#he is adorable and I want to also take him home and put him to bed

[mv1simp]

Agora Hills ♥️

Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

heavily requested part 2 to cuffing szn! Can also be read as stand alone/on its own too 😌😌

kissing, i hope they caught us, whether they like it or not (i wanna show you off, i wanna tie the knot)

Your sweet boyfriend, Max Verstappen, is a lot bigger than you are, and a lot stronger too. You know firsthand - when he uses it time and time again to prove how your curves are the perfect size for him, both in the bedroom and out of it. Your insecurities don't stand a chance against his protectiveness. This tough season, though, you want take control and look after him, and take all of his tension away. You might have underestimated just how strong Max is though...

content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom!max, reader who tries to be a dom but fails lol, overstimulation kink, brief mention of eating disorder, WC 4k

Filing your patient’s notes back in place, you warmly say your goodbyes to the nurses and make your way to the carpark. You loved your work as a doctor in women's health, truly you did - it was even how you’d met your loving boyfriend, Max, when you’d delivered his sister Victoria’s baby. But it had been a very trying week with numerous complex births and anxious new parents. On top of that, your sweet boyfriend, who’d normally take all your stress away in the evenings by breaking you apart with his strong hands and then putting you back together again, had been away for the past month on back to back race weekends.

So you’re very excited because he’s finally flown back into Monaco today, and you can’t wait to get home and see him. Tossing your Hermés bag - a one year anniversary present from Max - into the passenger seat, you slam on the accelerator and speed to his downtown penthouse that you’d recently moved into. Your dainty heels click against the hardwood floor as you walk down the hallway, curiously looking around the living room and pouting when you don’t spot him lounging on the sofa or back on his sim. Frowning, you think he must not have arrived yet - but then you spot the open French doors on the balcony.

Eagerly walking through them, your suspicions are confirmed when you see your boyfriend comfortable dressed in a hoodie and sweats, intently watching something on his phone and oblivious to the outside world. When he hears your excited Maxie! his thick neck snaps up, focused expression morphing into one of pure adoration as he swiftly stands up from the outdoor chaise and steps towards you. Schatje! he beams, broad arms opening to meet your running figure and easily picking you up to bury him face in your neck. You laugh delightedly, finally reunited with your golden retriever of a boyfriend. Missed you so much, pretty girl, Max murmurs, his deep voice muffled as he presses soft kisses all over your neck and chubby cheeks. Did you finish work early? Sorry, I got distracted, I was going to come pick you up.

You sigh contently, feeling some of stress of the past couple weeks leaving your tense figure just from your boyfriend’s warm and secure embrace. Max supports your full weight when you wrap your soft thighs around his toned waist, your YSL heels slipping off and landing on the ground. Not as much as I missed you, you promise, your small palms running across those ridiculously broad shoulders to gently tug at his soft locks. He draws back just enough to let your plush lips meet his, the pair of you smiling into the sweet kiss. You’re well on your way to a steamy make out when the ringtone of Max’s phone interrupts the mood. You pout as Max reluctantly pulls away, scowling when he sees his boss’s name flash on the screen. When he doesn’t bother answering the call, turning back to you instead, you curiously ask if he was going to get that.

Max firmly tells you absolutely not, I have much more important things I’d rather be doing as he carries you inside. He sets you down gently on the soft bed, moving to cover your much smaller frame underneath him as he grins down at your flushed face, his display of strength never failing to get your heart fluttering. Things like taking good care of my pretty girlfriend like she deserves, hmm?

Distantly, you hear his phone ringing again but it’s once again ignored as he leans down, desire clear in his gorgeous blue eyes. As much as you would rather resume your makeout session (and wow, did it take a lot of self control for you to pause this), you place a hand to his broad chest to gently halt him. He pauses, confused, and you tilt your head and ask if everything was okay, he normally would never miss Horner’s calls?

Max rolls his eyes at the mention of his boss’s name, flopping down next to you with his head propped up against a large palm. He grunts out that Horner had been up his ass for no reason lately, waffling and trying to skirt around the issue when Max had been very clear that the goddamn car was the issue this season.

Your boyfriend’s angled jaw clenches as he says this, his expression turning stormy as his mind wandered someplace else. You’re perplexed, as normally your boyfriend was a bit of a yapper - something you adored about him - and could easily complain to you for hours about anything troubling him. You feel a bit guilty as you may have taken a bit of a backseat this month given how rare a bad outcome was for Max’s races. You’d known that this season hadn’t been as stellar but assumed it would all smooth out - but by the looks of it, it clearly hadn’t, and you knew Max took his racing career extremely seriously and wouldn’t repeatedly avoid calls from Horner without good reason.

You sweetly apologise to Max for being so out of it, a worried expression on your face, especially since he had always been so attentive and caring to your needs. Especially last year when you’d been struggling with an eating disorder when fans had made vicious, jealous comments about your curvy figure once your relationship had gone public.

Max’s gaze softens as he looks down at your guilty brown doe eyes, his hand coming up to brush against yours which was resting on his stubbled cheek. His heart swells at seeing how cute you were trying so hard to make sure he was feeling okay. Oh, schatje, he croons, leaning down to lovingly kiss your adorably scrunched brows. Don’t worry, you always take such good care of me whenever I need it. It’s just the same old cycle of racing drama. Besides, things at the hospital were really hectic this month, right?

You try to protest the change in topic, wanting to bring it back to him, but then he’s sliding his tongue in to explore your mouth and you’re rather distracted, especially when his fingers trail up your fitted skirt. Your ass looks amazing in this, Max groans against your ear, his cheeks lightly dusted in pink despite his bold words, telling you he liked you in it so much he almost didn’t want to take it off. You giggle at that, coyly telling him he didn’t have to and guiding his hand to slide the skirt up over your thick hips, making his cheeks flush from your tempting show. Grinning wickedly, Max shamelessly lets his hungry gaze wander all over your curvy figure before he makes good on his earlier promise to take good care of his pretty girlfriend.

Really, there was no better stress relief than your boyfriend bending you in half, you think satisfactorily that evening when you and Max are out with friends for dinner. He catches your eye as you stretch your neck, your muscles pleasantly relaxed after a month of wound up tension. When he smirks at you over his G&T you flush, knowing he was probably thinking about how he’d had you in several different positions just a couple of hours earlier. Quickly joining the conversation on your right, you hope your friends don’t notice the heat rising to your cheeks everytime Max’s blue eyes meet yours. You two had been dating for over a year now, so you had no idea how he could still make you feel shy and flustered after an hour (or two) in bed.

Still, you hadn’t forgotten about your earlier conversation with your boyfriend, where you’d made it clear you wanted to support him more. Over the next couple of weeks, whenever you’d ask him about it, he’d open up a bit but you still noticed a frustrated edge to his behaviour. You tried to talk to him about it, of course, with a soft hand against his swollen bicep to sweetly murmur that you would always support him and ask how the latest debrief had been, was there anything you could do to help? You offered to cook his favourite dinner, or give him space to spend hours on his sim and practise, or personally go to headquarters right now and give Horner a peace of your mind for stressing out your talented boyfriend-

Max laughed, head tilted back and lips pulled into an adorable smile. You paused your rant to enjoy the sound of his genuine laughter, looking at him fondly as it never failed to make your heart race. But he’d still evade your inquiring questions and countless offers to do more, as your need to do more for Max the way he always supported you grew over the next month. For all his yapping, your boyfriend was very much an action man where it truly mattered.

So you made sure to attend his next race, rescheduling a few work commitments and joining him aboard his private jet to fly out to Singapore. He'd protested initially, of course, telling you that you didn't need to add more stress to your busy workload for his sake, but you'd firmly told him there was no where you'd rather be that weekend than by his side. And you remained steadfastly dedicated throughout the free practice and qualifying, diligently observing the team dynamics and Max's mood in response so you could debrief with him in the evenings, letting him yap about it to his heart's content. You made sure to give him space when he needed it or rub a soothing arm over his thick shoulders when he tensed, knowing how physical touch was your boyfriend's love language.

On race day, you arrived stylishly dressed in a House of CB floral corset dress and dainty heeled sandals that perfectly matched the weather. Smiling from behind your sunglasses at the multiple paparazzi and fan cameras clicking at you, you confidently walked alongside your boyfriend with your small hand in his much larger one. The pair of you made for a rather romantic sight with the large height difference, going viral on many a Pinterest board for your couple aesthetic. Of course, you'd learnt the hard way about how quickly public attention could burn someone badly with the hate comments you'd received about your weight or height from jealous fans when you two first went public. Although they had never stopped occurring, only increasing as you and Max stayed together, you had gotten far better at tuning them out. And it seemed your attentive boyfriend hadn't forgotten about it, either, judging by how his grip tightened around your delicate fingers and he protectively pulls you into his side when more paparrazi join the storm.

You're quick to reassure him, telling him how happy you were to be here, wanting him to focus on his race and knowing how guilty he would sometimes feel when reminded of how much his public career negatively affects those he loved. Besides, baby, you wink at him as he's about to buckle his helmet on in the driver's room, You know I hate to miss a chance to see you all worked up and sweaty in those slutty fireproofs!

Successfully diverted, your boyfriend now groans embarrassedly at your words, rolling his eyes but not being able to hide the cute blush that appears on his cheeks or his affectionate smile. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his chest warming at the sound of your happy giggles at his reaction. He can't resist pressing a kiss to your lips then, instead, making you promise you would stay safely in the garage the whole race. Of course, Maxie, you reassured, knowing he didn't need the worry of you encountering the occasional nasty fan adding to his stress. I'll be right here, I promise.

Once the race starts, you're asking yourself why on earth you weren't attending them more regularly, because the sight of Max expertly navigating the track never failed to make you hot and bothered. The high Singaporean temperatures only added to the heat on your face as you heard your boyfriend's normally gentle tone turn into a confident, demanding voice over the team radio. The race was a great one, with the Dutch Lion aggressively fighting his way to P2, making you clap your hands in excitement as he crossed the finish line.

Afterwards, his garage crew guided you to the podium, where Max's blue eyes sparkled warmly at you in the front row, as you laughed with delight, buzzing exctedly. You knew he had been raised to firmly believe only P1 mattered but since you'd begun dating him, you'd made it clear that he was always a strong champion and racer to you regardless of his position. You greeted him as he descended from the podium, beaming up at him as he took you into his strong arms to give you a passionate kiss, your heels lifting off the ground. Cameras clicked around the loving scene, but for once Max didn't mind, content in the feeling of you wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders to whisper how amazing his performance had been!

Setting you down, he took your smaller frame against his with his muscular arm across your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowd. He relaxes a bit closer to the safety of the garage, now answering some reporter's questions as they eagerly question him. He swears he'd taken his eyes off you for only a minute, but suddenly you're not at his side, and he immediately spins around mid interview to look for you. You're only a few meters away, chatting away to one of the news outlets. The reporter holding the microphone balks nervously when a angry looking, 6 foot blonde Dutch appears behind you, looking the very picture of a guard dog with his suspicious glare to the cameraman.

Noticing your boyfriend's intimidating presence, you welcome him into the conversation, saying you'd just been explaining how proud you were seeing him race, the turn into corner eight and when he'd overtaken the Mercedes with DRS were your favourite moments! The reporter hastily nodded, wiping away nervous beads of sweat as he confirmed Yes, yes, we were just discussing the race highlights, and many of our viewers were also eager to know who had styled your lovely girlfriend today, we had many fans hoping to buy the same outfit...?

Oh, Max says, softening his icy glare. Fine. My girlfriend is very beautiful, after all, I can see why those watching would want to have her style. Which she picks out, herself, by the way, no stylist or anything, he adds almost smugly. You giggle cutely at his overprotective antics, leaning in when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays by your side. Pinterest goes crazy that evening with the picture of your boyfriend adoringly gazing down at you, his muscled arm curled around your waist, as he listens to you animatedly explain your outfit to the reporter.

On the flight back home, he'd taken your smaller hand in his again, gently stroking it and avoiding your questioning gaze as he softly murmured that It had been hard, with work recently, and he'd loved having you there as a good luck charm. His cheeks are flushed again as he confesses, almost shyly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and looking down at your intertwined fingers instead of at your beaming face. He was grateful you'd come, knowing how hard it was to get out of work and also deal with the media circus. His words sounded dangerously close to guilty territory and you sit up immediately, pressing into him so that he finally looks up at you.

Not at all, Maxie you insisted, firmly telling him that the actual hard part had been trying to keep your hands off him, did he have any idea how insanely hot he'd looked when warming up with his trainer this week and boxing shirtless? I had to remind myself that this was technically your place of work and take a cold shower, you continue, enjoying seeing him erupt into laughter at your own confession. He'd slyly suggested that the race weekend was over and, well, maybe it was time to for you to finally join the the mile high club?

Your boyfriend always seemed to know how to make you flustered and you lose any upper hand you had immediately, gasping from his suggestive words and unable to meet his heated stare. Max! Wh-what if someone sees? you whisper nervously, to which Max laughs and tells you he'll just have to have you have you here on his lap then, where no one would notice. The cabin is already empty, giving you two complete privacy and Max doesn't hesitate to make the most of it. He uses the strong arms you'd been admiring to easily bounce you on his cock, the both of you still half dressed. You're completely powerless in his firm grip, eyes rolling in bliss as his large hands leave bruises over your hips from the intensity. You’re desperately trying to keep quiet and Max smirks at this, giving you another wicked thrust at just the right angle so you let out a squeal. You whine from his mean teasing and have to bite down on his shoulder to muffle your satisfied moans as he makes you cum on his cock, leaving a creamy white ring around the base. Afterwards, as he presses a loving kiss to your head as you fall asleep leaning against his shoulder, you can't help but pout over how little control you seem to have over Max in the bedroom as he uses his strength to control the pace. How were you ever going to make him go mindless and relaxed for once?

Of course, the drama continues with work well after Singapore, even though there was a month's break before the next race. Max's schedule is packed with meetings and discussions and debriefs on how to secure the WDC title again this year, and you make sure to keep an attentive eye on him. But to your frustration, you note Max is withdrawing again, turning down your offers to talk his frustrations through or let you take care of him for once. So after you’d already gifted him the latest e-sim racing game, and cooked his favourite foods for dinner, you naturally offered another one of your boyfriend’s favourite things - you.

When he returned from a late strategy meeting he’d had to fly out for, jaw tense and frustration evident on his face, he immediately felt himself start to unwind when he opened the front door of your shared apartment. The delicious smell of roast chicken and potatoes wafted out to the hallway, and he smiled as he walked towards the corner, knowing you must be in the kitchen from the Doja Cat song blasting that you hummed along too. Kissing and I hope they caught us, whether they like it or not...

Jimmy and Sassy, Max's cats, rubbed their tails along your freshly shaved and moisturised legs as you started cutting up the chicken you’d baked. Giggling at their demanding antics, you turn to kneel down and give them a small piece each, whispering that they had to promise they wouldn’t tell Max. An amused chuckle makes you startle and look up to see your boyfriend watching you, leaning against the counter. The tips of his ears go pink as he takes in your angelic white mini dress, its sweetheart neckline and tight waist with flowy skirt showing off your hourglass figure.

Maxie! You greet him excitedly, making his gaze wander when your tits press up against his firm chest when he bends down to let you kiss his cheek. You smelt so addictive, too, like honey and vanilla that he wanted to bury his face in and never leave. You excitedly show him what you’d made for dinner, stepping back and telling him to go take a shower while you finished up. And after he’d eaten your delicious cooking, groaning and telling you how much he missed it when away, you coyly smile and say you’d forgotten to make dessert but if he didn’t mind you had something sweeter you could give him?

