#i got this from twitch but that stream's gone now

[cheers-to-you-th]

Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)

Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)

Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn

WC: 21k

Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (they’re dumb, you shouldn’t be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything

taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuic @duckieo

The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.

You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.

Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.

Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.

You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.

(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)

Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release. 

—

On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk.  It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everything—stress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.

Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant you’ve all sworn by for years. It’s not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.

Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” you tease, setting down your bag.

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Traffic.”

Minghao snorts, locking his phone. “We chose this place because it’s closer to your office so you can walk here.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “Too many people in my way.”

You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. It’s comfortable, familiar.

Then, as if on cue, Jeonghan’s eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. “So,” he starts, resting his chin on his hand, “how’s our favorite Twitch streamer?”

You groan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Jeonghan counters. “Minghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?”

Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. “Seungcheol? That Seungcheol?”

You huff, sinking into your seat. “It’s just background noise. I put it on while I work.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens at your dismissal. “Sure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmate’s?”

Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, “You know, he mentioned you a couple times.”

You blink. “What?”

Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.”

“Dense,” Minghao supplies. “That was the word he used.”

You roll your eyes at them, “I wasn’t dense or oblivious, I don’t even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasn’t my type.”

“Suuuuuure.” Jeonghan leers, “That’s why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?”

You don’t roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. “Whatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.”

Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it go—for now.

—

A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace. 

That’s why you’re almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Professor Han’s class, right? We had a study group together one time.” You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.

“Uh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. I’m surprised you remember.” Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.

“Hard to forget such a pretty face.”

His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, “Except when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.” 

Seungcheol’s smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. “Sorry, I just thought- it doesn’t matter. It was really good seeing you again though.” A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.

“I was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldn’t mind seeing your face more.” He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

—

Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you. 

It’s fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing team’s monthly performance report.

It’s fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.

It’s fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, “Have you been doing okay? You seem kind of… off and I’ve never seen this kind of work from you before.” 

You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, “Sorry Hao, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, he’s here. That was the downside of working with your best friend– you could never hide anything from him. Normally you’d take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasn’t so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be inflating his ego anymore (at least that’s the reason you tell yourself, it’s definitely not that you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you).

The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, you’re half-asleep, and then you’re full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice. 

“..am? Ma’am this is the last stop. You need to get off now.” The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head. 

Could this day get any fucking better.

You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. It’s late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, it’s only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building you’re shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys. 

Keys.

Keys.

Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but don’t remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if you’re gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complex’s glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable. 

You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Y/n?” 

You think you’re starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now you’re cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You don’t even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You don’t want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing it’ll be the same pitying glances you’ve received all day. 

The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until you’re at your door, realizing you still don’t have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you don’t even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.

“What are you doing? I’m sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.” The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state you’d been in ever since you stopped crying. 

“I- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldn’t- I mean you’re already doing so much for me and-” A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheol’s warm gaze. Fuck he shouldn’t look at you like that. 

“No offense Y/n but you look like you’re on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.” His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt. 

“Wear this- before you argue,” He cuts off your protests before they can even start, “think of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.” 

Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you Seungcheol. Really. I’m sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.” Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?” walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, “I normally wouldn’t let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think you’d pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze he’d given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.

—

The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.

Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.

As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"

You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.

"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."

You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy you’d seen in college.

"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?

He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You don’t have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I won’t judge."

You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "It’s not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, could’t call a taxi caus’ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe it’s a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."

You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it won’t happen again," you admit. "And… either way it’s not exactly something I want to bother you with."

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You weren’t a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, don’t you?"

Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, he’s right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, I’d never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"

Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, don’t let the frat guy rep fool you. I’ve always been nice."

You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. It’s cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touches—a stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.

"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"

"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."

"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what—after work, if you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."

The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did not—!"

"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "It’s okay, though. It’s a good story."

"You’d better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.

"Hmm I make no promises madam."

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheol’s warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize you’re already looking forward to the evening.

—

The day drags on slower than you’d like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.

By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.

A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheol’s offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.

"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured I’d bring the dinner to you."

You blink at him, caught off guard. "You… didn’t have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.

He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasn’t about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, I’m not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."

"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "I’m perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasn’t instant ramen or takeout?"

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because… well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because I’m too tired to argue."

"Glad we’re on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like he’s done this a million times before.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his day—about how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.

Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.

"I guess you’re hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you. 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, I’m never letting you live it down."

