#but what they mean is just they can tell me apart from a brand new person I guess which is fair

[strikeslip]

Fun Mistakes You Can Make When People Start Saying You're "Experienced" at Contra

Flourish but spin the wrong way, scare your partner

Trip a neighbor (>3 feet)

Wrong turn in the first set, now you've accidentally stolen someone else's partner and must dance with them for the rest of the dance

When the person asks if you want to switch, they mean switching roles repeatedly inside the dance, not switching once at the beginning, FYI.

which direction is left (a classic)

they think you know this flourish and You Do Not (fresh and exciting every time)

feet are for stepping on

mysterious etiquette around the name badges???

[bumblebecc]

the one where trinity santos knows that frank is using again, except he isn’t

Trinity knows something is up with Frank Langdon. She just does.

It starts when she walks in on a Monday with a truly horrific looking board. A massive carpile up handled by the nightshift has set them all back and tied up Ortho for the day. Good luck, all broken bones and potential amputations walking into the waiting room. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Dana look frazzled (apart from PittFest, but she tries not to think about that day too much. She puts it all in the Do Not Touch box that lives in the back of her brain). Robby is extra prickly because Gloria keeps popping up and jumpscaring everyone. Perlah’s daughter is turning ten next week and she’s making it a bigger deal than it needs to be (in Trinity’s opinion), so the normally restrained camp of Perlah and Princess is also stressed.

And Frank comes in basically skipping past the waiting room and freaking everyone out.

“Why all the glum faces?” Trinity hears him ask Collins.

“Have you even looked at the board today? It’s like Hell opened up overnight.”

“Never took you for a theater kid.” Trinity spares a look and sees Langdon languidly leaning on the nurse’s station. “So much drama. Nah, we’ll get this straightened up. Hey, look, you take South 15, he’s been here awhile. I’ll handle the rash and fever in North 5. We’ll get these beds opened up in no time.”

“Could’ve sworn you would’ve gone for the potential hernia.”

“Hernia, shmernia. McKay can have that one. C’mon, new attending. We have a waiting room to empty.”

Trinity sits up.

“You’re… optimistic today,” says Collins slowly.

“Ah, you know what they say.” Langdon smirks, snagging a pair of gloves as he leaves. “A cynic has to be an optimist at least some of the time.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Heather calls after him.

And Trinity would just chock that little interaction up to Langdon just being his normal brand of obnoxious if she hadn’t overheard Princess and Perlah in the breakroom.

“He smiled at me and told me to have a good day,” says Princess, audibly bewildered. “Has he ever done that to you?”

“No, but he asked me to tell Jamillah Roslyn happy birthday for her party,” says Perlah, bewildered. “I didn’t even know he knew her name.”

“Something’s up with him,” says Princess suspiciously and Trinity agrees. Parks it in her mind as she and the others steadfastly work through the onslaught of patients. Post-hysterectomy infection (and potential malpractice suit, the fucker didn’t prescribe the poor woman any antibiotics). A simple MI sent up to surgery in record time. A pulmonary contusion in an eight year old from a gnarly bumper car collision.

And then—

“Are you whistling?” Garcia asks, almost in disbelief.

“What, the patient is anesthetized,” says Langdon casually as he makes room for the ultrasound tech. “Don’t be knocking my bedside manner when the bedside isn’t awake.”

“Look,” says Garcia. “The Cure is low, even for you. At least do Bowie or Santana.”

“You would hate The Cure,” says Langdon and then whistles the first few lines of Smooth freakishly well.

“That’s more like it,” says Garcia.

“You treat me like a radio,” sighs Langdon. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Yes, especially because I am not needed here,” says Garcia. “Look at the head CT. Brain tumor. More than most likely caused the seizure. Far above my paygrade. He needs oncology and a specialized treatment plan, not emergency surgery.”

“Copy,” says Frank. “I’ll call up Blestner and get a consult.”

Garcia’s eyebrow slowly rises. “You’ll just ‘call up’ Blestner?”

“For a potentially glioneuronal mass that size?” Frank clicks his tongue. “Hell yeah I’m calling Blestner.”

“Blestner hates your guts,” interrupts Trinity. She’s too bewildered to stay quiet. “He called you a junkie and told you to put him on the phone with a real doctor last time.”

“And I went through the official channels and put in an HR complaint and everything’s been peachy since,” says Langdon, unbothered. “He loves me now.”

“Huh.” Garcia looks him over slowly. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Indubitably.” And Langdon strides out of the room, already on his pager.

“Keep an eye on him.”

Trinity looks up, surprised.

Yolanda is smiling, but there’s a tension around her mouth that Trinity recognizes from that time when she forgot to wash the pan after making eggs. The this thing is out of my control smile. “He is in a really good mood,” she says. “Which might be nothing. But it also might be something. I haven’t heard him whistle since he passed the Step 3. And that was 2021, so.”

“You don’t think—?”

“No, babe, I don’t think. I just worry.” Yolanda glances behind her, makes sure no nosy RN is looking, and presses a quick kiss to Trinity’s cheek. That was also something Trinity had to get used to. Yo’s touchyness. It’s a plus, she knows now, but there was a time she would’ve dodged away, wary. Now, she leans in.

“My worrier,” says Trinity, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yolanda Garcia backs out of the room, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And Trinity keeps a half-eye on Langdon, yeah. And maybe he’s a little too nice to Lupe, calling her a “badass” and then dapping up some random EMT after a successful code. But she’s not really concerned because she’s sure he’ll be back to his usual “I’m surrounded by idiots” self tomorrow.

Except he isn’t.

“He brought donuts,” says Mateo in the breakroom, looking like he’s seen a ghost. “And not Dunkin Donuts. Leonarda’s. The fancy shit. For Nurse Appreciation Week.”

“That’s not so weird!” Kim is sheepishly playing with her hair. “Dr. King gave me a personalized card.”

“Please call her Mel, Kim, no one calls her Dr. King and it’s lowkey a little weird that you do.” Mateo opens up one of the boxes (with gilded swirly writing on top, Trinity knows it’s bougie) and a heavenly smell envelopes them.

Donahue shakes his head. “This… this is some spooky shit.”

“Do you think this is like some NA thing?” Jesse asks. “Like, being nice to people?”

Trinity doesn’t speak, because being allowed in the nurse’s lounge is a privilege that gets easily revoked, but she thinks no fucking way to herself.

But then she kinda forgets about it because she’s pulled for Chairs. Bleh.

Flu case. Ten year old with influenza. Fifty year old with the flu. Eighteen year old with a headache and fever—influenza A. Seventy year old with—you guessed it—the flu.

“Fuck, I hate triage,” she tells the skittish med student who started last week. The name will come to her. Jessica. Jennifer. Something with a J? She’s red-haired, pretty in an effortless kind of way, and petrified of everything that moves and makes Trinity miss Whitaker, who matched into emergency medicine at Allegheny. “Don’t you want some action?”

“Huh?!” Jessica Jennifer Jayla blushes so hard, Trinity looks at her with concern. “No!! No I don’t!”

“Easy, easy,” says Trinity, undeterred. “So you like the boring ones?”

“Oh! You meant—“ the blush recedes and Jennifer Jessica Jaime clears her throat. “The cases. Yeah, uh, they’re alright. I don’t really like traumas that much.”

Trinity eyes her, slightly concerned. “Calm down, Mother Mary. I wasn’t asking you about your sex life.”

Jaime Joanna Jessica frowns. “My name is Julie.”

“Julieee,” says Trinity. “Cool. Just a joke.” And then she follows Julie’s eyesight, which is locked across the room to—Langdon, chatting with an EMT. “No way. He’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

“No!!” Julie is fumbling with her gloves. “He’s 33! And I’m 25!”

“You asked him his age?” Trinity says, absolutely delighted.

“He’s divorced!” says Julie. “It’s not a crime!”

“But it is definitely frowned upon. A resident and a med student, are you crazy?”

“You’re an R-2 with a new attending!” says Julie, suddenly fierce.

“Different departments, plus no one gives a shit.” Trinity could laugh. She could care less how Mother Mary knows about her and Garcia—probably a mouthy respiratory therapist or something. “Good luck with that HR violation, Julie. You should get some better taste.”

“What? He’s so nice. And hot. The day me and Yamaguchi started, he told us we’re on our way to being great doctors.” Yep, those are definitely stars in the med student’s eyes.

Langdon. Being overly nice to med students. An alarm goes off in Trinity’s brain. And she automatically says, “Yeah, he lies a lot,” and beelines straight to Robby, who is intensely charting and pretending not to notice a frequent flyer asking for a blanket (he has about five already). “Okay, is something up with Langdon?”

Robby slides his glasses down at her with intense scrutiny. “Let’s rephrase the question to something more specific, Dr. Santos.”

“He’s whistling in the ER,” says Trinity. “He’s happily doing all the shitty boring cases. He told Perlah to tell her kid happy birthday. He bought the nurses donuts for Nurse Appreciation Week. He’s being nice to med students. Med students. That’s weird.”

Robby sighs, slips off his glasses. “Maybe he’s just having a good day.”

“Try a good week.” And Trinity lowers her voice. “Look. Is it possible he’s relapsed?”

Her chief attending leans back in the chair. Clicks around on the computer for a minute. “Dr. Langdon’s drug screening results are private healthcare information that I cannot release to you, Dr. Santos. However, I can guarantee that as of this morning, Langdon is enthusiastically cleared to work in the ED.” He shoots her a look. “So whatever’s bothering you has nothing to do with his recovery. Okay? Conversation done.”

And Trinity stands there, frowning, because things aren’t clicking.

And they don’t until she bumps into Mel the next day.

“Heyyy, MelMel,” Trinity says, fresh off a Cliff bar break. “What the heck are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

Mel beams, cute as ever with her hair up in two twin buns. It must be boiling outside, because she’s in little white shorts and her cheeks are pink from the sun. “Yeah, it is! But Becca and I stayed up late last night baking.” And Trinity does notice the brownie tray. “We might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ah. Baking.”

“Yes, Becca’s very into sourdough lately,” says Mel seriously. Trinity can’t help but have a soft spot for her. A tiny soft spot. “She’s been watching these TikTok videos. My kitchen is now her experiment station.”

“Ah. Your sister. Nice.” Trinity’s about to politely extricate herself from the conversation in favor of a patient when Langdon suddenly appears. And by suddenly, Trinity means he was on the other side of the room, and then he basically teleported to Mel’s side.

“Mel, what are you doing here?” He puts his hand on her shoulder like she’ll disappear otherwise. “Are you—oh! Nice shirt.”

It’s a normal shirt, light pink with a print of Hello Kitty waving. Mel smiles brightly. “Hi!! Yeah it’s—“

“Becca’s favorite,” Langdon finishes and they both laugh, even though it isn’t really funny, like it’s an inside joke. And then Langdon glances down at the tray and says, “Ah, the brownies, shit, sorry, I forgot you were going to bring those in.”

“Well, I felt bad, you got the nurses those fancy donuts and I only gave out cards.” Mel is—pouting? Not really, not in the exaggerated way Yolanda does to make Trinity give her attention, but actually genuinely. Mel’s mouth is a little downturned, her eyebrows are scrunched with mild displeasure.

“Stop, they’d take a card from you over anything from me any day,” scoffs Frank. “Donnie acted like I was trying to poison him. And I’m half fucking convinced Ramón thinks you’re an actual angel from heaven.”

“No, he doesn’t, we have a very good professional rapport,” says Mel.

“Bullshit, he likes you.” And then Frank… softens? Like all the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax and he leans down, looking at her with his weirdly intense eyes and Trinity feels like she walked in on something. And the hand, still on Mel’s shoulder, is sliding down, his long fingers curling softly around her wrist. “Maybe I can’t blame him, though.”

“Oh my god,” says Trinity and they both jump, like they forgot she was even there. “You’re getting laid. That’s why you’ve been so fucking weird all week. You’re boinking Mel.”

“Santos.”

“That’s not a very appropriate thing to say in the workplace,” says Mel, frowning. But she doesn’t deny it. Because they TOTALLY ARE.

“It all makes sense,” says Trinity in disbelief.

Like she knew they were close. Langdon gets her a hot tea from a cafe every morning (Robby always asks where his is and Langdon snarks, “The break room, hands off.”) And the way they follow each other around and bump into each other without comment. That one time Langdon handed her a hair tie when hers snapped during a procedure and her too-bright smile.

“The stupid whistling. The weirdly good mood. You bought donuts. Oh my god. Mel, you and him? For real?”

Langdon’s face is not a nice face. “Can you go one day with causing a potential HR crisis?”

“I know way hotter dudes I can hook you up with, Mel,” Trinity tells her, enjoying this way more than she should. “Like I’m not a man enjoyer, but there’s this guy from med school who all my hetero friends say is a god at eating puss—“

“Okay, enough of that,” says Langdon firmly, and his hand is on the small of Mel’s back, herding her away, and he’s scowling. But Trinity follows, she’s so delighted. Mel and Mr. Asshole? Together? That’s so gold, it’s like platinum level gossip. Princess and Perlah are going to die. “Don’t you have a patient to neglect or something?”

“Possessive much, Langdon?” Trinity waggles her eyebrows. “Or are you that shitty in bed that you’re feeling a little threatened?”