The blush returns to Max’s face now as you lean him to give him a deep kiss before settling in between his thick thighs, spread wide apart. Within a few seconds you've pulled his impressive semi out of his sweats and are teasingly jerking him off, letting his leaking tip press against your chubby cheeks. It's a sight that never fails to drive your boyfriend wild and he groans when you swirl your wicked tongue over his sensitive head, one hand still pumping his shaft as you sweetly bat your wide, doe eyes up at him. He can see the curve of your plump ass on the floor peeking out as your white minidress rises up your soft thighs. You take him into your drooling mouth fully, eagerly deepthroating him and placing sloppy kisses along his length when you pull back to take a breath. Fuck, schat, it’s so fucking good, I’m not gonna last- Max swears above you, deep moans rumbling in his chest from your worship of him tonight, his blushing face thrown back into the sofa with pleasure as he threads his hands into your dark curls to softly tug at them. Pleased with yourself, thinking you'd finally gotten him to let go and relax, to let you take care of him for once, you jerk him off, your pink tongue darting out eagerly to catch his hot cum-

But your boyfriend has other plans, apparently, because suddenly he's leaning down and pulling you into his lap. You gasp at the unexpected movement, your hands automatically going around his broad shoulders. He kisses your protests away, leaving you whining that he should let you finish, you wanted to make him feel good, Maxie-

He cuts you off with a low groan against your lips, whispering you that you'd done such a good job, sweet girl, and now he wanted to eat dessert properly. And you hadn't been able to protest any longer because soon enough he had you sprawled across the soft sofa, moaning his name blissfully as he ate you out to completion. Always taste so damn sweet for me, schat he huskily murmurs against your soaked core, strong hand pressing on your soft tummy to hold you down. His blue eyes are trained on your flushed face as his deep, rumbling voice sends sparks shooting in between your legs. He then sends you into another head pounding orgasm when he sinks inside your inviting walls, whispering that it was never going to stop being the most addicting feeling he'd felt.

Face flushed from his generous praise, you desperately hold onto the cushions behind you as Max fucks you into the sofa. You plead with him to let you ride him, Maxie please, let me take care of you too-

Your boyfriend’s blue eyes darken at your request. Schatje, he croons into your ear, I wasn’t clear enough, hmm? The best fucking feeling in the world is having your tight pussy take my whole cock like this, letting me fuck all the stress away. He accentuates each word with a deep thrust, making you squeal and moan endlessly. So you stay right where you belong, sweetheart. Underneath me, taking all of me like a good girl, okay?

Your eyes widen at his dominating tone, your cunny clenching excitedly around his length at the thought of your normally sweet boyfriend using your body like a ragdoll to release his stress. you nod frantically, babbling that you’ll be so so good Maxie, you promise! Max grins wickedly at your teary expression, giving you a passionate kiss as he fucks you with full strength, not holding back as he drives you into a third dizzying orgasm. He’s not done, though, and your drooling pussy twitches from the overstimulation, making you moan weakly that it was too much, you couldn’t handle another one. Oh, we’re not stopping till I say so, schatje Max murmurs against your throat, making his way down to your bouncing tits and taking a swollen nipple into his hungry mouth. You promised to be a good girl, remember? This time you’re gonna squirt all over my cock.

—————————————————————————

A/N: thank you all sm for all the love and support for cuffing szn, i am absolutely here for the midsize girlies and glad you all enjoyed it so much!! Nothing like big boyfriend Max to get us going 😏 Hope part 2 is also good thank u for waiting so long for it xx lmk what u think!

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

CAN WE HAVE DOEY BEING A PLATONIC YANDERE TO THE PLAYER?? I WONDER HOW HE WOULD ACT GIVEN HIS CONFLICTING PERSONALITIES AND EMOTIONS DUE TO BEING MADE OUT OF THREE KIDS

Yes, you absolutely can! This ended up being way longer than I first planed and I'm actually pretty proud of it :)

Platonic yandere Doey & Reader

★ When Doey first meets the Player, he is intrigued. It's not every day you meet someone who keeps cheating the grim reaper. As Doey spends more time with the Player, he realizes that they are different than most employes. You are nice and treat him kindly.

★ His conflicting personalities create a strange mix of curiosity and adoration inside of him. Especially after you stay to help the Safe Haven instead of working with Poppy. Plus, the Player has been through so much already. They really should really take a break.

★ He goes above and beyond to make them feel comfortable and secure in their new home. He introduces them to the other toys, making sure they feel included and part of their little community. Tries to help them relax after what they have been through, also.

★Doey becomes emotionally dependent on the Player, deriving a sense of purpose and stability from their presence. The thought of losing the Player or not being able to protect them fills him with fear and anxiety, fueling his yandere tendencies.

★ All three parts of him agree on one thing, protect the Player at all costs. That means not letting them leave the Safe Haven. At least not without him. It comes from a place of genuine care, having concern for the Player's well-being.

★ He prioritizes their needs, ensuring the Player feels safe and loved. If the player were to reciprocate his care by doing things to make him feel valued, it would mean the world to him. If it's not too much, could he pretty please hold your hand? (please say yes)

★ The player's consistent care builds trust between them. That trust is very important. Never break it or you might regret it. Doey is still unstable at times, and he could still lash out at you if the wrong button is pushed.

★ Yandere Doey is very possessive, he is aware of this and tries his best not to be. He really wants to give the Player the freedom they deserve but at the same time he fears losing you to others and may become anxious if you spend too much time with another toy.

★ Those thoughts are silly, he knows it, you would never abandon him for a new friend. However, that nagging voice in his head tells him differently. It may end up with him subtly manipulating the Player. It was for friendship though so it's okay!

★ He might use guilt or even fear to keep the Player close, making them feel responsible for his emotional well-being. The thought of the Player getting hurt when he's gone fills him with all sorts of bad feelings. Ones he doesn't even want to think about.

★ By this time it's too late to go back. He is too afraid of being abandoned, if you suggest going off to finish what you started and killing the prototype he would have a panic attack.

★ His conflicting personalities are unified in their fear of the Player facing danger and he becomes visibly distressed. It's too dangerous! If you leave and never come back, what will he do? Doey may even go as far as physically putting himself between the Player and the exit if it comes down to it.

[oceansnotebook]

the DC boys and love languages

how they show their love for someone.

Included: dick, tim, jason, hal, wally, roy, barry

trying to write for more characters so I added my favorites!

Dick: quality time and touch.

Dick will do everything in his power to be around you most if not all of the day. He loves just sitting in silence with you, it’s never awkward! He loves it even more if you’re sitting in silence holding hands.

Any and every time you’re walking around in public, he will be holding your hand. He loves to take hold of your hand and swing your arms.

And at night, when you sleep together, he is so clingy. Just an absolute cuddle bug and will not let you go.

Tim: acts of service and gift giving.

Tim notices everything about you. And when he gets your routine and habits memorized, he will try to help you complete them easier. Whether that be making the bed for you, or simply making dinner he will always try to do something nice for you every day.

Whenever he goes out shopping and spies something that reminds him of you, he will most likely get it. Your house gets over cluttered with little things Tim has gotten you over the years.

He’s a really good gift giver too. whether it’s somthing you’ve been wanting for a while or something you didn’t even know you wanted, he’s gotten it for you.

Jason: quality time and words of affirmation.

Jason loves spending time with you and he gets very sad when he hasn’t seen in you in more than a day. He calls you a lot too. Your used to picking up your phone and seeing 13 missed calls from him, just for him to say “hi, I miss you”

He really loves words of affirmation because when you tell him something nice, he gets and happy and blushing so he tries to make you feel that way too.

He tries to do it smoothly, randomly walking by and saying “oh, your hair looks nice by the way” once you smile, he’s celebrating.

Hal: physical touch and acts of service

Hal loves touching you. He loves intertwining fingers, resting heads on shoulders and hugging. He doesn’t care when or where, he just adores touching you.

He also tries his best to be helpful and do small chores or things for you. He really likes it when you do tiny tasks for him, so he’ll do some in return. He knows that you get lonely when he’s away on long missions, so he tries to make up for it by catching up on chores and such. If theres ever something you’ve been worrying about, Hal will get it done for you and act as if it’s no big deal when you thank him.

Wally: quality time and physical touch

Wally loves being near you. He loves just sitting next to you and staring at you as you read or scroll on your phone.

Whenever you two are on public transport, like a bus or subway, he will be holding onto your waist, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He really likes squeezing you’re face before kissing you, he thinks you look adorable and he loves the smile and laugh it brings.

Barry: acts of service and physical touch

Barry gets busy a lot. He also forgets a lot. Whenever he notices that you have done something for him, whether it be a small task or not, he feels so lucky. He tries his best to repay you for your act of kindness by doing something small for you in return.

You often return home after late nights to see dinner made and the laundry put away.

He also loves holding you, but he’s very observant of your boundaries and whether or not you’re in the mood for hugs. If you are, then he’ll be glued to your side all day, and if not that’s okay too! He’s okay with simply sitting on the same couch, smiling as he watches you do something mundane.

Roy: words of affirmation and acts of service

Call this boy anything sweet and he’s in love. He lives for your kind words and praise, even if he hides it. He tries to say something nice about you every time he sees you. He will absolutely praise you a lot, as he likes praise himself.

He also enjoys doing small things for you. Need something fixed? Ask Roy, he will be happy to help. It’s usually repairing things, or making small things for you he does, he always hopes it means alot to you.

this took so long to make lmao!

I might do things like this more but separate posts, so like batboys in one and other people in another!

I really hope you like it, I have never written for Roy and Wally before.

[xylatox]

In Between the Lines! I had this saved for a good week and it came back up on my feed today so I'm glad I can read it uninterrupted. I love the idea of a fic being used to spread awareness on selective mutism.

Beomgyu blinked for a moment, momentarily distracted by the scene. He hadn’t noticed her before, but there was something about her that drew his attention. Her focus seemed unshakable, and the way her pen moved across the page made him pause. — I think thus moment is very sweet, a prelude to their first interaction and we get to see Beomgyu's initial thoughts :)

I loved their first interaction and I love seeing that reader has these moments coming to the end where she seems that she wants to respond but is unable to; and from the prior gestures she has we see the anxiety that is present.

The contrast between the library and home; Home was a different kind of quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful stillness of the library but a silence filled with tension, unspoken words, and carefully maintained boundaries. — this line was so beautiful but painful.

I appreciate that we are able to see how deep the reader's anxiety is when it comes to speaking and it breaks my heart. I love that her friend Jiwon is there and understands her, not pushing her to say more, but when reader does open up she does listen and be supportive as well :( Loving that they met at her job and Gyu was finally able to get her name, the moment was adorable

I feel so sad that her step-mom doesn't take the time to understand reader instead of berating her about her condition, especially since that treatment will make it worse:( I love that even when Gyu meets her again, he's so sweet and patient about it and the conversation falls into place seamlessly despite that. It's so sweet that he searches ways to help reader too wtf :( I also love his relationship with Taehyun and the advice he gives like; Everything, bro. You don’t even put this much effort into group projects. If this isn’t a crush, I’ll eat my textbooks — this line was absolutely hilarious.

It's the end of part 1! This was so cute and I'm so happy I got the time to share my thoughts on it!!

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed) ✧ part one, word count 14k

✧ an: helloo, honestly i wanted to use this fic to spread awareness for selective mutism as a lot of people are unaware of it, i hope this can help people be more understanding and patient with others. ty, i hope you enjoy the read!

MASTERLIST next »

The library was quiet, the hum of the air conditioning blending with the faint rustle of pages and the soft clack of keyboards. Y/N sat at a small table in a tucked-away corner, surrounded by open books and notes. It was her safe haven, away from the chaos of campus life. Shelves upon shelves of books surrounded her like a fortress, muffling the outside world. 

Large bay windows let sunlight pour in, casting a warm glow over the silent corner of the library. Her notebook lay open on the table, half-filled with neat, tiny sketches of animals—an owl perched on a branch, a cat curled up asleep, a bunny mid-hop.

She didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the notes sprawled across her desk. With a big test looming next week, her attention was locked on the video playing softly through her headphones. Her pen hovered above the page, but instead of jotting down key points, she found herself sketching a tiny mouse in the notebook’s margin.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, was anything but quiet as he weaved through the aisles, earbuds in, barely paying attention to where he was going. He wasn’t reckless, just distracted, his focus split between the music blaring in his ears and his search for a textbook he desperately needed for his next assignment. He wasn’t much of a library person—too quiet, too stuffy—but today, he was desperate. 

Beomgyu had been wandering the library for what felt like hours, his eyes scanning the shelves with no success. The textbook he needed was nowhere to be found. He checked the library’s online system twice already, double-checking the section he was once in before, but it still wasn’t showing up. In reality, though, it had only been half an hour.

A sense of helplessness started to creep in. He wasn’t used to asking for help. He liked figuring things out on his own, but right now, he was at a dead end.

Frustrated, he let out a sigh and dragged his hand through his hair, turning to look at the rows of books around him. That’s when he saw her—sitting at a table in a quiet corner, her head bent low as she scribbled something in her notebook.

Beomgyu blinked for a moment, momentarily distracted by the scene. He hadn’t noticed her before, but there was something about her that drew his attention. Her focus seemed unshakable, and the way her pen moved across the page made him pause.

But then he realized something: the music blaring in his ears was so loud, that he could barely hear his own thoughts, let alone anything happening around him. He fumbled with the earbuds, awkwardly tugging them out of his ears with one hand, hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. His music, still playing loudly, thumped through the air, and he quickly scrambled to turn it off.

He winced, realizing just how distracted he had been by the music. He probably looked ridiculous.

After a brief moment of awkwardness, he gathered himself. “Excuse me,” Beomgyu said, taking a few strides over to the girl. 

Y/N didn’t look up at first. Her headphones were on, but the volume wasn’t high enough to block out the world entirely. She’d grown used to the assumption that no one would ask her for help. It was rare.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, more self-conscious now. “Excuse me,” he tried again, his voice quieter this time, trying to avoid sounding out of place. He took a few more steps toward her, his voice still hesitant, though more intentional this time. “I’m looking for a Music Theory book. Do you know where it is? Or, um, any books on music?”

Y/N’s pen paused mid-stroke. She didn’t look up immediately, as though she were processing his words. Her fingers hovered over the notebook for a moment, before gently putting the pen down.

Beomgyu shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a strange tension knotting in his stomach. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, especially not when asking for help. Normally, he was the type to speak his mind, loud and clear, without a second thought. But something about the silent library and her focused, unbothered presence made him second-guess himself.

Why was he suddenly so awkward? He'd approached strangers for help plenty of times before. Was it the stillness of the library? Or maybe it was the way she was taking her time, processing everything so calmly like she was in no rush to answer him. It felt different than usual, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

When she finally did glance up at him, a faint flush spread across her cheeks. Recognition flickered in her mind—he was in her lecture, always a bit too loud, usually with his friends, his voice always cutting through the room. The sudden focus on her made her feel small, as though she were being pulled out of her quiet world. She hesitated, her eyes flickering between him and her notebook, trying to figure out how to navigate this. Her mind raced, knowing she couldn’t react the way others might, and for a brief moment, the silence between them felt deafening.

