from his, relishing in the way Spencer's eyes widen at the motion.

"So?" You prompt.

"So, uh, we're handing out those sketches," His hand, trembling slightly, comes up to point at the flyer in your hand. "and warning women to be on the lookout, not go home with anyone they don't know."

Your lips pinch slightly together, exaggerating your concern. "Oh god, Doctor Reid, that's really scary. What can I do to keep safe?"

His shoulders drop from where they were tensed near his ear, seemingly in his comfort zone here.

"Well, the unsub- the suspect is seeking validation from people, he wants women to chase him. If you meet any guys who try and play hard to get, possibly dressed flaboyantly, stay away and tell the police." You tilt your head questioningly, prompting him to continue.

"He's peacocking. It's a method that some people use to draw attention away from their faces. By using some ornate and distracting piece of clothing, he's diverting attention away from his face." His hands fly around him wildly as he speaks, long fingers wriggling and punctuating his words.

"Uh huh? So this... sweater." Your hand comes up, nearly unconsiously, to fiddle with the woolen texture of the sweater he's got on over his shirt. His hands still midair.

"It's distracting me plenty. Is that peacocking? But I've gotta say, I don't think anything would draw my attention away from that face." His eyes widen further, lips quivering as if he's struggling to come up with words.

"Um, I- I don't think, this isn't- isn't peacocking. This is just... how I dress." Your smirk widens further, hand still twisted in the collar of his sweater. The other agent, the one your friends pointed out earlier, sidles up behind him, but pauses, observing your conversation without butting in. You've only got a little time left.

"Well, I guess you're just that captivating then. You got a pen?" You let go of his clothes, watching him flounder for a second before pulling a pen out of his pocket, holding it out to you wordlessly.

Taking it with a smile, you begin to scribble your number down on the corner of the flyer in your hand.

"I think I'm missing out, if you dress like this every day." You finish writing with a flourish, tearing out your number and tucking it in his pocket along with his pen.

"Call me, okay? Keep me safe from the killer." You pat his shoulder, brushing past him with a smile.

(If the music were any quieter, you would've heard Spencer being interrogated by Derek the moment you leave, and the subsequent call to the rest of the team to inform them of the news. Penelope falls off her chair in excitement.)