#even the background is making me emotional

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 19: The One Where I Perform Mis-Directed as a Three Act Comedy, Act III

“Firstly, happy birthday. It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Hint: Mis-Directed was released on February 4.

"’I’m making some changes,’ Hattie sipped from the glass. ‘And I’ve updated my skincare routine.’"

"‘Is that actor-code for hooking up with my costar,’ [Hattie’s] sister asked with great interest."

"And Hattie swallowed her drink, wincing as it burned down her throat. Looks like a liquified Barbie Dream House, tastes like one hundred proof vodka."

“’He’s the absolute bane of my existence,’ Hattie said.”

“’And I’ll stake my entire and beloved earring collection.’"

"Dee’s eyes went covetously to today’s selection. A miniature Victorian inkpot and quill.”

“’The entire family’s been reading the tabloids, have they?’"

"‘Reading, discussing, dissecting in a private WhatsApp chat.’”

“They’d touched each other before under the heat of cameras and watching eyes, but this was different. It was them and them alone. It was for them alone.”

“They watched where he entered her, where she enclosed him.”

“’I’ll never be a person who courts tabloid speculation about my private life,’ [Hattie] said at last. ‘But I understand the role that the press plays in this industry and the present attention is likely to be short-lived.’”

“’That might be true,’ he said in a slightly unreadable tone. ‘But it doesn’t necessarily make it easier to deal with in the moment.’ A point she couldn’t argue, especially since they’d remain hot headline property for quite some time yet, if their names were linked. The Victor and Iris affair hadn’t even hit screens yet. They were doing their first joint promo on Monday, at which point the speculation would fire up considerably.”

“’And when did you know it was more than a friendship you felt for Mr. Rafe?’"

"Despite everything, Hattie couldn’t repress the bubble of humor. ‘I don’t recall ever being friends with Mr. Rafe,’ she said, her gaze switching to her other side. Anthony was watching her with utter blandness in his expression and an emotion in his eyes sent all the butterflies in her stomach spiraling. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s infamously insufferable.’”

“But at last, the show’s PR manager stepped in and brought the prying to an end.”

“’I love you.’ They were Iris’s [played by Hattie] words but the slight crack in her voice wasn’t scripted nor was what she saw in Anthony’s eyes. Their fingers tightened on each other as he leaned forward, and his lips touched hers and the ground dropped from under them.”

“’Do I,’ her voice cracked again, ‘have your heart?’"

"‘Do you,’ his body was incredibly tense, ‘love me?’"

"Her eyes burning with sudden tears. She couldn’t speak. She simply nodded as he said with a thick rasp and as little composure as she’d ever seen from him, ‘For a long time now.’”

“Anthony also looked to the nosy reporter before his gaze returned to hers. She read the question in his eyes."

"‘I don’t care,’ she said and realized it was true, with no longer even the slightest twinge of anxiety or reservation. This was the right person. The right time. And she was ready for all of it and it was worth everything and anything. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore. This means so much more.’"

"A last tear slipped free."

"‘This is everything. That’s just background noise.’"

"His arms tightened.”

P.S. “She just wouldn’t touch the fan fic or the fan art of Leicester Square with a ten-foot pole. The idea of people writing sex scenes while picturing her face or sketching not safe for work drawings in her image was unsettling at best.”

[chrisstvrns]

𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱 | 𝐜.𝐬

warnings: not proofread, fluff of chris painting his daisy on madisons wall :)

word count: 1k

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

it had been three weeks since chris told you he was moving back to boston, and now the triplets were nearly fully moved back. they had to move a few more boxes, and then? they were back. full time. right now, you and the triplets were in madisons nursery, white and yellow paint cans scattered on the floor. chris was leaning over her crib, dragging white paints along the wall. 

chris paused for a moment, stepping back to assess his work. the daisy was still a rough outline, but the petals were coming together nicely against the soft pink background. his brows furrowed in concentration, lips quirking into a faint smile despite the paint smudged across his cheek.  

“you sure you don’t want me to just stick to solid colors?” he asked over his shoulder, his tone teasing but cautious, like he still wasn’t sure how much room he had to step into this part of your life.  

you shook your head with a laugh, sitting cross-legged on the floor, organizing madison’s tiny clothes into neat piles. “you’re doing great, picasso,” you joked, though your chest tightened at the surreal sight of him here—fully present, fully involved.  

chris huffed a quiet laugh, dipping the brush back into the paint. “i don’t know about great, but madison deserves a nice room. gotta make it special.”  

there was a softness in his voice that hadn’t always been there before. the weight of everything that had happened—the unexpected pregnancy, the messy emotions when he found out, and now this attempt at something new—lingered in the air like unspoken words.  

you watched him silently for a moment, the realization settling deeper into your bones: chris was trying. he was trying to be here, trying to show up in ways that mattered, even if neither of you had fully figured out what that looked like yet.  

“she’s gonna love it,” you said quietly, your voice carrying more meaning than just the mural on the wall.  

chris glanced back at you, his blue eyes softer than usual. “yeah,” he murmured. “i hope so.”  

chris turned back to the wall, his brush moving with slower, more deliberate strokes as he filled in the daisy’s petals. the room smelled faintly of fresh paint and new beginnings.  

“do you think she likes daisies?” he asked suddenly, voice low but curious.  

you smiled, folding a soft yellow onesie and placing it neatly in the drawer. “how could she not? daisies are happy flowers.”  

“yeah,” he said, thoughtful. “she should be surrounded by happy things.”  

there it was again—that quiet determination in his voice, like he was making a promise not just to madison but to you, too. the weight of everything unspoken settled between you, but it didn’t feel heavy this time. it felt hopeful.  

“she’s surrounded by love,” you said softly, standing up and brushing paint flecks off your leggings. “that’s what matters.”  

chris put down the brush and wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving faint white streaks across the denim. “i’m gonna make sure of that,” he said, meeting your gaze. “for both of you.”  

the sincerity in his words made your throat tighten, but you nodded, swallowing down the lump of emotion. “we know,” you whispered.  

he took a step closer, hesitant but firm, and you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that maybe this was the beginning of something good. something right.  

you finish folding her clothes, standing up and placing them in her dresser. you watch as nick and matt fiddle with some trinkets on her tallest dresser, chris continuing to paint. he picks up a dab of yellow paint, drawing a circle in the middle of the flower. 

he steps back, admiring it. you walk over to him, silently standing next to him. 

"what do you think?" chris asked quietly, his voice warm but uncertain as he tilted his head toward the daisy.  

you tilted your head, mimicking his stance. "it’s perfect," you said softly, the simplicity of the flower somehow capturing everything you hoped for madison’s world—peaceful, joyful, and bright.  

"yeah?" he glanced at you, searching for reassurance.  

"yeah," you nodded, brushing your shoulder against his lightly. "she's gonna love it. i already do."  

he exhaled a laugh, the sound soft but genuine. "good. couldn’t have messed this up. my first major dad duty, you know?"  

his words caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him, your expression softening. there was no hesitation in the way he said it—no doubt, no fear. just a quiet certainty that this was where he was supposed to be.  

"you're doing okay so far," you teased gently, though your voice wavered with emotion.  

chris grinned, paint-streaked and slightly bashful. "just okay? i'll work on that."  

from across the room, matt let out an exaggerated groan. "can you guys be done with the heartfelt stuff? nick just knocked over a whole box of diapers, and i'm not cleaning it up."  

"that was your fault," nick protested, holding up his hands defensively. "you bumped me!"  

chris chuckled, shaking his head. "guess i better go handle that," he muttered, stepping toward the chaos.  

you stayed where you were, eyes lingering on the daisy, the pink walls, and the scattered paint cans. it wasn’t perfect—none of this was—but it was real. it was yours. and as you watched chris wrangle nick and matt into helping clean up the mess, you knew it was going to be enough.  

from the monitor, you heard madisons cried coming from your mom office, and your mothers coos calming her. 

you knew this was it. you were okay. you and chris were together again. and maybe, hopefully, this time it will all work out. you, chris, and madison were a family.  

you were finally okay again. 

chris glanced back at you from across the room, a playful smirk tugging at his lips despite nick and matt’s bickering. “hey,” he called out softly, like he had something more to say but wasn’t sure how to put it into words.  

“yeah?” you asked, your voice steady but curious.  

“thanks for letting me be here,” he said, sincerity lacing every word.  

you smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “thanks for showing up,” you replied gently.  

and in that simple exchange, surrounded by the mess, the laughter, and the lingering smell of paint, you realized something—being okay didn’t mean perfect. it just meant showing up, trying, and finding joy in the chaos.  

and that? that was more than enough.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: were finally done with this series!! i loved writing it so much i hope u all enjoyed it!! :)) if u have any ideas of what else you might wanna see let me know and i might do a part seven?

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

find other parts of this series here

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

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[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says….

Idia + getting sick + quality time

“Hey… I know how this looks.”

The cabinets clatter violently with how you scramble against the wood- Veggies, boullion, and way too much water go in the pot. You hope he tastes the anger.

“Glad you’re self aware, Casper!”

“The friendly ghost?? Mid reference.”

The ‘how to not murder your boyfriend’ council in your head is screaming at him to shut up already, but you kind of want him to keep going. Just to watch him talk himself into a corner, like your shit-stirrer so often does. The least he could is entertain you after this royal betrayal,,

If there’s anything you regret about tonight, it’s not hating Idia more (not that you do hate him, but everyone can sympathize with a little trouble in paradise!). It doesn’t matter anymore if it was a work function or family dinner- He promised to go, and now even his immune system’s flaking!

The half-hate soup simmers in the background while your true crime show is playing ‘FBI torture: not clickbait!’ as a duet to Idia’s shakey sneezes.. God, you’re mean. He doesn’t even like this show, he’s just compliant enough to sit in on it! Because he likes you!! “Dinner’s ready.”

There’s something special about the way he looks up at you- His hair pools in a waterfall down his hunched back after jailbreaking from a low pony that you gave him, and his little sickie nose twitches at the warmth… He’s way too cute to stay mad at!! The hot spoon full of fresh soup presses faithfully against his lips, and you’re soon to realize that he’s never looked guiltier.

“You good, babe?”

“UH. um. Never better, babyface..? This soup’s totally meta, YEAH, that’s it! Just thinking about soup!”

“It’s not that good! But I’m not here to yuck your yum, let’s get you better. Love you.”

“Yup! That too,,”

. Cheezy catchphrases and emote sound effects blare from your surround-sound system (Ids insisted on on the thing, and you’re weak to begging), echoing off the comparatively bare boned living room setup. One thing you convinced Idia to do was drag all his gaming into the living room “to share” (you’re hardly allowed to touch anything, much less any guests) you just couldn’t ever sell him on the “normal” knickknacks, barely avoiding anime figures for decor.

He’d only half persuaded you into starting this rpg- All the fantastical races and classes usually melt together whenever mods come into play, but you’re really starting to enjoy yourself! You’re so invested in the current dialogue that you almost don’t notice a boyfriend-shaped beartrap wrap around your arm. Almost.

“Idia, are you sure everything’s okay?”

He forces out a weak ‘m sorry, and the game’s forgotten pretty quickly to start loving on him (great! Now you have to catch up later), you lavish kisses all over his face, mumbling pet names into his sensitive ears- Avoiding his crusted nose and making your way to his neck before he shoves a palm in your face with a little too much force. It’s not like you can get away with all his weight piled up on your thigh, that’s just rude!

“I’M FAKING!”

what

“What?? There’s no way you’re faking this, how dumb do you think I am?”

“It’s stupid. I licked a Petri dish at work so we wouldn’t go out. I’m super sorry!”

Before you know it, you’re giggling uncontrollably at the mental image of Idia licking a Petri dish, and running away- Leaving only licks as evidence. He is HORRIFIED. Maybe this is your murder giggle?? Regardless of whatever he’s thinking, the grip on your arm gets tighter, and he joins you with a couple entertained huffs.

“SHUT UP, YOU DIDNT! You’re the funniest guy I know! Next time, just let me know when you want to stay in. I’m pretty slippery when I want to be :),”

“Really?”

“Really. Either way, it was a good Valentine’s Day. Are you up for icecream?”

“Sure! And, uh,, happy Valentine’s Day. Ilyt.”