“Uh, I took a photo of the section where it’s supposed to be, but... I swear the section must’ve been moved,” Beomgyu said, his voice tinged with discomfort as the silence stretched on. He pulled his phone from his pocket and awkwardly shoved it in front of her face.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to his phone screen, her eyes scanning the library catalog photo. She quickly noticed the error—it was mislabeled, and she immediately knew where the books had been relocated. The music books had once been in the section he showed her, but now they’d been moved to the history section; the two categories had swapped. She knew this simply from the countless hours she’d spent in the library.

Her eyes darted briefly back to his face before she stood up, her movements slow but deliberate. She gave him a small, wordless nod, avoiding his gaze as she stepped past him. Without a word, she made her way toward the section where the history books used to be. 

Beomgyu fell into step beside her, his hands buried in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say. The silence was starting to feel a little too heavy, so he took a deep breath, deciding to break it.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” he asked, hoping to make the situation a little less awkward. “I mean, it’s pretty quiet. A good place to focus, right?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered briefly toward him before she quickly looked away, focusing ahead as she walked. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and now, with Beomgyu walking beside her, she felt the weight of every step. Her fingers twitched, lightly fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as she tried to calm the nervous energy building up.

Beomgyu noticed her fidgeting and quickly tried to back off, his voice quieter this time. “Sorry, I guess I’m just rambling,” he said, chuckling lightly. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed for not picking up on the cues that maybe she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

Y/N’s eyes darted toward him, just for a moment, before she looked away quickly. She was still unsure of how to respond but decided it was easier to just let the silence sit. It was what she was most comfortable with.

Beomgyu glanced at her, studying her subtle movements. She wasn’t giving much away, but something about her quiet presence made him want to keep trying. He had a knack for talking to people—usually. So why did it feel so different now?

“I’m Beomgyu, by the way,” he added after a beat, his voice soft enough to match the library’s quiet atmosphere. “Not that, you know, you were dying to know or anything. Just thought I’d introduce myself.”

Y/N’s grip on her sleeve tightened slightly, her pace steady but her mind racing. She didn’t dare meet his eyes again, unsure if acknowledging him would invite more conversation or make things more awkward. She gave him a slight nod, not even sure if he had caught it or not. 

They turned a corner, the rows of books stretching ahead of them like endless possibilities. Beomgyu’s gaze flicked between her and the shelves as he tried to gauge whether she was annoyed, shy, or just indifferent. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain.

As they approached the section where the music books had been relocated, Y/N slowed her steps. She hesitated, briefly scanning the spines of the books before pointing to a specific shelf. Her small gesture was precise, her hand lingering just long enough to guide him.

Beomgyu followed her gaze, then backtracked to where her finger had pointed. “Oh, here it is! You’re a lifesaver,” he said with genuine relief, pulling the textbook off the shelf.

Y/N gave a faint nod, her eyes fixed on the floor as she took a small step back, giving him space.

“Do you, uh, study here often?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. “I mean, you seem to know this place like the back of your hand.”

Y/N’s face flushed deeper as she glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment. She gave a small nod before quickly looking away, her gaze flitting to the books on the shelf—anywhere but his face.

Beomgyu tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his expression. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. She hadn’t spoken a single word to him. In all his life, he’d never had an interaction quite like this. Sure, he’d met shy people before, but even then, he’d always managed to get at least a word or two out of them.

“Oh,” he said, his voice softening as understanding dawned. “That’s pretty cool. No wonder you knew exactly where to go.”

He let out a light chuckle, his usual confidence tempered by the realization that this wasn’t the time for his typical charm. “Really, though, thanks. I’d probably be pacing these aisles for the next hour if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Y/N met his gaze for just a second before offering a small, shy smile, her fingers lightly brushing the hem of her sleeve.

Beomgyu shifted the book in his hands, unsure if he should say more or let the silence linger. For someone who thrived on conversations and easy banter, this felt foreign—yet oddly intriguing. There was something about her that pulled him in, even without words.

He glanced at her again, watching as she took a half step back, her eyes flickering to the shelves as if searching for an exit. Not wanting to push too far, he cleared his throat, offering a tentative smile.

“So… Do you work here or something? Or are you just, like, the unofficial library expert?” he asked, trying to keep the mood light.

Y/N hesitated, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to respond but didn’t. Instead, she just shook her head, her small smile returning for a brief moment before she looked down at her shoes.

Beomgyu nodded, not sure what else to say but also reluctant to let her slip away just yet. “Well, you definitely saved me. I owe you one. Maybe… I can return the favor someday?”

Her head tilted slightly at his words, and though she didn’t respond, her expression softened, as if the offer had caught her off guard in a good way.

Before he could overthink it, Beomgyu laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or, you know, I’ll just try not to get lost next time.” He gestured to the book. “Anyway, thanks again. Seriously.”

Y/N gave a small nod and took a step back toward her corner of the library, her movements quiet but deliberate. Beomgyu watched her retreat, his mind already racing with curiosity about the girl who had barely said anything but somehow left an impression.

As he turned to leave, his footsteps slowing, he found himself glancing over his shoulder, wondering if she’d look back at him.

And she did. The moment his back was turned, Y/N raised her eyes, her gaze following him as he walked away. There was a flicker of something in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or a faint trace of amusement—but when Beomgyu didn’t turn again, she let out a hushed breath and returned to her seat.

The library was Y/N’s sanctuary—a place where she could exist quietly, without the weight of expectations pressing down on her. But as the sun dipped below the horizon and the warm glow of the street lights flickered on, she found herself heading back home, her silent retreat fading behind her.

Home was a different kind of quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful stillness of the library but a silence filled with tension, unspoken words, and carefully maintained boundaries.

Y/N slipped through the front door, her movements silent and deliberate as she kicked off her shoes. Her dad was in the living room, the soft murmur of the TV playing a news channel filling the space.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted, glancing up briefly. He was one of the few people she could speak to comfortably, but even then, her words were rare. She offered a small smile in response, her eyes darting toward the stairs.

Her stepmother’s voice echoed sharply from the kitchen, tinged with irritation. “You’re late again. Dinner’s been on the table for an hour.” She emerged into the living room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Y/N froze, unsure how to respond. She gave a small, dismissive nod toward her bag, a quiet way of saying she’d been at school, but her gaze never lifted. The floor seemed safer to focus on.

“Figures,” Her stepmother muttered, the frustration in her tone clear. “You always lose track of time, don’t you?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She simply slid past her stepmother, the familiar weight of tension hanging in the air. She ascended the stairs to her room, the soft click of the door closing behind her bringing a wave of relief. The noise and expectations of the house faded away.

Her room, a quiet refuge, was exactly as she’d left it—shelves lined with books and small trinkets, her desk cluttered with notebooks and unfinished sketches. She sank into her chair, feeling the familiar warmth of the space wrap around her like a soft blanket. With a contented sigh, she grabbed the remote and flicked on her favorite drama, the low hum of the small TV filling the silence. As she began to sketch, the pencil moved instinctively across the paper, her fingers dancing to the rhythm of the drawing. She found herself humming softly, her lips curving into a smile as she let the characters on the screen distract her for a while. In this room, it was easy to forget the outside world. Here, she could giggle, whisper to herself, and just be—no pressure, no expectations.

A few days later, Beomgyu sat in the lecture hall, his focus flickering between the professor and the scribbled notes in front of him. His mind kept wandering back to Y/N, the girl who had quietly helped him in the library. The memory of her sketching in her notebook, so immersed in her own world, stuck with him. It felt odd that he hadn’t really noticed her before, considering how often they must have been in the same place. He couldn’t figure out why, but now, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He had seen her once or twice in the halls before, but it was always fleeting—a brief glimpse as she walked past, her presence never lingering in his mind. It was only now, as he glanced around the lecture hall, that he realized she was sitting in the same class. Her name had never crossed his mind, and he certainly hadn’t noticed her before, but there she was, standing up and packing her bag as the lecture ended.

A strange realization hit him, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was so calm, moving with that quiet grace he’d seen before. His heart raced a little. This was his chance—he had to talk to her. He had to know her name.

Without thinking, he stood up quickly, trying to weave his way through the sea of students heading for the door. His eyes stayed fixed on her, determined not to lose sight of her this time. When he finally opened his mouth, he called out to her, his voice cutting through the chatter in the room. “Hey!”

Just as he was about to push through the crowd to catch up, he felt a hand grab his arm. It was Taehyun, his friend’s grip firm as he pulled Beomgyu’s attention away.

“Beomgyu, wait up!” Taehyun’s voice was a mix of impatience and excitement. “I need to ask you something before you head out.”

Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from Y/N, who was making her way toward the door, to Taehyun. His heart sank as he realized he’d lost his chance to talk to her.

"Ah, come on, I’ll only be a minute," Taehyun continued, unaware of Beomgyu’s internal struggle.

Beomgyu hesitated, torn, but Taehyun was already steering him away. He shot one last glance at the door where Y/N had just disappeared, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hadn’t even gotten close enough to say anything.

Across the room, Y/N had heard Beomgyu call out to her, his voice cutting through the chatter like a sudden unexpected burst of noise. Her eyes flickered back toward him for a brief moment, catching the earnestness in his expression, before quickly looking away. The tension in her chest flared—was he expecting her to speak? To respond? She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

Her anxiety gnawed at her, whispering doubts in her ear. She couldn’t disappoint him. The skin on her palms felt clammy, and her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. The tightness in her chest made it harder to breathe, her heart thudding faster than the noise of the students around her. With a quiet breath, she pushed herself forward, her steps quickening as she made her way to the exit, each one carrying her farther from the conversation she couldn’t bring herself to have.

Y/N stepped out of the lecture hall, the weight of her thoughts pressing on her chest. The bustling noise of students moving between classes surrounded her, but it all felt distant—muted like she was underwater. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, her knuckles pale, as she made her way across campus, her head lowered to avoid the curious glances of strangers.

Her mind replayed the moment Beomgyu’s voice cut through the crowd, his tone almost hopeful. She’d seen the way he looked at her like he was trying to bridge some unspoken gap. And she’d ignored him.

Her heart clenched, the guilt nagging at her. Why didn’t I just stop? The question circled in her mind, but her anxiety offered no answers—just a familiar wave of self-doubt. She had felt so sure in that moment that she couldn’t face him, but now the decision left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Without a clear destination, Y/N wandered toward the quieter part of campus. A shaded bench under a tree caught her attention, and she sank onto it, letting out a shaky sigh. Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag. The crisp air felt sharp against her flushed cheeks, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. Her guilt, no longer just a whisper, grew louder with each passing second, her thoughts pulling her in circles. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the worn fabric of the strap of her bag.

Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she just turn around, meet his eyes, and… do something? Anything? She’d seen the look on Beomgyu’s face—earnest, almost hopeful—and yet she’d walked away. Her chest tightened, a familiar ache spreading through her ribs as her mind replayed the moment over and over, each time adding more weight to the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Her eyes fell to her lap, where her fingers now tugged at the hem of her sleeve. She wanted to cry, but no tears came—just the dull, suffocating heaviness of disappointment in herself. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze drifting to the ground as students passed by, their chatter blending into a dull hum around her.

It wasn’t like Beomgyu had done anything wrong. He wasn’t pushy or rude—just curious. Kind, even. She groaned softly, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. A part of her wanted to go back, to find him and explain—though she wasn’t sure how to do that without using words. But another part of her—the louder part—convinced her it was better this way. She couldn’t let him down if she kept her distance.

The minutes ticked by, and Y/N stayed rooted to the bench, the world around her moving while she remained still.

A soft vibration in her pocket broke through Y/N’s spiraling thoughts. She pulled out her phone, blinking at the bright screen.

Jiwon: Hey, where are you? Are we still on for our study session??

Y/N’s heart sank, the weight of guilt pressing down on her chest. She’d completely forgotten. Her mind had been too preoccupied, overwhelmed by the wave of emotions she couldn’t seem to steady. The memory of Beomgyu’s voice calling out to her, the fleeting glance they’d shared, and the way she’d rushed out lingered, replaying in her mind like a broken record.

She stared at Jiwon’s message for a long moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Y/N: I’m so sorry! I forgot. I’ll be there soon!

Her thumb hovered over the send button, hesitation gripping her. A small part of her wanted to come up with an excuse, to avoid facing anyone right now. But Jiwon wasn’t just anyone. She was patient, understanding, and someone Y/N didn’t have to constantly explain herself to. If there was anyone she could lean on without judgment, it was Jiwon.

She sighed softly, pressing send. The message was delivered with a quiet whoosh, and Y/N slipped her phone back into her pocket. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she leaned back against the bench. The faint hum of campus life carried on around her. Students chatted as they walked by, their voices blending into a low murmur. It felt like the world was moving forward while she was stuck in place, weighed down by her thoughts.

“I need to get out of my head,” she whispered to herself, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the breeze.

Forcing herself to move, she stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder, her steps slow at first as she made her way across campus. The walk to the library gave her time to collect herself, though the heavy guilt still clung to her like a shadow. She replayed the moment in the lecture hall, questioning her reaction, wondering if Beomgyu had been disappointed or confused by her silence.

As she approached the library, the familiar sight of the towering building brought a small wave of comfort. Pushing the door open, Y/N stepped inside, her eyes scanning the rows of tables until she spotted Jiwon. Her friend was already settled near a window, her laptop open and a cup of coffee beside her. Jiwon glanced up, her face lighting up in a small smile when she saw Y/N.

“There you are,” Jiwon said warmly as Y/N approached. “I was starting to think you ditched me.”

Y/N shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she slipped into the chair across from Jiwon. She pulled out her notebook, the familiar action grounding her.

Sorry, she wrote quickly on the corner of the page before sliding it toward Jiwon.

Jiwon’s smile softened as she read the note. “Don’t worry about it. You okay?”

Y/N hesitated, her pen hovering over the paper. She wanted to say yes, to brush it off and pretend everything was fine. But Jiwon’s expectant gaze made her pause.

I had a rough day, she finally wrote, keeping the explanation short.

Jiwon nodded in understanding. “Well, if you need to talk—or write—I’m here.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread in her chest, the kind of comfort that came from being around someone who understood her without needing a thousand words.

She wrote back with a small smile.

Thanks

Jiwon reached for her coffee, taking a sip before changing the subject. “Okay, so, where should we start? I’ve got a million things to catch up on, and I could definitely use your help.”

As Jiwon launched into a conversation about their upcoming assignments, Y/N found herself relaxing, the tension from earlier slowly easing. For now, she let herself focus on the steady rhythm of studying and the quiet companionship of her friend.

After an hour of focused studying, Jiwon glanced up from her laptop, noticing that Y/N had grown quiet again, her usual energy a little more subdued. The silence between them had stretched longer than usual, and despite her attempts to distract herself with assignments, Jiwon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“You know,” Jiwon said, breaking the stillness, “I think it’s time for a snack. What do you say? The vending machine’s calling our names.”

Y/N looked up, eyes wide, as if caught off guard by the suggestion. She hadn’t said much since they’d settled in, and though Jiwon respected her space, she couldn’t help but worry.

Y/N hesitated, her pen still tapping gently against the notebook. Jiwon noticed the small details—the way her friend’s gaze flickered downward, avoiding her eyes.

“Come on,” Jiwon coaxed with a soft smile. “A little break will do us both good.”

Y/N gave a small nod, and together, they made their way to the vending machines, the sound of their footsteps the only noise in the quiet space. 

As they reached the vending machines, Jiwon casually scanned the selection, but her eyes kept darting back to Y/N, sensing the weight of her silence. 