“Frank is very good at cunnilingus, Trinity,” says Mel over her shoulder and ugh, she calls him Frank? And Trinity regrets all the teasing, because she did not need to know that. Or picture that. “I’m very well satisfied, thank you.”

And Langdon is grinning, an evil smug horny grin that immediately takes the wind out of Trinity’s sails.

“I am so texting Whitaker about this.”

“Tell Dennis I said hi!” calls Mel as Langdon ushers her into the break room. Where they’ll probably make out or say lovey dovey words to each other. (Probably not. Mel is a classy lady after all).

“This hospital,” Trinity says and then rushes off to hunt down Garcia.

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 2: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha romanoff, Wanda maximoff, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers.

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship.

Summary: Bucky offers you an outrageous deal—pretend to be his girlfriend to appease his grandfather and in exchange, he’ll make sure you never have to worry about money again. You refuse at first… until you remember your landlord raised your rent, your loans are still pending, and Bucky casually drops a six-figure contract in front of you. What could go wrong?

Word count: 2.7k+ ( longer than the last..ik🫣)

Warnings: there is a dialogue heavy part, desperate reader, CHAOS, Bucky is infuriatingly hot.

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Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

Previously on Business Proposal..

"It’s fine with me. I'll talk with my secretary to arrange another date. I like you and would like to pursue this," he says, getting up with a smirk on his face. "Give my regards to your father." He turns away and walks out of the restaurant.

Left alone at the table, you exhale sharply, a mix of panic and exasperation washing over you. You quickly text Natasha, urging her to call immediately. "Call me, it's urgent," you type as you sit there, wondering exactly what you got yourself into.

___________________________________●

You get up, collecting your bag and rushing out of the restaurant, your mind reeling from whatever it was that happened in the last hour.

As you stand on the sidewalk waiting for your cab, your phone starts ringing—your favorite song, which you had as your ringtone. It was Natasha. You immediately pick it up, hearing her voice on the other side of the call.

"That was fast. Tell me you scared him off," she says lazily, probably lying on her couch watching some sitcom she always loves.

"I TRIED, but he liked me!" you whisper-yell into your phone as you get into your cab.

On the other line, Natasha is confused. "What do you mean he liked you? The whole 'mission' was to make him regret his existence for choosing to go on that date."

"He thinks I'm you, Nat! And when I went full unhinged—like full 'talking to my one-night-stand' kind—he just smirked and said 'you'll do,' and LEFT," you scream into your phone, making your cab driver glance at you through the mirror weirdly.

"Oh my god, you're kidding," she wheezes.

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" you groan.

"But you do sound like you're spiraling, which is delicious, babe."

"You're paying for my therapy, my new job, and for starting over my life in a new country," you say, done with your life.

"I'm so sorry, I really am," she says when you groan.

"...but we can fix this. What else did he say?"

"He asked to arrange another date. You might be getting an email very soon about it," you inform her.

"Ok, I need you to go on that date. I know it's ridiculous, but reject him as brutally as possible. He's a rich CEO, for God's sake—he won't like you hurting his ego. He'll definitely let you go."

"But what about the fact that I have to face him every day of my life at work?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, clearly confused.

"He's the new CEO of my company," you mutter into the phone.

"What!?" she screams.

"Yeah, I know."

"It's ok, [name]. If you lose your job, you're always welcome to work with me on my fashion brand."

"Thanks for the offer, Nat. I'll see you tomorrow at our regular," you say, as the cab approaches your apartment.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there. Again, I'm sorry and thank you for doing all this for me," she says, her voice softening.

"There is no sorry and thank you in friendship," you chuckle tiredly as you get out of the cab, paying the driver.

"Don't say that; you know I hate that saying."

"Whatever," you laugh at her serious tone.

"Just know that I'm grateful for your friendship," she says, and you can sense her smiling from her voice.

"Good night, Nat. Love you," you say, smiling, genuinely grateful to have her in your life.

"Good night, babe, hope you survive tomorrow," she teases as you cut the call after saying goodbye again.

You plop into your bed, dreading the next day, wondering how you'd avoid him at the office, as it was going to be his first day as CEO. You thought of all the escape routes, all the worst-case scenarios, as you tried your hardest to fall asleep, your anxiety at its peak. You manage to score some sleep a few hours before you had to face—potentially—the end of your career at Barnes & Co.

You tread into work the next day looking like a mess as your nerves get the best of you. You greet your coworker, Wanda. Wanda was a sweet woman. You and she had joined the company around the same time and had become good companions. The redhead greets you back as you both walk over to your guys' desk.

"You know, the team is setting up a welcome surprise for the CEO. Wanna join?" she asks you.

As soon as you hear the words "CEO," the warning bells start ringing in your head. You start to think of a good excuse to avoid the event.

"Actually, I was feeling kind of down, so I'd rather stay at my desk," you say, looking down.

"Are you ok..." she perks up with concern.

"...you should've stayed at home." she worries, and it makes you feel guilty, seeing her worry over you when you're perfectly fine.

Well, not perfectly fine, because you spot him. Bucky. Your boss, Mr. Barnes.

And he's coming near your guys' office.

Immediately, you duck down, falling into a coughing fit as Wanda rubs your back, her worry increasing.

Bucky shakes the hands of his new colleagues with a polite and charming smile. Steve Rogers—his best friend, and now his secretary—shows him around the new surroundings of the office. They approach the product manager's office as he sees a woman, supposedly the product manager, widen her eyes at the sight of him and duck down... in a coughing fit? He just ignores that and walks past, heading to his new office.

The day goes by without any encounters with the boss, and you continue your work normally, until you have to go receive the product files from Steve, who just so conveniently has his office right in front of Bucky’s—whose office has the whole view of Steve's.

This cannot get any worse, as you speed-walk to Steve's desk and casually grab the files, using them to cover your face as you speed-walk back to your desk like you're competing in the Olympics.

This definitely doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky, as he narrows his eyes at his ill-natured employee. He calls Steve into his office to inquire about her.

"You need anything, Buck?" Steve asks.

"That lady who just came to your desk to take the files—who's that?"

"Oh, that's [name]. She's our product manager who deals with our electronics line."

"Why is she acting like that?"

"Idk, what's wrong? She's usually... normal."

"....Weird," Bucky says, raising his eyebrow, then he dismisses Steve.

Bucky starts noticing a pattern. Whenever he walks into a room you're in—like during lunch break—you leave. You barely show him your face, hiding behind your desk, behind files, running away from the elevator he's in to go down the stairs. But he manages to catch a glimpse, and that makes him even more suspicious.

You get home after a very exhausting day at the office—not because of the workload, but rather, because you were desperately trying to avoid Bucky Barnes. You get a text from Nat saying he has arranged a date, Friday evening, and you start preparing for that day. You agree to the second date purely out of fear that refusing would raise more suspicion.

The plan? Make him regret ever liking you.You arrive at another fancy restaurant, dressed up in your Natasha Romanoff disguise. At this point, you think, you should just be her. You enter the restaurant, going over your plan mentally—this time, you're not messing it up.

Step 1 of your master plan: Assert dominance

You walk out onto a rooftop restaurant which is suspiciously empty. You spot him sitting near a table, fancily set up, looking over the skyline of the city. He always seemed to be decked out in the most elegant suits, and it always made you feel something. If it weren't for this situation you were in, you would genuinely enjoy having a date with him. But the universe always likes to torment you, so you head up to him.

Bucky stands as you approach, smirking, "I was starting to think you wouldn't show."

You shrug, faking a bored expression, "Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do."

He chuckles, "You could've just said no."

You sigh dramatically, flopping onto the chair. "Could I? Because you look like the type who doesn't take rejection well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you seem... fragile." You smile innocently.

"And what makes you think that, doll?" Your heart skips a beat at the name, but you continue your act.

"Your whole vibe just screams sensitive. And I don't do that. It's like you get all broody and serious when people don't laugh at your jokes."

"I don't make jokes," he deadpans.

"That's even sadder."

Step 2: The too-high-maintenance approach

You sigh again, moving on, picking up the menu. "Just a warning, I'm excruciatingly high maintenance."

"Noted," he says, returning that stupid smirk.

"Like if you're even a minute late at texting me back, I'll block you."

Chuckling, he says, "Punctuality is important."

"I expect expensive gifts weekly—diamonds, designer bags. I don't do thoughtful," you tut.

Raising an eyebrow, he asks, "You like Chanel or Dior?"

Internally, you just feel like flipping over the table because, WHY IS HE NOT RUNNING YET!

Step 3: Or your pathetic attempt at making this man break—destroy his ego

You smile sweetly, leaning forward, "Okay, fine, I'll just be honest."

"Please do."

"You're just... not my type."

"Oh?" Amused, Bucky looks at you.

"Yeah. I usually go for guys who are, you know…" you gesture vaguely. "Hotter," you state casually.

Then it's just silence. Dead silence.

Why is he not saying anything? you question in your head.

Then, he blinks slowly, "Hotter?"

Nodding, you continue, "Yeah. No offense, obviously. You’re, like... cute. In a 'mall cop chic' kinda way."

Bucky tilts his head, processing that absolute violation of his entire existence.

You continue, satisfied this is working, "Also, no offense, but you’re kinda... short."

"I am not short," he grumbles, definitely offended.

"It’s okay. Not everyone can be over six feet. It’s cute," you say, nodding as you empathize.

"I am over six feet."

"Mm. Barely."

"I’m 6’2," he mutters.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling."

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lean back, proud of yourself, waiting for the moment when Bucky snaps and storms out.

"You done?" he questions now, looking at you with amusement.

"Wait, you're not mad?" you blink.

"Oh, sweetheart, this was adorable." He grins—like, actually grins.

You stare, mortified. What in the world is wrong with this man?

"You really thought this would work on me?"

"I insulted everything about you!"

"Yeah, but I can take a hit," he shrugs casually.

"I questioned your height."

"Which was incorrect, by the way."

"I said you dress like a mall cop," you say, desperation now evident in your voice.

"Well, that was just mean," he huffs.

"Oh my god! You liked that, didn’t you?" you say, face-palming.

"I love a challenge," he says smugly.

"This man is actually insane," you whisper, horrified.

You give up the whole charade; this man was not going to leave you alone. Guess you had to start writing that resignation letter as soon as you got home, 'cause you were not going to have a job the next day.

"Fine! You win! You know why? BECAUSE I’M NOT NATASHA."

"Oh?" he says, tilting his head, amused.

Who says "oh" just after their date revealed they are not who they are supposed to be?

"Yeah. I’m not Natasha. I took her place because she begged me to."

Bucky leans back, now donning a full-on smirk. "Ah. That makes sense."

"...you're not surprised?" you stare at him.

"Not really. You were acting way too weird at work."

That's it—the ground should just swallow you up. Not even changing your identity was gonna work now.

"You knew?" you ask, looking down at your lap, scared of looking up.

"I didn't exactly know, but I had my suspicions," he says, watching you shrink into yourself.

"Why did you show up then?" you question.

"What can I say? You’re fun." You're rendered speechless, not knowing what to do.

"Well, it's getting late. Don't want to turn up late to work tomorrow now, do you, Ms. Romanoff? Sorry, Ms. [name]," he says, getting up and buttoning his suit as he throws another look at you and leaves.

As soon as he leaves, you slump over the table, face in your hands.

"I just insulted my billionaire boss to his face," you whisper to yourself.

"Rough night," the waiter who came to clean up the table asks.

"You have no idea." A muffled groan is heard. You barely make it home before the panic sets in. You go through all five stages of grief as you think over what will happen to your life.

The morning after, you sulk into work like a criminal who just escaped jail, dodging eye contact, hugging the walls, and nearly knocking over the printer just to avoid the executive floor.

"Why are you walking like that?" Sam, one of your coworkers, approaches you suspiciously.

"Like you committed a crime and are not trying to be seen."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You spend almost three hours away from your floor doing other chores until you end up in the break room, drinking some coffee to ease your headache, as you hear the voice you've been trying to avoid.

“You know, for someone trying to avoid me, you’re doing a terrible job,” he says from behind you, making you choke on your coffee.

"Good morning to you too," he says while casually crossing his arms.

"Good morning, sir," you force a polite smile.

"We're back to 'sir' now," he mocks.

You panic. "It felt appropriate."

"Last night you called me a chic mall cop." He leans slightly.

"Did I?" you question him, sweating.

"Mhm," he grins.

He leans back, his hands going into his pocket.

"I need you in my office at five. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." You look down at your fidgeting hands as he looks over you once more, then leaves.

You're sitting in front of your boss in his office and you don't like it one bit. You know you're getting screwed over no matter what. There is absolute silence as you wait for him to speak, which is just another level of torture. He slides over a paper, nodding at you to take a look at it. In bold letters, it's written:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

You skim over the content once, then twice, not believing what's written there. You look up at him, shock evident on your face. He just looks at you with that damned smirk.

"What is this?" you ask.

"That's an NDA."

“Oh, wow, thanks! I couldn’t tell from the giant letters!” you say sarcastically.

He chuckles, leaning forward, "I'm not faking being your girlfriend, and what do you mean by emotional compensation?"

"It's for all my precious time that you wasted."

"And what do I get out of this?" you ask—the important question, obviously.

"Turn the page."