He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you.

"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is… not bad."

"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "You’re welcome, by the way."

The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. It’s light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize you’re smiling more than you have in days.

As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.

"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."

He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "That’s what neighbors are for, right?"

Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.

—

A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheol’s number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than you’d like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (you’re just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was. 

Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming it’s the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because you’re too tired to argue but also because, well… It's nice having him here.

He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels natural—like he’s not just filling silence but adding something to it.

When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.

"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though I’m praying for fewer disasters this time."

He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."

You snort softly. “Like what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."

"Doesn’t have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that café down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"

"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests he’s enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But there’s a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if there’s more to it than that.

"I’ll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But don’t get your hopes up, Cheol. I’m not easy to impress."

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So it’s Cheol now, huh? Don’t apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, “And here, once you’re done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.” Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.

It’s late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad way— the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didn’t leave you once when the two of you talked.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. He’s probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.

But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.

You: So how about that date?

The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.

Seungcheol: How about Saturday?

Seungcheol: I’ll plan it—just be ready by 10.

The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..

Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope you’re looking forward to seeing me

This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.

You: Saw a spider

You: Anyways where should I meet you?

His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.

Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.

—

Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire? 

It’s fine, you think, not over the top. He doesn’t know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.

Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural. 

A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.

Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.

“You-” He clears his throat, “You look really good.” His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one he’d subjected you to earlier. 

Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him. 

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“You really are hard to impress huh?” he teases. “Lucky for you I’m always happy to deliver. Ready to go?”

The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You can’t help but wonder where he’s taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesn’t budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprised– an amusement park.

“Seriously?” you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.

“What? Too childish for you princess?” he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.

The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you can’t see. 

“Pick a side.” he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.

You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.

“Good choice,” he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. “How do I look?”

You snort. “Ridiculous.”

“Come on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,” he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.

His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.

“Don’t get shy on me now, princess.” Seungcheol’s voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. “You’ve uh.. Got a little something on here.” Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. “Leave it there, I like it.”

You look away, flustered, “It might stain.”

His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, “Even better.”

A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.

“Ending with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?” you tease with a smirk. “Classic.”

He chuckles. “You’re smiling, so I think it’s worth being cheesy.”

Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the moment—simple, sweet, and perfect.

The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didn’t seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.

“Nice view,” the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes aren’t on the horizon—they’re focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. “You’ve been smiling all day,” he comments. “Do I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?”

You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. “Oh definitely the funnel cake, But you’re decent company too, I guess.”

He grins, leaning forward just slightly. “Decent? Come on, you can do better than that.”

You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. “Don’t push your luck.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. “Maybe I was,” you admit quietly.

His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. “I’m glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.”

The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheol’s eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.

You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. “Yeah. Just… you make me nervous.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.

He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. “Ditto.” he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.

And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car. 

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until you’re settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driver’s side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.

The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds. 

When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.

“So,” he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, “did I live up to your standards of being ‘decent company’?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “I guess you weren’t terrible,” you reply, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.

“Well,” you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, “thanks for today. I really needed it.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.

You glance down at the photos—the silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheek—and your chest tightens in the best way possible. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.

When you look back up, he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. “If you’re up for it… we should do this again sometime.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice soft. “I’d like that too.”

His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. “Get some rest.” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.

As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.

“Text me when you’re free,” he says, his grin now fully teasing. “Or, you know, just knock on the wall or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.

You were screwed—completely and utterly fucked—but for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind one bit.

—

Jeonghan is late again, you’d think he’d learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.

“So,” he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. “You went on a date.”

You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. “Excuse me? How do you know that?”

He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. “I was just guessing but you just confirmed it.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity. “That’s not fair—you tricked me!”

“Hardly,” he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. “You’re just too easy to read. So was it good?”

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. “What’s this about a date?”

You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, sinking into your seat. “Now it’s both of you.”

Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. “Both of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, I’m listening.”

Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. “She went on a date.”

“Stop saying it like that,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?”

You sigh, knowing you’re outnumbered. “Okay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Nice?” Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. “That’s all? Come on, you can do better than that. You haven’t been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is ‘nice’?”

“Why are you even here?” you snap, though you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through.

Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. “Was it ‘okay’ good or ‘planning another date’ good?”

“I’m betting it’s the second one.” Jeonghan said, his voice lilting. 

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “Why do I tell either of you anything?”

Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. “Because we’re your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Nothing like that, you dork.” you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. “It was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.” Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.

“Definitely planning date two,” Minghao says, deadpan.

You groan again, but the warmth of their teasing—playful and supportive—makes it impossible to be annoyed. “I hate you guys,” you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.

“And yet,” Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, “you keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!”

Minghao raises his tea to join in. “Cheers to that.”

Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. “You’re both insufferable.”

“For sure,” Minghao says with a smile, “that’s why you love us.”

—

Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.

Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I don’t wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. You’ll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess I’ll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?

The next message is an address and the words: 7pm

Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that you’re running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself that’s more than you coming home or leaving for work.

You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time you’re finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.

A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.

When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.

“Damn,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. “You look… wow.”

You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Thanks,” you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.

He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. “I… ” His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I might need to take a second to adjust.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, “Well, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens, “How could I not be speechless when you look like that?”, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking much—words feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself—confident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.

The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.

Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but there’s something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like he’s right at home here.

Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. I’ve been here more than once.” he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.

You chuckle, glancing up at him. “Take a lot of your dates here, do you?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Only one.” 

You can’t help the shy smile that spreads across your face, “Who would have known you’re secretly a softy.”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “I’m sure. I bet you’re the life of the party at places like this.”

Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy the little things.” His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. It’s a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you haven’t truly registered anything on it. “I’ll take your word for it,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, he’s hot. There’s something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. It’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.

“I have to admit,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, “I’m having a really good time.”

You laugh, but it’s not from nervousness. It’s a genuine sound. “You’ve been teasing me nonstop for days. I’d hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.”

His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. “I’ve been doing more than teasing. You just don’t realize it yet.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m glad you came, though. Really.”

The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. It’s one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you weren’t prepared for it.

Before you can respond, the drinks arrive—a crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as it’s set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.

You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. “To good company,” you repeat, your voice just as soft.

The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how he’s surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.

It’s hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You don’t want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you can’t seem to escape.

When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?” he teases. “I’ll be happy to help.”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. It’s rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, it’s effortless.

At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, he’s not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyes—god those eyes—hold a sincerity that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the room–in the whole world even.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. “So you’ve mentioned.” 

After a moment you respond again, “I am too.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.

Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low but steady.

By the time you’re at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then don’t, it’s like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.

You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, “I guess I clean up well.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips,  “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty again.”

When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, that’s how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.

Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. You’re sure you don’t look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.

Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. 

The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before you’re tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isn’t soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isn’t rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.

The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly. 

“Your room?” Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. “Same layout as your apartment.” You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.

He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.

“Be patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.” The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if he’d never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because you’re just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didn’t think he’d be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.

“Just you? Just you? God, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?” The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. “So perfect, so pretty for me.” His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.

“Fuck princess, you’re so ready for me,” he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You don’t have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water. 

When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if he’s enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than you’d ever thought a man could pull from you.

You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue. 

He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesn’t move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.

“You can give me one more, right princess?” He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.

“Please” is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot you’re seeing stars.

“There, right there fuck Cheol please–” your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When you’re coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, “You might just be my new favorite meal, princess.”

Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, “You’re looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.” You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you don’t resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. “You can take a bit more, yeah?” his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair. 

You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.

“Fuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,” his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.

“Fuck my throat,” you beg ask, “Please”

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.

His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, “Shit, condoms. Stay here, I’ll quickly get dressed and run to my–”

“Are you clean?”

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, “I got tested last month, you’re not suggesting…” His voice trails off.

Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.

“I’m on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.” You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more. 

“God, you’re perfect.” he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. “Ready?”

“Please— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force.  “Shit, you’re so tight, fuck.”

“Cheol please,” you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. You’ve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.

His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you don’t care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. “Fuck princess, you’re so perfect shit– pretty pussy made for me, huh?”

“For you,” you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. “All for you Cheol.”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheol’s hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer. 

“You’re perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and you’re sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Cheol, I’m—” 

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you baby, let go for me. I’ll take care of you,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. “Tell me where—.”

“Inside.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Fill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.

—

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth— you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you’re disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.

Seungcheol.

His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .

You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarks—none of it is present in this moment. Right now, he’s just Seungcheol.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.

“Mmm.” A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. “It’s too early.”

You laugh softly, then for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. It’s dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.

When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. You?”

His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. “We should probably get up.”

Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. “Or we could just stay like this.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. “You have things to do, and I—”

“—have to stay here and cuddle me,” he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. “Sounds like the perfect plan, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you can’t quite name. Then, just as you’re about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.

You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. “Morning.”

—

A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you haven’t seen each other since—your schedules never quite aligning—but the texts haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.

Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless you’d rather admit you can’t stop thinking about me. You: You’re so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.

You hate how much you do love it.

You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.

“Whoa—careful,” a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.

It’s Seungcheol. Of course, it’s Seungcheol. He’s standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognize—Wonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.

“Hey,” you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.

“Hey yourself,” Seungcheol says, his grin widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, I live here,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.

Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. “Cheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?”

“Right.” Seungcheol gestures toward him. “This is Wonwoo—friend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this is…” He pauses, “Her.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, ‘Her.’ Or, nice to see you again, I guess.”

You laugh, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you too. I’d remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.”

“Hardly, you’re the only thing he’s been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwan’, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.”

The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, he’s now roommates with Jeonghan, even though he’s grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, “Yeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.

“Yeah, great, glad you guys are close.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. ”Small world and such.”

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “Yeah, crazy coincidence. It’s almost like we went to the same school.�� you say sarcastically, “So, what games will you be playing today?” 

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, “Who said anything about playing games?”

You swear your heart stops at that moment.

“Oh-uh,” Think, think, think, “Well the walls don’t do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed that’s what was going on.” 

Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—like he’s connecting dots that you’d rather he didn’t.

“Sure,” Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. “Anyways, we should get going.”

You nod, stepping back toward your door. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.

Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didn’t slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at you– like he was trying to piece together a puzzle– that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

—

Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. You’re curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.

Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

You: Who says I want to play?

Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if you’re too scared to lose, I understand.

You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.

Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.

You hesitate for a moment. It’s one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You can’t be sure you won’t slip up again. But then again, you can’t let him think you’re scared.

You: Fine. What time?

Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Don’t be late.

You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no way this is a good idea, but you’re already getting up to change.

—

At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheol’s door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.

“You’re late,” he says, pouting slightly.

“It’s literally been three minutes, you big baby.”

“Three minutes too long.” He steps aside, letting you in. “Come on, the others are already here.”

His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. “She showed.”

“She did,” Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.

At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. “These are the guys. That’s Jihoon—" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. “Vernon—” the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. “Mingyu—” the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung—who you recognize from random campus events back in college—immediately brightens. “Wait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Small world, huh?”

Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

“Games,” Mingyu supplies helpfully.

“Winning,” Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wish.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

—

The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no one’s surprise, Wonwoo dominates. “You guys suck,” he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol weren’t on his tail the whole time).

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol says, waving a hand. “Let’s switch it up. How about teams?”

You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. “You ready?”

You smirk. “Let’s kick some ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

The match starts, and it’s immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.

Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, he’s already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.

—

As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoung—already a little tipsy—challenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).

You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. “Having fun?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

“High praise.” He grins, taking a sip from his glass.

Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. “What, for the whole two feet I need to walk?”

“Exactly,” he says, standing up and smirking. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, or maybe it’s the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “Goodnight, gamer boy.”

You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didn’t.

—

Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if you’re betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight you’re curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You don’t know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you don’t care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.

“You’ve always been a trouble-maker haven’t you?” you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you don’t want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.

“I really like you, you know?” he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. “We should make things official then, yeah?” You’re about to nod when the guilt you’ve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, “I- I’m sorry.” You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, “I’m really sorry Cheol.” You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.

The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, “We need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought we– I thought things were going well but– just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?”

His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.

“I know you stream.” the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, “I mean, I’ve watched you a few times– more than a few– I found you a few months before you moved in and didn’t really know what to do.” You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.

A few moments pass before he replies, “So what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we… after everything?” His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, “I— I don’t know Cheol. I’m really sorry I just- I don’t know.”

He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, “Give me some time.” Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.

Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking, if he’ll ever talk to you again. You can’t say you’d blame him if he didn’t. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough. 

“Spill, now.” He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but he’s firm in his insistence.

“Tell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out on my own’ bullshit.” And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.

“I know I’m an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?” You defend yourself, from what exactly, you aren’t sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re overthinking it.” He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.

“Just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t fix things.” His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “Trust me, I’m sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.” You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you. 

“Y/n?”

Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble you’d been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.