[soangelbaby]

❤︎ you’ve been mine ; charlie baker x reader

‹𝟹 synopsis ; charlie baker is your brother's bestfriend, and he's 3 years older than you. you've always wanted each other but your brother has deemed you off-limits but this valentine's day, all bets are off the table, who will make the first move ?

the house was quieter now, the chaos of your brother’s valentine’s day party fading into the background. the room was a mess, scattered with red and pink streamers, deflated balloons, and the aftermath of too many drinks. but all you could focus on was the heat creeping up your spine and the adrenaline buzzing in your veins as you tried to steady yourself on shaky feet.

you should have been out with friends—maybe hitting up the local bar or at least making some kind of memory that didn’t involve cleaning up after your brother, you could’ve tagged along with your best friend, but her and her boyfriend had a romantic date planned, and you, well, you weren’t exactly in the mood to play third wheel. your other girlfriends had their own plans too—some with their boyfriends, others out with people you didn’t really know. you didn’t mind the solitude, really. you never did. but tonight? tonight felt different.

throwing another crushed red cup into the trash, you turned around to see charlie entering the doorway. shirtless, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass that was nearly empty. he wasn’t even trying to look casual; it was in his nature. his messy hair was falling into his eyes, and he now wore some basketball shorts that clung just a little too perfectly to his hips. he didn’t say anything right away, just stood there watching you for a moment, as though he were giving you a chance to catch your breath, to pull yourself together. but you could feel it, the tension in the room building, thick and palpable.

“still cleaning up?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, as if the very act of talking was another way for him to pull you in. you both had been circling each other all night, love in the air, the alcohol, and charlie’s lingering looks, all amplifying your emotions—making this all feel too real, and charlie look too good. you shot him a fake smile, “yeah, someone has to. you could help y’know.” you mutter, dropping the bag of plastic cups on counter. running a hand through your hair, you exhaled, reaching for your water bottle beside you, mind still hazy from shots you took throughout the night.

charlie snickered as he watched you, setting his cup down as he made his way over, raising his hands in mock surrender. “yeah? i thought i was off the clock.. but i guess i could help.” he rolls his eyes grabbing the half full bag you were previously were using off the counter, “you sure this isn’t just your excuse to get me closer now?” your pulse quickened, a nervous flutter in your chest. the way he was looking at you, his eyes dragging over you, taking in the sight of your red satin dress, though slightly disheveled still clinging to your curves. one strap hanging off your shoulder, you spun around nudging him as you pulled it up, “you wish, baker.” you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the tension, but you felt yourself drawn to him, more than you ever had before.

he grinned, a hint of that charming confidence shining through, and without another word, he slid closer, brushing his hand against yours on the counter, “right, i forgot you’re scared of your brother.” charlie chuckles, throwing the empty dishes into the sink. you crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as your brows drew together, “i’m not scared, just… cautious, you know how he is.” you mumbled, leaning against the counter huffing. charlie nodded in amusement, a low laugh escaping his lips, “but he’s not here now, is he?” he raises an eyebrow, tying a knot in the garbage bag before taking a step closer to you, “you don’t have to pretend anymore y’know? i’m right here, and i mean, it’s valentine’s day.” he hummed, adjusting your dress strap as it began to fall again. your breath hitched in your throat, feeling the heat radiate off his body, his piercing gaze locked onto yours, “charlie—we shouldn’t—“ you started off, voice barely audible as you weakly protested.

but there was nothing stopping you guys now, all the times in the past, your brother had interrupted, always catching you before things got too heated. and like charlie had said, he wasn’t here now. “maybe we shouldn’t—but we can. and you know we will.” he muttered, his large hand slipping to the back of your neck, tugging the hair at the nape of your neck slightly. you gasped, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, hesitating, half-lidded eyes searching his own. “if we do this—we have to be quiet.” you whispered fimly, gaze dropping to charlie’s bare chest before back up to his eyes. a lazy smirked tugged at his lips, his free hand dropping to grip your waist, the soft fabric curling under his fingertips, “you think i can do quiet?” you smacked his chest playfully, rolling your eyes, “charlie i’m serious! my room is right next to his, if he hears, i’m basically dead.” you shot back, gripping his shoulders firmly, acrylic nails digging into his skin, leaving impressions.

charlie’s eyes shot behind you, and he grinned, “i could always take you in the pantry,” he mumbled, one hand sliding up your back, your cheeks heated up at the thought, and more so at the possibility of your brother coming downstairs. but it was the quickest—and quietest option, so you weren’t exactly opposed. you grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward the pantry swiftly, the wooden door closing softly behind you both. you flicked the switch a few times, before realizing your brother never switched the bulbs when he was supposed to. “asshole..” you whispered, but to your luck, the lights from the kitchen barely shined through the blinds of the door, partially illuminating charlie’s large frame in front of you.

“no light, but we can make it work.” you said, a little breathlessly, hands already tugging at his basketball shorts, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, sliding up your little dress as he hoisted you up against the door slightly thumping, “fuck—i’ve been waiting to do this all night,” charlie groaned against your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, his hips pressed flush against yours. your hands tangled in his hair, arching into him, you could feel his hard-on rubbing against your stomach, craving any type of friction, “needa feel you already, charlie please,” you moaned, he pressed his chest against yours, one hand gripping your ass as he held you up to tug off his shorts. his dick brushing your thigh as it sprang free, pushing up your dress and tugging your panties aside, charlie lined his dick up at your entrance, arousal already coating him, “made me wait so long for this, s’been torture, baby.” he grumbled, sinking into you with a low groan. you gasped, feeling your walls clench around him already, at the stretch of him inside you.

“mm, so fuckin’ tight—” his hips stuttered against yours, hands tightening around your waist as he sped up, your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer if possible. his dick twitched inside you, “i’m not gonna last—fuuck” you could feel the tightness pooling in your stomach as he pounded into you, you tried to warn him but before you could your eyes squeezed shut, body glitching against him as your orgasm washed over you, scratching harshly at his back. charlie bit down on your shoulder as his cum shot into you, thrusts turning sloppy. his chest heaved against yours as he pulled out, quickly moving your panties aside, ensuring no drips of his cum slipped out. his lips crashed onto yours, tongue slipping into your mouth with force, before pulling away, his hand slipped between your legs, patting your soaking cunt roughly,

“happy valentine’s day.” charlie snickered, his lips pressing against yours once more.

𐑺 rini’s note ; omg yall dont hate me !! so erm—first im so sorry this literally sucks ass bc i changed my whole idea last min bc it wasn’t going how i wanted 🫠 so pulled this out my ass so late and yeah…. excuse potential typos js had to get ts out ahh lygs

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 3rd-9th 2025

Less than a month until 9-1-1 is back on our screens babyyyyy! how's everyone doing after that kiss hug in the rain scene???

Complete

You And I Walk A Fragile Line (I Have Known It All This Time) by pinkpeachtea (Hug In The Rain Spec | 1,3K | Teen): "Eddie?" Buck asked, voice breaking on the name as he noticed the car door opening again, staying open– probably getting the entire interior wet. And it was hard to see- especially through the rain- but if Buck wasn't just hallucinating, it'd actually look like… He was walking right towards him. Careful at first, slowly, until his steps got quicker– jogging that turned into running. Buck could feel his feet again, though he had no control over them as he found himself walking towards Eddie, meeting him not quite halfway when he came to a halt and– "Why did you stop?"

lull of you by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together | 1,7K | Teen): For as long as Buck can remember, Eddie’s ability to express himself has left him in awe—the way that, although it sometimes takes a minute for him to get there, whenever he’s ready, he’ll rip his heart out of his own chest and present it on a silver platter. With a thumb pressed to Buck’s pulse point—or both—and deep, warm, earnest eyes. Buck has never been like that—he goes all out before he’s even sure what he feels; he’s dramatic and emotional, and clingy, and his emotions often run his actions miles ahead of his brain. (Not that he hasn’t come to terms with that by now—he is who he is, and he’s learned to appreciate it.) The interesting thing is, though—despite his regular habit of rushing things to beat his tendency to overthink in a lap around the racetrack—for once, tonight, his brain feels… quiet. Calm.

& such by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (87K | Teen): prompts and spec fics and codas and all the works jumbled mumbled into one place.

22. reunions (Eddie back from Texas | 2K): Buck kind of—avoids Eddie when he gets back.  He knows he shouldn’t. The thing is, his heart still feels so bruised. It still feels like it’s lying there on the road, soaking up the gravel and the cement and the area just under Eddie’s tires, and he’s—tired. He’s tired. He just wants a second, to recuperate, before he goes back out there and pretends like everything is okay. 

No Take Backs by Maximoff_Wanda (Friends to Fiances | 2K | Not Rated): “Marry me,” he blurted out, causing the other man to freeze and turn to stare at him. “What?” Eddie slowly lowered himself down on one knee, keeping eye contact with Buck, his blue eyes widening as he watched Eddie sink to the ground. Somewhere in the background, he hears a woman squealing as she notices what’s happening. Eddie clears his throat, grabbing one of Buck’s hands as a crowd starts to form around them. “Buck... Evan. There is nothing more that I want than to spend the rest of my life getting pretzels with you at the zoo listening to your endless fun animal facts while you buy our son sugary confections that he doesn’t need just because it makes him happy... So will you please marry me?”

When I see you again by Maximoff_Wanda (Hug In The Rain Spec | 2K | General): Buck sighed as the sky opened up and a drizzle of rain began to pour over them as they walked out of the Diaz house toward Eddie’s truck. Of course, it had to rain the day the love of his life left for Texas. Now that he’s thinking about it, Buck realized it was always raining when Buck and Eddie lose each other.

i knew it when you looked my way (that i'd be begging you to stay) by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (Hug In The Rain Spec | 2K | General): When Eddie pulls Buck in, Buck melts, wrapping one arm over his shoulder and the other under his arm, palms wide to cling to as much of Eddie as he can hold. Buck’s chin settles in the crook of Eddie’s neck and he breathes in deeply, trying to commit to memory the blurred together scent of Eddie’s deodorant and shampoo and the petrichor hanging in the air. “I miss you already,” Eddie says into Buck’s ear, stubble scraping against Buck’s cheek as his mouth moves. With one last squeeze Eddie pulls away, clapping Buck just a little too hard on the shoulder. “I should probably get on the road,” Eddie says, stepping away. “Drive safe,” Buck replies, stepping after him. Eddie slides into the driver’s seat and shuts the door, drops the bag of scones into the seat next to him. He resolutely doesn’t look into the rearview mirror as he adjusts it.

But What A Ghostly Scene by icewhisper (S4, Coma Dream | 3K | Teen): Eddie had always thought if he came close to death, it’d be Shannon or his abuelo he saw who pushed him to go home – to go back to Christopher – but when a sniper nearly killed him, it was a little boy he dreamed of instead. Nearly two years later, he realizes who that little boy was.

with a little water and a little bit of sunlight by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (S8E8: Wannabes | 4K | Teen): “You flipped the tablet.” “Did I?” Lord only knows how he carried out an emotional affair as long as he did if this is how good he is at lying. Buck clearly has come to some—wrong—conclusion, given the way he smirks and cocks his head. “What're you looking at, Eddie?” His tone is a little flirty, a little suggestive, and if Eddie were any less close to a panic attack he'd probably think the gulf between what Buck assumes he'd been doing and what he was actually looking at was very funny. — The one where it's not Homes.com but it's also not porn on the iPad.

let's go get the shit kicked out of us by love by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): “Are you Love Actuallying me?” Eddie looks about as surprised that those are the words coming out of his mouth as Buck is to hear them. “Oh my god, what?” “Love Actually. That freaky kid who’s like thirty now but still looks like a ten year old. Runs through an airport, gets himself put on a no-fly list for love? Are you Love Actuallying me?” “For fuck’s sake, has everyone seen that movie but me?” Buck has to laugh, it’s absurd. This whole thing is absurd. He wants to rip his hair out. He also, as of thirty minutes or maybe six years ago, wants to rip Eddie’s shirt off, but that’s not his main focus at the moment.

Will you still be with me (when the magic’s all run out?) by scarmaddiewrites (Witch Buck AU | 5K | Not Rated): Buck is a witch and in love with Eddie…that really it.

Cupid, Q-Words, and Cursed Shifts by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S8A, Valentine's Day | 5K | Teen): A slow shift at the firehouse gets derailed when someone accidentally says the Q-word, Eddie pines over Buck, and the new Probie panics about Valentine's Day.

I’ll tell them put me back in it (and I would do it again) by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 5K | Teen): Eddiaz is listening to the slowburn friends to lovers playlist. Eddiaz listened to the POV you’re falling in love with your best friend playlist. Eddiaz listened to the sad gay yearning hours playlist. Eddiaz listened to the he was my best friend and that was the worst part playlist. Or, Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them.

Eddie Diaz's Emotional Support Group Chat by scarmaddiewrites (Chat fic, Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 6K | Teen): Eddie makes a group chat to help him with his plan to woo Buck… It goes about as well as you think it would.

promise what you will, something good for me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fake Relationship, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Eddie forms a one-sided beef with a woman claiming to be psychic and ropes Buck into a fake dating scheme to try and prove all her predictions wrong.

your slightest look easily will unclose me by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (S8E6: Confessions, PWP | 7K | Explicit): Eddie takes in a deep breath and reaches out and sets his hand on Buck’s knee, fingers wrapping around his lower thigh, pinky brushing his inseam. “Hey. If you were my first, you’d be my last.” The air is still between them and feels charged in a way it wasn’t a moment ago. Careful not to dislodge Eddie’s hand, Buck stretches his arm out to grab the tequila. Watching Eddie out of the corner of his eye, he knocks back another half shot. Eddie doesn’t retract his hand, and the heat of it is starting to seep through the denim of Buck’s jeans. “Sure.” Buck sounds weary. “That’s easy for you to say, when it’s—when it’s just hypothetical.” “What if…” Eddie’s grip on Buck tightens marginally. “What if it wasn’t a hypothetical?”