You turn over the page to see more text, but what catches your eye in the benefits section is the obvious six figures for being his fake girlfriend for six months. You choke on air.

"This says six figures," you look up at him.

"Sharp eyes."

"For a fricking fake relationship!" you gasp.

"It's mutually beneficial," he states calmly.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask again.

He sighs, rubbing his temples. "My grandfather won't shut up about wanting me to settle down, and I have no time for that commitment. You need your money, as the salary is not enough to pay off your loans. And I need a girlfriend to convince my grandfather to leave me alone. It's a win-win."

“So you’re telling me… that if I sign this… I legally can’t tell anyone that I’m fake dating you?”

"Correct," he says, looking over his computer.

"Not even Natasha?" you panic.

"Not even Natasha," he repeats.

"Not even my own mother?!"

"Unless you want her sued for breach of contract," he casually says, flipping through emails.

"This is insane!"

He smirks, "You'd be surprised how often I hear that."

You stare at him, fully aware you're about to sign away your entire life. And yet—your landlord just raised the rent, your boss (who's sitting in front of you) is on the verge of layoffs, and your bank account is actively crying.

You had no choice.

With utter resignation, you grab the pen, sign the contract, and glare at him.

“If I go to jail for this, I’m haunting you.”

Bucky smirks, completely unbothered. "Oh, sweetheart, this is just the beginning."

__________________________________________

A/n: Thank you all so much for reading ❤️. I'll mostly update every week but from next week I'll be busy at college, dw I'll try hard to release new chapters.

Taglist: @baw1066, @scott-loki-barnes, @calwitch

You can also : ☆[Follow the tag ⁺‧˚ ⋆Business Proposal⋆ ˚‧⁺ for updates]☆

[nicohii]

(No because I have an Actor!Caleb brainrot and I need to get this out of my system; reader is not MC)

tags: Actor! Caleb x Non-MC Writer! Reader, angst, friends to lovers??? might write a second part idk

Writer! Reader and Actor! Caleb growing up together--but only one yearns, and it's not him. He compliments you on your writing, they win awards, they have been a cult favorite in the indie fandom and coming of age genre. He sees a pattern, there is pain, there is longing, there is love buried there deeply, yet he never seems to realize how it's all an ode to your admiration of him.

There are times when you do want to tell him how much he means more than what he thinks he means to you. And it's not helping that there are knowing looks shared by family members when you visit each other's houses.

He's one of the top leading men now. Projects here and there, promotes luxurious brands he had problems pronouncing when he was child. He has a colorful love life too, one that is often followed by flashing lights and intriguing issues.

It all comes to head when he falls out with this particular leading woman. He calls you, sometime around 1:30 am, in the darkness of his apartment. You arrive around 30 minutes later, he's just a block away so, sue you. He reeks of alcohol when he opens the door, not his best moment. But he can always count on you not to judge.

"You know what she told me? " There's a slur in his words as you try so safely guide him to his bed.

"She asked me when did I become someone she doesn't know? Really? Me? I'm not the one who got caught having feelings with my new co-star you know? 'S too ridiculous. "

"Yeah well, tell me how'd you two met again? " You ask in a sarcastic tone, a teasing grin on your lips as you try to put a cold towel on his forehead. He scoffs and laughs, eyes closed.

It's pathetic really, knowing him we'll enough to know where exactly you stand in his life, and still hold on to the undying feeling in your heart. A backburner in the purest form, when looked up in the dictionary, was probably your picture.

"Can you hold me, please?" He whispers, before slowly looking at you with those eyes you grew up with, those eyes you spent your entire lifetime with.

You feel his breath relax as he falls asleep to the rhythm of your chest. You hope he doesn't hear it breaking. You hold him tight, one last time, as you look at the sun rising. The blue hues look lovely, and for a moment you pretend that there wasn't hurt, maybe in another timeline, you both would have this with a different context. You bury your nose in his hair.

You both wake up later in the day. There is a bashful look in him; you don't know what hurts more, waking up alone in his bed or the way he can't seem to look at you in the eyes. You call him out on it and he tries to deny it at first, but you don't know what and when it exploded- he becomes defensive; you become more irritated.

"That's pathetic, man. You call me when you need someone to cry on, 'oh she broke up with me, hold me, I need a friend, and pretend it didn't happen' " You tell him, you might've tried to imitate his voice in a mocking manner just to add that extra impact.

He looks at you as if you just asked him for a duel and he draws his own gun.

"Yeah, well , how is that any different when you call me when you hit a writer's block? 'I just don't know how to perfectly write love, Caleb. I feel like I don't do it any justice, it's so unnatural... ' . Well guess what? You know the real problem? It's because you don't know anything about it! You've only been with yourself waiting for who knows who! What do you know about love anyway?! "

There was a moment of satisfaction when he finishes and there's no retort to be heard. Only a moment, because you stare at him blankly. There's a thin layer of water in your eyes that seems to stare at his would before they silently fall from your cheek. If this was acting, you could've given him a run for his money.

Your shoulders slump as you close your eyes, swallowing thickly before wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands, sniffling as you wipe them against your pajamas. You wet your lips before nodding to yourself. Closure, you think.

"You're right, Caleb."

You brave to look at him. There is a concerned expression in his face that confuses you. You look at him in his entirety, you mull over the things you had tried to do to reach him. You wonder what did it meant to him? Wondered what it meant to you, and what it would mean from now on.

---

There is silence when you leave. But your words replay in his head long after you left.

"You're right, Caleb. What do I know about love? "

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [35] - Confessions

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A nightclub can be a good place for confessions.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You knew Bucky was trying to stay out of your way, you just knew.

Since you had first gotten married, he had never spent the night outside until tonight. When you woke up, the spot next to you was empty, so you huffed out a breath and went to the bathroom to take a shower. After that, you made your way downstairs to feed Alpine but the noise by the door made you turn your head.

Bucky hadn’t seen you just yet -he probably thought you were still asleep- and he made his way upstairs while you tilted your head, crossing your arms but keeping completely quiet in the kitchen. Even if you wanted to go upstairs after him, he didn’t take long, probably just changed his clothes and came back downstairs, stopping in his tracks when he saw you.

“Hey,” you said and he offered you a small smile.

“Hey,” he said, already making his way to the door with you following suit. “I have a meeting, I’ll see you tonight at the—”

“Bucky,” you said, your heartbeat speeding up and he froze by the door, then cleared his throat and turned to you.

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

You pulled your brows together. “What? The fuck does that mean, no?”

He bit inside his cheek, averting his gaze from you.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “You heard what I said, so—”

“So what, we just don’t talk about it?”

Bucky paused for a moment, then nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Charm, I have this meeting—”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It doesn’t change anything, okay?” he said. “What was I supposed to say? I was an ass to you because I took all my anger at my father and projected it onto you?”

“George never said anything to me,” you mused. “Neither did my father.”

“I doubt he mentioned it to him,” he said. “I mean…at least not until you came back from college.”

“But before that, only to you?”

Bucky pursed his lips together, still unable to look you in the eye and nodded.

“That was still an asshole move,” you pointed out and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, then nodded his head again.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck before his eyes found yours. “I’m sorry Charm. I really am, I was a dick. I never should’ve—that whole bullshit was between my father and me, you didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for it, but I’ll try to…make it up to you. I’ll make sure you get that crown.”

You crossed your arms, pursing your lips and Bucky swallowed thickly, then cleared his throat.

“I’m just gonna—” he motioned at the door. “Uh, see you tonight at the club.”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and you leaned your back to the wall with a groan, pressing your palms on your eyes.

 “The club,” you muttered to yourself. “Right. Great.”

                                               *

The whole reason why you were going to the club was because of Rhett. He had mentioned wanting to go out and Clint’s brand-new club sounded perfect for the occasion, and you figured once everyone drank a little, making the deal would be much easier.

“Please tell me it’s a good club,” Rhett said as you both got your coffees and sat down to your table. The café you had picked was right across your father’s skyscraper, your surname shining against it and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back.

“One simple listener would think you don’t trust me, Rhett.”

“I flew here because I trust you,” Rhett reminded you. “Your taste in clubs however…”

“We met at a club, dumbass.”

“I’m still not convinced it was a club of your choosing, but your friends’,” Rhett pointed out, making you scrunch up your nose at him, then lightly kicked his shoe.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What does the rest of Chicago think about you doing business with New York?”

Rhett heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his curls, his rings catching your attention for a moment.

“They don’t necessarily love the idea.”

“None of them?”

“Most of them,” Rhett said. “My father thinks it’s a terrible idea.”

“Ah.”

“Caleb—you met Caleb, he also thinks it’s a bad idea.”

“Caleb is a dick.”

“And Alice and her family as well,” he said and scoffed. “But that one has more to do with you than the business.”

“Did you tell her I’m married to Bucky?”

He hummed. “She knows,” he said. “Still thinks…”

“That you and I are going to sleep together?”

Rhett shot you a small grin. “Yep.”

“I’m not the cheating type.”

“Never thought otherwise,” he said. “One does wonder though…”

You sipped your coffee. “Wonder what?”

“If we broke up for no reason.”

You lowered your coffee cup to give him a reprimanding look.

“There was a reason,” you said. “Business.”

“You don’t think we could’ve made it work?”

“Nope,” you said. “I’m not the type to play the housewife, you know that.”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“But that’s how Chicago works,” you said with a laugh. “And I would never be a mistress either so…”

He opened his mouth to retort but before he could, someone cleared their throat behind you, making both you and Rhett turn your heads and you rolled your eyes when you saw Ian.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I just left your father in his office,” he said. “You’re not gonna go and say hi?”

“Nope, I’m busy with my guest,” you said and motioned between them. “Ian, Rhett. Rhett, this is Ian, my cousin.”

“And her father’s heir,” Ian corrected you, extending his hand and Rhett raised his brows, eyeing his hand before looking up at him with a quizzical glare. You bit back your smile and nodded at Ryan by the door before turning to Ian who lowered his hand.

“Why is an heir who’s not even a firstborn talking to me?” Rhett asked you, completely ignoring Ian and you shrugged, smirking.

“No idea. Ian?”

“I speak for my uncle.”

“I’m not talking to your uncle either, buddy,” Rhett said with a snort. “We’re in the middle of a conversation and you’re interrupting us.”

A look of surprise crossed Ian’s features before he threw his shoulders back.

“Mr. Davis, if we’re going to do business, it is important that you respect me, if my uncle hears—”

“Oh we seem to have some miscommunication here,” Rhett said. “I’m not doing business with you, or your uncle. Go tell your uncle the only person who I’ll speak to in terms of business is his daughter, and that I don’t appreciate being put in a situation where I have to talk to a second-choice heir who doesn’t even deserve a title that moves through family.”

You pursed your lips together to hold back your laughter as Ian gritted his teeth.

“I’m his nephew.”

“Not his firstborn,” Rhett stated. “Not even his spare. Back in Chicago heirs have to prove their worth, and nothing I heard about you is worth anything, Ian. So why don’t you go back to your kids table and leave the grownups to have actual conversation about business? Because unlike you, your cousin here knows what she’s talking about.”

Ian looked like he was considering saying something and Rhett tilted his head, smirking as if daring him. Ian lingered there for a moment before throwing you a glare, then scoffed.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said and stormed out of the café while you let out a giggle.

“Aw,” you mocked him. “I think you hurt your feelings.”

“Someone had to, you guys are being too soft on heirs here,” Rhett pointed out, making you laugh. “Anyway, we were saying?”

                                                 *

Clint really did have a good taste in clubs.

A couple of years earlier, you would be dancing on the dancefloor and drinking to your heart’s desire. Your father’s notorious name always worked in your favor in the city, and clubs weren’t an exception to that. With a wave of your hand, your bodyguards, -or Bucky’s, Steve’s or Sam’s- would be dragging anyone who bothered you or Becca outside, but now that you came to the clubs only to make deals, you didn’t dance or drink too much.

Rhett seemed to be in a good mood along with everyone else as he laughed at something Steve said, then sipped his whiskey while Bucky had his arm thrown over the back of the sofa you both were sitting on, and as much as you wanted to keep your conversation from earlier going, you knew you couldn’t in front of Rhett.

“So yeah he turns to me and says, ‘Chicago will not like this’ and I’m like, ‘Motherfucker I am Chicago!’” Rhett said, letting out a laugh. “Apparently this guy he was working with, he didn’t even tell him my name, just sent him there.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Which wasn’t even the first time someone within my father’s ranks tried to kill me.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Even family, once.”

“How did you get out of that?”

Rhett smiled and nodded in your direction. “You’re looking at my guardian angel there.”

Bucky raised his brows. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a long story,” you said. “And I barely did anything.”

“No no, she had the opportunity to actually cross me after she dumped me,” Rhett said. “But she didn’t.”

“Yeah well…” you said, leaning your head to Bucky’s shoulder. “I just don’t like traitors.”

“No, loyalty is—” Rhett motioned at you. “Her loyalty is something else. So you might be the luckiest man I’ve ever met, Barnes.”

You let out a laugh while Sam tilted his head and Steve stole a look at Bucky whose jaw clenched.

“Oh he knows,” you said, squeezing Bucky’s arm. “I remind him in case he forgets.”