“So,” Jiwon began, her voice light but tinged with concern, “what’s going on? You’ve been awfully quiet today, and I can tell something’s on your mind.”

Y/N glanced around the hall, her gaze flickering nervously before meeting Jiwon’s. “I…” she whispered softly, her words barely audible. “I’ll tell you when we get back to the table.” Her cheeks flushed as she grabbed a packet of cookies from the vending machine.

Y/N quickly returned to the table, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about what she was about to say, even though Jiwon would never judge her. Her fingers tightened around the packet of cookies as she set it down, her gaze briefly meeting Jiwon’s expectant eyes.

Jiwon settled back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest, waiting patiently. She’d always given Y/N space when needed, but today, something felt different. She could tell her friend was carrying something heavy.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes glancing down at her notebook as she pulled it closer. The familiar act of writing helped her focus, and she quickly scribbled the words that had been bothering her.

I feel guilty for avoiding someone. I don’t know how to fix it.

She pushed the notebook toward Jiwon, her anxiety rising, hoping her friend would understand even though the words felt simple.

Jiwon didn’t immediately speak. She carefully read the note, her expression softening with understanding. After a long moment, she placed the notebook down and leaned forward, her voice quiet but filled with care.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jiwon said gently, meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Avoiding someone… it’s tough. But it’s also okay not to know what to do right away. You’re allowed to take your time to figure it out.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart easing a little at Jiwon’s comforting words.

Jiwon took a sip of her drink before speaking again, her tone playful but still full of understanding. “You know, I don’t think cookies are going to fix this, but it’s a good start. Want to talk more about it?”

Y/N chewed on her lip, feeling a bit of pressure to open up more. Maybe, just maybe, telling Jiwon a little more wouldn’t hurt.

Her mind was racing. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share, but something about Jiwon’s presence made her feel like it was safe to open up. After a long pause, she finally wrote again, her hand steadier now, but her heart still heavy.

It’s a boy from my lecture... He tried talking to me, but I got too nervous. I don’t know what to do.

She pushed the notebook toward Jiwon, her pulse quickening as the words hit the paper. It was the first time she was saying it out loud, even if it was just on paper.

Jiwon’s eyes widened as she read the note, and she looked up at Y/N with a soft, almost excited expression. “Wait, a boy from your lecture?” she repeated, her voice filled with surprise and a little bit of wonder.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks turning pink as she fidgeted with her hands.

Jiwon leaned forward, her eyes lighting up as if a whole new world had just opened up. “Oh my gosh, that’s so cute!” She grinned widely. “You’ve gotta talk to him! He likes you, I’m sure of it.” Jiwon’s voice softened as she continued, “I mean, it’s totally normal to feel nervous, but he wouldn’t have tried talking to you if he wasn’t interested, right?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at Jiwon’s words, but the anxiety still lingered. Talking to him felt like a mountain she wasn’t sure she could climb.

“I don’t know if I can,” Y/N whispered, the feeling of self-doubt creeping back. She jotted down in the notebook once more.

What if I mess it up again?

Jiwon’s expression softened, her voice gentle but encouraging. “Hey, you don’t have to be perfect. Just talk to him when you’re ready. I want you to have fun with all this stuff, you know? Talk to boys, go on dates—just do all the girly things I’ve been dying for you to experience!” She paused, giving Y/N a playful look. “Besides, he’ll probably think you’re super cute the way you are.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spread through her chest at Jiwon’s support. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to take the first step. After all, Jiwon had a way of making things feel easier, even when they seemed impossible.

Y/N hesitated, her pen hovering over the notebook. She glanced at Jiwon, who waited patiently, her head tilted slightly, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Y/N took a steadying breath before starting to write.

His name is Beomgyu. I met him in the library a few days ago. He needed help finding a book, and I helped him.

She slid the notebook toward Jiwon and sat back, chewing on her lip again as her friend read.

Jiwon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, so this isn’t just some random guy! You’ve already talked to him before?”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded slightly, scribbling another note. Kind of. He talked. I pointed him to the book he needed. That’s it.

Jiwon’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “And what’s he like? What’s your impression of him so far?”

Y/N tapped her pen against the notebook for a moment before jotting down. He’s loud. That’s all I know.

Jiwon laughed softly, shaking her head. “Loud, huh? That’s kind of cute. So, why do you feel guilty about avoiding him? He doesn’t sound like the shy type—you think he noticed?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she wrote. I don’t know. Maybe? He tried talking to me, and I just froze.

Jiwon’s smile softened. “I get why you feel bad, but it’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t mean to ignore him. It’s not like you were trying to be rude.”

Y/N nodded, but her pen started moving again, her words spilling out onto the page. I just feel bad because… he seems like the type of person who’s good at talking to everyone, and I couldn’t even say anything back.

Jiwon’s expression turned thoughtful, her voice gentle. “Well, if he’s the kind of person who talks to everyone, I’m sure he’s not going to be upset about it. He probably understands that not everyone’s as outgoing as him.”

Y/N glanced down, a small part of her feeling reassured.

Jiwon tilted her head, her tone shifting to something more playful. “So, what are you going to do if you see him again? Maybe help him find another book?”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her cheeks heating up as she wrote. I’ll probably just hide.

“Y/N!” Jiwon gasped dramatically, though her grin showed she wasn’t actually upset. “Don’t hide! Come on, you already helped him once. If he talks to you again, just smile or wave. Baby steps, okay?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded, her lips twitching into a faint smile. Jiwon’s encouragement felt comforting, even if the idea of facing Beomgyu again still made her stomach twist with nerves.

Jiwon leaned back in her chair, stirring her drink idly. “So… Beomgyu. What kind of loud are we talking about? Like, constantly talking over everyone loud, or just someone who naturally fills a room?”

Y/N hesitated, tapping her pen against the edge of her notebook before writing. He’s confident. Like he knows what to say, and doesn’t overthink it.

Jiwon tilted her head, her lips curving into a curious smile. “Confident, huh? That’s an interesting word to use. So, he’s not just loud—he actually knows how to carry himself?”

Y/N nodded slightly, her cheeks warming as she wrote again He’s the type of person people probably notice right away. I mean… not in a bad way.

Jiwon grinned, leaning forward. “And you noticed him. That says something.”

Y/N’s hand froze mid-air, her face heating up. She quickly scribbled. Only because he came up to me in the library! He needed help finding a book.

Jiwon laughed softly, her tone teasing but gentle. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop connecting dots. So, what happened after that? Did he say something that stuck with you?”

Y/N thought back to their brief encounter, her stomach fluttering as she remembered his bright smile. She shook her head and wrote. No, not really. He was just… nice. But when he talked, I felt like I didn’t know how to respond.

Jiwon softened at that, her teasing replaced by concern. “Y/N, that’s okay. You were caught off guard—that doesn’t mean you messed up or did anything wrong.”

Y/N pressed her lips together before writing. But what if I see him again?

Jiwon leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “If you see him again… like I said before, take baby steps. Just give him a smile, show him you’re not avoiding him. You don’t have to say anything—just a simple nod and that beautiful smile of yours.”

Y/N hesitated, her pen tapping lightly against the notebook. Jiwon was always so good at talking to boys, and Y/N trusted her advice… Not that she was trying to impress Beomgyu or anything.

Y/N nodded slowly, the tightness in her chest loosening ever so slightly.

“And honestly?” Jiwon added with a grin. “If he’s confident like you said, I bet he’ll find a way to talk to you again. Guys like that aren’t easily discouraged.”

Y/N couldn’t help the faint smile that crept onto her face, a soft laugh escaping as she looked down at her notebook.

Jiwon beamed at the sound, pleased to see her friend relaxing. “Alright, now that we’ve dissected your charming classmate, can we focus on our assignments? Unless you want to write me a whole essay about Beomgyu…”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her cheeks burning as she turned the page in her notebook. Jiwon laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop it—for now.”

The two fell into an easy rhythm as they returned to their study session. But even as Y/N jotted down notes and worked through her assignments, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see Beomgyu again—and if she’d have the courage to do anything differently.

The next few days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. Y/N kept herself busy with classes, studying, and working at the university café. It was a routine that helped her stay grounded, and she liked the quiet, easy tasks—stocking supplies, making drinks, and cleaning. Currently, she was on drink duty again, and she found comfort in the rhythm of it, even as her mind wandered.

Her back was to the café entrance when she heard a familiar voice, just a bit louder than necessary.

“Taehyun, I’m telling you, I need something to wake me up. Maybe an iced latte?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Beomgyu. She had heard that voice enough to recognize it, even without seeing him.

Trying to stay calm, Y/N kept her focus on the drinks she was preparing. She wasn’t ready to face him. She wasn’t even sure what she’d say, let alone if she could keep her anxiety from spilling out. Beomgyu and Taehyun were ordering, and she hoped—no, prayed—that they wouldn’t notice her.

Beomgyu’s voice rose, this time giving his order, “I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.”

“One matcha frappé, and a caramel macchiato, coming right up!” Y/N’s coworker called out the order.

Beomgyu and Taehyun moved aside to wait for their drinks, talking casually, their laughter carrying through the small café. Y/N kept her back to them, eyes darting nervously between the drinks she was making and her coworker who, to her dismay, was too busy cashing out a group of customers to help.

Her heart was pounding now. She knew she’d have to hand the drinks to Beomgyu and Taehyun. There was no way around it. She couldn’t just hide forever. But she didn’t want them to look at her, not now.

Her hands trembled slightly as she prepared their drinks, praying they wouldn’t catch her eye. Her movements felt clumsy, each step taking longer than it should. As she finished the drinks, Y/N glanced at the counter, barely managing a quick, panicked glance at the pair. She kept her face turned away, her back still facing them.

Beomgyu and Taehyun were deep in conversation, and Y/N took the opportunity to push the drinks toward them as quickly as she could. But she wasn’t quick enough. As she glanced up, she found Beomgyu’s gaze meeting hers.

Beomgyu’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then his gaze dropped to her name tag. He smiled, a little surprised, before meeting her eyes again.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his tone casual but warm. “Y/N, right?” He glanced at her name tag again, as if confirming what he’d just read. "I didn’t realize you worked here."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. His smile was friendly, but the direct attention still sent a wave of heat to her cheeks. She nodded, her throat tightening, not sure what to say next.

Taehyun, noticing the moment, raised a brow as he looked between them, but said nothing, content to let Beomgyu lead the conversation.

Beomgyu waited for her to respond, his smile still in place, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Y/N’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she tried to recall what Jiwon had told her to do. Smile! That’s what she said, right? she thought, panicking slightly.

Forcing her lips into the smallest smile she could manage, Y/N quickly nodded in Beomgyu’s direction. It felt stiff and unnatural like her face wasn’t cooperating with the nerves flooding her body. She immediately looked down at the counter, hoping her awkwardness wouldn’t be too obvious.

Beomgyu, however, seemed to notice her discomfort. His smile softened, and he looked at her with a trace of curiosity, not at all bothered by her nervousness. He turned to Taehyun but lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze still on her.

“Our drinks look great,” Beomgyu commented, taking both cups and passing one to Taehyun. He looked back at Y/N, offering a quiet, “Thank you,” before turning to head toward a table with his friend.

As Y/N went back to the counter, she tried to focus on preparing the next drink, but her thoughts kept circling back to Beomgyu. Was that it? Was that all? Maybe he didn’t really want to talk to her, or perhaps he had only been polite because he noticed how awkward she was. She hadn't said a word, so it made sense that Beomgyu might’ve thought she wasn’t interested in talking.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she made the next drink, her mind racing. She hadn’t realized that Beomgyu had actually been trying to be kind to her, his smile soft, his words gentle, trying to make her feel at ease without pushing her. But to Y/N, it had felt like she’d somehow missed something important. The small part of her that had hoped for something more—maybe even just a longer conversation—started to feel foolish.

With a quiet sigh, she focused back on the task at hand. She had to remind herself that it was just a casual exchange, just like any other day at work. Nothing more to it. But the nervous fluttering in her chest didn’t go away, and as she handed off the next drinks to her coworker, she couldn’t help but steal a glance toward the table where Beomgyu and Taehyun had sat down. And then, just as quickly, she froze.

Beomgyu was staring at her.

No, wait—maybe it wasn’t me he was staring at, there’s a ton of people here, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced away, feeling a flush creep up her neck and cheeks. She couldn’t be sure, but it definitely felt like eyes were on her. She tried to shake off the feeling and focus back on her work, but the nervous flutter in her chest wouldn’t go away.

Her shift passed in a blur after that, the lingering buzz of unease settling in her stomach. By the time she stepped out of the café, the evening air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still clinging to her face. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, letting the familiar rhythm of her walk to her car settle her thoughts.

By the time Y/N got home, the weight of the day pressed down on her—not from exhaustion, but from a restless energy that refused to settle. She slipped off her shoes at the door and made her way upstairs, the familiar quiet of her room wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

After setting her bag down, she collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind replayed the moment in the café.

He was staring at me… right?

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to customers looking her way—it came with the job—but this was different. This was Beomgyu. And the way her heart had reacted to him, the way her breath had caught in her throat, made it impossible to ignore.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a notebook from her nightstand. Instead of writing, she flipped to a fresh page, letting her pen glide across the paper in small, aimless doodles—a pair of mismatched socks, a tiny bear with round ears and stubby paws sitting beside a cup of coffee, and a star with a sleepy face.

Drawing always helped settle her nerves, but tonight, her thoughts kept drifting. To the way Beomgyu had said hi. The way he had left so casually, as if the whole moment had meant nothing.

Maybe it was nothing.

She tapped the pen against her lip, staring at the page. Then, without thinking, she sketched the messy outline of a person—shaggy hair, a hoodie, a slight tilt of the head.

Y/N blinked.

She closed the notebook a moment later, pressing her palms against the cover as though trying to erase the drawing.

Nope. Not thinking about this.

Grabbing her blanket, she curled up into a cocoon, burying her face into the fabric. Tomorrow, she’d forget about it. Beomgyu was just another customer.

She just wished her heart would believe it.

The quiet of her room settled in, the gentle hum of the outside world barely making it through the thin walls. For a few moments, it felt like the perfect escape. The world outside her room could wait.

But then, she heard the creak of the floorboard outside her door—heavy footsteps that didn’t belong to her dad.

Y/N’s chest tightened.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. "Y/N," came the voice from the other side.

Her stepmom didn’t wait for an answer before pushing the door open.

"Don’t you think it’s time you stop with all this silent treatment?" She asked, her voice tight with the familiar frustration that seemed to follow Y/N like a shadow. "This whole ‘I’m too quiet to speak to anyone’ routine is getting old."

Y/N didn’t respond, her face still buried in the blanket. She knew what was coming, but she couldn’t bring herself to face it right now.

Her stepmom took a step further into the room, arms crossed over her chest. "You could’ve said something at breakfast this morning, but instead, you just sat there, barely even looking at me. I’m trying, but I’m getting tired of it."

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Not right now.

In her mind, Y/N silently disagreed. Her stepmom wasn’t trying at all. She never had. Not when Y/N was a child, when her silence was met with anger and frustration rather than understanding. Her stepmom had always used her quietness as a way to control her, to make her feel less, to force her to change in ways she wasn’t ready to. It had never been about helping; it had always been about power.

But Y/N couldn’t say any of this. Not now.

Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence again, sharp as ever. "Maybe if you actually spoke up, you wouldn’t feel so isolated all the time. You wouldn’t have to hide away in your room."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t that simple, but the words were stuck, trapped behind the knot in her throat.