We're Overdue for a Revival by BespectacledBunny (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris coming back from Texas, Marriage of Convenience | 60K | Mature): “If I had,” Chris lingers on the words, watching Eddie intently through the screen, “If I had conditions?” Eddie feels his stomach knot up. It’s the first time Chris has ever alluded to a willingness to come home. Usually he just shoots Eddie down with a flat “I know” before hurrying off the call. Eddie Diaz will be damned before he lets this chance slip through his hands. “Anything,” his voice rings with desperation in his own ears, “Whatever you need to feel ready to come home. If I can make it happen, I will.” Chris eyes him, young face serious as a judge presiding over trial. Finally, Chris opens his mouth and says something so earth shattering as to crack the foundations of his father’s mind. “Marry Buck,” Chris says firmly.

WIP

🔥 there is no roadby littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8A, Eddie moves to Texas | 5/6 | 77K | Explicit): Years ago, almost a full decade, Shannon had asked him to move and Eddie refused because he was trying to build a life for himself again. Eddie knows if he asks Buck, he’ll get that same refusal. Worse, Buck could say yes and Eddie would be uprooting Buck from the very life he built for himself. He doesn’t ask, and Buck doesn’t offer, and they pack up Eddie Diaz’s life in Los Angeles into cardboard boxes. Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck buys his house. There’s a love story somewhere in here.

🔥 how come everybody's dancing but you?by showedupatyourparty (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 4/6 | 45K | Mature): Buck feels guilty. Everyone he loves is going through something painful, difficult, or unexpected right now. And Buck is just…bisexual. It’s great that he’s figured it out, and it’s great that everyone has been so supportive, and Tommy is—Tommy is fine. The sex is good, at least. Consistent. When Buck gets a call from Eddie’s phone late on a Tuesday night in June, it’s cause for concern. * Buck unpacks his own feelings about his recently-discovered bisexuality. Eddie gets adopted by drag queens. They're both just trying their best to be happy.

disappearing into the distance by bucksclipboard/ @endofthedaymp3 (Eddie Comes Back From Texas, Getting Together | 2/4 | 6K | Teen): Eddie wasn’t sure why he and Maddie weren’t close. It was strange, considering her little brother was the most important person in his life. Still, when the door opened, tight hugs were exchanged and cheerful welcome homes rang in his ears. “Does Bobby know? I gotta call Bobby!”, Chimney yelled. “Could you wait a minute?”, Eddie interjected. His eyes darted between them for a moment and landed on Chim, deciding he was his best bet. “Maybe first explain to me why I went to see Buck and his loft was empty. Am I missing something? Did he move?” or: eddie comes back from texas – only to find that buck has left los angeles

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 13/? | 81K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 12/? | 54K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

Podfic

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Universe, Different First Meeting | 2.5h-3h | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

🔥 [podfic] braver than you believe (loved more than you know) by be_brave13/ @djemsowhat (S8E6: Confessions Spec | 20-30min | Teen): “There's things,” Eddie chokes out, getting the closest he can in a Catholic church to saying what he means to say, words that he’s never said before unable to make an appearance even now. “There's… people… feelings that I— I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.” “Something… different than what you had with Anna and Marisol?” The priest hedges. “Something, even, different than what you and your wife had?” The words feel insinuating, but the tone stays light and unchallenging. The priest in Eddie’s mind has big hands and curious, soulful eyes and a chunky watch on his wrist, like he could be anyone. A blond man at a bar that Eddie’s eyes keep coming back to, for no reason at all. “Yeah,” Eddie confesses. “Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought. Maybe, I can ask for what I thought wasn’t allowed. And I can choose what I want instead of what everyone else thinks I should have.”

🔥[Podfic] Promising Light by cottagepodfics @cottagepodfics / fic by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Time Travel | 2-2.5h | Mature): Buck and Eddie fall asleep drunk and in separate rooms after the night of Buck and Tommy's breakup. They wake up seven years later, in an unfamiliar future, only to find out that they're married.

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

OO1. OO2. OO3.

summary | after the intense moments between you and minho, you try to keep your emotions under control but are pulled back into a complicated situation when Kitty shows you a video involving stella. as you struggle to manage your feelings, you're forced to confront the complexities of your relationship with minho while dealing with new tensions that arise

warnings | emotional angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, deceptive behavior

word count | 3.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The days since that conversation with Min Ho passed slowly. You forced yourself to maintain an indifferent façade, as if what had happened between you two was nothing more than a mere slip-up. But it wasn't. Every time you saw him, whether in the group of friends or in class, you felt a tightness in your chest. You ignored it, tried not to look at him, but you knew he felt it. Min Ho wasn’t stupid.

It was hard to move on, you knew he was there, but now more than ever, you felt the need to distance yourself. Somehow, you had broken something that you didn’t even fully understand, and you didn’t want to fall back into the temptation of thinking that things could be different. Not when you had already lost him.

One day, as you sat in the living room with Kitty, she wouldn’t stop looking at you, as if waiting for you to say something. Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, she approached.

" I know you too well," she said in a low but firm voice. " What's going on with Min Ho?"

You sighed. You didn’t know how to explain it. Kitty always noticed. Always.

" Nothing, Kitty," you lied, unable to look her in the eyes.

But she didn’t seem convinced. She paused, then pulled out her phone and placed it in front of you. On the screen was a video that looked familiar. The title read: Esther from Ohio sings on Sr. Moon's program.

You stared at it, confused.

" What is this?" you asked, not wanting to see what you already suspected.

" What you think it is," Kitty said, taking a sip of her drink. " It's a video of Stella. And I know the page where things were leaked... probably belongs to her too."

Your heart stopped for a second, and a wave of disbelief washed over you.

" Stella?"

Kitty looked at you with a smile that wasn’t exactly one of joy.

" The page where they posted the gossip about Min Ho's dad. I’ve been investigating, and something smells fishy. And that video…" she asked, furrowing her brow. " It looks like her, singing on that show."

You watched the video, unable to avoid it. The woman on the screen was Stella, though you would have never guessed it. Her tone of voice, her presence, everything matched what you knew about her, except her appearance. In the background, a sense of distrust began to cloud your thoughts.

" I don't know what this means," you whispered, barely believable, " but I don’t like it."

Kitty leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms.

" Why don't you tell Min Ho? He needs to know what's going on."

You stayed silent, biting your lip. Did you really want to get involved in something like this? After everything you had told him… But at the same time, something told you that you couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

That same day, you went to the city. Maybe, somehow, something in all of this would give you clarity. You walked the streets, between the bright lights of the buildings, until you reached a store where, among other things, you could buy some clothes you needed. But before you entered the store, something caught your attention.

There she was.

Stella, coming out of an internet café, her phone in her hands. Her hair blew in the wind, but there was something about her expression that unsettled you. You stood still for a few seconds, watching her from a distance, before making a decision.

You knew you needed to talk to Min Ho. But should you show him what Kitty had shown you? Should you tell him what you had seen, what you suspected? Maybe he would deny it. Maybe, in his mind, it would make everything more complicated. But the worst part was that you didn’t know whether to trust her, or if Stella was really behind all of this.

You decided to return to the school, with the weight of uncertainty on your shoulders, and an hour later, you went to find him.

His gaze, although still warm, seemed to have a new hardness to it. He looked at you in silence, as if waiting for you to speak first.

" What's going on?" he asked, a slight irritation in his voice.

With trembling hands, you took out your phone and showed him the video of Stella, the same one Kitty had shown you. Min Ho stared at it intently, without showing any emotion.

" What's this?" he asked, his voice cold.

" This... is Stella," you said, trying to stay calm.

Min Ho sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

" I can't believe you're showing me this, seriously?"

" How can you not believe it?" you responded, feeling frustrated. " Why would I be lying to you? This is important!"

" Do you really want to talk about this?" he said, his voice harsh. " After everything that happened between us, everything you said? Now you’re bringing me this, telling me Stella is a liar... what, so I’ll come back to you?"

His words hit you hard, and although you knew you couldn’t do anything to make him understand your position, you couldn’t help but feel like your heart was breaking a little more.

" It’s not that, Min Ho. I just want you to know the truth. I’m not trying to separate you from her. I just want to take care of you."

Min Ho looked at you intently, his face now completely serious. There was a heavy silence between you both, as his eyes searched yours. Something you couldn’t find.

" I can’t believe it," he said finally, disappointment evident in his voice. " You told me that what happened between us didn’t mean anything, that you didn’t want to keep going... and now you bring me lies about Stella just because you don’t want to let me go."

Before you could reply, he stepped back, his face tense.

" This is too much. It’s not fair."

And, without saying another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing from your view, leaving you there, empty and with a sense of defeat in your stomach.

You felt empty, as if everything you had tried to build with Min Ho had crumbled in an instant. After everything that happened, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe you shouldn’t have shown him the video. Maybe, just maybe, you should have waited for more evidence before speaking. But the damage was already done.

Min Ho ignored you completely for days. He didn’t answer your messages, and every time you crossed paths in the hallways, his gaze immediately averted. That indifference, that coldness… it hurt more than you imagined.

Kitty looked at you with pity, knowing what you had done and how you were feeling. One afternoon, as you sat together in the dorm room, Kitty sighed, the air heavy with guilt.

" I’m sorry," she said, biting her lip. " Seriously, I’m sorry. This is all my fault."

You shook your head, surprised by her apology.

" It’s not your fault, Kitty," you quickly responded, without looking at her. " I was the one who decided to follow that video, my suspicions. If only I had waited… Maybe I wouldn’t have ruined everything. Maybe… maybe Min Ho would still trust me."

Kitty watched you for a moment, then sighed and shrugged.

" It’s just that… I know how hard it is for you to see all of this with him."

You couldn’t look at her, you couldn’t face what you had caused. You wished you could turn back time, tell Min Ho that you were wrong, that it wasn’t that serious. But, for some reason, something inside you told you that you couldn’t go back.

The next day at school, as you walked down the hallways, an odd sense of nervousness ran through you. Something made you stop in your tracks. There he was: Min Ho, standing in one of the Kiss hallways, dressed in a perfectly fitted pink suit, holding a bouquet of roses, standing in front of a decorated wall as if waiting for someone.

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Every detail seemed straight out of a romantic movie, and the mere sight of him there, with a serious but hopeful expression, made your stomach twist. Everything in you wanted to approach him, but you stayed still, watching from a distance.

In that moment, Stella appeared beside you, walking quickly past your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice her, how she walked with a confident and assured smile. When she reached Min Ho, he looked up, and with pure determination, he extended the bouquet of roses to her.

"Stella, do you want to go to the dance with me?" he asked, and the way his voice sounded so sincere made you twist inside.

You felt a wave of jealousy invade you, but what hurt the most was how easy it seemed for him to be so open, so honest. You hated yourself for telling him that you couldn't be anything more after the kiss in the cabin, for pulling away from him so quickly, without giving him the chance to explore what you both truly wanted.

With a sigh, you turned away, unable to watch any longer. You walked with your head down, the weight of confusion and insecurity heavy on your shoulders.

That night, in the dorm, Kitty looked at you with a concerned expression.

"Are you really not going to the dance?" she asked softly.

You shook your head without hesitation.

"No, I don't want to go. I don't have a date, and I don't want to see Min Ho being happy with Stella. I couldn’t handle it. I don't want him to see me suffering from my own embarrassment."

Kitty looked at you silently, then sighed.

You knew that Stella wasn’t all bad. Kitty told you that she only went to the cyber café to talk to her ex-colleagues from Ohio. She didn't have bad intentions, really.

You shrugged, the pain in your chest almost unbearable.

"It doesn’t matter. I don’t get it, Kitty. I can't handle it. I feel stupid for all of this. Maybe it’s best to just step away from everything and let him be happy with someone else. After all, that's what I asked for from the start."

Kitty didn’t say anything more, but you could see the concern in her gaze. She knew how you felt. She knew it was harder for you than you could express.

Finally, you lay down in bed, turning your back on everything you had experienced with Min Ho, trying to forget it, even though you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The decisions had already been made, and all that was left was to watch everything fall apart in front of you.

...

Min Ho no longer showed up to the meetings with Q, Dae, Yuri, Kitty, and you. No one knew exactly why, but everyone noticed. At first, you thought maybe it was your fault. You had seen Stella's behavior, and Min Ho's distance seemed related to everything that had happened, but maybe you had misinterpreted it.