Bucky hummed, pressing a kiss on top of your head, nuzzling into your hair and making your heart skip a happy beat even if you knew it was for show.

“And you don’t have to look so tense man,” Rhett said with a grin. “She rejected me earlier, so…”

Your eyes widened as you looked from him to Bucky whose glare turned sharp.

“I have no problem starting a war between Chicago and New York, Rhett,” he said. “Careful now.”

Rhett scoffed a laugh. “Or what?”

“Alright, before anyone says anything they might regret,” you stopped Bucky before he could retort and stood up, tugging Bucky by the hand. “Buck, a word?”

Bucky looked like he would say no, but you led him out of the VIP room to the nearest bathroom, nodding at the girls inside.

“Out,” you said and they scurried out of the bathroom before you slammed the door behind you and turned to Bucky.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying really hard not to shoot your ex,” Bucky retorted. “How about you?”

“Bucky…” you said, running a hand over your face. “We are not starting a war between Chicago and New York just because you’re feeling a bit territorial—”

“A bit territorial?” he repeated. “A bit territorial? Charm, the whole reason why that asshole can still talk is because you told me not to shoot him, but if he keeps pushing his luck—”

“That’s a joke!”

“I told you though, didn’t I?” he insisted. “I told you he’s here to…fucking steal you away.”

“The fuck am I, a loaf of bread?” you snapped at him. “This is not Les Mis, no one is stealing me away, do you hear yourself?”

“Do you?” he asked. “What did he mean, you rejecting him earlier?”

You looked up at the ceiling, reminding yourself to be calm.

“He was talking about when we used to date,” you said. “And I said we couldn’t have made it work anyway, that’s it. That’s what he means.”

“But he still hopes for it.”

“We’re married, Buck,” you reminded him, “It may be because of the business, but I’m sure you remember our deal—”

“Yeah, for you maybe.”

You pulled your brows together. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Bucky.”

“It’s business for you, Charm,” Bucky spat. “Which is fine, but don’t stand there and assume that it’s the same for me, okay? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your frown deepened.

“You married me for business,” you said. “So that I could get to the top, so that Ian wouldn’t break the truce, so that—”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Bucky asked, a dry laugh climbing up his throat and your heartbeat sped up as you stared at him.

“Then why?” you asked back and Bucky licked his lips.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Bucky I’ve had it up here playing this fucked up game with you,” you said, your voice low. “What, you’re pretending to be jealous of Rhett—”

“Pretending?”

“Yeah and you’re bluffing to start a war over some pissing contest—”

“I’m not bluffing.”

“You’ve been avoiding me since we left the therapist’s office—”

“Charm.”

“And I want us to talk but you keep running away from whatever nonsense—”

“I’m in love with you.”

The simple sentence managed to make you stop talking, your eyes snapping up to his as you gawked at him, your mouth half open.

“I married you because I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’m willing to start a war with Chicago, with New York, with your own father, because I’m in love with you.”

Bucky loved you.

He was in love with you.

The happy disbelief pinned you to your spot while the music echoed in the bathroom, and he let out a dry laugh.

“There,” he said. “Now you can reject me and we can just—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you snapped out of the haze and turned around to lock the door, then made your way to him to pull him into a kiss, a pleasant warmth spreading from your chest to your whole body. He wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and you let out a giggle when he pulled back a little to look at you.

“You’re…you’re not rejecting me?”

“Bucky,” you said, grinning wide. “You can be such an idiot sometimes.”

With that, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips as he lifted you and carried you to the bathroom vanity.

Chapter 36

[mangostarjam]

knot happening (part one) — bnha, alpha!bakugou katsuki x f!reader, aged up characters, established relationship, a/b/o dynamics, use of "brat" and "pipsqueak" as pet names, smut in the second part (coming soon), omegaverse!au for the spring fever collab run by @lorelune ! 1.2k words

your new company has some... interesting policies for employee heat cycles. you do your best to find a loophole.

"I can't do it."

"The hell d'ya mean, you can't do it?"

You give your Pro Hero boyfriend and resident alpha A Look. Bakugou Katsuki has the grace to shut his mouth, but he rolls his eyes and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders, yanking you into him on the faded yellow couch you picked out together years ago.

"This is my first heat at this new job, and it's just... embarrassing. Do you know what they do, Katsuki?"

He raises a sharp blonde eyebrow in invitation.

"They..." your voice drops with horror, "they announce it to the whole company."

"Hah?" Katsuki sits up a little, strong thighs flexing beneath his gym shorts. He came in on the tail end of your mental breakdown, finding you pacing in the living room of your apartment with your hands tugging incessantly on your borrowed shirt. "What the fuck?"

"I know," you wail, "it's ridiculous! The president sends out a company wide email explaining your absence, and the HR team sends you a care basket, and the Sales team sets up a pre-heat drinking party! Do you know what's in the care basket, Katsuki?"

"Do I wanna know?"

"It's filled with sex toys, babe! SEX TOYS! From my company! They're branded!"

A spark lights up in Katsuki's otherwise vaguely concerned expression. "Don't they know you're mated?"

"Yes, of course, that was in my file," you wave him off, still seeing horror images of company branded sex toys floating in your mental vision. "I heard from Sasaki in Accounting that the toys are for when your mate needs a break. Y'know, from fucking."

Katsuki's derisive snort is loud and breaks you out of your personal hellhole. "What kinda fuckin' alpha needs a break when their mate needs 'em?"

"Well, not every alpha is a big strong Pro Hero like you," you point out, poking him on one annoyingly firm bicep. The familiar scent of caramel and smoke fills your nose. "And actually, maybe I should ask if they've got any onaholes for when you're the one in heat. Last time I needed another two days to recover."

"Hah?! There's no fucking way I'll use one of those!"

You peer up at your boyfriend reproachfully. "I like being able to walk, Katsuki."

"You don't need to fuckin' walk if I'm carryin' you everywhere, brat."

"Hmm, we'll see," you say. Katsuki's red eyes flash as you tap your bottom lip with your finger thoughtfully. "There's gotta be a way for me to take a week off work without telling them I'm going into heat."

"There's no way you'll be able to avoid it," Katsuki rumbles, leaning forward to catch your finger with his teeth. He nips at it lightly before leaning down more to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. That, more than anything, finally makes your anxiety simmer down. "You always smell so fucking good before it starts. Everyone's gonna notice."

"You're the only one who can do anything about it, though, so you'll have to keep it in your pants or quit picking me up after work."

"Not happening," Katsuki presses another kiss along your hairline and noses into the strands, sniffing deeply. It tickles, and you laugh, trying halfheartedly to shove him off of you. "What else do they give in these care packages?"

"Actually, besides the super cursed sex toys, they include really good snacks and electrolyte drinks to keep your energy up," you say, "and I'm really glad my company is so open about it all, but it's just so embarrassing!"

Katsuki hums, letting you vent out your worries. You look really pretty like this, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, some soft cotton thing that barely covers your perfect ass. He pulls your legs onto his lap and you flop backwards on the couch, moving on from your minor breakdown to sharing a funny story that happened to one of your new coworkers the other day. He had missed hearing about it then, stuck on overtime for a patrol, so he basks in your attention now as the two of you laze around on the couch.

The afternoon passes into evening. It's a rare lazy Monday together — your new job lets you have three day weekends in exchange for slightly longer work days, and Katsuki's patrol schedule happened to line up this week. You're digging into a pint of ice cream after polishing off a plate of his delicious (but spicy) curry and rice when it comes up again.

"What're you gonna do about your heat?"

"Well, I was thinking," you slide your spoon into the thick cream and wave it at him, "I'll still need to use my authorized heat cycle time off, since I want to save my vacation and comp time for real uses, so there's no avoiding the company finding out..."

Katsuki raises an eyebrow and accepts the spoonful of ice cream you're dangling in his face. His tongue pokes out to chase a bit of cream lingering on the edge of his lip and he grins, sharp, at the way your eyes track the movement. "But...?"

You have a feeling Katsuki hasn't fully thought through the horrors of corporate sponsored pleasure items, but you have, and the thought of everyone at your new company knowing you'll be getting fucked within an inch of your life makes you want to shrivel up and die. All companies have policies in place to protect time off for heat cycles, as society couldn't function otherwise, but this is the first place you've worked where impending heat cycles are declared company-wide. Normally it's just marked as time off.

"But they don't have to find out until after it starts, right? So as long as I can get through the pre-heat stuff without anyone noticing, I can avoid the cursed care package and company-wide email!"

"Ain't happening," Katsuki says flatly.

"We've been mated for sooo long now, babe," your gaze flicks up to meet his and you pout. Your boyfriend outright snorts when you start batting your eyelashes at him. "Surely you can resist the pre-heat symptoms this one time? I swear I'll get over my company's shenanigans once I see it happen to a few other people. It's really great how supportive they are, but I need some time, that's all."

"Your heat is in like. Two weeks," Katsuki says.

You pout up at him some more.

"During your last heat cycle we broke the mattress frame when I missed your first few pre-heat days."

"Yeah, but that was because you had that mission that went long," you say. If you could just... convince him... "C'mon, babe, this will be different! You're such a strong, powerful alpha — resisting me will be a piece of cake! Unless..." you pause and scoop another bite of ice cream into your mouth, "you're too weak to resist me."

"Are you callin' me weak?" Katsuki narrows his eyes. You wave your spoon casually and shrug.

"I mean... all you've gotta do is ignore my pre-heat. I'm just an itty bitty omega..."

Getting into a staring match with Pro Hero Dynamight is not on anyone's Top Ten Good Ideas list, but you match your boyfriend's red glare steadily.

"Alright, pipsqueak, you're on," Katsuki scoffs. "We'll see who's beggin' for who by the time your heat rolls around."

part two

[gothghostiie]

being friends with someone from a different wealth class is so weird because. why are you genuinely shocked and amazed as you tell me that your weekly grocery cost is just a third of what it used to be now that you're shopping at a discounter without brand names - and why do you expect me to be as shocked and amazed??

anyways this makes me think of graves so much. that fucker grew up wealthy - not even necessarily rich, but very comfortable. upper middle class and above. it has been this way all his life and still is, he earns good money. house is decently big (far too big for one person), he drives a nice, new car, has a new phone, goes on vacations, shops brand names; whether it be clothes or food or god knows what. he doesn't think twice when he needs something, things that break or need replacement out of nowhere wont leave him with no food for the rest of the month. this is normal, his normal. the people around him are the same, so he doesn't know anything else.

that is until he meets you. you didn't grow up nearly as wealthy as he did. you wouldn't necessarily call yourself poor either, but money was always an issue, you never really went on vacations, never had the newest phone, the newest car, trendy clothes or furniture. brand names are out of question unless they're at the thrift shop for cheap, sudden expenses meant a lot of stress, money almost never went into savings and if it did it got taken out rather quick out of necessity. shopping at the thrift, at discounters, couponing, shopping for specials, planning meals after what's on sale this week. you barely got to get treats or anything out of the regular budget really, no matter how little or big it was.

now imagine graves surprised when you start dating and he sees the cracked phone screen on the rather old model, the old car that's not even second hand anymore, more like 4th hand at this point. the small apartment you live in, the furniture you mostly thrifted or took from your childhood room, the very loud washing machine that seems to be at the risk of falling apart if you look at it wrong. the clothes that are thrifted, hand me downs or even handmade, the shoes that have seen better days. he's shocked and genuinely a bit concerned, because what is this? why and how do you live like this? fridge stocked with a bit more than the necessities, panty full of generic food brands. When he goes shopping with you he's surprised by you not pulling into the same stores he frequents, surprised at how you compare prices, how you seem to only get what you wrote on your list, nothing more. his baffled when your total comes out to be not even a third of what he usually pays - and even more when you take off around 25% more by coupons.

it also breaks his heart when you call him crying about how your fridge broke, sobbing into the phone as he's just stunned - what do you mean you can't afford a new fridge? something you need? he's shocked when you tell him that you found a cheap one on Craig's List but that it's still so much, but you need it and it frustrates you badly - he can barely even comfort you because he's so genuinely shocked. it's only then when it sinks in just how differently you live. how wealthy and well off he actually is. and how you didn't even think to ask him to lend you money for a new fridge, almost cussing him out for even suggesting it because there's no way you can ever pay that back.

the delivery men still knock at your door the same afternoon and graves is getting another equally tearful call, being cussed out and thanked over and over again.

[papersoilder]

(Yandere Oc) Ian x Male Reader

ˑ 𖥔 ּ ִ 𖦹 WARNINGS: Obssesive behaviour, stalking, mentions of dead animals

̽𖧧 word count: 700– any other warnings to add let me know also not proof read its late

No one really knows where Ian came from. One day he was just... around. At school. In your apartment complex. Hanging outside the coffee shop where you go every morning. He’s the kind of guy people learn to ignore because he’s quiet and doesn’t cause problems at least not ones anyone can trace to him.

He keeps his distance, until he doesn’t.

Ian falls fast, but it doesn’t look like love. It looks like obsession hiding behind lazy half-smirks and too much eye contact. He memorizes your routines before he even says hello. He learns what brand of shampoo you use by “accidentally” brushing against your hair. He knows which playlists you have on repeat. He knows who you text the most and he hates them. All of them.