Her stepmom waited for a response, but when none came, she sighed heavily. "You know, it’s not normal to shut people out like this. I’m trying to help you." The words were layered with frustration, but Y/N knew better. Her stepmom's so-called "help" had never been anything more than a way to force her into compliance.

Y/N didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her. She could feel the weight of the situation press down on her, the suffocating silence stretching on between them. Her stepmom was still standing there, waiting. But Y/N wasn’t going to give in. She never did.

"Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and spoke for yourself?" Her stepmom’s voice softened, but it was the kind of soft that felt manipulative, like it was meant to break her down, make her feel guilty. "I���m just trying to help you, Y/N. But you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be."

Y/N’s chest tightened. It was always like this. The same cycle, the same words, the same push to make her speak, to make her perform for her. She was so tired of it.

The silence that followed seemed to last forever.

With a sigh, Y/N finally sat up, the blanket slipping down to her waist. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes, but she could feel her gaze on her, sharp and expectant.

The silence between them felt suffocating, pressing against Y/N’s chest, until the knot in her throat finally became too tight. She had to do something. But what?

Her stepmom’s voice broke through the silence again. "I’m not going to stand here all night, Y/N." The words dripped with frustration.

Y/N’s hands trembled beneath the blanket. She could feel the weight of her stepmom’s expectations, her anger, all of it crashing down on her. And yet, the words refused to come. The silence—her silence—was both her defense and her prison.

For a moment, Y/N almost considered speaking. Maybe, just maybe, saying something would make it stop. But she knew that wouldn’t work. It never did. Her stepmom never wanted to listen. She just wanted to force her to speak, to force her to be someone else.

The thoughts swirled in her mind, the tension in her chest growing heavier, until it felt like she might suffocate. She wanted to yell at her stepmom, to tell her that it wasn’t that simple, that she couldn’t just speak up because her body refused to cooperate. She wanted to say that she wasn’t choosing this silence, but the words never came.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions inside. She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like something was lodged in her throat, a thick, suffocating pressure that kept her from making a sound.

Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence again, sharper this time. "Why can’t you just say something? Is it really that hard?"

Y/N flinched, her entire body tensing as if the question might break her. She wanted to scream, to shout that it was hard—that she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. But her throat remained tight, her voice locked away.

"I just want you to be normal!" Her stepmom’s voice cracked with anger, her words sharp and biting, as though the pressure of everything had finally erupted.

Her stepmom waited, the air thick with expectation, but Y/N could only curl further into herself, gripping the blanket tighter, wishing she could disappear.

"Fine," her stepmom muttered, the bitterness in her voice clear now. "Keep hiding. You always do." She turned sharply and left, the door closing behind her with a finality that stung.

Y/N sat motionless, her legs pulled up to her chest, the blanket now pulled tightly around her body. The quiet in her room, which usually felt like a soft cocoon, was now suffocating. The hum of the outside world couldn’t mask the tension that still lingered in the air, thick with the weight of her stepmom’s words. It felt heavy now, the silence pressing in on her, amplifying everything she couldn’t say, everything she wished she could change.

The anger from their confrontation burned in her chest, but it was a slow, bubbling kind of anger. The kind that twisted inside her, gnawing at her with each passing second. She wanted to scream, to yell everything she’d never been able to say, but the words were stuck. Her body felt frozen, caught in this never-ending loop of failure.

Her stepmom’s voice echoed in her mind, each phrase repeating over and over like a broken record. "Why can’t you just say something?" "I want you to be normal." The words cut into her, digging deeper into the wound her stepmom had been picking at for years. And yet, despite the anger that flared up inside her, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that her stepmom was right.

She hated herself for it. Why can’t I just be normal?

The question lingered in the air, gnawing at her. She curled in on herself tighter, her nails digging into her arms. She could feel the anger rising in her chest, but it wasn’t the kind of anger that would help her break free—it was the kind that ate away at her from the inside, tearing at the pieces of her that were already fragile. The kind of anger that made her doubt herself, make her feel smaller, weaker.

She felt so broken. And for a moment, she wished she could tear herself apart and rebuild herself into someone who wasn’t so defective. Maybe if she were someone else—someone who could speak, who could just act normal—things wouldn’t be this way. Maybe her stepmom wouldn’t see her as a burden, as something to fix.

But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change. She didn’t know how to be what everyone expected her to be. And every time her stepmom spoke to her like that, it felt like the pieces of her own self-worth chipped away, leaving behind something less than what she’d been before.

Normal—that word had never felt more unattainable.

Y/N closed her eyes, but it didn’t make the feeling go away. It only made the weight of her own silence feel more suffocating. The pressure of trying to conform, to fit into a mold she didn’t belong in, was like a vise tightening around her chest. Her stepmom’s disappointment echoed in her head, filling up every empty space. Why can’t you just speak?

She didn’t know how to speak when everything inside her felt like it was locked behind a door she couldn’t open. Every attempt to break free from the silence had always led her back here, to this suffocating place where she couldn’t even breathe right.

The self-hatred was familiar now. It had been a constant companion for as long as she could remember. She hated herself for not being able to meet expectations, for not being enough in the way everyone seemed to want her to be. She hated that her stepmom was right—that she was different, that she didn’t belong, that she wasn’t normal.

Her breath hitched as the frustration built up, an unbearable knot in her throat. She wanted to shout, to make it stop, but all she could do was lie there, trapped in her own mind, fighting with herself. It always felt like this. Every time, the words would slip away, and she'd be left in this awful silence, all alone with her thoughts.

But more than anything, Y/N hated how small she felt. How her stepmom's words had a way of making her feel so insignificant, so unworthy. It was as though, by not speaking, she was failing in every way possible. The thought of her years in speech therapy stung. She'd tried. She had. But somewhere along the way, things had fallen apart. In middle school, she’d made progress. But high school? That was when it all came crashing down. She'd had no therapy, no guidance, and the silence crept back in like an old friend—unwanted, but familiar. And now, here she was, stuck with the same old weight in her chest, the same crushing inability to speak.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but it wasn’t just sadness she felt—it was anger, raw and bitter, mingling with the self-hatred that had always lingered under the surface. She wanted to scream, to yell everything she’d never been able to say. She wanted to shout at her stepmom that she wasn’t broken, that it wasn’t her fault. But the words, once again, were stuck, trapped behind the same invisible barrier.

Instead, she let herself cry, angry tears streaking down her face. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. Was it because of her stepmom? Or because of everything she could never say? The frustration built in her chest, but all she could do was let the tears fall, each one carrying the weight of her silence, of her inability to just be like everyone else.

Her fingers, trembling, found their way to the edges of her sleeve. She began rubbing the fabric between her fingers, a mindless gesture, but one that had always calmed her in moments like these. The soft, repetitive motion felt grounding, like it was the only thing in her control when everything else felt so far out of reach. She didn’t even notice she was doing it—this small act of comfort that was as much a reflex as it was a way to cope with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing over her.

As the minutes dragged on, she felt herself sinking deeper into the shame and frustration, the thoughts spiraling out of control. How many times had people thought she was rude? How many times had she been told she was unfriendly, cold, because she couldn’t speak up? She’d seen the looks, the whispers behind her back. She knew what they thought of her. A shy girl? No. They thought she was stuck-up, standoffish, even rude. They didn’t understand that it wasn’t about not wanting to talk—it was about not being able to.

Her head fell into her knees, her body shaking with the force of the tears she couldn’t hold back. If only she could just be... normal. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. And it hurt more than anything.

A few days later, the evening had fallen, and the café was quieter than usual. The last of the customers were finishing their drinks, and Y/N’s coworker had settled behind the counter, casually handling the few remaining customers. Since the café wasn’t busy, Y/N had been given the task of cleaning up—sweeping the floors and wiping down the tables. It felt like a peaceful end to her shift, one where she could quietly focus on the tasks at hand.

As Y/N moved around the café, her mind was distant, absorbed in the repetitive motion of cleaning. She didn’t notice when the door jingled open and someone walked in.

Beomgyu entered the café with a relaxed air, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. She was still focused on her task, oblivious to his presence. His gaze softened, watching her for a moment before he stepped up to the counter to place his order.

“I’ll just have an iced green tea, please,” Beomgyu said, his voice light, but loud enough for Y/N’s coworker to hear.

Y/N’s coworker nodded and got to work making the drink, his attention now split between the counter and the lingering emptiness of the café. Once the drink was handed to him, Beomgyu moved to the side, taking his usual spot by the window and casually sitting down at a table, his eyes naturally drifting back to Y/N as she moved about.

He noticed how focused she seemed, her hands gently wiping down a table. She was lost in her own world, unaware of the quiet gaze that followed her movements. For a moment, Beomgyu simply watched, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Y/N continued cleaning, unaware of his eyes on her. She moved to the next table, pausing to scrub at a stubborn spot. It wasn’t until she reached for the cleaning supplies near the counter that she noticed Beomgyu sitting at the window, looking in her direction.

Her heart skipped, and for a moment, she froze. Was he... looking at her? She quickly turned her gaze away, hoping she hadn’t been caught staring. Y/N busied herself with finishing up the last of the cleaning, trying to shake off the nerves that had suddenly crept in.

Beomgyu, however, wasn’t making things easier. Every now and then, his eyes would flick back to her, but he never made a move to interrupt her work. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his attention still lingering on her, as though waiting for the right moment to approach.

Y/N stole another quick glance at him, her stomach fluttering when she realized that yes, he was indeed looking her way. She quickly looked down at her hands, wishing for the floor to swallow her up. He wasn’t making any attempt to talk to her, but just knowing he was there, watching her, made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t sure how to handle.

She returned to the counter, hoping to stay busy so she wouldn’t have to overthink the situation. Y/N tried to keep her movements casual, even as she caught herself glancing in Beomgyu’s direction again.

Beomgyu smiled to himself as he watched her, taking another sip of his drink. He wasn’t in a rush to leave. He liked how she didn’t seem to know he was watching, giving him the chance to enjoy the quiet moment with her without pressure.

The café had grown quieter as the clock ticked closer to closing time. Y/N’s shift was nearing its end, and she was finishing up the last few tasks—restocking and collecting stray cups. Her coworker, who was managing the counter, had been keeping himself busy with a couple of remaining customers. Y/N stole a glance at the clock, noting that her shift would end soon. Her heart, however, was still racing from the nerves that had built up ever since Beomgyu had entered the café earlier.

She glanced over at his table, finding him still seated alone, but this time, his gaze seemed to be fixed on his phone. She quickly looked away, trying to ignore the feeling in her chest. It was hard not to notice the way his eyes lingered on her all night, but she kept herself busy, hoping the discomfort would fade.

After about half an hour, Y/N finally made her way toward the counter, preparing to clock out. Her coworker was chatting with a customer, so Y/N walked over to the register to grab her things, trying to keep her movements casual, trying to pretend she wasn’t aware of Beomgyu sitting just a few feet away. Eager to be away from work, she quickly untied her apron, folded it neatly, and slipped it into her bag

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and then successfully clocked out. Just as she was about to turn to leave, she felt a light tap on the counter. She looked up, startled, to find Beomgyu standing there with a soft smile.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his voice calm. “Are you about to head out?”

Y/N felt the tension in her body rise again, but she nodded.

Beomgyu’s smile softened as he looked at her. “Ah, I see. Well, I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute before you go. If that’s okay?”

Y/N froze for a moment; she hadn’t expected Beomgyu to approach her again, and part of her was still unsure of how to react. With a slow nod, she looked up at his face.

And that’s when it hit her—up close, Beomgyu was even more striking than she had realized. His eyes, warm and expressive, were just a shade lighter than she remembered, and his smile was disarming. There was something about the way the dim café lighting caught the curve of his jaw and the easy confidence he wore like a second skin.

Y/N found herself momentarily breathless, her thoughts scattering as she studied him. His features were so effortlessly handsome, she hadn’t truly noticed before, distracted by the nervousness whenever they crossed paths. Now, with him standing so close, she realized he had a presence that made it hard to look away, even for a brief moment.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Y/N quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her brief lapse in composure, but the moment of silence stretched out between them.

Y/N took a deep breath, still feeling the nervous flutter in her chest, but she could tell Beomgyu wasn’t trying to pressure her. His smile was genuine, and there was a kindness in his eyes that made her feel a little at ease.

She glanced at the clock, seeing that the café was about to close, and then back at Beomgyu. With a soft exhale, she nodded. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk, even if it was just a little.

Beomgyu’s eyes lit up, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re willing to chat. I know it’s late, but if you’re up for it, we could head to the library. It’s quiet, and I know that’s where we first met… Thought it might be a good place to continue the conversation.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t sure about leaving the café, but the idea of being somewhere familiar, like the library, felt less intimidating. She nodded again, her fingers brushing the edge of her apron nervously, but she made the decision. It was just a short walk. She could do this.

Beomgyu smiled brightly at her response. His expression a mix of relief and warmth. “Great! Let’s head over then.”

The walk to the library was quiet, the cool night air brushing against their skin as the campus felt peaceful. Most students had already headed home, and the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the path ahead. Y/N could feel her nerves easing a little as she walked beside Beomgyu, his presence somehow calming despite her earlier anxiety.

They didn’t speak much during the walk, and Y/N was thankful for the silence. It gave her time to think and process everything that had happened. She kept her gaze forward, but she could feel Beomgyu’s presence beside her, his footsteps light and steady. Every now and then, she could hear him humming softly, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous too.

When they reached the library, the door automatically slid open, and they stepped inside. The soft hush of the building immediately enveloped them, the sound of footsteps echoing in the empty hall. Beomgyu led the way, gesturing toward a table by one of the large windows.

“Here’s good,” he said with a smile. “I like this spot. It’s peaceful, and you get a nice view of the campus at night.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the quiet atmosphere. She felt the weight of the day lifting off her shoulders as she took a seat, she placed her bag in the chair next to her and then pulled out her notebook.

Beomgyu settled into the chair across from her, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “So… I guess I should start by saying thanks for meeting me. I know this might feel a little random, but I just wanted to talk with you more.”

Beomgyu shifted in his seat, the quietness between them feeling heavier than he’d expected. He wasn’t used to moments like this—he thrived in conversation, in laughter, in noise. Sitting across from someone so silent was unfamiliar, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d made things awkward.

Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu briefly before opening her notebook. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing over the cover as if steadying herself. Flipping through the pages in search of a clean spot, she tried not to feel the weight of Beomgyu’s gaze.

As she turned the pages, Beomgyu’s attention was drawn to the scattered doodles filling the margins and corners—tiny cats curled up in intricate poses, a few birds in mid-flight, and even a tiny turtle peeking out of its shell. The sketches were charming and full of personality, giving him a glimpse into a side of her he hadn’t noticed before. He couldn’t help but smile, but his smile quickly faded as realization set in.

But as she kept flipping, it dawned on him. She’s never spoken to me… Is this how she talks to people? he thought, his expression softening as understanding settled in.

It wasn’t a bad thing—it was just different. Beomgyu wasn’t used to this kind of communication, but there was something fascinating about it. Watching her write instead of hearing her speak felt quieter, more intentional, and somehow more personal.

Finally landing on a clean page, Y/N pulled out her pen. Her hands trembled slightly as she began writing, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. She’d never done this with someone like him before. What if he didn’t understand? What if he thought it was weird? Most people found her notebook strange, and she braced herself for the same reaction.