One afternoon, while you were all in Q and Dae's dorm, the topic inevitably came up: Min Ho.

"Have you noticed how strange he's been lately?" Dae asked, crossing his arms.

Q nodded.

"Yeah, I’ve noticed too. And not just that... it’s like he's avoiding us, like he doesn’t want to be around us."

Dae furrowed his brow.

"I don’t think it’s about us. Something’s going on. Sorry, but it does seem a little strange."

Just as they were finishing their conversation about him, the door opened suddenly, and there was Min Ho, with Stella by his side. They walked in together, without making much noise, but what caught everyone’s attention was that Stella didn’t take off her shoes upon entering, which, in local culture, was considered a very inappropriate gesture. Min Ho, on the other hand, didn’t say a word, something he normally would have commented on, as he was meticulous about such details. And that was what surprised you the most.

Q looked at Dae, then at Kitty and you, with a knowing look.

"See? Definitely something’s going on. Stella didn’t take off her shoes, and he ignores her collagen water, just like one of Q’s energy drinks. This isn’t right."

Dae furrowed his brow and nudged Kitty.

"I don’t want to make things worse, but... her skin looks like Edward Cullen’s, but not in a sexy way, you know? It’s... weird. Really weird."

"Do you think it’s because of the suspicions about her?" Kitty asked, lowering her gaze to the phone she had left on the table.

Q sighed.

"I don’t know, but what I do know is that something’s happening. Stella isn’t right. I don’t want to judge her without proof, but something doesn’t add up."

Kitty nodded, a little worried.

"I know. But I was wrong before. Maybe I’m just seeing it from the wrong perspective."

You decided to ignore it all until the day of the singing competition. Things didn’t make sense, but you needed to focus on what was right in front of you. On the day of the competition, Dae called you and Kitty and, without hesitation, delivered the news.

"Stella’s going to compete in the contest, and Min Ho is going to support her," he said, with a serious tone.

Kitty couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

"That’s impossible. How can that be? There’s no way he’s helping her."

Dae nodded, but his expression was grave.

"Mr. Moon introduced her as his great story of resilience. She... she’s involved in something bigger than we thought."

Kitty fell silent for a moment, processing the information.

"That... explains a lot about Min Ho’s behavior," she murmured, her face tense. "But why didn’t he tell us?"

What hurt the most was that, once again, Min Ho had chosen not to trust you, not even when the most important thing was for both of you to face the truth together.

You felt a renewed determination. You couldn’t just sit still. You had to do something. You needed to know the truth. So, while Kitty and Dae were preparing for the concert, you decided to go find Min Ho.

You headed to the stage where they were rehearsing, and once there, you found him alone, distancing himself from the crowd. You walked towards him without thinking, your heart in your throat.

"Min Ho," you called, with a mix of doubt and bravery. "I need to know what's going on. What's going on with Stella? Does she have you trapped or is that not true?"

Min Ho looked up, and in his eyes, there was a deep sadness. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the situation were crushing him.

"You're right," he replied with a sigh. "Stella is a psychopath. I don’t know how she found out my brother got his dancer pregnant, and now she’s threatening to tell the press unless she wins this contest."

Your heart raced, and you quickly stepped closer to him.

"We have to do something," you said, desperate. "We can’t let this go on. We have to stop her."

Min Ho nodded, but before you could say anything more, he slowly approached you and looked you in the eyes.

"I’m sorry... I’m so sorry," he said, his voice breaking, almost as if the pain he felt in his chest was as real as yours. "I should’ve never pushed you away, I should’ve never made you feel like I didn’t trust you. I don’t know what happened, I just... I got carried away. I failed you."

His words hit you in the heart, and for a moment, you felt completely vulnerable. You had been so focused on your suspicions, on what Stella represented in the equation, that you had forgotten the most important thing: Min Ho was also going through all of this in his own way. And, no matter how much you hated him for pulling away, you also knew that the situation wasn’t that simple. The world you both moved in was complicated, and decisions weren’t always easy.

You slowly moved closer, trying to find a way to comfort him, to let him know that it wasn’t all lost, that there was still time to set things right.

"Min Ho..." you said softly, taking his face in your hands. "I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pushed you away, but I didn’t want to ruin what you had with Stella, well, before I found out she was a bitch."

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were absorbing every word you said.

"I know I messed up, and I feel horrible for not believing you when you needed me most. But when I found out what Stella was doing, everything changed. I realized how blind I was, how easy it was for her to manipulate me. What hurts the most is that you were there, trying to warn me, and I ignored you."

You couldn’t help but feel that his regret was genuine.

Without saying anything more, he hugged you, and in an instant, his lips found yours, in a kiss filled with everything that hadn’t been said before. A mix of regret, desire, and love that overflowed between the two of you.

You pulled away, feeling your heart pounding.

"We need to fix all of this first," you said, knowing that what mattered now was stopping Stella and putting things right before it was too late.

And as you prepared for what was to come, you realized that maybe things between you and Min Ho weren’t lost after all.

tags | @msromanreigns2023 @imagineme2you @yuwaimo @cassiewritessalot @lavnderluv

[peaterookie]

My Favorite Lupin III Manga Panels

Shin Lupin III | Chapter 31 - Strange Bedfellows

This panel is such a simple but emotional piece of art. I love how you can just tell the mix of shock, relief and worry that Lupin felt seeing Goemon in such a state, that the only thing he can do is rush to him. There's no dialogue in this panel and there's no need for them- you can tell everything from Lupin's face and posture and see that Goemon is really important to him even if he never says it.

It's a really important panel for me because it changed the way I interpreted the series moving onward, so it had to be here.

Shin Lupin III | Chapter 170 - Double Body

This one is just extremely beautiful first and foremost. Lupin's body makes you look towards the giant ship sunken in the ocean, and the bubble? wave? thing gives a super cool underwater effect while also supporting the direction Lupin's is on.

It's also a really serene and calming drawing to look at tbh. Really suitable wallpaper material- I have it as a background on my Tumblr blog!

Shin Lupin III | Chapter 174 - Pipe Dream

I was mixed about including this spread but the big reason why I added it in was that I worked really hard on stitching that double spread and it was a really great experience seeing it come together. I was super proud of what I did.

Lupin on the left looks extremely cool and well drawn, the perspective and background is also masterfully drawn and the detail and effort that must've went into it is awe-inspiring!

It's just too bad this is from a very bad manga chapter.

Sexy Lupin III | Chapter 2 - Rolls Saylor

The 4th one is my favorite panel from Sexy Lupin. It's one of the few manga moments where intimate love is shown in a very tender way and I like that about it. Both figures are nicely drawn and the background is absolutely gorgeous.

It's such a good panel to use as reference. I love the way the city was depicted in the night and the cross-stitching is masterful. Not to mention the architectural design of the room!!

Anyways yeah, what are your guy's favorite panels?

[ominium]

do i look like him?

character : geto s. context : suguru want satoru but satoru not there >:(  pov : second (you bruh) content : angst no comf :( never comfort :( also written with lyrics/song-based (some verses are skipped) + one (1) curse word

note(s) : got flooded with ‘like him’ edits (tyler, the creator), so here you go. also i’m alive soz for not posting >.< ++ not edited, if there's a part that looks confusing buh! +++ i know 'like him' is abt tyler's relationship with his dad...i'm taking the lyrics very face value here

—

Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost 

Every morning, you woke up in the estate to an empty bed. Stretching your limbs, you get ready for the day to do what you did yesterday: walk around, and be a trophy. 

I don’t know who he is

Some days, you would stroll around the garden, counting each blooming flower for the millionth time. Others, making small talk with the people.

Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost

On a good day, you would get to share a conversation–maybe even a meal–with Suguru, who always seemed busy with his ‘cause.’ Most of the time, though, you seldom even get to see him: always going to bed alone, always waking up alone.

I don’t know where he is

One thing you did notice, however, is the interesting amount of photos littered around the estate: almost none. You had taken some with your beloved partner, but you’ve only ever seen them as your own background…and you weren’t allowed to take a peek at his device. 

Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost

“Hey, I need to talk to the people tonight. Can you join me?” Suguru asked, taking another spoonful of his soup. You ponder, staring down into your untouched bowl. The both of you know that you have no plans…you never do. So why the hesitation?

“Alright. I will see you then.”

Do I look…

At the event that night, you sat next to Suguru at the main table, nodding and clapping along as you needed to during his speech. Eloquent words spewed from his mouth, seemingly filled with passion and raw emotion; emotions that you wished could reach you again. 

At some point, Suguru had wandered away from the table to share conversations–most likely with the top financial supporters. All you could do was watch from afar, sipping your lukewarm tea every now and then. People-watching wasn’t new to you, and being a trophy partner certainly wasn’t new at all during events like these. 

As you looked around, analyzing each attendee, your eyes fell to a shine to your side. With widened eyes, you dare to keep a straight face while staring down at the cell phone. ‘He’s never left it unattended…’ Your thought trails off, eyes wandering out to find him. 

With his attention completely focused on a large group of people, the urge starts to creep up, stubborn to breach your mind. You trusted Suguru, right? You followed him out here because of your trust, right? Because he cared for you just as you cared for him?

You wouldn’t look through your partner's phone out of distrust, right?

Slowly, your thoughts shifted to self-manipulation: it’s perfectly fine to look through your partner’s phone on a whim–out of, say, boredom. You knew of the trust between the two of you, so it wouldn’t have mattered if you looked through his phone or not…even if you’ve never done it before. 

(Like what?)

You grasp the device, palms getting clammy…the device feeling heavy. Is this right?

Like him 

You look back up to make sure he hasn’t moved. Why would you check though? Why did you check? You shake the thoughts out of your mind, looking back down at his phone. 

I would never ever lie to you

Clicking the power button, your eyes stare dead into the screen. Your first instinct was to move to Suguru, who filled up half of the screen. He looked as beautiful as he was right now, his long hair tied back, an unfamiliar yet natural smile adorning his face. The tiniest smile crept up onto you, seeing what you thought was a great look on him.

You ain’t ever gotta lie to me

I’m everything that I’ve strived to be

Your smile finally falters to near-horror seeing not you, but a white-haired man sharing a similar grin. A feeling of confusion, realization, grief, and despair swirls around you all at once. 

It was Gojo Satoru. Gojo. Fucking. Satoru. Your eyes widened more, staring at the picture as a whole. It was a selfie of the two of them, looking happy, as if the world wasn’t going to tear them apart. It was taken before that mission.

It was taken when Suguru was happy. 

So do I look like him?

As you put away the phone in haste, your eyes wander back to Suguru, who had moved on to another group of people. How long has he been like this? How long had Gojo been at the forefront of Suguru’s mind?

Was what Suguru felt to you real?...or did he just replace who he couldn’t have to someone he could.

Do I look like him?

Your mind wanders back to the garden, lined with the blue Forget-Me-Nots and white Lilies. You think back to every meal shared…they, ironically, always fell on the same day of every month: the 7th. You think back to last December, reminiscing about the more-extravagant dinner that he had set up. “It’s to celebrate Christmas early, honey. You know I get busy around that time.” You think about all the other 7th of the months you had eaten with him. “I just had free time today.” “The world seemed a bit brighter today.” “It was a striking blue, with a few of the whitest clouds I’ve ever seen.”

It all made sense now.

(Like him, like him, like him, like him)

You stare at Suguru with despair, frustration…disappointment. He was happily chatting away, unbeknownst to the new knowledge you’ve uncovered. Each passing second, you think back to every speck of affection he had shown you. The bouts of doubt that he would erase with one caress, one hug. 

The candy bowl that was never empty.

The assortment of cakes you were able to eat wherever, whenever.

The signs. They were there. They were always there.

I don’t look like him

The evening was over…to you, at least. With the music seeming to not end, the conversations not dying, you decided it was best there and then to leave. To escape.

There was no point in finding reason. There was no need to put in the effort to understand. What was missing? What could’ve fixed it all? That it was all just a mere coincidence?

You left the event hall, each stride heavier than the last. Your mind was foggy, but you knew one thing: you wouldn’t sleep until you got away.

(Like him)

[emotionalhottiee]

Made For Each Other!

Chapter 3: No Second Chances!

Aleah

After listening to that voicemail, i immediately blocked that number. Still processing that voicemail i couldn’t help but wonder why he was calling me.

I mean i know why, but did he really think that he could talk his way back into my life? After such a HUGE mistake. An unforgivable fuck up. Like all i can do is shake my head, trying to hold back the tears. I was not trying to break down crying in front of all my new co workers, but as hard as i was fighting back the tears were winning.

Making my way out of catering i tried to find the nearest restroom, through blurred vision. I found a bathroom which was thankfully a single and trudged inside. Letting the tears flow down my cheek. My mind wondered back to a time when things were good. When we were happy.