“What are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.” Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheol’s back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.

“Wait a second, I-” 

You’re cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. It’s unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.

“Don’t start with me Y/n,” his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, “I trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesn’t even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.” His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, “And to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You can’t even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? You’re just another attention-seeking whore.” 

His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheol’s next sentence. 

“First of all,” you clarify, “you’re the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didn’t tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I haven’t watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? I’ve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t care about you.” Hot tears stream down your face, but you don’t care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do it’ll change your mind. “I hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesn’t scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol. 

You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesn’t question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which you’re thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, “Whatever you’re going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.” 

You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” The smile accompanying your joke doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.

“You know I would never, but you also know you can’t avoid going back forever. Eventually you’ll need to go back to your apartment.” He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. “Listen Y/n, you know I love you but–”

“I know Kwan’, I know. I’m just scared. Even if I know you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to face him yet.” You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.

“Remember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-O’-clock in the morning?” You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, “I went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didn’t know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?” A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.

 “There are some things you’ll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.” 

You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting. 

You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, “Thanks Kwan.” 

You don’t need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.

Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact. 

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”

“Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.”

You groan in response but don’t bother to hide the smile on your lips.

—

Saturday morning comes faster than you’d like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghan’s guest room forever. But Seungkwan’s words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, today’s the big day, huh?"

You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug he’s already set out for you. “You act like I’m about to get married.”

“Considering the dramatics, it might as well be.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “Can you not?”

Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. “Just rip the bandaid off, Y/n. You’ll feel better once you do.”

You’re not sure about that, but you know he’s right.

By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left it—dim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you don’t quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didn’t. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.

It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.

—

You haven’t seen him since that night. You don’t expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls. 

Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. It’s almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like you’re unraveling. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you’ll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.

You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You don’t let yourself hope.

But late one night, when you’re standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear it—your name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that he’s just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.

And then nothing.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.

But you don’t wear your headphones that night.

—

The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed it—his voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.

But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.

When you finally open the door, you nearly step on something– small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.

Your scarf.

You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

The scarf you’d left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. It’s neatly folded, like he took care with it, but there’s no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.

You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilities—did he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?

You don’t know what to do with it.

So you do what you always do—you tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.

But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretend—for just a little while—that you never had lied to him in the first place.

—

The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You don’t wear it. You don’t even move it. But you don’t put it back in the closet, either.

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. It’s just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didn’t think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasn’t his, nothing more.

You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).

You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).

Everything is where it’s supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like it’s missing something).

It’s late, and you’re lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thin—thin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when he’s on the phone late at night.

But this time, there’s no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss it—your name.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, don’t let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didn’t (you ignore how you know that’s a lie).

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you don’t want to name. You go about your day like normal—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t hear him say your name. Like it didn’t send a crack through the carefully constructed distance you’ve been trying to build.

But it lingers.

You don’t mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purpose—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—but your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.

And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.

You freeze.

So does he.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well either. Like maybe he’s been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.

But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.

When he starts to turn around Seungkwan’s reminder rings in your head.

Do it scared. 

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, “Seungcheol.”

His breath catches.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “We should talk.”

Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit, so you don’t either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s silent for a moment, you aren’t used to his presence anymore.

“I meant what I said before,” you begin hesitantly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. “At first I thought it wasn’t important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured you’d rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didn’t know what to do. I-,” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—whatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d push me away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Looks like I managed to do that anyway.”

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You should’ve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I know,” you whisper. “I should’ve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn’t, and I hurt you.” You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, “Me too. For what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.” You protest. 

He flinches, shaking his head. “Not like that.” His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. “Yeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?” His jaw clenches. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustration—at himself, not at you as he looks away. “Did you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?”

You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, “I guess what I’m asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.” When he meets your gaze once more it’s as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together. 

“It was never a game, not for me at least. To me you’ve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didn’t really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when I’d watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didn’t seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.”

You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, “Back then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fi–”

You’re cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.

When you separate Seungcheol’s hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if he’s scared you’ll be gone when he opens them. “I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. “I never did.” This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered ‘I missed you’s are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheol’s lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces. 

After who-knows-how-long you’re still in Seungcheol’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You don’t know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. “Always,” you whisper. “I’ll be here as long as you still want me.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. “Always did, always will.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. “No more hiding. No more running.” you say softly.

Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like he’s holding onto something fragile. “No more running,” he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. “I don’t want to move,” he admits.

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Then don’t.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll let me stay?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “Depends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?”

Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh dramatically. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can let go just yet.”

Neither do you.

—

“You ready to lose again?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Cheol.”

It’s silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.

"Hoshi, I’m going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.

"I can’t believe we’re playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.

"You’re just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyu’s cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyu’s swears.

Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friends—by family.

"You’re about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.

Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "You’re not even playing."

But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isn’t perfect—nothing ever is—but it's real. And that's enough.

You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheol’s shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.

Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “So, when do you plan on winning?” he teases, his grin wider than before.

You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you can’t fight. “I’ll win when I’m good and ready, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.” you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, “Boyfriend, huh? You’re trying to use my weaknesses against me aren’t you?” You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, “That depends, my dear, is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Seungkwan’s complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isn’t just coming from the shared space or the game. It’s the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.

A/N: Wooo she’s finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.

[woogilicious]

offline messages ꒰ yunho ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: streamer!yunho x gn!reader. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 1039 words. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: angst + fluff. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: mild angst, emotional neglect (unintentional), feelings of being left behind, fluff at the end.

You were there before the follower goals, and fancy mic setup. Back when Yunho streamed from a wobbly IKEA desk and his only viewers were you and that one random bot that kept posting shady links.

Back then, his face would light up when he saw your name in chat.

"Yo!" he'd grin, headset slightly tilted. "You're here!"

Of course you were. You always were.

You modded his streams before he even asked. Built his discord server from scratch. Stayed up past midnight helping him troubleshoot lag while playing Valorant. You even tolerated the scream fest during Lethal Company session with San, Mingi, and Wooyoung―all chaos, max volume, all the time.

And when things took off―when Twitch clipped him into the algorithm and the chat exploded with new fans, you celebrated with him. You were proud. You really were.

But you also started feeling... invisible.

It started small. A joke you made in chat went ignored. Then another. Then another.

You chalked it up, at first. That's what growing meant―more people, more chaos. But then he stopped replying to your DMs. Took hours to answer simple messages. And one day, you noticed your mod label was gone. No explanation. No "thanks for everything." Nothing at all.

You watched one of his streams that night, lurking, your name is grey in a sea of neon usernames. Someone made a crude joke. You called it out. Yunho didn't even notice, until a stranger timed you out.

That was the last stream you watched live.

You muted the server. Turned off notifications. Closed the tab. He never reaches out. Not once.

Months passed.

One night, you're scrolling through your phone, brain on autopilot, when you see his name. Yunho is live: Unpacking + chatting. You shouldn't care. You don't.

But you click.

He's streaming Unpacking, of all things. Soft music, quiet atmosphere, just him and the sound of cardboard boxes being emptied on screen. There's no Wooyoung yelling in the background, no San whining about being scared―just Yunho. Focused. A little tired. His laugh softer tonight.

You shouldn't message him.

But your fingers move anyway, finding his name in your message app.

Are you okay?

You send it. Regret it instantly. Consider deleting it, but then―

yunho: wait yunho: wait wait wait yunho: is this real?? yunho: y/n... i thought u blocked me or smth

You stare at the screen, looking at his stream while his attention turns to his phone.

you: figured you wouldn't notice either way yunho: ... yunho: okay. i deserve that. yunho: i miss you. a lot.

You don't reply right away, and you close the Twitch app.

The next day, he sends you a message privately in discord.

yunho: can we talk?

You call. It's weird, at first. The silence between you used to be comfortable, easy. Now it's cautious. Hesitant.

But he tries.

"I don't know when I started messing it up," he says, voice quiet. "I think... I just got caught up in everything. I didn't mean to shut you out."

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "You kind of did, though."

"I know. I just... didn't want you to feel like you had to carry my stuff forever. You helped me so much and I kept thinking, maybe you deserved to just... live your life. Not babysit my stream."

You snort. "You took away my mod role without saying a word. The least you can do is tell me."

He winces. "Yeah. That was stupid."

"You think?"

He laughs. It's small, and it is obvious that he is nervous.

"Let me fix it," he says. "Please."

It's not instant. It's not perfect.

But you start showing up again. Not as a mod, but just as his friend.

He messages you in the middle of the night about weird games you'd both like. Sends you dumb voices notes of Mingi farting on call. You hop into discord during late-night gaming, and he still screams in panic when he gets chased in scary games, but now, he screams your name too.