Beomgyu’s natural urge to fill the silence started to creep in, but he resisted it, allowing the quiet to settle around them. It dawned on him that this was how she communicated—on her terms.

When she finished writing, she slid the notebook toward him, her stomach twisting in knots.

Why did you want to talk to me?

Beomgyu blinked, surprised at the bluntness of her question. He glanced up at her and smiled. For someone so reserved, she didn’t shy away from being direct when she wrote.

“Well… I guess I just wanted to get to know you better,” he said, his tone soft but honest. “You’re quiet, but there’s something about you that makes me curious. Like, I feel like there’s more to you than what people might see, and I wanted to figure out what that is.”

Y/N listened carefully, her hands hovering above the notebook as she processed his words. The knot in her stomach loosened slightly, though the nervous energy still buzzed beneath the surface, Beomgyu’s answer caught her off guard.

When she glanced up and saw the way Beomgyu’s gaze softened—more curious than anything—her heart fluttered, though this time, for an entirely different reason. She wasn’t used to someone looking at her like that—without judgment or pity, but with genuine interest.

Her pen hovered for a moment before she wrote again.

I’m not good at talking to people.

Beomgyu leaned closer to read her note, his smile growing softer. “I kind of figured,” he said with a small chuckle. “But honestly? That’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you’re not comfortable. This is different, but I don’t mind it. Actually…” He paused, his eyes catching on her doodles again. “I think it’s kind of cool.” Y/N blinked at his response, her heart skipping because of the unexpected compliment. Her fingers fiddled with the pen as she wrote again.

You’re really nice.

Beomgyu read her note, his grin widening. “I try,” he teased gently. “But seriously, I like this. I like talking to you—however you want to do it.”

For the first time, Y/N felt the tension in her shoulders easing. Beomgyu wasn’t just tolerating her way of communicating—he genuinely appreciated it.

They continued their conversation, the flow of words becoming more natural between them. Y/N shared her passion for animals, her dream of becoming a vet tech, and how much peace she found in working with animals rather than people. Beomgyu, in turn, talked about his love for music, his journey in learning audio engineering, and his deep admiration for the creative process.

Beomgyu wasn’t just being patient with her—he genuinely seemed to enjoy this, treating their exchange like any other conversation.

She tapped her pen against the page before writing. What’s something really dumb that makes you happy?

Beomgyu’s face lit up as he read her question. “Oh, that’s easy,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “When I do laundry and actually find socks that match. It feels like a miracle every time.”

Y/N looked at him, amused, and wrote. That’s… really specific.

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Are you saying that doesn’t make you happy? Matching socks are an underrated joy!”

She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh and scribbled. I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t call it a miracle.

He shook his head with mock disappointment. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with a sock-matching hater.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, tapping her pen before writing. I like it when my blanket and pillow are cold when I get into bed.

Beomgyu froze, his face suddenly serious. “Okay, that’s a good one. There’s nothing like that first cold spot under the blanket. But counterpoint—nothing is worse than getting out of bed when you’re nice and warm.”

Y/N sighed dramatically and wrote. Pain. True suffering.

He grinned at her response. “Right? Honestly, I’d stay in bed forever if it was socially acceptable.”

She shook her head, but her smile lingered as she underlined the word pain. The conversation wasn’t deep, but it didn’t have to be. For the first time in a long while, talking—well, writing—with someone felt easy.

After some time, Beomgyu glanced at his phone and sighed. “I should probably get going,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t realize how late it was.”

Y/N nodded, a bit reluctantly. She was glad they had spent time together, but part of her wished she didn’t have to say goodbye so soon. Still, the warmth from their conversation stayed with her, and she felt a small, content smile tugging at her lips.

Beomgyu stood up and grabbed his bag, looking at her one more time with a soft expression. “I really enjoyed talking with you.”

Y/N reached for her notebook to write something, but before she could, Beomgyu waved it off. “You don’t have to write anything. I just… wanted you to know I’m happy we talked.”

Y/N smiled at him, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook before she tucked it away in her bag. 

Beomgyu looked at Y/N with a thoughtful expression, his voice softening. “Hey, do you need help getting home? It’s late, and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his concern. Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone. She shook her head gently, signaling she was okay, though her hesitation lingered. It wasn’t often that someone cared enough to ask.

Beomgyu caught the brief pause in her reaction and nodded understandingly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just wanted to make sure.”

As he adjusted the strap of his bag, a thought seemed to strike him. He hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Actually, do you mind if I get your number? You know… in case you ever need help… or want to hang out, or even just talk.”

Y/N froze for a split second, caught off guard by the request but oddly comforted. After a moment, she reached out and gently took his phone, her fingers brushing his for just an instant. The warmth of the moment made her chest tighten, but she quickly typed in her number and handed it back.

“Thanks,” Beomgyu said, his grin widening as he glanced at the screen. “I’ll text you so you have mine, too. And seriously, let me know if you ever need anything. Oh, and… make sure you get home safe, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart lighter than it had been all day. She glanced up at him as he turned to leave, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest. Just as he started to walk away, she found herself offering him a small, genuine smile—a gesture that felt monumental to her. Beomgyu paused when he caught it, his own smile softening, before he gave her a playful little wave and disappeared through the library doors.

As Y/N left the library, she hugged her bag close to her side, the notebook tucked safely inside. The cool night air nipped at her cheeks, making her quicken her steps toward the parking lot where her car waited. The campus was quiet at this hour, with only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of streetlights breaking the stillness.

Reaching her car, she unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat. The familiar quiet of the vehicle wrapped around her, a welcome reprieve after the unexpected emotional weight of the evening. She gripped the steering wheel loosely, taking a moment to sit there and reflect.

Her conversation with Beomgyu replayed in her mind. The way he smiled at her, the patience in his tone, and his genuine curiosity about her notebook—it was all so… different. Not many people had ever taken the time to truly try and understand her. But Beomgyu had, and he hadn’t made her feel strange for the way she communicated. If anything, he made her feel seen.

A small smile crept onto her lips. For once, she didn’t feel consumed by guilt or regret for how she handled things. Tonight had been a good step—one she could feel proud of. She had opened up, even just a little, and it hadn’t been as terrifying as she expected.

The thought of Beomgyu’s parting words warmed her chest. “I like talking to you—however you want to do it.” He meant it, didn’t he? It was hard to believe someone like him, so outgoing and confident, could be so patient with someone like her. And yet, he had been.

Her thoughts shifted to home, where her dad was likely waiting up for her, as he often did when she worked late or stayed out studying. She hated making him worry, but she also felt the need to take a moment for herself. Her fingers brushed against the strap of her bag, and she smiled again, this time a little wider.

Starting the car, Y/N let out a soft sigh as she pulled out of the parking lot. Tonight felt like the start of something new, something different—and for the first time, the thought didn’t completely terrify her.

The walk back to his dorm was a blur for Beomgyu, his mind still lingering on the evening. Their conversation had been so easy, yet so different from what he was used to. He had been surprised by how comfortable it felt to talk to her, even with the silence and the notebook. It made him think about her in ways he hadn’t before.

As he got back to his room, he pulled out his phone and immediately searched for: “How to help my shy friend,” “What do I do when my friend doesn’t talk,” “Social anxiety help,” “Friend doesn’t talk but I want to help.” His search was filled with questions that might seem silly to anyone else, but Beomgyu was determined to understand. He didn’t know exactly what Y/N’s situation was yet, but he could tell there was more to it than just being shy. He wanted to be the kind of friend who didn’t make things worse, the kind of person who could make her feel comfortable enough to open up without pressure.

He clicked on a few links and began reading, more focused than he had been in a while. He wasn’t sure where the research would lead him, but for the first time, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure he did things the right way.

As time went on, Beomgyu ended up sprawled out on his bed, his laptop perched precariously on his knees. The bright screen was filled with open tabs, each one boasting headlines like "Understanding Social Anxiety" and "How to Support a Shy Friend Without Overstepping." He had even clicked on a thread titled "What to Do If Someone Doesn't Talk to You," though he quickly closed it after realizing it was mostly people venting about awkward first dates.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why is this so complicated?” he muttered to himself, scrolling through yet another article that felt more clinical than helpful.

Frustrated, he grabbed his phone and opened his messages. His thumb hovered over Taehyun’s contact for a second before he typed out a text:

Beomgyu: Hypothetically, if you had a really shy friend who doesn’t talk much, how would you make them feel comfortable? Trying to do some research.

It didn’t take long for Taehyun to reply.

Taehyun: Hypothetically? Or are we talking about an actual person here? Are you asking for yourself or writing an essay?

Beomgyu rolled his eyes and quickly typed back.

Beomgyu: Just answer the question, dude Taehyun: Depends. How shy are they? Beomgyu: Like… doesn’t talk. At all. Writes instead

Taehyun: Oh. That’s… different. Is this about someone you know?

Beomgyu hesitated before replying.

Beomgyu: Yeah. I just don’t want to do or say something wrong. I feel like they’re nervous around people, and I don’t want to make it worse

Taehyun’s response took a bit longer this time.

Taehyun: Alright, here’s the deal: don’t overthink it. Just treat them the way you already are. If they’re comfortable enough to communicate with you, that means you’re doing something right Beomgyu: What if I accidentally say something that upsets them? Taehyun: Then apologize. Seriously, Beomgyu, it’s not rocket science. You don’t need to handle them like glass. Just listen and don’t push them. Let them come to you at their own pace

Beomgyu frowned at the screen, rereading the messages. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Taehyun’s advice—it was good advice—but he still felt like there was more he should be doing.

Beomgyu: I guess that makes sense… I just don’t want them to feel like I don’t care Taehyun: You’re literally researching how to be a better friend to them. If they don’t see you care, they’re blind Beomgyu: Fair. Taehyun: Wait. Hold up. This wouldn’t happen to be a girl, would it?

Beomgyu’s stomach flipped as he read the text.

Beomgyu: What does that have to do with anything? Taehyun: Everything, bro. You don’t even put this much effort into group projects. If this isn’t a crush, I’ll eat my textbooks

Beomgyu groaned, his face heating up.

Beomgyu: It’s not like that! Taehyun: Sure. Keep telling yourself that

Despite the teasing, Beomgyu felt a little better. Taehyun had a way of grounding him while still making him feel like a complete idiot, and somehow, it always worked.

Beomgyu: Thanks, I guess Taehyun: Anytime. Now go to bed before you fry your brain. Your girl deserves better than a sleep-deprived Beomgyu Beomgyu: She’s NOT—ugh. Goodnight.

Beomgyu dropped his phone onto his chest with a sigh, Taehyun’s words replaying in his mind. It wasn’t like that… was it?

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I love your blog sm, please never leave us 🙏 if it’s not a big problem, could I req headcanons or fic bout drunk!Ford and drunk!Stan x reader 👀 nsfw <3

∘˚₊· ʚ🍻ɞ ·₊˚∘ drunk!Stanley x reader headcanons

a/n: thank you for requesting this because i absolutely love this idea! so uhhhh ... i know you asked for both Ford & Stan but i kinda just got carried away with Stan lol, i love him so much. Ford's will come later i swear i just need to gather my braincells first 🥺 i also had no idea what pic to use but this one is pretty cool

nsfw

★ drunk!Stan rambles about marrying you every five minutes. and the problem is that he sounds so dead serious, even though hes glassy-eyed, he still mumbles about finding stealing a ring. he swears up and down that he’s gonna give you the biggest fucking wedding the town’s ever seen!

★ totally cries if you scold him. “babe, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to!!” he doesn’t even know what he did :( he’s just clutching your hands, looking up at you with glassy, pathetic puppy-dog eyes. “do. . . do you still love me?” :((( “i promise i wont screw up anymore”

★ i believe that Stan is a fucking loud drunk. he’s the guy who starts yelling even though he’s right next to you. “BABE. BABY. SWEETHEART. LISTEN. LISTEN TO ME. I GOTTA TELL YA SOMETHIN’ IMPORTANT“ and he immediately forgets what he was gonna say

★ clings to you like a damn koala (i headcanon that it's his habit from childhood). one arm slung around your waist, his face buried in your neck, whining about how much he loves you <3

★ “YA SEE THIS?” he shouts, absolutely hammered, slamming his drink down and pointing at you. “THIS IS THE LOVE OF MY GODDAMN LIFE, EVERYONE PAY RESPECTS.”

★ turns into the biggest, neediest, whiniest bitch the second you start petting his hair. melts into your touch, groaning like you’re giving him a full-body massage

★ “hey babe, babe, listen. listen. i could still totally pick you up. no, i ain’t that drunk. watch.“ promptly falls on his ass :)

★ drunk texts you while you’re sitting next to him. “you look so good rn wanna make outtt”

★ gets real quiet for a second, then just grabs you, full-body clings, putting his head on your shoulder and absolutely refuses to let you go. “yer real warm. like. so warm. like. god, i love you. so much. like. i would fight god for you.” rubs his face against you like a big cat. “mmm. soft. mineeee”

★ grabs your hands, starts playing with your fingers. “how are yer hands so small!!! youre adorable, lookit this. we match!!!”

★ “i would sell my fuckin’ soul to eat you out on a casino poker table.”

★ loves to lean in, blabbering “babe. babe, we should fuck.” and immediately trips over his own feet and almost faceplants. “cmon, sugar, i still got it. promise. just. gimme a sec to stop seein’ double. . .“

★ tries to be smooth, but ends up being an absolute mess. he's so clumsy and his coordination is absolute garbage. “yer s’pretty. s’gorgeous. wanna—“ hiccup “wanna do bad things to ya.”

★ he is literally groping you in public, so u have to physically drag him home, but he stops you with “no babe, let’s do it right now. what d’you mean we’re in a bar? who cares? they should be honored to watch”

★ Stan tries to take you right then and there. against the bar wall, in the backseat of the car, pressed up against a damn pool table. does not give a single fuck, if he wants you then he wants you, that's it, he's just super clingy and needy when drunk

★ grumbles like a brat if you try to move away. “noooo, no, baby, stay, c’mon, lemme touch ya, lemme hold ya.“

★ during kiss he starts crying over something stupid. i see him as a big fan of animals so im sure hed let his sappy side shown “babe, i—i saw a dog earlier—he had such a lil face—“ then immediately changes topic and sobs into your neck, mumbling about all the things he loves about you. your smile, your laugh, your warmth, the way you always put up with his bullshit

★ he is fucking humping you. rutting against you like a goddamn teenager, grinding his cock against your thigh, moaning into your mouth and whiny as fuck. “babe—babe, c’mon, need it so bad, need ya, fuck, m’hard, babe, please“

★ so needy before he even gets inside you. you grind against him once and he’s whimpering, rubbing his face into your chest, muttering, "fuck—oh, fuck, babe, i can’t, m’gonna fuckin’ die”

★ he lets you do whatever the hell you want to him. has no resistance. tell him to lie back, spread his legs, let you take care of him, he’s doing it immediately. “shit, baby, you can do whatever ya want with me” his words slur when you push him down. Stan loves when you’re in control. he loves feeling helpless with you. “sweetheart, ya got me, got me so good, god, i’m all yours”

★ he needs to kiss you constantly so he kisses you through his own moans, muffling every whimper into your mouth. his lips are swollen, but he keeps going, but if you pull away he immediately whines, pawing at you, pouting. “nuh-uh, sugar, gimme another one, one more, just one more”

★ so goddamn eager to please. he’s already sloppy with his tongue when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk. . . “gonna“ hiccups “lemme eat ya out, babe, lemme—“ he trails off, just shoving his face between your legs

★ if he tries to be cocky, he 100% fails immediately. “y’know i could make ya come in five seconds flat, right, sweetheart?” now that's a bold statement, so you decide to tease him saying “oh yeah? prove it.” as result, he fumbles his belt, gets tangled and falls off the bed

★ the moment you’re alone, he’s all over you. hands grabbing at your waist, cupping your ass, pulling you flush against him. i bet groaning like a slut every time you move. “fuuuuck, babe, y’feel so good—jesus, lemme touch ya, so good for me”

★ literally cannot stop touching you, even after he’s cum. nuzzling into your neck, lazy fingers playing with your clit, begging for second round bc he just cant get enough

★ if you're not here with him when hes drunk, he would absolutely text you smth like “babe ya up? cause m’fuckin’ hard, thinkin’ bout ya” which leads to him sending a dick pic with his thumb in the way. “ffffuck. waitt lemme try again”

★ i love showing that this silly old man doesn't know how to use his phone so here's more: ofc he'd send you “thinkin bout ya. fuck baby, wish ya were here right now.” interesting and very tempting right? you smirk, typing back. “yeah? what would you do if i was?”