*Flashback*

“Do you know what today is?

It's our anniversary

Made for you and me.”

I was singing along to Tony Toni Tone’s Anniversary in the passenger seat, as Dominic drove us to our reservation. Celebrating us dating for 2 years, this moment was so special to me. Dominic was so special to me. Of course he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. So i just sat back & watched as we passed by the buildings and the backdrop of downtown Atlanta passed us by. It was only another 20 minutes had gone by. When we arrived at a fancy five star restaurant.

Walking inside the place was vibrantly lit. Soft jazz music played in the background, while a nice older woman directed us to our table. “My name is Helen, i will be your waitress for the night. Here are your menus, while you guys are deciding on your food, what can i get you for your drinks?” She asked ever so sweet with her southern accent thick. “I’ll just have a water, with lemons” i replied. “I’ll have a jack & coke” Dominic said, never looking up from his menu. Sometimes i hated his lack of manners, but i decided to bite my tongue tonight and not make a fuss. It is our anniversary. “Sure thing, i’ll be right out with those drinks” She stated seemingly unbothered by Dominic not looking at her. “Thank you so much” i replied making eye contact with her so i could apologize without words. She smiled genuinely letting me know it was fine, before she proceeded back into the kitchen.

As the night went on we got our food, the atmosphere shifted. Which i was grateful for. Instead of focusing on his lack of manners, we talked about our relationship. Just laughing at the memories we’ve made in two years. Talking about where our future will take us. Even talking about our boundaries. Which usually tends to tick me off, because i have simply stated mine from the very beginning. And they have not changed. But that doesn’t stop Dom from being Mr. Forgetful and constantly bringing them up. He knows having the same conversation over and over and over is a pet peeve of mine.

The night continued on, as i buried my frustrations in the back of my mind. I didn’t want to let one little annoyance ruin our anniversary. We continued to enjoy our food, exchanging funny stories & loving moments between the two of us.

*Flashback Over*

Wiping away the rest of my tears i swore to myself that i was done crying over Dominic… So why was i still such an emotional wreck? But the truth is i was forcing myself to get over it, instead of tunneling through the barrage of emotions i felt. I just didn’t wanna deal with this. I mean what was the point when the relationship was over. Why keep being sad over the past, when it’s the past. Questions that kept replaying in my mind, because i just wanted to move on from him. But it’s not as cut and dry as i thought it would be.

I made a mental note to myself, to call my therapist about my little emotional dilemma.

As i finished rinsing my face with cold water, trying to conceal my red puffy eyes. I grabbed my bags heading out of the bathroom. My head was completely in my purse and not paying attention to what’s in front of me, which caused me to collide into them. Or more specifically him.

“Whoa sweetie, are you okay”. He asked holding his arms out, to prevent me from falling. Even tho i was totally not gonna fall. “You gotta watch where you going babygirl, i wouldn’t wanna knock you over.” He said flashing a pearly white smile at me. “My bad” i simply retorted giving him a faint smile while turning to walk away. I heard him mumble a “DAMN”, but i just let out a little chuckle as i kept walking away.

Don’t get me wrong he was cute, But he wasn’t completely my type not to mention Jey was the one holding my attention right now. And i am not trying to jump from man to man around here, especially because this is my job.

Gotta keep it somewhat professional.

Catch Up!

Disclaimer

tag list:

@prettypink-princesss @isabella-2025

@sheaabuttaababyy @uceyliyahh @mindairy @yana3sworld @christinabae

[kaqtusm]

@read-reblog-repeat you wanted to be tagged mother, so suffer

Moonwater microfic/scenario

Word count: 806

TW: angst, hurt/comfort, mention of SA, mention of pedophila

Remus Lupin’s life had never been simple.

Before his 10th birthday, before the world had started to make sense, before he even understood what the word love truly meant, he had been marked. He had been broken.

It was Fenrir Greyback who gave him HIV—through violence, through cruelty that no child should ever know. And it wasn’t something that had gone away with time; it had always been there, lurking in the background of every breath, every quiet moment, every joyful experience he’d tried to have.

The blood that had been spilled that night—so much of it—had poisoned him for the rest of his life, and Remus had learned to hide it. He had learned how to swallow his fear, how to shove down his pain, and most of all, how to pretend to be normal, even when his body betrayed him every single day.

It was never something he could tell anyone. No one could know about the monster that had taken everything from him. So, Remus smiled and pretended he wasn’t broken, that he wasn’t constantly at war with his own body. He was good at it. He had been for years.

But when Regulus Black came into his life, when he started to see the way Regulus looked at him—like he was more than just a person surviving, more than just someone who had lived through hell—it terrified him. He couldn’t let Regulus see him for what he truly was. He couldn’t let Regulus into the parts of him that would only bring sorrow and destruction.

But Regulus had always been different. And Remus hated himself for that. For the way Regulus made him feel alive in a way no one else had—no one else could—in a way that brought him back to the surface from the darkness he spent so many years trying to drown in.

It all came to a head one cold, rainy night when Regulus found him hunched over the sink, struggling to breathe. His body had finally given out—too much stress, too much pain, too many years of pretending to be okay. The cold sweat clung to his skin, his chest rattling with the coughs he couldn’t stop, the body trembling under the weight of it all.

Regulus had walked in, had seen him, and for the first time, Remus couldn’t hide it.

“Remus,” Regulus’s voice had cracked with concern, too much emotion that Remus wasn’t ready for. He’d never been ready for anyone to care that much.

“Please,” Remus had pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t look at me like that. It’s not what you think.”

But Regulus wasn’t listening. He was already at Remus’s side, pulling him away from the sink and holding him, his hands shaking as they touched his clammy skin.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Regulus had said, his voice tight with fear. “Please, Remus, just tell me what’s happening. What’s wrong?”

It was then that the walls finally crumbled. And Remus couldn’t stop the flood of words that came pouring out.

“I was a child,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “It was him—Fenrir Greyback—he did this to me. He… he took everything from me when I was just a kid, and I’ve been living with it ever since. He… he gave me HIV, Regulus. And now my body is breaking down, and I can’t—”

The words were swallowed by the weight of his own shame, and Remus could feel himself spiraling, the shame and the self-loathing so deep in his chest that it threatened to suffocate him.

Regulus didn’t pull away. He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he cupped Remus’s face, wiping away the sweat from his brow, his eyes locked on his with a look that pierced through the darkness.

“You are not broken,” Regulus said, his voice steady, even as the tears welled up in his own eyes. “You are not broken, Remus. What happened to you—it wasn’t your fault. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus tried to pull away, to tell him how wrong he was, to explain just how impossible it was for someone like Regulus to love someone like him—but Regulus wasn’t having any of it. His arms tightened around Remus, holding him close, grounding him.

“I’m here,” Regulus whispered. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving. No matter what happens, I’m not leaving you.”

But Remus couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t understand how anyone could look at him that way, how anyone could still want to be near him when they knew what he was, what had been done to him.

The silence stretched between them, but in that silence, something began to change. Something fragile, but real.

Regulus wasn’t asking him to be perfect. He wasn’t asking for answers Remus couldn’t give.

All he was asking for was to stay.

And maybe that was enough.

[koyagifs]

𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆

pairing: seokjin x reader au: | idol genre: | fluff word count: 0.7k synopsis: seokjin finally came back from the military, the joy of seeing you, his wife. warning(s): cursing,

Seokjin was giddly the moment he sat in the van, his leg bouncing up and down that made his other member laugh at him. He didn't care though because you were the only thing on his mind. He had missed your touches, the warmth of being near you. The feeling of being home. He's been gone for 18 painful months due to the military.

" yah, hyung is more excited to see yn then us," jungkook whined, Jimin and Taehyung chuckling at the maknae whine.

Seokjin face lit up at the mention of your name, Namjoon and Hoseok snickering at his obvious excitement.

"Of course I am!" Seokjin declared, completely unbothered by their teasing. "I've been away for a year and a half! You guys act like I don't love you, but Yn—" He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Yn is different."

"Aigoo, he's gone soft," Yoongi muttered with a smirk, shaking his head.

Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms. "I bet the second we drop hyung off, we won’t hear from him for days."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," Taehyung added with a knowing grin. "Let him be with Yn. He deserves it."

Seokjin wasn’t even listening anymore. His mind was already elsewhere—already with you.

"Hang on, I'm going to take a nap," he announced, leaning his head back with a small grin. "Wake me up when we're there."

The others exchanged glances before Hoseok chuckled. "Yeah, sure, hyung. We all know you’re too excited to sleep."

And they were right. His eyes may have been closed, but his heart was already racing, counting down the seconds until he was finally in your arms again.

When he felt the van stop, he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. The other members rushing out the van to greet you at your door. Your laughter being heard made Seokjin nervous.

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. Why am I nervous? This is Yn. My Yn.

Still, after 18 months apart, he couldn’t help but wonder—had anything changed? Would you still look at him the same way? Would you still hold him the way he remembered?

"Hyung, are you just gonna sit there?" Jungkook teased, poking his head back into the van. "Yn’s right there."

Seokjin blinked and looked out the window, and there you were—standing on the porch, laughing as Taehyung playfully spun you around. His breath caught in his throat. God, you’re beautiful.

He didn’t wait another second. Scrambling out of the van, he ignored the hoots and cheers of his members as he practically sprinted toward you.

And then you saw him.

The moment your eyes locked, the world around him faded. Your lips parted in surprise before you broke into a run, meeting him halfway.

And then—warmth.

Your arms wrapped tightly around him, and Seokjin let out a shaky breath, his own arms crushing you against him. His heart pounded as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling the scent he had missed so much.

“You’re really here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“I’m home,” he murmured, holding you even tighter. “I missed you so much.”

The others cheered in the background, but Seokjin didn’t care. Right now, there was only you. Seokjin had a few tears in his eyes as he spun you around, your laughter filling the air as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

" bye boys!" you called out, making the others groan in protest.

"Yah! We just got him back too!" Jimin whined, crossing his arms.

"At least let us have dinner together first!" Hoseok added, pouting dramatically.

But Seokjin was already walking towards the door with you still clinging to him, his grip on you firm like he was afraid to let go. He turned his head slightly and smirked at them.

"Sorry, guys," he said, his voice full of playful arrogance. "I've got 18 months of cuddles to make up for."

Taehyung gasped, clutching his chest. "Betrayal! Pure betrayal!"

You laughed against Seokjin’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. "I’ll make it up to you guys later," you teased before looking at Jin. "But right now, I need my man."

"That’s right," Seokjin agreed proudly, adjusting his hold on you as he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The last thing you both heard was Jungkook dramatically yelling, "Don’t forget to come up for air!" before the sound of their laughter faded into the distance.

And then—it was just you and Seokjin. Finally.

[ubemango]

commission 6: friends-to-lovers!Hoseok

note 1: for Miss Sam!!!!!!!! Thank you for your help back in November!!!!!!!!!! I hope sexy sexy brother’s best friend/f2l!Hoseok is Good To you!!!!!!!!!!! Mwah!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰💕💕💕💕💕😁😁😁😁😁

note 2: a little background--the premise for this story did not come easy to me. Like At All!!!! I was struggling--AGAIN--with Exposition and you know what I learned? in medias res never fails me. Truly she is God. I love her. Anywho, Keyword(s): Talking to your dog for emotional support! Tension! Mutual pining!!!!!!!!! Being so close you don’t know what to do with yourself anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Word count: 4.5k. Class is in session!

note 3: a big big biiiiiiiiig Thank You to @b1usides and @angelguk for helping me out with this ;_; Truly would not have come out with this without you I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for ur input and insight and interest and MWAH !!!

(note 4: I wrote all those previous notes back in 2020. GOOD LORD IT IS 2025. This is not a come back I just wanted to post this because I wrote so much of it and I’m tired of thinking my writing is too ugly to post. It can be ugly but also exist on this blog. Yay!!!!!!! Mindset mindset! I wuuuvvvv youuuu my friends I hope you’re doing well!!!!)

“Now?”

“Now,” Yoongi says, “and don’t come up with excuses about being busy because I know you’re doing your dalgona shit right now.”

You slide the bottle of instant coffee a little closer to your chest for protection. He probably overheard you talking to your mom about your plans in the kitchen last night. “You’re evil.”

“Whatever. Just–come, please? Everyone’s busy and Hoseok won’t finish unpacking today if we don’t get the help.”

Hearing that name sends electricity down to your toes. “What’s in it for me?”

“Being a nice sister–“ Yoongi’s breath is stifled with effort, probably from lifting a box– “and helping my best friend move into his new apartment?”

“I just got home–“

“I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. The air conditioning here hasn’t been turned on yet,” he baits, and you hiss at that. “You know what that’s like.”