He thinks of himself as someone who's protective, not controlling. That’s what he tells himself when he deletes numbers from your phone while you're asleep. Or when he slashes the tires on your coworker’s car so you won’t make it to that “after-hours meeting.” He’s just looking out for you. Because no one else sees you the way he does. No one else deserves you.

When you finally talk to him because he's always there, always in the background, and it's easier to acknowledge him than ignore him he plays it cool. He’s charming in a lazy, unnerving way. Always says something just a little off, like he knows more than he should.

“You were wearing that same jacket last Tuesday,” he might say. “It looked good then, too.”

You laugh it off, but something in your gut twists.

Ian doesn’t get jealous. He gets possessive. Jealousy implies insecurity. Ian doesn’t think anyone else even comes close to touching what you two are. Even if you don’t know it yet. So when you start seeing someone, he takes it personal. He won’t confront you not right away. He’ll smile, light a cigarette, and tell you he’s happy if you’re happy. But then your new partner starts getting strange phone calls at night. Dead animals show up on their porch. Their brakes fail. Nothing that can be traced back to Ian. Just bad luck.

He keeps a notebook. It’s not filled with poetry. It’s a log. Every time you smiled. Every time you cried. What you were wearing. Who you talked to. A record of you, so when things go wrong, he can figure out what happened and fix it.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’d never hurt you. But if you ever scream at him, tell him to leave you alone, say you hate him? He’ll break. Not all at once he doesn’t shout or throw things. He gets quiet. And then the people around you start disappearing. Or ending up in the hospital. He tells himself it’s for your own good. He’s not the villain. He’s the one who stayed. The one who watched. The one who loved you enough to burn down your whole life and rebuild it from the ashes with him at the center.

You’re everything to him. His anchor. His reason. The only thing that keeps him from slipping completely. So he’ll smile that slow, eerie smile and whisper, “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

And he means it.

Even if he’s the thing that happens to you.

[supremefloof]

episode 6 thoughts: DANG

Shang Chao is one of the characters of all time. spoilers below! this post is also very long.

THESE DANG ENERGY DRINKS ARE IMPORTANT! This shot is symbolic of something!

these could be "Electro Energy" brand drinks (the brand mentioned later to show how Yang Cheng E-soul is costing money for Mighty Glory).

Is that a "no. 8" or a "no. 0"? 8 would make sense but there's problems with that, those being -> 1. is E-soul still rank number eight here? and 2.:

the trailer shows that this drink belongs to X, with the character presumably meaning 1,0, or some really sadistic way of writing X. (secret, even more sadistic evil third thing is that that's like, a three or something and the timeline is fucked). the drink NEXT to it belongs to E-soul (maybe those are electro energy). So, maybe this drink means that E-soul is X in Year 36. ofc, we have no idea what time this trailer takes place.

it looks like this stupid extremely hard to read borderline secret code font (/hj) is going to be a frequent occurrence! hopefully somebody with more dedication than me can decode it fully at some point.

background ads continue to be very intriguing. where exactly does this take place? we got "langley & co booksellers", "malibu surf shop", alongside chinese signs. probably a lot are just easter eggs but very fun!

In the interrogation room, I really interpreted YC's animated flashback sequence as a panic attack.

he's stuck on two ends from "nothing" to "way too much". He doesn't feel he belongs on either, and yet he's self-internalized a bunch of stuff at the same time. he's like lin ling on trauma steroids.

I like Xia Qing (i think thats her name?) better than I thought I would. girl knows what she wants and drops hints! she's also the most normal well adjusted person I've seen in this entire show.

i really, genuinely for the love of god hope those criminals weren't telling the truth about YC hiring them. If time travel theory is real I'm flipping a table. I dislike time travel theory but I can't put my finger on why.

SHANG CHAO IS SO SUSPICIOUS. even including what happens to him he shows up at exactly the right time with exactly the right stuff. He's weirdly super invested. I don't think he's evil but I think we are going to see his motivations/backstory in the next episode (and yes. singular next e-soul episode). we still don't know why Pomelo/you zi was kidnapped!!

Some guesses are that he really wants to differentiate himself from his dad, which is why he jumps at the chance to market Yang Cheng.

or yk. he's gay. who knows

OG E-Soul. first of all, YEESH he just trains shirtless covered in scars and doesn't wear anything under the suit 😭interestingly, he wears a mask all the time but doesn't care about his agent/manager/General Business Blonde Guy seeing him train shirtless and armless.

blonde dude got some nerve talking to this guy like that when he's one-arming like 200 pounds in front of him 💀

he seems unconcerned with whether people trust New E-soul, because nobody could mistake the two. this really lines up with the idea that he's old as Dirt and did some insane feat.

However, Mighty Glory doesn't see it that way because it's about money. TBHX absolutely is providing commentary on capitalism and the commercialization of heroes. (ie. an old symbol of institution brought down by the new age and adapted into something else that matches the ideas of the time) The contrast of a living legend like E-soul and his relationship with Mighty Glory + the media made me feel like Mighty Glory built itself around him with dubious implications for his opinions on the matter.

E-Soul hasn't fought people in a while! so my theory that he's retired is right so far.

ENLIGHTER!!!!! this felt like a crossover cameo but logically the episodes are only a few years apart. Enlighter seems like a big deal here though! Did he used to be higher ranked a few years ago and fell off in Lin Ling's era? ...why did he snap. that's not going to be important is it. brainrot brainrot

TBHX is also for sure highlighting how the transition into the digital age is effecting the Trust System, saying how E-soul had to do so much more work than YC. I wonder how the nuances of the Trust system were different before the spread of the internet. TBHX is a modern show, set in modern times and made to be extremely relevant to current world issues!

our running ideas about Trust seem spot-on so far. YC is getting a fraction of E-souls power. meaning E-Soul is really, really powerful! even though he's not doing anything right now.

SURVIVORS GUILT, PT 2. the similarities between the traumatic events of Yang Cheng's childhood to now are insane. holy shit poor guy

is someone gonna get dramatically shot every episode????? why??? at least Moon is not unique in this regard. hide your side characters nobody is safe 😭

twenty tumblr notes on this shot being wayyy too significant for my emotional health

I DON'T TRUST THE TIMELINE. I DON'T TRUST THE TIMELINE. E-SOUL PV IS SO INSANELY STRANGE.

[cheesesoda]

calling you out based on your favorite triplet!

it’s ya girl back at it again with the call out posts

cw: mentions of mental health issues, sexual trauma, and EDs

nick: if you’re a nick girl/boy/person, i get the feeling you’re the oldest. you sometimes tend to feel sorry for yourself and then you feel bad about feeling sorry for yourself and it becomes a vicious cycle. you probably have either dealt with body image issues or an eating disorder (idk every nick person i’ve met has dealt with that). you’re probably pretty insecure and you constantly compare yourself to all your friends and it’s tearing you apart. you have a hard time accepting compliments because you simply don’t believe them. i think there’s a lot you don’t talk about but then you blame others for your secrecy and feel bad for yourself, as if they just don’t understand. maybe try letting people in and let them have a shot at trying to understand you. you’re not an enigma.

songs you remind me of:

prom queen by beach bunny

not strong enough by boygenius

idontwannabeyouanymore by billie eilish

sippy cup by melanie martinez

orange juice by melanie martinez

tv by billie eilish

matt: if you’re a matt girl/boy/person, you’re probably the quietest one of the group. you possibly grew up without many friends and you often feel left out or unseen. you were the quiet kid and never really talked. you’re very nurturing and you try to take care of all your friends because you want them to know you see them. you’ve most likely dealt with mental health issues (specifically anxiety and/or depression). you tend to overthink a lot and you probably have a lot more to say than you actually say. you were probably the one who walked on the grass, the one who was the photographer but never in the photo, and the one who sat alone at lunch. as a kid, you went unnoticed but now you’re not. as a result, you end up purposely excluding yourself from your current friend group(s) because it’s what you’re used to and then you end up isolating yourself but you don’t realize that you’re doing it to yourself. i hope you’ll see that people do notice you and they do care about you. you’re not invisible.

songs that remind me of you:

the archer by taylor swift

chosen last by sara keys

letter to my 13 year old self by laufey

nobody by mitski

afraid by the neighbourhood

everything i wanted by billie eilish

chris: if you’re a chris girl/boy/person, i think you grew up too quickly. you probably had to start looking out for yourself at way too young of an age and now you have a hard time accepting nurturing and loving treatment. i get the feeling that you were sexualized from a young age too and you probably have some sexual trauma. as a result, you act hypersexual because it’s what you’ve been made to believe you’re supposed to be. people don’t take you seriously, probably because you are the funny one or the pretty one but you’re actually very observant and analytical. you notice things most people don’t. you’ve often been the butt of the joke in the friend group so now you make fun of everyone else before they can make fun of you. you might come off as mean but i think you’re just scared of being vulnerable. you definitely have commitment issues which probably stems from your childhood trauma (including but not limited to family issues). you end up getting yourself into dangerous or unhealthy or self destructive situations because it’s what you’re used to and you think it’s what people expect from you. you don’t have to follow your self fulfilled prophecy. you don’t have to be what others tell you that you are.

songs that remind me of you:

goddess by laufey

labyrinth by taylor swift

safeword by tv girl

don’t miss me by claire rosinkranz

brand new city by mitski

first love/late spring by mitski

[number1mingyustan]

If your taking recs can you do a jealous mingyu smut idw but I've been in love with your mingyu fics there so good!

model!mingyu x model!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, kissing, explicit smut, established relationship, fingering (f)., oral (f)., rough sex, begging, recording, sex on camera, oral (m.) , unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy

_______________________________________________

Mingyu isn't very good at hiding his emotions. He never really has been. He can try all he wants but there's always something in his tone of voice or his body language that serves as a dead giveaway of how he really feels.

Like right now.

He's got a smile on his face but there's a twitch in his eye and an aura that he seems to be emitting that says otherwise.

There's too many eyes on you tonight and he can't stand it. You recently went public with your relationship, so it's only natural that attention would be drawn your way.

The media took the news surprisingly well. Focused on theorizing how beautiful your kids would be with two parents so prominent in the modeling industry.

However, there seems to be more attention drawn on just you tonight. It's a typical high society event full of designer brands and expensive champagne. Paparazzi are savaging what they can, nothing out of the ordinary.

But you're radiating a different aura tonight and others seem to have picked up on it. More pictures and people are approaching you. Of course, you look absolutely stunning tonight, but his blood is boiling.

Too many eyes lingering on your body.

So he holds his arms around your waist a little tighter. Cuts conversations short and whisks you away from others as much as he can.

You catch onto it early, but choose not to address it. The words left unsaid even through the unnecessarily tense car ride back home.

The front door opens slowly and you step through. Your heels resound throughout the kitchen of the apartment as you step in. Mingyu takes your coat wordlessly, hanging it up in the closet.

You flick on the light above the stove, providing the dark kitchen with dim lighting only bright enough that you can make out the features of his face.

You lean over the counter, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and bat your eyelashes. "You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mumvles, corssing his arms and leaning against the wall.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping from behind the counter. You walk over to him, taking his hands in yours. "Gyu."

He breathes out. "Fine."

"I didn't like the attention you were getting tonight."

"What do you mean love," you ask, cocking your head to the side.

"I don't know.... it just felt like everyone was staring at you and talking to you. Don't get me wrong, you're the prettiest girl in the world but fuck–it made me so mad. "

"You don't have anything to worry about Gyu," You look up at him sincerely. " 'M all yours."

"I know.." he mumbles. "Can't help it. You're too pretty."

You grin. "I'm only yours."

"Fuck," he breathes out, leaning closer so your faces only have a small gap separating you. "Say it again."

Your eyes scan his face slowly, admiring his features. "I'm yours."

"Fuck," he breathes out.

He leans in, closing the small gap between you. He kisses you roughly, leaning your back against the kitchen counter. His hands almost immediately grip your ass, giving it a light squeeze as he kisses you messily.

You drop to your knees, hands scrambling to undo his belt buckle. You allow his pants to drop and bring his underwear down with it. You waste no time, taking his thick cock in your hands and pumping him quickly.

You spit, coating your hand with the lubricant and continuing to stroke the length of his cock. You feel him harden and grow in your hand.

Once satisfied, you open your mouth, pressing the weight of his cock against your tongue. You take him in deeper, allowing your cheeks to fit as much as you can in your mouth.

You bob your head, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat. You continue using your hand, stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth as you suck him.

"Shit–yeah.." he moans.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, making a lazy excuse for a ponytail and starts moving his hips. He starts off slow, testing the waters before his hips pick up pace and he fucks your throat.

He's vocal, letting moans and groans of your name slip past his lips as he thrusts his cock into your mouth. Your eyes water, but you manage.

Regardless of how many eyes lingered and wandered tonight, Mingyu felt a sense of pride in his chest. They could stare all they wanted, but this was a sight for his eyes only.

No one else gets to see you on your knees, determined to take everything he gives you while tears ruin your makeup and turn you into a beautiful mess.

He tugs at the makeshift ponytail in his fist and pulls your lips off of him. He guides you back up onto your feet and carries you in his arms toward the bedroom.

He helps you undress, taking off the black Valentino dress you're wearing and hanging it up in your closet. He makes his way back to you, pressing his lips against yours passionately once again.