Stan: gimme a sec

and you wait, you wait a long time. then your phone dings again with message “FUCK. wait. fuckin camera’s flipped” you raise an eyebrow when suddenly another ding.

stan: HOLY SHIT WAIT NO

you open the picture and it’s literally just his forehead, his fucking forehead. you laugh typing “baby what am i supposed to do with it?”

Stan: jesus fuck i was tryna be sexy. whatever. just get over here n’ sit on my fuckin face instead

it came to my mind so suddenly and i think it's cute so i wanted to write it, can be mullet!Stan or our lovely old man Stan, doesn't matter, this man is clingy and needy as fuck when drunk

so. . . imagine you have to take care of his dumb ass :)

“okay, c’mon, big guy,” you grunt, dragging Stan toward the bed, but he’s completely deadweight. arm slung over your shoulder, mumbling absolute nonsense and you groan about his weight, damn hes so big

“babe,” he slurs, grinning all dopey, cheeks flushed. “babe, yer so fuckin’ cute. cutest person in the whole damn world.”

“yeah, yeah,” you huff, trying not to laugh. “cutest person currently trying to keep your ass from collapsing on the floor.”

“hell yeah, i would collapse for you," he says seriously what makes you snort, finally managing to shove him onto the comfy soft bed. but before you can step away, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you right down with him. “nuh-uh,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck. “yer stayin’ here. m’not sleepin’ without ya.”

“Stan.”

“shhh.” he nuzzles closer, his voice already sleepy. “jus’ gimme a kiss, babe.”

you sigh, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. but apparently, that’s not enough. he tilts his head up and looks at you through half-lidded, lips parted.

“mmm. no, sweetie. real kiss.”

“Stan, you’re drunk.”

“m’not that drunk.” he smirks, dragging you down. ”c’mon, sugar. jus’ one.” how can you reject those brown puppy eyes? you kiss him, despite everything, you bring your lips to his, hoping for a light and absolutely innocent kiss, but of course, Stanley immediately turns it filthy, deepening it, groaning into your mouth, trying to pull you on top of him.

“mmm, babe, let's fu—“

“go the fuck to sleep, Stan.”

i could end it right here, but i think that both Stan and Ford, when drunk, will definitely tell you about all their kinks

so you were just trying to get him to bed, but oh no. he’s got something really, really important to tell you. and, of course, he’s whispering it all breathy against your ear. it starts off all sweet snd clingy though, hes saying things like “yer my favorite person ever. ever. fuckin’ love ya. best thing that ever happened to me. wanna keep ya forever. never lettin’ go. nope. yer mine now.” and smothers you in sloppy kisses, your cheek, your jaw, your lips and everywhere he can reach. his hands are wandering, gripping, stroking, but he’s just so damn lazy about it.

and it's not like you dont enjoy it, of course you do, so you let him touch you like that but then he whispers “baby i gotta tell u smth. y’ever think about doin’ real filthy shit?” Stan hiccups and presses his face against your neck. “cause, fuck, i got, like, so many things i wanna do to ya” he pulls back, gripping your face, staring at you all serious. “baby i wanna bend ya over every goddamn surface in this house. countertop. . . table. . . or fuck- fucking you against the wall. shit, babe—just. . . love it when you let me take ya from behind, love seeing that pretty ass bounce. f-fuck, and when ya moan my name like that makes me wanna breed ya.” OH. OH?? damn, your mouth drops open. “Stan—“

“m’serious!” he groans, dragging you onto his lap, rocking his hips up into you. “always wanna fill ya up, sugar. wanna see ya all full n’ dripping” he’s nuzzling into your neck now, biting, groaning against your skin. ”yer so soft, babe. wanna mark ya up. wanna ruin ya so bad. i love when ya pull my hair or when ya get all bratty. fuckin’ love puttin’ ya in yer place. . . or when ya get all sweet n’ beg for it, shit, babe, i’d do anything if ya begged real nice”

he’s rubbing his flushed face against your chest now, breathing heavy, a complete mess. “i love ya. yer the best thing that ever happened to me.”

you sigh, dragging a hand through his hair, smiling despite the fact that ur crazy heart is about to jump out of your chest.

“baby, you’re so drunk.”

he huffs, clinging tighter. “yeah? so what? doesn’t make it less true.”

[zahri-melitor]

Time for some Joshua Terrill propaganda. I think DC should bring him back. For chaos.

Look at this innocent baby.

He is tiny and sweet and harmless. He goes by the code name Spitfire and he used to fight supervillains with his dad back in the early 1950s.

He was born in the mid-late 1940s. He was cryogenically frozen by his own father for 40 years.

He’s just a lil hungry kid.

Who has fine enough control over his light ray powers to pop popcorn with it.

Oh and also blow you to kingdom come if you scare him. He doesn’t like monsters.

[genderqueer-frog]

I met a guy on hinge and. I really like him?? and I wasn't expecting to like him this much?? but I really do?? help

[thesmashwaffle]

-- ❤️: Favorite character?

Arven. Hands down. The last character that I've loved and resonated with on this level was Hau back in Gen 7, and it takes a lot to even come close to matching that. Like, I love how many layers there is to him as a character, because while you would've expected him to be the resident asshole (a la Gladion and Bede), he turns out to be such a sweet, gentle, and sentimental guy. He was very much going through it with all the shit he was put through, and I can relate deeply to how he thinks more with his heart than his head, how he struggles to communicate with and read other people, and how much he cares about those close to him on the inside. I love him to death, and he'll go down as one of my favorite characters in all of fiction.

-- ⭐️: Favorite Team Star member?

Honestly a pretty tough choice, since there's a good bit to like about all of them, but I think Giacomo is the most compelling to me. I think his design is kickass, I admire how chill he is, and his background as the former student council president is very compelling. (Funny how two of Arven's more well known ships are with student council presidents of some shape or form)

-- 0️⃣: Favorite DLC character?

Listen, this one was a pretty hard choice between the siblings, but I might actually have to say Carmine. Like, I really didn't like her that much at first, and that was mainly because the way she treated Kieran sometimes hit a little too close to home. The way she bad talk or embarrass him in front of the player, the only real friend he made at that point, the way she brushed off some of his feelings as "teenage angst" and just him being emotional, some other stuff... It felt like a spitting image of how my brother used to treat me up until my second semester of high school. Later on though, you can see how she genuinely concerns for her brother, and realizing how she took him for granted in some ways, she comes back around exactly how my brother did. There's definitely a good few more layers to her beyond this, but all in all, she's such a well and realistically written older sibling, and I love her for that.

-- 💥: Favorite Gym leader/Elite four?

Kofu. I love his "fun uncle" energy, and he never fails to put a big fucking grin on my face whenever he's onscreen. I want to give him a hug.

-- 📝: Opinion on each of the Zero Crew? (Arven, Penny, Nemona)

Arven - I think I already said as much as I needed to before.

Penny - She didn't click with me as much as she apparently did for a lot of other people, but I really adore her and what she stands for as a character. I love how well she connects with others like Team Star even despite her introverted nature.

Nemona - Oh boy, where do I begin with you? I've said it before, but I love how she puts her own spin on the obligatory rival trope where instead of trying to be better than the player, she trains the player up to become as strong as she truly is so she can have someone to rival her strength in battle. Even besides that, she's just such a lovable character in her own ways. I adore her enthusiasm, I think her overzealousness can be funny, and she's just the kind of character you just love to love

Also, whether you ship them or just see them as friends, I don't think her dynamic with Arven is appreciated enough. Early on, they do bicker a lot, and he does claim that they "can't get along", but you can tell that she cares about him unconditionally by the way that she shows concern for his wellbeing in her first phone call. Furthermore, Arven even considered going to Nemona for help with the titans before you came along, and actually softens up on her in Area Zero when realizing how much more there is to her as a person. They still butt heads a little in the postgame, but you can tell they're getting along better by the way Nemona implies they've been talking more when bringing up Arven's suggestion for the tournament's name. I could go on for a while longer about this, but all in all, they have better chemistry than a lot of people realize.

-- 🌲: Opinion on the Kitakami siblings?

Carmine - I think I said all that I needed to before.

Kieran - Honestly such a nicely written character. I love his character arc, and as a younger sibling who was also kinda kicked around a lot, I can relate to him in some ways myself. I do like how he's sort of this subtle antagonist though, because Kieran was more or less the catalyst for literally everything that went wrong in the DLC. He was the reason the Loyal Three got revived and antagonized Ogerpon, he created a toxic environment within the League Club, and he awoke and enraged Terapagos. Like, sure, he didn't have these evil schemes and shit like Giovanni and Ghetsis, but in terms of what he was willing to do or risk for his own fulfillment, was he any different from characters like Volo or Lusamine? It's just more understandable and forgiveable in his case because he's just a kid and wasn't nearly as far gone, since he came right back around towards the end.

-- 🫐: Opinion on the BB league members?

I can't say too much for each of them individually other than Drayton, because he's the only one they did all that much with. I do like him in particular most out of the rest for how much smarter he is than he lets on and the layers he has to his character. Crispin is my second favorite of the bunch because I like his passionate energy and love for cooking, plus his blatant crush on Lacey is adorable. Speaking of, Lacey is adorable, and I kinda wish she clicked with me the same way she seemed to with a lot of others. Amarys is... Amarys. I don't want to say I disliked her, but she just isn't interesting to me as a character in the slightest. I think her design is cool, though that's really about all I can say.

-- ⏱️: Favorite Paradox Pokemon?

Penis Dragon Miraidon. The design is so fucking cool, the type combo is one I like, and I admire how both it and Koraidon have more of an established character in the story than any other box legendaries do. The closest we had to anything like it before was Nebby.

-- 💛: Favorite Paldean Pokemon?

God, that's a tough one because there's a good few that I actually really like.

I think I'm gonna have to say the Pawmot line. I like that it actually has an evolutionary line like Pikachu does, unlike the other pikaclones, and all of the designs for it are fucking adorable. I also love how stupidly busted Pawmot is against any pokemon that isn't a ground type.

-- 📖: Favorite storyline? (Ex: Mochi mayhem, Starfall street)

The Way Home. I love how it brings all three of the game's stories into one, gives such a solid introduction to Area Zero, concludes Arven's story arc, and establishes a fellowship betwixt yourself and your three friends. It's fitting that Toby Fox had a hand in this storyline's soundtrack and motifs, because it reminds me a lot of how everything was sort of tied together towards the end of Undertale's pacifist route. (Doesn't help the final boss has glowing blue eyes)

-- 🗣️: Anything you want to say about SV?

As a game, it's certainly not perfect, but in terms of damn near everything else, this might just be one of the best things to come out of Pokemon as a whole. I wish the game had more time in the oven so its flaws could be ironed out and so some people wouldn't have as much reason to drag it through the mud.

Pokemon Scarlet and Violet is easily the biggest hyperfixation I've had in years, and I'm honest to god surprised it's stuck with me this long. Then again, this series has been a part of my life for literally as long as I can remember, so what can I say?

Pokemon Scarvio themed reblog/tag game!

-- ❤️: Favorite character?

-- ⭐️: Favorite Team Star member?

-- 0️⃣: Favorite DLC character?

-- 💥: Favorite Gym leader/Elite four?

-- 📝: Opinion on each of the Zero Crew? (Arven, Penny, Nemona)

-- 🌲: Opinion on the Kitakami siblings?

-- 🫐: Opinion on the BB league members?

-- ⏱️: Favorite Paradox Pokemon?

-- 💛: Favorite Paldean Pokemon?

-- 📖: Favorite storyline? (Ex: Mochi mayhem, Starfall street)

-- 🗣️: Anything you want to say about Scarvio? (Infodump, a rant, or just other thoughts)

Feel free to infodump alongside your answers! Anyone is allowed to reblog :3

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[gojoest]

URGES — gojo satoru

MDNI, pregnancy freak!satoru, f!reader, established relationship (married), reader is pregnant, public sex (in the train, but it’s just the tip), reader is going through hormonal changes that cause a very high sex drive + wears a dress, unprotected sex, pet names (sweetness), wc: 1.3k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

a/n: i implemented the ideas suggested by @/tapiocakisses & @/cherriel0v3r into this drabble, big thank you <3

Satoru adores every bit about your pregnancy.

Certainly, his favorite thing about it is the baby bump that had slowly started forming — all because it is the most unambiguous sign that you belong to someone.

Surely, he also likes to put his hands on your belly. He places them on top when you sit together, rubs it softly, or gently shields it with his palm as you walk down the street while his other hand firmly sits at the small of your back — after all, this is the most unambiguous sign that you belonged to him, because not just any man would walk around touching a pregnant woman like that.

Not just any man, but the father himself.

But recently, there is another aspect of your pregnancy that he had grown extremely fond of — almost addicted, in fact, to the point he thinks he won’t be able to live any other way once this “side effect” subsides.

High sex drive…

…which comes as a result of increased hormonal shifts in your body, causing an abysmal spike in your libido. Thus meaning, you keep him quite busy.

These arousal outbursts occur at random times of the day, and Satoru is always ready to deliver — even if it means making regular stops at home during work hours (a few times a day) or ending a mission in an abrupt and brutal manner (unnecessary hollow purpling curses left and right that otherwise could’ve been handled with less effort).

It is all for a good cause — he needs to take care of his pregnant wife.

Sometimes you’d wake him up in the middle of the night, pawing at his cock, sweetly and innocently asking him to fuck you.

The blood has never rushed faster to his groin before. In all honesty, those are the times he struggles with his self-restraint because you drive him absolutely nuts with a single word, and the fact that you need him this bad, so bad that you’re already wet down there between your legs — and he can smell it, so bad that you wake him up rubbing your thighs together asking for his cock because your fingers aren’t good enough to reach certain spots… messes with his head oh so terribly. If you weren’t in this fragile, pregnant state, he’d pin you down nasty and fuck the living hell out of you until you pass out.

He thinks to himself, that once the child is born the first thing he’ll do is fuck your brains out in the most obscene of positions that weren’t suitable during the pregnancy and take his pent-up frustration from holding back his stroke game out on that pretty cunt of yours. Well, until he knocks you up all over again.

…because he wants to keep you pregnant and needy for him, all the time.

Until then, he’ll fuck you tenderly. Sometimes with just the tip…

…as you so happen to be in public — in the train, on your way to visit the zoo during one of his rarely free days, when your urges just so happened to kick in. Again.