You do. The sun is unforgiving in the throes of late spring, and even you’d been contemplating holding out on your move back to avoid the heat. You’d made sure to finish unpacking last night, the loom of today’s plus-twenty weather with humidity heavy on your shoulders. Yoongi’s strangled tone tells you Hoseok’s got a billion and one things to unpack.

“Fine,” you concede. “Just text me the address.”

“Don’t take too long.”

The line cuts. You get the text in three seconds.

You stare forlornly at the whisk and bowl you’d gotten out, watching your phone screen light up with Yoongi’s text. To think you’d be hauling ass with cardboard boxes instead of making frothy coffee. What you thought would be a little welcome-back activity now that you’ve moved back home with your family instead lies toppled since you’ve been voluntold for other plans.

Plans to see Hoseok for the first time in years.

Immediately, you hold your breath. Maybe if you restrict your airflow then things won’t be so real and sudden, and why couldn’t Yoongi have called Namjoon, or something? He’s ten times as strong as you are. He lives in the city, too. You feel cheated. Older brothers don’t like taking things into consideration.

Your lungs burst into a yelp when something furry brushes against your leg, which, thankfully, stops you from contemplating all of Yoongi’s wrongdoings with revenge. You realize you’ve got your fist tight around the whisk.

“Girl, you scared me!”

Boppa stares at you with her long eyelashes and sits down at your feet. She’s the picturesque prettiness of a ten-year-old cockapoo. It’s kind of insulting looking at her sometimes.

“Boppa, I think my life’s about to fall apart and it’s all Yoongi’s fault,” you tell her.

She offers no response. You drop the whisk, reach over for her treat jar, and pop the dried meat into her mouth. Just a reward for the anxious rambling you’re about to dump on her pretty little head.

“Remember senior year, Boppa, and I couldn’t do my calculus homework because I missed too many classes? So Hoseok helped me out with all the problems I didn’t get?” You don’t think she does. She just pants, watching you put your mise-en-place away. “Or when he helped me make soup for Yoongi when he had the flu that one time?”

In your head, a dam breaks, and it all comes roiling back.

The way you remember Hoseok is different every time. Little disjointed moments throughout high school, college, and it starts with junior year, when he’d come over after a music council meeting with Yoongi. He’d walked past the living room, caught sight of your puffed face from crying over Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds; so startled by your hiccuping that he’d offered you a coupon to the pizza place near school and told you to get lunch with it the next day. Because pretty girls don’t deserve to cry, and Yoongi slapped his neck for being too nice to his little sister and dragged him upstairs to practice for their sectional.

It’s who he is, has always been. The kindness that never wavers, always there when you need help–carrying groceries into the kitchen when your mom complained about bad knees, patiently waiting for you to work through a difficult log function, walking Boppa when Yoongi was too lazy to do it. College Hoseok disappeared for a bit, busy with obligations and social circles. But like all strong currents, he came back with a force, seeking refuge on your couch after an overnight stay at school. 

(You’d made him a snack, that time. He gave you the prettiest smile ever. When you’d settled into bed, you could hear his snoring from your bedroom.

You slept so well that night.)

“Boppa, why,” you wail. “Why is this all coming back. I just got home.”

She blinks. You toss her another treat. She eats it well.

“I’m not in love with him.” Affirmations, affirmations. It’s good to air out your grievances, especially since no one is home to hear them. “I’m not!”

Boppa looks at you as if to say, I haven’t accused you of anything, so why are you so strung up?

“I don’t know what’s going on!” You shriek, slamming your palms on the counter.

Logically, you’re correct: you aren’t in love with Hoseok. He was just so overwhelmingly good. Attachments formed. Hoseok came to your home all the time. And home is a permanent fixture you could never get rid of, and you’d been away for two years, living in the western side of the city, forgetting you had a life back here, learning new intersections, knowing where to touch fruits to see if they were ripe, seducing the hot pharmacy man into a spicy romance (and subsequently dealing with the heartbreak), living, accomplishing, and these things end. Some parts of life end so you come back home, and Hoseok is home, you’re home, and the one thing about all of this is that it’s all Yoongi’s fault!

You close your eyes, feel the rush of your entire life come to a halt right at this very moment. You wanted coffee, not an attack on all your senses.

“Boppa,” you say, realizing something else. “I need a housewarming gift.”

You hear her get up, and you watch her stop where you’d left your extra bag of rice from unpacking. She lies down in front of it.

“Do you think that’s a good gift?”

She yawns. You google the meaning of offering jasmine rice as a gift for new homes.

“Abundance of love and food,” you say from your findings. It’s good. “Smart girl.”

She makes a grunting noise when you carry the bag away from her, and accepts the kiss you leave behind her ear as your goodbye for now.

She’s due for her mid-afternoon nap. You’re due for a reality check.

The drive over to the apartment is short, and you’re thankful because your seat belt scorches you when you shift the wrong way,  and suddenly your mood is sour all over again. But your parallel parking, though–it’s so immaculate you almost start crying. The balance of good and evil in your life makes you tired. The giant bag of rice almost makes you tip into the asphalt of the sidewalk.

Security buzzes you in with the code Yoongi sent you, and no later than 20 seconds pass when you find yourself in front of unit two-eighteen. You knock, and steel yourself.

The door opens.

“The fuck is that?” Yoongi snorts.

You heat high in your cheeks at the interrogation. “Boppa told me to do it.”

“Our dog told you to bring rice?”

“It’s a gift,” you seethe, “and our dog is a magical dog.” (It’s the truth. Somehow when Boppa howls, your mom will suddenly come up with cryptic news. The last time, an old auntie died.)

“I like it,” a voice says, and suddenly Hoseok is nudging Yoongi out the way. His entrance freezes you in your spot. His fingers brush against yours when he takes the bag from your hands. “Really. My mom brought rice for when my sister moved out–means abundance, or something.”

“Exactly,” is all you can breathe out, and he smiles–just as you remember–and then he disappears into another room. Never one for grand gestures; he comes and goes. Maybe it was just a ghost who happened to look like Hoseok and really liked lifting rice into the netherworld.

The slam of the grain against what’s probably the kitchen counter interrupts the thought. Yoongi makes a disgruntled noise, which more or less means come in before I start insulting you.

“We’re fixing the bed frame right now,” he explains, the door squeaking shut under his hand. “It’s already super hot in there so just–don’t come in.”

“Man sweats?”

“You know how meat smells when you’ve left it out on the counter all day?”

You recoil automatically. “I–? Ew.”

He’s joking. Probably. But it’s enough to make you stay away from that part of the apartment. The living room space is comfortably small; enough square feet to classify as cozy, not cramped. The linger of heat is a silent threat–you can already feel yourself starting to get sticky under your collar. They’ve got a mini-fan propped on one of the many boxes littered on the carpeted floor, though, whirring through little bursts of air.

There are so many boxes. The thought alone is making you sweat more.

“Thank you for the help.” Hoseok pops in again. Brushing his hair away from his sticky forehead, and you’re almost offended at how suave that move was. The audacity of good-looking people to do good-looking things unprovoked. “I really appreciate it.”

You could never refuse him. This is the truth you’ve always known. “It’s no problem. I didn’t think you’d have this much stuff.”

He flounders with a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I didn’t think I did either, but I had a whole nest of shit that I had back home in my closet and I didn’t want to throw anything out.”

“So for nostalgic purposes you’re risking heat exhaustion, is what you’re saying,” you joke.

“So mean.” Hoseok puts his hand over his heart. “You really wound me, you know?”

Yoongi interrupts with a cough. “You guys are boring, I’m going back to the bed frame.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Hoseok calls after him. He stands rigid for a second, gathering his thoughts. Probably just avoiding responsibility for a few precious seconds because going back to the proclaimed Meat Room sounds like a painful thought. “Um–I would catch up more but I just–I really need this done before we actually pass out.”

“It’s okay. Really.” He nods his gratitude. “Where should I start?”

“We’ve already done the bathroom, so… you think you can start with the kitchen?”

You nod. Hoseok sighs another “thank you, again,” and takes two steps backwards, as if to keep that soft gaze on you for as long as possible. He spins away before you can think too hard about it.

The kitchen is separated from the living room by the sink, and this is where all the goodies sit. One box is labeled with nothing on the side. Another has nothing but a picture of a smiling plate, a tiny fork and spoon holding hands. But the most enticing one is the box that says MUGS, SO MANY MUGS! MOM CAN’T FIT THEM ALL!

His mom’s loopy handwriting is so cute. You start with this one. In the bedroom, Yoongi screams.

“Are you okay?” You yell out, ripping at the tape with your nail, sorting the bubble-wrapped mugs by… colour? Shape? Who even owns a mug made out to be a literal octopus? The suction cups are so weirdly detailed. You put that furthest in the cupboard above your head, and pop a couple bubbles of bubble wrap to feel better.

“‘M fine,” he calls back. “Hoseok almost hacked off my thumb.”

“I did not!” Hoseok responds passionately.

They stay silent, save for more banging on wood. You organize to the clipped rhythm of the fan swaying back and forth.

It barely dawns on you that you’re in Hoseok’s new kitchen, voluntarily fixing his stuff. And if you thought about it, he would absolutely do the same for you. The symbiotic relationship of being nice just because. It’s the only way you know how to interact with each other. Someone gives, someone receives.

(You missed home. You missed Hoseok.)

It takes half an hour to sort through all the kitchen essentials. The plates and the bowls are stowed away neatly, cutlery in the first drawer below the counter. All the cleaning supplies are safe under the sink. The bag of rice sits heavy in its spot where Hoseok had left it. You’re sweating.

Not as badly as Yoongi and Hoseok are, though. They trudge in the kitchen, breathing hard, eyebrows wet with their effort.

“We’re done with the room,” Hoseok greets. Yoongi ignores you and goes straight for the handle of the fridge. He reaches for two water bottles, and hands the second one to Hoseok. “Wow, you cleared this fast.”

The compliment should not be as hard-hitting as it should be. Your giddiness is silent. “It was easy. Also your octopus mug really freaked me out so I put it, like, as far away from reach as possible.”

“I got him that mug,” Yoongi complains.

“You couldn’t have gotten him a nicer mug?”

“No?”

“You’re ugly,” you retaliate. Yoongi scrunches his face, and drinks his water angrily.

“I like the mug,” Hoseok inserts, brushing past you to open the drawers, eyeing your work, “but yeah, it is kind of. Uh. Out there.”

“Am I being insulted right now?” Yoongi asks.

“It’s an ugly mug,” you say.

“And you got him an ugly bag of rice.”

“I told you Boppa told me to do it!”

“How’s Boppa?” Hoseok interrupts, checking where you’d put the medicine, the first-aid.

“She’s–“

“–good,” you and Yoongi say at the same time. The look he sends you is venomous.

“Stop copying me.”

“You’re ugly,” you say again.

“You guys need to stop giving me whiplash every five seconds,” Hoseok complains. You know he’s used to it, though. Banter that toes the line of actual hurtful words. It’s a common conversation. He inspects the cupboard above the sink next, making little approving noises. “Ooh, bowls on top of the plates. Very nice.”

“I taught her that,” Yoongi says. Which–yes, he technically did, but now you’re just annoyed because he ripped the compliment right from your nose, and now he’s smiling because he knows you’re pissed.

The fan sings its mechanical song. Fighting Yoongi burns up so much energy you fear you’ll collapse once it comes down to fixing up the living room.

Except.

Your brother opens his stupid mouth again, and announces, “I need to leave.”

Hoseok whips around from where he was inspecting the cleaning supplies. “What?”

“Shit. I had to pick up mom from the station.”

The green-lit time on the stove says it’s five till seven. You picture your sweet little mother waiting behind the doors to the passenger pick-up parking lot, and confide in the thought that she’ll probably smack Yoongi once he pulls up. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Oh really,” he mocks. “If I get pulled over for speeding you’ll bail me out, right? Yeah? Cool. I’m sorry. Good luck. Don’t die. Hoseok, take care of her. Or–whatever. It was fun.”

Before either of you can respond, he bolts out, and slams the door behind him in a spectacularly hard fashion.

“Well,” Hoseok says.

“Huh,” you comment.

You make a mental note to kill your brother. Preferably by means of limited gore, maximum pain. Because now you’re alone with the bane (boon?) of your existence in the kitchen with too many thoughts in your head again and again it’s Yoongi’s fault and you wonder why your breakdowns always have to happen in the kitchen.

Calmly, you drink your water.

“So, uh…”

Hoseok fidgets with the empty mug box on the counter. His ears are bright red.

“You wanna–get started with the living room?” You attempt to save the conversation before it gets too awkward.

“Yes,” he agrees quickly, and scurries out with the same swiftness as Yoongi’s departure.

Did he not want to be close to you? Did you smell like meat, too? You put your deodorant on this morning. You sniff at your armpit secretly while Hoseok chooses a stack of boxes to open, and conclude that it is not your good-smelling sweat that’s driving him away, but something else you’re not aware of.