Your back meets the mattress and his hands wander along your body. He pulls at the little bit of fabric still covering your body, tossing the articles of clothing onto the floor.

He pulls away from the kiss, flipping you over onto your stomach. He presses your chest down, lifting your ass up in the air. He curses under his breath.

"Shit... gonna fuck you so good. Gotta let everyone know you're mine."

You hum in agreement, sinking your face into the pillow. "Please.."

He spreads your legs apart and dips his head down behind you. His warm tongue licks a long stripe through your folds. You shudder at the unexpected contact.

He sucks on your clit, gliding his tongue along your folds skillfully from behind. He slips two fingers into you, stretching your cunt out. He curls his fingers, pressing them deeper into you at the angle from behind.

You cry out, burying your face deeper into the pillow to muffle your incessant moans. He lands a harsh slap on your ass. He pulls his fingers out of you and removes his lips from your cunt entirely. You whine.

You lift your head and start to look back, but Mingyu grabs you by the throat and forces you to look straight. "Liar..."

You feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance.

"Acting like you're all mine.." he scoffs. "Getting all shy and quiet on me. Gonna make you scream and let everyone know."

Before you can respond, he's thrusting his cock into you. You cry out at first contact, feeling his cock splitting you open. "Fuck!"

He grabs a fistful of your hair again, tipping your head back to hold it up and prevent you from hiding in the pillow. He fucks you roughly, hips meeting your ass with force and an unwavering pace.

Your hands grip the bedsheets to keep you grounded. His cock fills you up perfectly, stretching your cunt open and making your legs shake.

"Mingyu ah-" you cry out.

He's reaching deep inside of you, cock pressing against the sweet spot that drives you crazy with each thrust. His large hand tightens his grip on your hair, forcing you to tilt your head and arch your back more. You can hear his breathing behind you and his cock throbs. "Fuck.. look at you. All mine, only mine."

Mingyu reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone. He holds the camera up, recording the area where your bodies meet. You moan out and begin fucking yourself back on his cock. You look back, smirking at the way your ass ripples each time it meets the force of his hips. "Shit yeah–just like that baby."

His eyes roll back and he can feel himself nearing the edge. He snakes a hand between your thighs and starts rubbing quick circles along your clit. You moan, crying out his name like a chant.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly. "Fuck– I'm cumming. Ah-Gyu!"

Your chest rises and falls quickly as the pleasure courses through your body. He follows behind you, thrusting sloppily until he's filling your cunt with his cum. The phone camera is shaky, but he fucks you through it.

You both breathe heavily as you come down. He pulls out, making sure the camera is pointed where your bodies meet. His cum drips out of your, running along your inner thighs. He watches with a smirk and cuts the video off.

He kisses your temple and climbs off the bed to get you a wet rag. He cleans you up and dresses you in one of his t-shirts. He puts on a pair of sweats and climbs underneath the covers next to you.

He spoons you, holding your body close to his knowing that you're his girl and only his.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[bratzkoo]

WGM final episode | dk

final episode

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 3.4k~ Warnings/note: thank you so much for reading until the end! till the next fic 🫶🏻 also anyone who wants me to continue the wgm series with other members, comment or message me! Many thanks xx

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118 , @btskzfav , @codeinebelle , @syluslittlecrows , @minghaofied , @ikbennatas , @armycarat2612 , @smiileflower

requests are close, but you can just say hi! | masterlist series masterlist | previous episode

[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 9, focusing on their coastal trip, deep conversations, and culminating with their rain-soaked kiss on the boat]

Narrator: "After their emotional farewell trip, our couple returns to where it all began for their final episode of We Got Married!"

---

The baseball stadium was empty.

Seokmin stared through the van window, his mind struggling to process the sight of the massive venue standing completely vacant. The last time they'd been here, thousands of fans had filled these seats, the energy electric, the noise deafening. Now there was only silence, broken occasionally by the distant sounds of the production crew setting up equipment.

Is this a metaphor? Is the universe trying to tell me something about emptiness and endings? Or am I just overthinking again? Definitely overthinking. Focus, Seokmin!

"They rented the entire stadium?" Y/N asked beside him, her voice pulling him from his spiral of thoughts.

"Apparently," Seokmin replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies performing an entire choreographed routine in his stomach. "The PD must have connections. Or blackmail material. Possibly both."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his heart rate even after all these months. He wondered if that would ever change—if he'd ever get used to the effect she had on him. He hoped not.

The past few days since their rain-soaked confession had been simultaneously the best and most torturous of his life. Best because every text from Y/N now carried the weight of acknowledged feelings, every "goodnight" imbued with new meaning. Torturous because their schedules had immediately pulled them apart—him to SEVENTEEN's comeback preparations, her to fittings for an upcoming drama—leaving them with only digital communication and one brief, electrifying phone call that had left him staring at his ceiling for hours afterward, grinning like an idiot.

And now, here they were, about to film their final episode in the place where their journey had begun. The symmetry made his poet's heart ache, even as his pragmatic brain reminded him that this was just television—the real story was just beginning.

As they exited the van, the PD approached with his clipboard and that slightly manic gleam in his eye that Seokmin had come to recognize as his "big episode energy."

"Welcome to your final mission," he announced, handing them each an envelope. "Today, you'll walk the bases, counter-clockwise. At each base, you'll share memories from your time on the show. When you reach home plate, you'll exchange farewell letters you've written to each other."

Farewell letters. Seokmin felt his ears heating up at the mere mention. He'd spent five hours writing his letter last night, producing seventeen drafts (the members had found this hilariously on-brand) before settling on a version that seemed to strike the right balance between television-appropriate and genuinely heartfelt. The crumpled evidence of his efforts currently filled his trash can back at the dorm.

"After the letters," the PD continued, "we'll film the official farewell ceremony where you'll return your rings and officially conclude your time on 'We Got Married.'"

Return the rings. End the show. Go back to their real lives. Seokmin nodded mechanically, aware of the cameras already tracking their reactions. He caught Y/N's eye, finding in her gaze the same mix of emotions he was feeling—the understanding that this was necessary television closure, even as they both knew their personal story was just opening its first chapter.

"Ready?" the PD asked, gesturing toward the players' entrance.

No. Not even close. How is anyone ever ready to publicly end something that privately just began? This is too weird. Too meta. Too—

"As we'll ever be," Seokmin heard himself reply, somehow managing to sound normal despite the chaos in his head.

They entered the stadium through the tunnel, emerging onto the green expanse of the field. The emptiness of the venue created an almost dreamlike atmosphere, their footsteps echoing slightly as they walked toward the baseball diamond where a white carpet had been laid along the baseline.

"This is surreal," Y/N murmured, taking in the abandoned stands.

"Like we're the last two people on Earth," Seokmin agreed, his imagination immediately constructing an entire post-apocalyptic scenario where only baseball stadiums remained intact. "We could rename the show: 'We Got Married: End of Days Edition.'"

Y/N laughed, the sound bouncing off the vacant seats. "I'd watch that."

"I'd star in it," Seokmin replied, grinning at her. "As long as you were my co-lead."

Co-lead. Partner. Girlfriend? Were they at that stage yet? What exactly were they? The rain-soaked kiss had established mutual feelings, but they hadn't exactly had time to define the relationship. Was it too soon? Too presumptuous? WHY IS DATING SO COMPLICATED?

"Shall we?" he asked, pushing aside his internal panic to gesture toward first base with what he hoped was a gallant bow rather than the awkward hunch his nerves were trying to produce.

"Lead the way," Y/N replied, falling into step beside him.

---

FIRST BASE

They stood awkwardly on the white square that marked first base, both suddenly hyperaware of the cameras positioned around them, the boom mic hovering just out of frame, the expectant gaze of the PD waiting for television-worthy reflections.

Just be natural. Which is literally impossible when someone tells you to be natural. How does anyone act natural on command? What even is natural behavior? And why am I overthinking AGAIN?

"This reminds me of our first meeting," Seokmin finally said, breaking the silence before his brain could spiral further. "When I could barely string two words together without internally combusting."

"You winked at me," Y/N recalled with a laugh. "I still can't believe you winked."

"It was a nervous reflex!" Seokmin protested, feeling his ears immediately betraying him by turning red at the memory. "My brain went completely offline and my face just... did whatever it wanted."

"You know," Y/N said, her voice softening, "I was so terrified that day. I kept thinking I'd been paired with THE Lee Seokmin and I was going to embarrass myself in front of millions of viewers."

"And I was thinking the exact same about being paired with THE Y/N Y/L/N," Seokmin countered. "I nearly passed out in the bathroom before filming started."

"You did not!"

"Ask Jeonghan-hyung. He had to talk me down from a full panic attack."

They smiled at each other, both remembering those two nervous strangers who had no idea what they were starting.

"We've come a long way since then," Y/N observed, her eyes saying much more than her words.

"A very long way," Seokmin agreed, fighting the urge to reach for her hand. They'd decided to keep the more overtly romantic gestures minimal during this final episode, letting the viewers wonder rather than confirming everything on camera. Some things, they'd agreed, they wanted just for themselves.

Though that resolution was being severely tested by how pretty Y/N looked in the soft stadium lighting, her hair catching the sunshine in a way that made his poet's heart want to compose extremely embarrassing sonnets.

"Ready for second?" he asked, reeling his thoughts back in before they could show on his face.

She nodded, and they moved on.

---

SECOND BASE

"The cooking disaster," they said in perfect unison as they reached second base, then laughed at their synchronized response.

"I've never seen anyone burn water before," Y/N teased.

"I was trying to impress you!" Seokmin defended himself, the memory still making him cringe. "Which, clearly, backfired spectacularly. Literally, in the case of that dish towel."

"But then you ordered my favorite takeout without me even telling you what it was."

"I may have asked Saemi beforehand," Seokmin admitted, feeling oddly shy about the confession.

Y/N's eyes widened. "You planned to mess up the cooking?"

"No! That was genuine, unplanned incompetence," Seokmin laughed. "But I had a backup plan. I'm not completely hopeless."

"You always do, don't you?" Y/N said, something warm in her expression. "Have a backup plan?"

"I try," Seokmin replied, suddenly serious despite himself. "Especially for things that matter."

Like us, he didn't say, but he could see in her eyes that she understood. He'd been making plans—tentative, careful, hopeful plans—for how they might navigate a relationship amid their chaotic schedules and public scrutiny. Backup plans upon backup plans, because this mattered more than anything had in a long time.

---

THIRD BASE

At third base, Y/N spoke first.

"The wedding," she said quietly. "When you sang instead of saying your vows."

"Was that too cheesy?" Seokmin asked, the question genuinely bothering him in retrospect. "The members all said it would be romantic, but I spent weeks afterward wondering if it was actually mortifying."

"It was perfect," Y/N interrupted firmly. "I still remember every word."

"Even though it wasn't real?" The question escaped before he could stop it, his careful barrier between show and reality crumbling slightly.

Y/N held his gaze, something resolute in her expression. "It felt real in that moment."

The simple honesty of her words made Seokmin's heart constrict painfully in his chest. How many moments throughout their filming had felt real despite the manufactured setting? How much of what they'd built had been genuine from the start, just waiting for them to acknowledge it?

The PD called for them to move on to home plate, saving Seokmin from the overwhelming emotions threatening to show too plainly on his face.

Just get through this part. The official goodbye. And then we can start the real hello.

---

HOME PLATE

At home plate, several chairs had been arranged for them, along with a small table. The PD handed them each the envelope containing the other's letter.

"Your final mission," the PD explained. "Read the letters silently. Your expressions will tell the story."

Oh great. Just my emotions on full display for the nation to see. No pressure. I'm sure my face will be very subtle and not at all reveal that I'm completely, absolutely, pathetically in love with her.

The cameras zoomed in as they opened their letters. The microphones were turned off, giving them privacy even in this most public moment.

Seokmin's eyes moved across Y/N's neat handwriting, his heart racing faster with each line:

Seokmin,

How strange to be writing a farewell letter that doesn't feel like goodbye at all. When I signed up for this show, I expected an acting challenge—pretending to build a relationship for the cameras. What I didn't expect was to find something real within the pretend.

You've taught me more than I can express about authenticity, about finding joy in small moments, about not taking myself too seriously. You've shown me what it means to be fully present with another person, cameras or no cameras.

As this chapter of our story closes for the viewers, I find myself more excited than ever for the chapters that only we will read. The ones without scripts or missions or PDs directing our movements.

This isn't goodbye. It's just the end of our public story and the beginning of our private one.

Until our next adventure (off-camera),

Y/N

Seokmin looked up, finding Y/N's eyes already on him, a small smile playing at her lips as she read his own letter. He hoped his words had conveyed even a fraction of what he was feeling—the gratitude for their shared experience, the excitement for what came next, the certainty that whatever had grown between them was worth nurturing beyond the show's conclusion.

And he hoped the cameras weren't catching the fact that his eyes were definitely getting misty, because the members would never let him hear the end of it if he cried on national television.

When they finished reading, they carefully folded the letters back into their envelopes, each keeping the other's words as a tangible reminder of this transition point in their relationship.

"And now," the PD said, moving back into the frame, "the formal farewell."

They turned to face each other. The script called for a bow, a thank you, a formal acknowledgment that the "marriage" was concluded.