Even though, he fucked you good before leaving the house. Pretty sure his cum is still staining the inner of your panties even — the panties that are now slid to the side as you’re backed against one of the corners of the train where it’s relatively secluded, with your husband standing before you holding the hem of your dress up and high enough to access what’s underneath. His pants undone but still intact around his legs, it’s just the zipper that is down for his cock to be out and the tip prodding in your cunt.

It’s a good thing that he’s a big man and that his frame can cover the entirety of you once he is in front of you, so that people entering or leaving the wagon wouldn’t witness the obscenity beyond him. Fortunately, all they see is the huge, broad back of a tall, well-built man. And, well, a pair of smaller feet that could be spotted through his spread lower limbs, that is, if you looked down.

“Shh—“, cupping your cheek with his free hand Satoru quietly hushes you, tracing his index finger over your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, moving your hips slightly to swallow more of him inside you, and not just the tip. “I don’t want other people to hear the sweet noises you make, they’re for my ears only, okay?”

His finger moves away from your mouth, giving way for his lips to seal them instead. Because he knows that you won’t listen to him. You never do. And he really can’t make peace with the possibility of someone catching on to your voice. Not because you’d be busted fucking in broad daylight, inside of a train of all places. But because, that voice you make when his cock is inside you? It’s really just for him to hear and keep.

“Please, sweetness— just whisper your moans to me, in my ear only”, he mumbles against your lips, just barely breaking the kiss so he could beg for you to keep it down. Growing concerned on what he could possibly do if someone were to actually hear you.

“Nghh—”, you pant into him, incoherent. Easier said than done, you think but the words don’t make it out. All that is in your mind is how bad you want his cock inside you, all of it. The tip only is doing more damage than any good, teasing you further.

“Fuck me for real, ‘Toru”, you hiss at him, grabbing a chunk of his hair before dragging your nails down his undercut, then down his back, and then lower, and lower, and lower — until you reach his ass. Your hand kneading on it, sneakily luring his hips into you.

He wavers, he really does.

Beads of sweat sliding down his forehead, his bangs damp and sticking on his skin. His cheeks flushed while he breathes in heavy stutters as tremors run up and down his body, causing him to buck himself forward just a tiny bit before he stops himself. Terrified of losing his mind if he goes an inch deeper in you, because then — people would know and unfortunately see you in a state that only he is allowed to see.

His extreme possessiveness of you being the only voice of reason in him right now, no matter how contradicting the present situation is. He wants people to know that he fucks you, but he does not want them to witness it. His wish to be the only one you give yourself to is followed by the desire to be the only witness to how you do it.

“Yeah?”, he scoffs, his head falling back for a second then shifting to its previous position. Shortly after his neck cranes down and he nestles his forehead on the nook of your shoulder.

“Do you know what it costs me to stop myself from going all the way in? Do you have any idea how fucking good you feel?”, he laughs in a daze. “Pretty sure I just lost about 10 years of my life holding back, so please — please, don’t let anyone get to that sweet voice”, he pleads through a heavy breath. His voice is really desperate. Like he really is fighting for his life there, trying to keep your voice pristine to his ears only.

“There’s a café three stops away”, he continues after he peels his head away from your shoulder and looks at you through half-lidded eyes. “I can give you the rest there — can you be a good girl for me till then?”

You nod.

The zoo visit was clearly off the table now. But in a few more minutes you would be on the bathroom counter — legs spread and a cockful of your husband inside you — getting what you deserve.

[seiwas]

andie you have made me yearn for this man with a want so deeply rooted into my being 🥲😭🥲

i maxxed the tags but just wanted to add this one more thing — that he is soooo acts of service here its driving me insane. to be loved is to be known, that saying 🥲 my chest ached at the bookstore, at when he said that everything that’s his is rdr’s oh my goooood literally HOW TO GET A HE. HOW TO GET A HE i’m losing it. thank u for writing this I SWEAR

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

[suiana]

yandere! golden boy who is your loving boyfriend and... surprisingly loves listening to you talk about your interests! yes darling, talk about your games and novels and silly plushies! he loves seeing how interested you can get about things you're passionate about and it just makes him feel so warm on the inside.

you might even go as far to say he ENCOURAGES your interests. buying you plushies, taking you to exhibitions/places you want... you don't even have to ask, just one look with your eyes and he's taking out his card. yeah, it doesn't matter if you have an unhealthy attachment to that fat cat pusheen or whatever. you seem to really like it so he's buying that 400 dollar plushie for you.

on the same note... he can't help but get jealous when you're gushing over attractive fictional characters. SPECIFICALLY that ONE dude that you seem to have EVERYWHERE. on the wall, on your phone cover, lock screen, profile picture, fuck, even on your bed as a plushie! and all he gets is a meager nickname on his contact?!

"sweetie, must you... really have all these... THINGs of HIM?"

"he's my first husband, you're my second. of course i have merch of him. plus I'm not gonna just throw all these away, i spent big money on these ya know 💀"

he knows it's petty! he knows that it's just a fictional character and that he shouldn't be jealous but dude! you don't even have him in your wallet! it's that freaking guy!

so he does what evey sane boyfriend does and replaces some (not all just some!) of your merchandise with pictures of him and you. how adorable, right?

no.

"bro where is the portrait of my MAN🤬🤬🤬"

"i replaced it with a nice picture of us together darling☺️ look at how cute-"

oh. and you...you just put another photo of that guy again... oh... and you're ranting on reddit/instagram about how he's being mean... you also removed him from your close friends list... oh you... you also decided to kick him off the bed and onto the sofa... oh...

well no biggie! he has lots of patience and he will sneak in his presence into your stuff. he's determined.

"best friend I'm going to need you to cosplay as my favorite character please ☺️"

damn!

why didn't he think of that sooner? if you can't win the normal way, you should do it another way, right? he can just get you to see how much better he is and you'll eventually replace that fictional man for HIM!

...

yeah, that didn't work out as planned. now you're even more in love with that character and you're asking him to cosplay every other day. erm... at least.. your wallpaper is a picture of him cosplaying the character??? he'll take what he can get.

"lol best friend, did you see that video i sent you. it's so stupid."

"for the last time, sweetie. we're dating, call me boyfriend. and which one? I can't watch every single one of the 99+ reels you send me."

"a real best friend would watch them all..."

being with you has singlehandedly changed this man. for the worse or for the better, he doesn't know. but what he does know is that you DON'T know how to dress.

"sweetie, no. you can't just go out in a shirt and shorts! you look like adam sandler!"

"clothes are clothes 🤬"

at least he has a fun time dressing you up. you're like, his cute little rat! his very own personal dress up rat! oh how he wants to just keep you in his pocket and pick out pretty clothes for you, making you look like the cutest thing ever! sure you might take them off and just wear what you want but... at least he's got the photos and the sight of you in a pretty outfit ingrained into the folds of his brain already ☺️ and he'll take every chance he can get to put you into another pretty outfit again. that i assure you.

he... has ALSO found out that you are living on instant noodles, sandwiches, and the occasional takeout. you don't even open the curtains! how can you see in such a dark home? and why are you sleeping until midday?! dear oh dear. you really are a rat, huh?

"darling get up! it's 12 in the afternoon already!"

"i slept at 3 just let me sleep more..."

that simply won't do. he will not be allowing you to lead such a horrid lifestyle! not if he can help it! especially because... well, he's also your boss. from part 1, remember! yeah, you guys didn't break up at the end haha! you were just joking, obviously! not like you'll ever be able to break up. it's in the contract, silly.

"come on, get up. you need to have a healthy lifestyle. I've already gotten my personal chef to cook up a healthy meal for you."

"who's gonna stop me from living like this? you? 😂😂😂"

"yes, me. in our contract, remember? i will be responsible for your health from now till we die."

don't worry. he'll be by your side every step of the way. and hey, who knows? maybe you can even teach him a thing or two about gaming or something else you like! he's open to learning about the things you like.

and he won't even have to worry about you finding another REAL person to like because... well, let's just say you don't even like going out for dinner. we'll keep it at that ☺️

[jeongin-lvr]

🎼 ─┈┈ hubby heeseung ̩̩͙˚ ᩙ ⠀

husband! heeseung with the fattest crush on you literally ever. he worships the ground you walk on; he practically kneels before you, awaiting every need and command you bring to him. he’s so serious when he says he’d take every star out of the sky and give it to you as a gift if you asked. which also includes in bed when he has your face buried into the messed up, unkept bedsheets, whispering i love you’s as he kisses your g-spot with his fat cock. or when he has you in the shower, bent between your legs on his knees as water rushes down his back because you looked too pretty with soapy hair and skin. he mumbles against your clit as he does so, gurled by water but his point still comes across, “the prettiest girl... and you’re all mine, thank you...“

husband! heeseung who recites his vows as he fucks you in a mating press. its crazy but he does it every single time he has you all curled up, knees beside your head, too fucked out as buckets of his cum leaks out of you and stains the sheets. he’s telling you every promise he made on your wedding day and more. he’s reminding you it really is till death do you part. he doesn’t realize he’s doing it; it’s probably just because he gets so worked up, so full of love. every thrust into your flutterung hole is heaven, and all he can think about is how badly he loves you and how badly he wants to get you pregnant.

husband! heeseung who finds you the absolute sexiest when you’re wearing your glasses and his big t-shirt, bare legs, messy hair, rosy cheeks. it’s perfection, he can’t get enough. if he sees you like that fully expect to be completely ruined within the next hour. he fucks you with the glasses on, an dyou’re confused because he doesn’t get crazy like this when you actually dress up or put effort into your appearence, and all he has to say is, “this is the you that turns me on.“ he’ll pin your hands above your head and press your knees into your chest as he stuffs himself inside of you, loving the way the fabric of his shirt bunches at your hips. you weren’t even wearing any panties anyway, what did you expect <3

husband! heeseung who kisses your wedding bands whenever you two are having intimate, lazy sex. lifting your wrist and hand to his lips and pecking your knuckles, kissing on your shaky hands until his lips trace the cold metal, humming with a smile at the way your gaze flickers to his. its the cutest thing, immediately making you smile when you see the sparkles filling his gaze. its so obvious he loves you so much. he even promises to buy you more rings because, “you deserve it,“ and he never fails to fulfill his promise. the next day he somehow comes home from work with a new band, something new for your growing collection.

husband! heeseung who is the first to bring up kids and is very serious about wanting at least two. he’ll casually bring it up into conversations and its adorable... until he’s lifting you onto the counter and lifting your skirt because you’re ovulating and it’s, word for word, “the perfect time to get you pregnant.“ he says it sneakily, with a wink and a cunning grin. you can’t say no, especially since the idea of him being the father of your children was almost perfect. you’re both young but it doesn’t hurt to try does it? so he’s waking you up to his cock filling you up in the morning, or when you’re just watching a movie he ends up sitting you on his dick and filling you up. you have no complaints. just shaky legs and a nice, warm creampie.

husband! heeseung who finally gets you pregnant and is somehow even more obsessed with you. he’s doting on you hand and foot. every craving you get he’s finding every ingredient. every symptom you experience he’s researching diligently, telling you cures or remedies, scheduling doctors apointments to get an experts opinion. and on days when all you wanna do is be near him, feel him, feel sexy with him, he’s so perfect at being exactly what you need. he worships your body; praising you on how pretty you look full of his baby, how you’re glowing, kissing your ankles or your tits or anywhere you might feel a little unsure of.

[witherby]

what would be littlest wayne's first word be?

I was thinking of something simple or sweet, but then I got the funniest idea on the planet.

The Littlest Wayne: First Words

You were babbling a lot more lately. Your family all knew it meant you were likely going to say your first words soon, and the fighting over who got to have your attention increased tenfold. It had gotten to the point that your brothers were practically kidnapping you to monopolize your time and attention. Bruce put his foot down and ended that whole charade when it stopped being endearing and became dangerous.

("Really, Damian? Your skill in combat is not in question, it has never been in question, but you cannot bring them on patrol with you on the off-chance they happen to say their first words in the middle of the night!")

So, Bruce takes you to the Watchtower anytime he has a Justice League meeting. It pisses off all of his sons, but he's arguably bringing you to the safest spot in the galaxy. Also, he's your father. It's not kidnapping if you're kidnapping your own child. Okay, it is, it very much still is, but that's not the point.

"Okay, Mouse," he murmurs, easing you onto the floor and handing you a stuffed teddy bear. "The meeting's only an hour, then we're going back home. Dada will take you home."

(Maybe he wants to steer you towards your first word himself. Sue him, he's just a man at the end of the day.)

You take the bear, staring openly at your father. You don't see him often in the Batman suit, so he's very visually appealing at the moment. Bruce allows himself a small smile, gently pinching your cheek, then he steps out of the way when Diana arrives.

"The babyyy!" She whisper-yells, kneeling next to the playpen. "Hello, little one! It's such a treat when Batman brings you around!"

You make some soft, babbling noises. Mostly you're making raspberries. It's a fascinating sound. Diana melts and wipes some drool from your chin.

"Someone's getting close to their first words. My mother said mine was "maim." I remember that conversation fondly..."

Bruce has to remind himself that Diana grew up on an island inhabited by immortal warrior women. "Maim" is a perfectly normal first word for an immortal warrior baby.

The other Leaguers start quickly filing into the meeting room, each of them stopping cheerfully to greet you. It makes something fond bloom in Bruce's chest, and you coo and openly admire all the people with bright, primary colors all over their bodies. You're busy trying to chew on Superman's cape when a glowing, green light enters your periphery, and you drop the fabric in favor of staring at the Green Lantern.

"Oh, bring your kid to work day, huh, Spooks?" Hal actually scoops you up out of the pen and cradles you to his chest, grinning down at you. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Mmmnnn," you mutter intelligently, reaching for his mask. Every time you manage to pop it off, he just wills another one on. You think this is the most entertaining game ever.

"The kids are taking them out into the field, now," Bruce sighs. "They all want to be the one to hear their first word. Which is fine. It's adorable. I love that they love the baby. But the baby does not belong on Gotham's streets in the middle of the night, especially if guns are involved."

"Oh, yeah, that's pretty bad," Hal says, smiling at you. You pop his domino mask off again, squealing when it dissolves in your fingers and another one materializes over his face. "Uncle Hal would never do that to you, would he? No! No he wouldn't! That's very dangerous!"

"Huh...Hal!"

Everyone freezes. Bruce's jaw actually drops.

"No fucking way," Barry blurts across the room.

"Language. There's a whole baby here, Flash," Oliver says, but he's grinning like an idiot.

"Hal!" You chirp again. "Hal!"

Bruce sinks to his knees. Clark looks like he's trying not to laugh. Barry and Oliver are definitely laughing. Diana is pouting over the fact that your first word was so tame and boring. J'onn doesn't understand why your first word is so important when it just means you'll eventually learn to say more.

Hal is nearly trembling with the flood of emotions. His thing with Bruce is very new, and he's been by the Manor often enough that you obviously know him, but he really hadn't anticipated his name being...being...

"The boys are going to kill me."

"Maybe," Bruce admits, still on the floor. "...it couldn't be dada? It couldn't be uppies? Or Mouse, or any of the other words you hear ten thousand times a day? Even Alfred thought you might try his name first."

"I think we're going to need to postpone the start of the meeting," Clark declares, coughing as a way of clearing his throat and definitely not to disguise his amused huffs. "Let's push it back fifteen minutes."

"Hal!" You chirp again, delighted. You finally pulled Green Lantern's mask off and it didn't disappear. You win!

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.