“Honestly, there’s not much here to unpack, a lot of these are just like–winter jackets, the electric cords for the TV…”

“Why don’t we start with the bookcase?”

It looms with emptiness, tucked away into the corner. The dark oakwood that housed all the precious things he said he couldn’t throw away. It feels a little personal, knowing it contains his accomplishments. His secrets? His school yearbooks? A family picture, maybe, stuffed toys he might’ve won from a carnival. For a second you imagine how it would feel, unpacking your things and his things in your own shared space.

“Sure,” Hoseok decides.

You pick the biggest box to open first. The tape has ripped at the corners, sides bulging slightly from the things crammed inside. Some dust flings off when you whip the top open, and inside is way too many books. Elementary school yearbooks, a massive cookbook, the entirety of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

“I didn’t know you read,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

Hoseok startles into laughter. “Uh..?”

“I meant–oh god you know what I mean.” You blush at the slip-up. But Hoseok pays no heed, just laughs even harder.

“It’s fine. It’s–yeah. Back in high school. Found the first book in some second-hand store and ended up buying the rest.”

That explains why the first one is so much more worn down than the others. Loved, flipped through. You heave the box onto the floor, sit down next to it. Criss-cross applesauce. You begin sorting through it one by one.

“So how are you? Now that you’re back home, and all.” Hoseok handles something that clinks slightly–pots of succulents. He staggers on his tip-toes to fit them pretty on the top shelf. You think back to your brief crisis of identity in the kitchen at home.

“I wanted to make the dalgona coffee today but I had a change of plans.”

Hoseok sighs. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“All good. But to answer your question…” There was no exciting answer to impress him with. You’re back for convenience, lack of work. Ordinary reasons. You don’t want to entertain lengthy stories in the fog of this heat, anyway. “It’s… I’m just back. That internship was all I had going for me, so I’m still on a job hunt.”

“That’s really cool, though. I remember your sketchbooks. And when you built that seat to look like a huge-ass Converse shoe.”

It was one of your projects for junior year. “Yeah, it… I don’t know where that is now, probably stuck in the basement somewhere.”

“Sell it on eBay.”

“Like anyone would pay for that shit.” It literally was a giant wooden slab made to look like a shoe, soft enough for reclining. “It’s ugly.”

Hoseok shrugs. “It wasn’t. But keep thinking that, silly, go ahead.”

“It’s just–I can’t believe you know I built that. Like you remember that? I don’t even remember building it.”

He contemplates. “I’ll always remember you,” he answers, very simply, and for a while he lets it linger, like it hadn’t just gotten your heart racing so fast.

The silence is scary. Maybe he’s trying to read your mind. Maybe if you made a loud noise in your head, he’d be startled. You start thinking about the most obscene moaning noises, straight out of soft, amateur pornography that you see floating on your timeline sometimes. But Hoseok doesn’t budge. 

Damn. He just continues on.

“Do you still cry when The Proposal comes on?”

“Oh spare me,” you beg, itching to slap his leg. He shudders with his laughing. “How about you? You still cry when someone talks about the White Lady?”

You think back to a 16-year-old Hoseok sleeping over at your house once, so vexed by Yoongi’s searches on horror forums that night he’d made sure Boppa slept in the room with them. “You’ll curse my apartment!”

“I’d have to say the name three times, you know.”

He watches you from above with frightened eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Hoseok should know better than to trust his best friend’s sister. Right as you taunt him with the first syllable–(“Whi…“)–he tucks the last succulent away on the shelf, drops down on his knees, and shoves a hot hand over your lips.

“I will actually, genuinely, really, reallyreallyreally hate you forever,” he threatens.

Well.

You wouldn’t want that.

He is devastatingly close, his gaze so frenzied you’re starting to feel bad. The heat comes in waves: the stifling living room, the pathetic blows of wind from the fan. Hoseok’s body. Proximity you haven’t known in forever. He just stares.

You garble from behind his mouth. “Sto’ wooing ame.”

“What?”

You slide his palm off your wet lip. “Stop looking at me,” you repeat.

“I can’t just look at you?”

Oh. He –?

“You – !” You swat at him like he’s a pesky mosquito, warding off the thirst for your embarrassment. He sits next to you, laughing. “I’m sweaty and my concealer is creasing.”

“You look fine.”

“To you.” You pat under your eyes. “I’m ugly to me.”

“Me is stupid,” he counters.

“Me will kick you if you don’t finish clearing this shit out!”

Hoseok relents, careful to test your aggression. He’s sweating, too. He wipes at his neck, sighing into straight posture from creaky knees. “We can just finish this then call it a night,” he offers. “Are you almost done with that box?”

You lug the cookbook into the remaining space of the shelf. “It’s done.”

“Cool. Then could you just–” he gestures to the cardboard near his feet with one hand, arranging more succulents with the other– “grab that for me?”

You reach over with a grunt, gentle in your hold of the pot. It’s a money plant. “From your mom?”

“I don’t even like plants,” Hoseok complains. He looks to the side of the bookshelf, realizing there’s no space to accommodate the larger pot. Dejected, he just leaves it where he stands. “I’m fixing this tomorrow, I don’t care. Let’s go outside.”

Outside is the balcony, which isn’t as oppressively hot as it is inside but still has you disappointed that it’s, well, hot. There’s no escaping it. Hoseok has to use his entire body weight to slide open the glass doors. “Shit fucking doors. Do you think Yoongi carries WD-40?”

“Probably. Tell him it’s his welcoming gift for you.”

He snorts. “I’d feel guilty. He already did a lot, building the bed with me.”

You follow him to where he leans on the railing. His unit faces west. Perfect for this time of year, when the sunsets are longer. It bleeds low behind the fading bricks of the faraway houses, the inner city high-rises, and if you angled yourself correctly it’s almost as if they lean on the sun itself. 

“This is the real reason why I chose this place,” Hoseok says. “Saw this sunset and knew.”

“I didn’t know you were so sappy.” You scrunch your face like you’ve been fed something sour. He laughs. 

“How else do you think I get all the hot ladies?” He teases. You stop at that. It suddenly occurs to you that Hoseok is a man who’s lived a million lives just as you have, and just as nothing stopped you from trying to date around (re: hot pharmacy man), the same laws should apply to him, too. 

You aren’t hurt, but it does cut a little. And before you can stop yourself, you ask: “Are any hot ladies coming over anytime soon?”

He sounds like he chokes. “God no.”

“Oh.”

“I – it’s boring stuff. Just. No. Maybe there could have been, but no.”

In your heart of hearts, you believe he’s stuttering because he’s embarrassed. But a part of you wishes he’s trying to appease the part of you that’s bristling, like he knows it’s not information you want to hear. It’s almost like a puppy nipping at their owner for forgiveness, though why would he want to be apologizing?

(Unless.)

“Okay,” you say. You try not to think too hard. “Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Your top lip is sweaty. Every crease in your body is sweaty. You’re also very much aware that Hoseok is looking at you like he wants to say more, but he just hangs his head low. “Thanks. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You know.” He wipes his brow. “Anything, really. Plans for the summer. Hot men to woo. Or hot ladies, I don’t know.”

You watch the sun set lower. It’s cooler now, and the cicadas are humming loudly. “I… no. I’m not really… I don’t know.”

Good lord. You have the strangest feeling to cut open all your guts and let Hoseok see you for everything you are. He does it so easily, to you. This is the universal truth that’s defined your existence since he entered your life.

“Ugh. I’d offer you beer to cheers for being lonely but you’re driving.” He pouts. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t want to keep you any longer than you want to stay.”

“I don’t mind.” And because you like to torture yourself, you add: “Not if it’s you.”

(You can almost hear your brother’s voice. You’re so easy. The you in your head gives him a sucker punch and says: Well maybe I like to be easy! The Boppa in your head also kicks him in the shin. You think she’d be cheering you on.)

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Really.” It’s not a question but a reaction, and Mind-Boppa gives you a fist bump.

“Yeah. Or you can tell me if that was weird. Like. Really. You can.” You’re about to ramble more but Hoseok interrupts you.

“No!” He says this a little too loudly. You flinch. “Sorry. No. No. That wasn’t weird.”

For the umpteenth time today you almost burst into tears. It’s everything sweet and bad and hot pressing in on you, and is Hoseok smiling? He’s laughing. You’re about to spontaneously combust and he’s cackling like he’s cracked the code of something. You must look horrified, because he starts to flounder.

“I’m–sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I’m not laughing at you. I’m just gonna ask you something, and I want you to walk out on me and forget everything I’m about to say if you choose to. Does that sound good?”

You think: it’s hot when he takes initiative.

You say: nothing.

You: nod for him to continue.

“Can I please treat you to dinner for fixing my kitchen for me?”

Catholics say the universe was created in seven days. Hoseok bursts and collides five hundred of them with one question.

“Will you pay for me?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Do I have to look pretty?”

“You’re always pretty to me,” he says.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll pretend I never asked you and you can go woo another hot person. But I prefer you don’t.”

The sun has set. There’s pink in the sky, and there’s pink in your eyes. You wonder if your pupils have turned heart-shaped. 

“Then my answer is yes,” you decide.

.

.

.

When you sit in the driver’s seat, you think about Hoseok’s smile and what you’d do to keep it there. Then, you declare to your driving wheel, “I’m going to kill Yoongi,” then pull off into traffic.

.

.

.

Hoseok closes the door behind him, and slides down with his back against the wood. “Yoongi’s going to kill me,” he says to himself.

[reveriebae]

Backseat

pairing(s) : Choi Jongho x reader

word count : 3238

summary : You and Jongho share a passionate encounter in his car after meeting at a club. Weeks later, you reconnect and end up in a hotel room, unable to resist each other’s chemistry.

genre : smut

warning(s) : sexual scenes, possessiveness, intense emotions, some manipulation, and power dynamics between the characters. Let me know if I missed anything!

part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐 smut under the cut 🪐

The club was packed, the bass vibrating through your body as you pushed through the crowd, trying to find your friends. The flashing lights cast shadows that made the place feel like a dream, and the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the undeniable energy of the night. You weren't here to find someone. You weren’t even looking for anything in particular, just the thrill of the music and the company of your friends.

But then your eyes locked with his.

Jongho. You hadn't seen him around before, but that didn't matter. There was something about him—the way he moved through the crowd with ease, the way his eyes found you immediately, like he was meant to. His smirk was sly, confident, the kind that said he knew exactly what he wanted, and he wanted you.

You’d met at some point, but not enough to truly know each other. His friends had been chatting with yours, and in the midst of some random conversation, he'd slipped his way into your thoughts. Now, the tension in the air was undeniable. You could feel him looking at you, his gaze unwavering, like a challenge that dared you to make the first move.

His eyes were dark, filled with mischief, and the slight raise of his brow was enough to make your heart skip. He wasn’t the kind of guy to back down, and neither were you.

You felt a pull. It was magnetic, instinctive. Something deep inside you told you that tonight was going to be different.

It didn't take long before he was standing beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, but just far enough to leave you wanting more. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

"Thought you'd be a little harder to find," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Guess I was wrong."

A thrill ran down your spine as you turned to face him. "I wasn’t hiding," you replied, your tone a mix of challenge and amusement.

"Good," he said with a grin, his hand brushing against your side as he leaned back. "Because I don't like to chase, but I’ll make an exception for you."

The words were laced with intent, and before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t a soft, tender kiss. It was rough, heated, like he had something to prove. You didn’t pull away. You welcomed it, matching his intensity, your hands reaching for his shirt to pull him closer.

The chemistry between you was undeniable, a fire that ignited with just the smallest spark. The world around you faded into the background as you lost yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the urgency of his touch. Your heart raced, and the only thing that mattered was the need to get closer, to feel more.

As the kiss deepened, you both knew this wasn’t just a fling. There was something more there, something unspoken, but the night was young, and who were you to fight the pull?

Jongho pulled away, his breath heavy as he looked at you with a smirk that made your knees weak. "We should go," he said, his voice dark, almost daring. "Now."

The two of you barely made it out of the club before Jongho’s hand was on your waist, guiding you toward the alley behind the building. The sounds of the music and laughter from inside faded as he pulled you toward his car, the sleek black vehicle glimmering in the low light. You could already feel your pulse quickening, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

Jongho didn’t waste any time. The moment you were in the car, he was all over you again, his lips attacking yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere—your back, your waist, your thighs—and it was as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The energy between you two was undeniable, an electric current that made every touch feel like it was setting you on fire.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss for just a second as he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire. "I don’t want to wait."

You barely had time to respond before he was tugging at your clothes, pulling them off as though he was in a race. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body already burning with need. The way he touched you—so confident, so sure of what he wanted—only made it worse. His hands were rough but controlled, the perfect mix of tenderness and raw need.

You didn’t hesitate. You knew what you wanted. You wanted him. And the feeling was mutual.