Seokmin took a deep breath, willing his voice not to crack with the emotions swirling through him. "It was an honor to be your husband, even if only for the cameras."

"Thank you for being the perfect partner in this journey," Y/N replied, her practiced words somehow still containing genuine warmth.

They bowed to each other, exactly as rehearsed.

"Cut! That's a wrap on 'We Got Married'!" the director called. "Great job, everyone!"

The crew began packing up equipment. Staff members approached with congratulations and small parting gifts. There were photos to be taken, final interviews to be recorded. Through it all, Seokmin maintained his professional smile, saying all the right things about what a wonderful experience it had been, all while his mind was fixed on the moment when the cameras would finally, finally stop rolling.

---

The last interview complete, the final photograph taken, Seokmin found himself with an unexpected pocket of semi-privacy as the crew focused on dismantling the more complex camera setups around the field. Y/N had disappeared with the stylist to return some accessories, leaving him momentarily alone with his thoughts.

He wandered to the dugout, sitting on the bench and trying to process the swirl of emotions competing for dominance in his chest. Relief that the public performance was over. Excitement about what came next. Lingering anxiety about how they would navigate the transition from reel to real.

"Mind if I join you?"

He looked up to find Y/N standing at the dugout entrance, changed out of her filming outfit into casual clothes, looking somehow more beautiful without the styling team's efforts.

"Please," he said, moving over to make room beside him.

She sat down, close enough that their shoulders touched, sending a jolt of awareness through him even after all they'd shared.

"So," she said after a moment, "that's it. Ten episodes, all wrapped up with a bow."

"Seems too neat, doesn't it?" Seokmin replied. "Like real life is ever that tidy."

"Definitely not," Y/N agreed with a small laugh. "Real life is messy and complicated and filled with schedules that never align."

"Speaking of real life," she continued, her voice dropping to ensure they wouldn't be overheard by the distant crew members, "was any of it real for you? Or was it all for the show?"

The directness of her question, especially after their rain-soaked confession, caught Seokmin off-guard. Could she still be uncertain? After everything?

But then, maybe that was the point—after months of blurring the lines between performance and reality, how could anyone be sure where one ended and the other began?

In answer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tattered baseball ticket from their first date.

"I kept this," he said simply, holding out the worn stub. "Not for the cameras. For me."

Y/N's eyes widened, then softened with understanding. She reached into her own bag and pulled out a small, pressed flower—one of the blooms that had been woven into her hair during their wedding ceremony.

"I kept this too," she admitted. "For the same reason."

They looked at each other, the pretense of the past months stripped away, leaving only the genuine connection that had grown beneath the surface.

Say something romantic, Seokmin's brain urged. Something poetic and meaningful. Something that captures this perfect moment.

"So, um," he began eloquently, his brain-to-mouth connection failing spectacularly, "do you want to maybe get dinner sometime? Like, as real people? Without cameras? Or PDs? Or missions? Just... us?"

SMOOTH, SEOKMIN. VERY SUAVE. THE PINNACLE OF ROMANCE.

To his relief, Y/N's face broke into a brilliant smile. "Are you asking me on a date, Lee Seokmin?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his ears burning but his voice steady. "The first of many, I hope."

"In that case," Y/N replied, "my answer is yes. To dinner, and to whatever comes after."

The simple acceptance made Seokmin's heart soar. He stood, offering her his hand. "The show's over now," he said softly. "But maybe... we don't have to be?"

Y/N took his hand, rising to stand before him. "I'd like that."

They stood facing each other in the empty dugout, the moment stretching between them, charged with possibility. Seokmin was acutely aware that most of the crew was still present, though focused on their tasks rather than on them. This wasn't complete privacy, but it was as close as they'd gotten in months.

"I've been wanting to do something," he admitted, still holding her hand.

"What's that?" Y/N asked, though the knowing glint in her eye suggested she already had an idea.

"This," Seokmin said, and before his nerves could get the better of him, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Unlike their rain-soaked kiss on the boat, this one was unhurried, soft and sweet and deliberate. His hand came up to cup her cheek, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and for a perfect moment, the rest of the world fell away—no cameras, no audience, no performance. Just them.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N was smiling, her eyes bright with a joy that matched the bubbling happiness in his own chest.

"Was that for the cameras?" she teased softly, nodding toward the distant crew.

"No," Seokmin replied, his voice low and certain. "That was just for us."

As they walked out of the stadium together, hands still entwined, Seokmin felt lighter than he had in months. The show was over, the pretending done. Whatever came next would be real—complicated and messy and wonderful in its authenticity.

And that, he thought as Y/N squeezed his hand, was better than any script the PD could have written.

---

ONE YEAR LATER

A different variety show. The host was interviewing Seokmin about SEVENTEEN's latest comeback.

"And your personal life?" the host asked with practiced casualness. "Fans are curious if you've kept in touch with Y/N after 'We Got Married' ended."

Seokmin smiled, thinking of Y/N who was probably watching the broadcast, possibly still in his apartment where she'd been curled up on his couch when he left for the studio this morning. He thought of the drawer that had somehow become "her drawer" in his dresser, the extra toothbrush in his bathroom, the way his members teased him mercilessly about his dopey smile whenever she texted.

"Some things," he said to the host, still smiling, "are better left off-camera."

The host laughed, recognizing the polite deflection and moving on to questions about the group's upcoming tour.

Later that night, as Seokmin slipped his key into the lock of his apartment, he was greeted by the sound of Y/N's laughter from within. He entered to find her exactly where he'd left her—curled on his couch, script in hand, wearing one of his hoodies—but now Hoshi was there too, apparently in the middle of telling her some ridiculous story that had her in stitches.

"—and then Seokmin tried to convince the manager it wasn't his fault the rice cooker exploded, but there was rice stuck to the CEILING—" Hoshi was saying, breaking off when he noticed Seokmin in the doorway. "Oh, speak of the devil!"

"Betraying my kitchen disasters?" Seokmin asked, dropping his bag and crossing to the couch.

"Just keeping your girlfriend properly informed about what she's gotten herself into," Hoshi replied cheerfully, standing and stretching. "I should head back to the dorm. Thanks for the coffee, Y/N."

After Hoshi left with a knowing wink that made Seokmin roll his eyes, Y/N patted the spot beside her. "So, a rice cooker explosion?"

"Lies and slander," Seokmin insisted, dropping onto the couch and immediately pulling her against his side. "How was your day?"

"Better now," she said simply, fitting herself against him with the ease of long practice. "How was the interview?"

"They asked about you," Seokmin admitted. "If we're still in touch."

"And you said?"

"That some things are better left off-camera."

Y/N smiled, turning to press a kiss to his jaw. "Good answer."

As they settled into the comfortable routine they'd built over the past year—takeout ordered, day's events shared, quiet affection exchanged in the privacy of their own space—Seokmin marveled at how far they'd come from those first awkward interactions in front of cameras.

The show had given them a beginning, but what they'd built since—the inside jokes, the silent understanding, the safe harbor they'd created in each other's lives—that was entirely their own creation. Something real, lasting, and completely camera-free.

And that, Seokmin thought as Y/N laughed at something ridiculous he'd said, was the best finale he could have imagined.

THE END

[untoldstar]

Your writing is addictiveeeee. Can u do ur ocs reaction to being cheated on by reader? Im so down bad for jesse 😫 hes just a lil guy who wants to be loved! Sue me!

The yanderes reaction to you cheating on them

Thank you smmm🫶 but fr I’m down bad for Jesse as well even tho he’s a lil psycho🫠

I can make a part two for the rest of the oc’s if anyone’s interested I just usually go for these oc’s because they’re the most popular and seem like a common favorite.

warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, yandere themes, murder, stealing appearance and changing appearance (not reader), nsfw content, imprisonment, keeping reader locked up.

find out more about these characters here.

Ava (yandere best friend)

She’d go off the rails. She’ll cry and sob her heart out. she won’t talk to anyone except for you. Her phone is filled with missed calls and worried messages from her family and friends. Everyone gets so worried they start showing up at her apartment door but she’s too busy crying into her pillow waiting for your call or to hear your sweet voice outside her door.

She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Just please please don’t leave her.

Even if you already moved on and decided to be with your partner she’s still stuck on you and obsessing over how to get you back.

She’d go over every detail of the physical traits of the bitch you cheated on her with and tries to match it. What did you even see in them? they’re nothing compared to her!

Doesn’t matter. She’ll do whatever it takes. She’ll go as far as dying her hair, getting new piercings if they had any, changing her makeup, changing her entire wardrobe.

You’re absolutely mortified when she shows up at your doorstep looking like your partners lost twin.

Theo (yandere boss)

All his past paranoia will come right up to the surface. He’s always wanted to lock you up so no one would look at you so. No one would breathe your air. He didn’t want anyone to have the pleasure of even looking at you.

And you’ve finally given him a reason.

He has you cooped up in his mansion with no way of getting out. You’re always watched and monitored. Most of the week he’s working from home to be around you. Clothing you, feeding you, bathing you. He won’t let you out of your sight for a single second.

And every time you ask about your partner he’d smile softly and tell you to not worry about them. They don’t mean anything to you anymore.

Because they’re not here anymore.

Warner (rich yandere)

He can never be angry with you. No never~

But he will give you the punishment you deserve.

And he has certain methods for punishment like having you tied up to his bed and leaving you all alone in a dark lonely room with a vibrator strapped to your cunt.

You’re not truly alone of course, he’s always watching you with the cameras he set up.

Howw else is he supposed to stop the vibrator right when you’re about to cum?

Other than making you struggle for his forgiveness he also has to keep you busy while he gets rid of your little problem. He’s hurt people for you before and certainly has killed them but he’s never gotten to this level of cold blooded torture.

He spills their blood while in a trance like state, he’s absolutely drenched in their blood and the scene is gruesome enough to have his body guards who have seen many similar things while working with him not withstand this particular scene.

But you won’t know any of it, you don’t have to. They’re a distant memory by the time he’s back home in brand new clothes and looking as sharp as ever. Some of that rage is still simmering under that cool exterior though so he’s not quite finished with you yet.

Yandere bully

You’re not even in a relationship the guy tortures you on a daily basis! but he saw you get all blushy and smiling while another guy was teasing you in the hallway.

You never blush when he messes you what the fuck is that about?

That’s as good as cheating in his delusional mind.

He starts clinging to you everyday even more than before. Scowling and glaring at any guy who passes you by like a guard dog. You’re too focused on his asshole behavior to notice that you haven’t even seen the guy since.

You’ve heard students around you murmuring about a student who’s been in such a bad accident that he can’t even walk anymore. So many broken bones, swollen flesh, he might have even gotten a brain injury. Poor thing can’t even come to school anymore.

You never made the dots…

bonus! Yandere tentacle monster

Nom.

Let’s not forget this guy is an actual monster the second that guy gets on top of you on the bed he has already devoured him.

He walks toward you with an icy expression while wiping the blood off his mouth not paying any mind to your mortified expressions.

“You could’ve of at least brought a proper meal pet. That tasted absolutely terrible. I’d much rather eat you instead~”

the person reader cheated with knowing they’re absolutely fucked no matter who the oc is:

[katskitoshi]

eita otoya x fem! reader // smut. includes: cheating, oral(reader receives), manipulation, lying, nameless barely mentioned other woman

no one wanted to admit it, but eita otoya would be a great boyfriend if he committed himself. he knows his way around a woman.

he knows what gifts to you when your feeling sad. he knows where to take you after a long day. he knows what dinner to make or buy you after you say you're certain you're not hungry or don't know. he knows just how to rub your back to get the knots out of it. he knows exactly what to say to make you all soft and pliable.

if he was loyal, and didn't live for the high of a new girl every week or two, he'd be settled down with a relationship so strong it makes other girls want him to be a cheater.

maybe eita otoya knows his way around a woman a little too well. because just as he's caught sliding into another woman's dm's again, he knows just how to make you forget all about it.

he knows how to shush you with desperate and needy skillful kisses. he knows how to run his hand just under your shirt and rub against your waist until your calmed down. he knows just what sweet lies to whisper in your ears as he looks you dead in the eyes. "she's just a friend, baby. you're the only one for me," "i was just about to block her because she was insisting for me to leave you for her. can you believe that?" "i saw she had a similar taste in that brand you liked. i was just texting her to get an opinion on what to get you, baby."

and he knows it will work, because it's worked on the countless women before you.

he'll sit you down on the bed, and hold you closely, continuing to tell you those lies until you embarrassedly apologize for being so rash. i mean, come on. he's the perfect boyfriend he knows just what to do to make you happy. how could you ever think he was cheating?

he'll give you a short kiss, rubbing your side until you look up at him, asking if there's anything you can do to make him forgive you. he'll smile down at you, so sweetly that once he breaks up with you for the next cute thing he finds it will haunt you in your nightmares and dreams alike for years.

and, just to completely seal the deal, he tells you no. that, "i totally get it, babe. i can't blame you for feeling that way. how about i make it up to you, since i made you even think i'd do something like that?"

and he's got you. he knows his way around a woman. he knows his way around a woman so well that in a matter of minutes, he has you moaning out from his tongue and fingers, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

you legs writhe and squirm and your hips pull away and push deeper into his tantalizing ministrations against your pussy. his tongue works in expert fashion, licking and lapping at all his can as his fingers hit that spot inside of you that leaves spot on your vision. he kisses your clit so tenderly and gently while his fingers move wildly that your legs abruptly shut around his head.

he pulls away from your dripping wet and warm core with a chuckle. with no effort he spreads your legs apart and presses a few tender kisses against your thighs and stomach.