"Take me," you breathed, your voice shaky but filled with urgency.

Jongho didn’t need to be told twice. He was already positioning you, his mouth trailing down your neck, his hands working quickly to undress you completely. His body pressed against yours, the heat of him sending shocks through your veins. The whole world outside of that car faded away as he lowered himself, the backseat now the only thing that mattered.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart, giving him the access he needed. You gasped as he kissed you again, his lips claiming yours as his fingers worked their magic.

You moaned into the kiss, your body shivering as you felt him touch you in all the right places. His movements were smooth, calculated, and you could feel the hunger in every motion. You were hooked, already addicted to the feeling of his touch, the way he made you feel alive.

Without warning, he slid inside you, the pleasure coursing through you in waves as he moved. The rhythm was frantic, desperate, both of you driven by the need for release. The car creaked with each of his thrusts, the sound of your breathing, your moans, mixing with the steady beat of your heart.

"Fuck, I need you," you gasped, your hands gripping his back as you matched his pace.

Jongho’s breathing hitched as he pushed deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the car. He wasn’t holding back anymore, and neither were you. Every inch of your body felt alive, your senses heightened as you moved together, lost in the heat of the moment.

"Come on," he growled, his voice ragged as he kissed you again, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucked you harder. "Give it to me."

You could feel the pressure building, the orgasm creeping up on you, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final, desperate push, you came, your body shaking in his arms as he followed you, the tension in his body releasing in a rush.

Both of you collapsed into the backseat, panting, your bodies still tingling from the intensity of what had just happened. Jongho rolled off you, his hand reaching to pull you closer, his lips pressing against your forehead as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Shit," you whispered, your body still vibrating with the aftershocks of the pleasure. "That was... insane."

Jongho chuckled, his arm wrapping around your waist. "You’re telling me." He kissed you gently, almost tenderly, the shift in his demeanor surprising you after what had just happened. "You’re not getting away that easily, though."

You smiled, already knowing what he meant. This wouldn’t be the last time.

Weeks passed since that night in the backseat, but the memory of it still lingered in your mind. The way Jongho’s hands had touched you, how perfectly he fit with you—it was a feeling you couldn’t shake. And the anticipation of seeing him again? It was unbearable.

Tonight, you found yourself at a new bar, the energy different from the club you’d been to before. The music was more laid-back, the crowd more relaxed, but your mind was still racing with the thought of Jongho. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it consume you, but when you walked through the door and saw him leaning against the bar, eyes scanning the crowd, you couldn’t help but feel that same fire ignite within you.

Jongho looked even better tonight than you remembered. His jacket hugged his shoulders perfectly, the faintest smirk playing at the corners of his lips when his eyes found yours across the room. The moment your gaze met, you knew there was no turning back. That chemistry was still there, and it was stronger than before.

Without a second thought, you made your way toward him, your steps confident as you closed the distance between you two. When you reached him, he didn’t waste any time. His hands were on your waist, pulling you in close as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was full of promise and hunger.

"You’re here," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. "I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up."

You smiled, your fingers sliding up his chest, brushing the collar of his jacket. "I’m here," you replied, your voice a little breathless. "And I think you owe me a round two."

Jongho chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Is that so?" He pulled back slightly to get a better look at you, his gaze drinking you in. "I guess I can’t say no to that."

Before you could say another word, his hand slid down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him. You gasped, feeling the hard length of him pressing against your stomach, already reminding you of how good it felt when he was inside you. The heat between you was palpable, and you could feel your body reacting to him instinctively.

"Let’s get out of here," Jongho growled, his lips brushing against your ear as he guided you toward the exit. You didn’t hesitate, following him out into the cool night air, the excitement building with every step you took. This wasn’t just about the sex anymore—it was about what you both needed from each other, something raw and undeniable.

When you reached his car, Jongho didn’t waste any time. He opened the door for you, letting you slide into the seat, and before you could even catch your breath, he was on top of you again. His hands were all over you, tearing at your clothes with a sense of urgency that made your pulse race. There was no holding back this time. It was like you both needed it, needed each other in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Fuck," you muttered as his lips traveled down your neck, his hands working to undress you completely. "You didn’t even let me catch my breath."

Jongho’s lips curled into a devilish grin as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with desire. "You don’t need to," he replied, his voice low and smooth. "I’m not giving you a chance to catch your breath. We’re doing this my way tonight."

And with that, he was inside you again, pushing into you in one smooth, fluid motion that had you gasping. The backseat of the car felt like it was the only place you two existed, the world outside fading away as Jongho fucked you like he couldn’t get enough.

Every thrust was deep and fast, driving you toward the edge in a way that made your head spin. You were lost in the heat, the need, the raw connection that burned between you. Jongho wasn’t gentle—he was rough and demanding, and you loved every second of it. His hands gripped your hips, his breath ragged against your ear as he whispered your name, his voice full of lust.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured, his pace quickening as he drove deeper. "I can’t get enough of you."

You moaned, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on to him. The pressure inside you was building again, and this time, you weren’t holding back. You wanted him to push you over the edge, wanted him to make you feel everything.

"Don’t stop," you breathed, your body trembling as you neared the brink.

Jongho grinned, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved faster, harder. "I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name."

And with that, you came, your body shuddering beneath him as you cried out in pleasure. Jongho followed you seconds later, his body tense as he finally gave in to the release, the two of you coming together in a rush of heat and passion.

Both of you collapsed against the seat, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Jongho’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he kissed your forehead, pulling you close as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Round two," you whispered, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

Jongho chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Let’s not keep the world waiting."

The drive to the hotel was a blur, the tension between you two thick with anticipation. Jongho’s grip on the wheel was tight, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep himself under control. You could feel the pull, the need, as if the air in the car was charged with static.

By the time you reached the hotel, you were already half-dressed, desperate for more. Jongho didn’t even bother with the niceties of checking in. He grabbed your hand and led you straight to the elevator, his eyes never leaving you as you both shared a heated look. The moment the doors closed, he was on you.

His lips crushed against yours, hard and hungry, his hands sliding up your body, tugging at your clothes. You didn’t stop him. You were just as desperate, your hands roaming his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt. The elevator felt like it was moving in slow motion, and all you could think about was the room at the end of this ride.

When the elevator finally dinged, signaling your arrival on the right floor, Jongho didn’t hesitate. He pulled you out, his pace quick and urgent as he led you to the door. With a single turn of the handle, you were inside, and he was pushing you against the wall, lips crashing against yours again, this time more desperate than before.

You moaned against his lips as his hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you against him. You could feel his arousal through his pants, pressing against you, and you shuddered at the thought of what was coming next. Jongho was so different in this moment—he was a man who took what he wanted, and right now, he wanted you.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice rough and low as he backed you toward the bed.

Without hesitation, you obeyed, peeling off the rest of your clothes in a swift, almost frantic motion. Jongho watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his breath shallow as he stripped out of his own clothes. The sight of him, all hard muscles and inked skin, had your pulse racing.

The moment he was naked, he was on you again, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands slid down your body. You arched into him, craving the feel of his touch, the way his hands left a trail of fire in their wake. He pressed you down onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kissed you deeply.

"You want this, don’t you?" Jongho asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you breathed, your hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer. "I want you."

He smiled darkly, his lips curling into a smirk before he kissed his way down your body, his hands parting your thighs as he moved lower. You gasped as his mouth found its destination, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spots, teasing you just the way you craved. Every stroke of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making it impossible to think about anything else.

"God, you taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice muffled against your skin as he continued to lick and kiss you. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts, just feeling the pleasure build up as his mouth worked magic on you.

But you wanted more. You needed more. You pulled at his hair, guiding him back up to kiss you again, this time with more urgency. His hands roamed your body, every touch making you ache for him even more.

"Fuck me, Jongho," you whispered, your voice breathless with desire.

Jongho didn’t hesitate for a second. He positioned himself between your legs, his cock heavy against your entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes full of hunger and something darker—something that made your heart race.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes," you gasped. "Please, I need you."

With a low growl, Jongho slammed into you, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself deep inside you. The force of his thrust made you gasp, your body jolting with pleasure as he set a punishing pace. The sound of his hips slapping against yours filled the room, along with the breathy moans and gasps that spilled from both of you.

Jongho’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with relentless intensity. Every thrust was deep, driving into you in a way that made you see stars. Your body responded to him with every stroke, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him for dear life.

"Fuck," you cried, your body shaking beneath him as the pleasure mounted. "You feel so good."

"Yeah? You like it when I fuck you like this?" Jongho’s voice was gruff, his words laced with dominance.

"Yes," you gasped. "I fucking love it."

His thrusts grew faster, more frantic, and you could feel the tension building inside you again. The pressure was almost unbearable, but you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted to fall apart with him, wanted him to push you over the edge again.

With a final, forceful thrust, Jongho drove into you deeper, his body tensing as he groaned your name, spilling inside you in hot bursts. The sound of his release sent you tumbling over the edge as well, your body shaking as you came, your walls clenching around him in pleasure.

Jongho collapsed on top of you, his breath heavy against your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, basking in the aftermath of your intense connection.

"God," he murmured, his voice low. "That was fucking incredible."

You couldn’t help but smile, your body still trembling from the pleasure. "Yeah," you whispered, tracing his jawline with your finger. "It really was."

And you both knew this wouldn’t be the last time. You were hooked on each other now, and there was no turning back.

[pinkreveluv6]

Surprise surprise, I have a free period 😝

Nevertheless, let’s commence!

Upfront, I really don’t know how you manage to find backgrounds that heavily match the atmosphere. This is actually giving karaoke night out and I’m here for it! From the lights to the decor, you’ve managed to perfectly portray the ambiance through your selection.

To carry on, is that my precious cutie patootie midorima?! 🥺 What’s more, I find it cool that you collaborated with @shintarom-png because I seriously love their art and their midorima headcanons! Sending a lot of love 💗

Their chibis are seriously so silly like they’re just there while you and Akashi are having your moments and it’s actually making me cackle. The way their expressions match? The first panel is them closing their eyes while shaking the glowsticks (@shintarom has pink ones while midorima has green ones, how goofy) and oh my god midorima’s eyelashes are so real! Forgot to say this but I find it cute how you guys have matching uniforms with your f/o. Equally, in the second panel, they just have this dumbfounded face;while @shintarom-png is trying to look nice, midorima is clearly expressing (by his brows) how he HATES it which speaks volumes about his personality quite well. Great detail!

Withal, I’m now going to talk about misei (lovely ship name).

Elementally, obviously I will be talking about how upright gorgeously you draw Akashi. This time, I realized (felt like) his expressions were more sharp than before? I may be deluded but his facial structure (eyes,nose and even the smile) look more refined than usual. Also the difference between the way you guys hold the mic and your hand gestures while the both of you sing resonates with your personalities. It just screams you lot (even though I haven’t known you for long). I feel like Akashi would totally deliberate such mannerism while singing because he is perfect and has to keep up with such. So singing with such confidence and calmness (?) like an actual singer demonstrates his professionalism in even mundane stuff such as so.

(I don’t know this is just my perception of stuff )

Into the bargain about stuff that I’ve pointed out, I’ve noted how this time you surprisingly haven’t blushed as per usual 🤔

Let alone the fact that Akashi seems to be trying not to show his stupefied face keeping it casual by just closing his eyes and faintly smiling, you seem to be having the time of your life. Good for you!

Perchance, is this the first time you draw yourself showing a bit of skin? I’m not quite certain but I believe you mostly draw yourself wearing hoodies/sweaters or full-sleeve clothes often. This is new 😆

In spite of everything, I hope I managed to cover everything and I’m sorry if I wasn’t able to 😅

This is definitely the best one so far. Looking forward to more of these depictions of you and your f/o’s relationship. I’ve got to say they’re really intriguing.

On this note, have a splendid day and always remember that health is a priority. Regardless if it’s mental,physical or emotional you should look after yourself since the discomfort of any of them will definitely have a toll on the other.

Farewell

i know i've been way too chalant today but this is the last post. i swear.

this category got me in a headlock because complicated scenarios are sort of out of my comfort zone. but anyway, as promised, the special guests are @shintarom-png and midorima!! they're contemplating killing themselves after hearing my singing. apologies.

background from pinterest. you already know i don't do this whole "background" thing. i choose photos and that's IT.

🏀 | tags !! @pinkreveluv6 @japeneselunchtimerush @sweijuro @pigeonbksimp @fl0ralsxgar @ilovemaiubo

event by @strawbeaniie

[s0fter-sin]

patty walters uploading to youtube again is healing something within me

[journey-to-the-attic]

late halloween drawing! went for a little ddvd au thing because it's been on my mind lately (though i draw regular ik so small sometimes you might not even be able to tell)

and bonus! cryptids spotted crossing the road (asmo snuck up and caught levi unawares)