"come on, baby. can't keep closing your legs like this. you're making it hard for me to make it up to you."

you mewl out his name, still calming down from your previous highs. your body shudders in delight as he looks up at you with those yellow eyes. he dives back into your pussy, lapping at it with a renowned sense of vigor. his names falls from your lips like a chant, your hands finding your way into a hair to push him way. the heat rising in your core felt so different from what you were used to.

he growls a soft, "don't stop me, baby."

and all of a sudden, his face is drowned in a wet, slick liquid. your body spasms repeatedly for nearly a minute, and otoya laps at your cunt slowly for a few more moments before pulling away. his face is covered in your essence, and his cock only gets harder while watching your post orgasm face. all fucked out and dazed. not a single thought on your mind. especially not the other woman he was texting.

he kisses you gently for a minute before giving you soft praises. "you did so good, baby," "you taste amazing," "i love you more than anything."

he cleans you off with a warm towel and tucks you into bed after getting you a small snack. he joins you, letting you rest your head against his chest as he rubs your back in just the right way that makes you sigh in content. as he breathes in just the right rhythm for his heart to give you a sweet lullaby. as he sneakily pulls out his phone to text the girl from before back.

eita otoya really did know his way around a woman. that's why he was able to make you think he was the love of your life, and is about to convince this woman he was the love of hers too.

[sheerfreesia007]

Masterpiece of a Confession

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 1,802

Content warnings: Fluff, mention of alcohol

Summary: You and Hyunjin have made plans to hang out tonight. What happens when you find him a gift that he’s been eager to get his hands on, and when you present it to him he confesses to you?

Seoltang: Sugar

There was just something so comforting to you whenever you went shopping for hobby supplies. The store was perfectly lit to be able to show you all the colors of the materials that you were looking to buy. Not to mention all the sales that would normally come along. As you walked slowly down the aisle with all the multicolored yarn and thread you smiled softly while your hands gently trailed over the ones you liked. You picked out a few for a project that you were just starting and then a few more that caught your attention.

Just as you moved further down the aisle your cellphone began to ring and you smiled when you recognized who the ringtone was for. Fishing the device out of your bag you quickly answered the phone and held it to your ear still smiling.

”Hey Jinnie.” You greet him happily and he chuckles softly on the other end.

”Hi Seoltang, where are you right now?” He greeted and asked kindly. You could hear the smile in his voice as you continued to walk down the aisle perusing the merchandise.

”At the craft store picking up some material for my new project.” You tell him as you stop to look at some hand dyed material that catches your eye.

”Do you want to come hang out later once I’m done with this photoshoot? I miss you.” He says softly into the phone as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear how sweet and soft he’s being. You smile to yourself at his tone, Hyunjin has always been like this with you. He was always able to relax and be himself whenever he was with you and you loved that about your relationship. Plus the fact that you were able to be such a comfort to him made your heart sing with joy.

”Of course I do. Do you want me to pick up some food for us and Changbin?” You ask him kindly when you turn down the paint aisle and smile softly at the reminder of your friend.

”Changbin’s going out with Jisung and Chan tonight. It’s just going to be the two of us.” Hyunjin responds and you nod your head at his words as you spot Hyunjin’s favorite brand of paint before walking over to it.

”Alright so then I’ll grab us some food, anything in particular you’d like?” You ask as you grab some of the paint colors that you know he runs out of a lot and slip them into your basket.

”I don’t know, comfort food?” He muses curiously and you nod your head knowing exactly what he means. Today had been a bit of a gloomy overcast day and it really should’ve kept you in your cozy bed but you were on a mission to get all of your errands done.

”Italian from that little mom and pop place not far from your apartment?” You ask curiously and Hyunjin gasps and hums in delight.

”Oh you read my mind.” He gushes out softly and you chuckle at him as your eyes continue down the shelves of paints when suddenly something catches your eye. “Maybe we can try some of those Aracini balls that we weren’t able to try last time.” He suggested and you hummed in agreement.

”Oooh that sounds great. I’ll make sure to get an order of those for us.” You tell him as you move down the aisle closer to the multicolored box in hopes that it was what you thought it was. Hyunjin had been going on and on about this paint set that he wanted to try but every time he tried to get it in any craft store they were always sold out, as you reached up and grabbed the box you nearly let out a squeal in delight! It was the same set that he had been talking about, and luckily for you it looked like it was the last one on the shelf. 

“Well I really called you to talk about our days but it looks like I don’t have that long of a break today.” Hyunjin sighed softly and you frowned in response to his words before beaming as you slipped the paint set into your basket.

”That’s okay Jinnie, we’ll have all of tonight to talk about our days.” You reassured him sweetly and he hummed softly in response.

”I can’t wait to see you tonight Seoltang.” He said softly. “I’ll see you later, I gotta get back now.”

”I’ll see you later Jinnie.” You respond happily and hang up the phone before quickly making your way to the registers to pay for your things. You were eager to get home so that you could wrap the gift for him and give it to him tonight when you saw him.

*-*-*-*

Your trek up to Hyunjin and Changbins’ apartment is an easy one for you as you eagerly stride up the stairs two at a time. You’ve got your tote bag that holds the wrapped gift for Hyunjin as well as a bottle of wine that you found in the family owned restaurant when you went to pick up your dinner order. It had looked and sounded like something the two of you would enjoy together while eating so you had bought it.

Just as you make it to the top step of their floor you stop for a second letting yourself catch your breath and you hear a soft sweet giggle coming from the side. Turning your head you grin at a giggling Changbin who eyes you happily.

”That eager to get to him yah?” He asks knowingly and you blush softly at his teasing which causes him to giggle more. “Don’t worry he’s just as eager for you.” He says before giving you a quick hug and then continuing on down the stairs. “I’ll sleep over at Chan’s place tonight so don’t worry if you have a sleepover.” He calls over his shoulder teasingly.

”Changbin!” You scold softly and he giggles loudly once more at you before waving at you over his shoulder.

”Was Changbin giving you a hard time?” Hyunjin asks you and you turn your head to see him standing in the doorway of his apartment looking at you worriedly. You grin at him happily and he reciprocates the grin with one of his own sweet smiles. “I’ll beat him up for you.” He offers and you laugh happily as you excitedly make your way over to him and wrap him in a tight hug.

”No, no nothing like that. Just a bit of teasing.” You explain as you bury your face in his worn cotton t-shirt. “And I’d never ask you to do that.” You scold him softly as he grins down at you while wrapping his arms tightly around you.

”The offer still stands.” He says with a shrug before guiding you into the apartment. “Wanna get changed in your pjs first and then we’ll eat on the couch while watching a drama?” He asks when he finally lets you go so that he could close and lock the door.

”Yes please.” You sigh out happily as you slip your shoes off and go to set the bag of dinner on the kitchen island and pull out the wine bottle as well. “I bought wine from the restaurant too. Sounded like something we’d enjoy.” You tell him over your shoulder as you walk away to the bathroom so that you could go get changed.

”Oooh, this is a good one. Good choice!” Hyunjin calls out and you chuckle softly as you quickly get changed into your pjs before walking back out to find that Hyunjin had already set up dinner on the coffee table and was just pulling up a recent drama that the two of you had gotten into. “C’mere Seoltang.” He calls from his spot on the couch and you grin while rushing over to tackle him in a tight hug causing him to laugh happily at your actions. The two of you stay like that for a few quiet moments before you remember the gift you had gotten him.

”Oh! Before we start. I have a gift for you.” You say with a hint of teasing and Hyunjin looks at you with wide eyes before he grins excitedly and holds his hands out.

”Gift, please!” He calls out and you laugh softly at him before shaking your head. He gasps and then dramatically throws himself on top of you groaning loudly. “I need whatever thoughtful gift you’ve gotten or I’ll perish Seoltang.” He cries out as he throws a hand up into the air and squints his eyes. “Darkness is already closing in! I Can feel death’s cold grip on me tightening.” He dramatically cries out and you laugh loudly as you shove him playfully off you before you reach for your tote bag and pull out the wrapped gift.

Hyunjin quickly sits up from his sprawled out position as he eyes the prettily wrapped gift with eager eyes. You look down at the gift in your lap and then look up at him with a teasing grin on your face. Hyunjin leans forward with wide pleading eyes and a pout on his lips trying to get you to give him his gift. You smile softly at him and lean over to press a sweet kiss to his forehead without even thinking about it, it just naturally came to you to do that.

”What’s the magic word?” You ask him softly and Hyunjin grins widely at you as his eyelids flutter with delight at your kiss.

”I love you.” He answers immediately before cupping your face and pulling you into a deep loving kiss that makes you squeak with surprise as Hyunjin smiles through the kiss. He pulls away softly and grins widely when your mouth moves to chase his making the love he holds in his body for you swell to consume him. He then pulls you back in for another kiss and whispers the confession between each kiss he gives you.

You’re giggling happily and adoringly as you try to pull away from him so that you can give him his gift before you give up and press the present into his chest before kissing him once again.

”I love you too.” You whisper against his mouth and Hyunjin practically beams at you before he pulls away and looks down at the gift in his hands. Quickly opening it his eyes widen as surprise and adoration fills him. He looks up at you with wide love filled eyes before he grabs onto your face and pulls you in for another deep loving kiss that he doesn’t let you up from for a few breathless moments.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Bonus Prompt! And a little slightly longer than usual thing I wrote for it. Happy October!

It's A Horse

By the time I’m twelve years old, no one wants to spend the night at my house anymore. At eleven I lie curled up in bed, another girl my age pressed into my side, whispering in my ear as something watches us through the big dark window above our heads. 

“What is that?” 

“It’s a horse,” I tell her. 

We listen to it breath for a moment. 

“Are you sure?” 

She doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame her. This horse sounds different from other horses. There is an utter lack of anxiety in its movements. It doesn’t huff, or shake its head, only stands out there and watches. Silent and unhurried, it carries the unbearably empty weight of outer space in each powerful cord of muscle, clinging to a complicated skeleton in a shape I can’t help but recognize. 

There’s no explanation for why it’s here, in a quiet suburb like mine. I would love to answer these questions, but that’s really all there is to it.

“It’s a horse,” I say, shrugging in the dark.

—

Years pass this way, and I can never manage to say it any differently no matter how hard I try. I begin to despise pretending it’s a dream, or a nightmare, or a ghost, when the reality is so simple and always has been. My frustration tastes bitter, as I imagine rumors spreading around school. Has she tried to tell you about the horse?

I’m tired, and lonely. At age fifteen I make a new friend, and when she spends the night for the first time I pretend I can’t hear the horse at all. I lie awake as my friend tosses and turns beside me. The horse watches us. It never blinks. 

—

A decade later, an old friend asks me about the horse. She looks nervous, and I tell her a familiar half truth:

I’ve been having the same dream lately, over and over. In it, I sit straight up in bed, the ghost of a heavy breath still warm on my face. I slip out from under the covers, and into the hall. One hand on the cool plaster wall, I walk slowly, without turning on the lights. The night is velvet soft around me, the utter silence like a pillow I might still be resting my head on. I reach the kitchen and stop in front of the glass garden door. The horse and I stare at each other. It is as simple a thing as it has always been, its inky eyes brimming with all the promise of two black holes. The moon sends a sliver of light down its broad back, so for a moment it might be a reflection in the glass that separates us. I reach for the handle, but the door is already open.

Face to face, it is clearer than ever before that the thing in front of me is a horse. It leans forward in slow motion, its neck stretching, extending towards me until its lips are an inch from my face. They peel back, revealing long, discolored horse teeth, bared in an unmistakable smile. Oh yes, this is a horse. 

I peel my own lips back. It’s only polite. 

—

“I don’t understand.” 

My friend leans away from me, exhausted by my story. Confusion and worry make a happy home in her narrowed eyes. Nothing has changed, all these years later. 

“That’s okay,” I say, smiling gently. 

We are sitting in a cafe on the ground floor of some new apartment building, and I re wrap my hands around the coffee in front of me. Outside, rain falls like a poem as a waitress’ shoes squeak across the linoleum. My fingers catch on a chip in my plain, eggshell mug. 

“Is something–” she starts.

“Nothing is wrong,” I insist, in the calm, firm tone of reassuring children.

“It just seems like you’re doing so well.”

“I am.”

I reach out and touch her hand. My friend’s fingers are cold, and as the warmth from my own seeps into them, she asks the funniest question I have heard in a long time.

“I mean…is it a metaphor?”

I stare at her, not sure whether to laugh or cry. I’m tired. 

The horse walks through the apartment directly above us, the brand new floorboards creaking beneath its weight. As slow as stone. As slow as always. 

I’m so tired, no longer eleven years old and naive, no longer fifteen and lonely. I’ll say it again, over and over, as many times as it takes to make someone understand. 

I’m cleverer now, and so are you. 

I keep my face blank on purpose, calm, composed, as I lean forward once more to answer your question. I speak slowly and clearly. 

“It’s a horse.”