And one night, he messages:

yunho: do you want to do a stream together soon? you: what would we even play? yunho: idc. minecraft? stardew? anything. i just want to hang out with you on stream.

You agree, and the next night, it's Minecraft night.

The stream starts slow, chill lo-fi music playing in the background. Yunho decides to do a member only stream, which means the chat is smaller, cozier. The mods keep it clean. No chaos whatsoever.

"Special guest tonight, their name is Y/N" Yunho says, grinning. "My oldest friend. Like actual old. We've known each other since middle school."

You laugh. "You're few months older than me."

Chat, on the other hand, explodes with excitement:

xXxgamerraccoon12: brooo you can see yunho smiling like an idiot fluffyhorsie: their voice sounds so soothing!! i love them already!! bananapie481: we need more cozy game with y/n!!

You two fish, farm, fight monsters, collect materials. It's easy.

Halfway through the stream, you forget the camera's even on.

"You're different when it's just us," you say quietly.

Yunho hums. "Different how?"

"Less loud, less performative. More... you."

He doesn't say anything right away, just smiling while mining some woods for their house. Then, softly. "That's because you bring out the parts of me I actually like."

Your chest tightens.

"You know I was really scared," he adds. "That you'd never message me again. That I lost you for good."

You exhale. "You almost did."

"I know."

Silence.

Then, your character walks over and gifts his character a flower.

It's just pixels, but Yunho makes a sound that's a little too real.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? Maybe I just like giving you flowers."

His voice is barely a whisper. "God, I missed you so much."

The stream ends with your character standing next to his inside your finish small cozy wooden house.

Chat's spamming hearts. Fan edit already being posted. People are begging for another duo stream.

Once he turns off his stream, he says, "Don't log off yet."

You stay.

His voice is warm through your headset.

"Let's play another day?"

You smile. "Sure, Yunho. I'll be here."

This time, you know he believes it.

And this time, you do too.

[quandaledlnglepink]

kaiser being an asshole and fucking ness’ cute little sister to punish him— he knows he has a soft spot for you

your writing is soooo good ily

𝜗𝜚 Hi anon! i'm so sorry i didn't get this out sooner 😭 i kinda had a writing slump like two paragraph's in and i came back to it recently and had a burst of motivation and made the most of it and finished it, thank sm for your request (it's actually my fav) <3

⸻ ミヒャエル・カイザ MICHEAL KAISER.

TW; smut (at the end), bimbo!baddie reader, kaiser being a little shit. w.c.0.7k.

and he'd be so mean and sly about it too :(

you just know him as your big brother's best friend. you didn't see him often, but sometimes he comes round to hang out. your sharing an apartment with your brother, his soccer salary enough for the rent and to spoil you twice over. you're a shy girl, so you tend to stay in your room for the most part when ness has his friends around. although, you would notice when ness had gotten into an argument, and you learned to stay out of his way when they occurred.

you could tell ness was pissed at kaiser for something over the phone, before he had gone out for the night with his other teammates. when the door opens at almost midnight on the dot, you think he's finally back. but when you're met with choppy blonde hair and electric cobalt eyes that seem to gaze at you more like prey than a human being, you shrink back a bit.

you're polite, it's not like kaiser hasn't crashed here before. but it's different without your brother here to entertain him. plus he looks irritated.

you retreat to your room, hoping to stay out of his way. but then he's knocking a handful of times on your door, (only the first time, the times after that he's just barging in) first its getting some of ness's clothes for him to wear, and then he needs fresh towels for his shower, then its–

oh, and now he's watching gilmore girls with you in your room. when was the michael kaiser interested in girl drama or gossip of any kind? oh, and he's in your bed, deeply comfortable and tucked in as if its his, he stands out between your fluffy pink duvet and stacked plushies with his thick biceps and his buff chest hidden by under his tank top–

anddddd he's caught you staring...wasn't like you were trying to be sneaky about it. he teases you until you're a stuttering mess and your neck and cheeks are heated enough to be their own human radiator. he makes a sly, heavily suggestive comment you don't remember, but all you remember saying is, 'alexis would never allow me to...do that...anyway...what's in it for me?'

kaiser grins, like the cat that's got the cream, before his lips brush your ear, his large hand cupping the space between where your neck and head connect, whispering something along the lines of, 'me, sweetheart. but that's what secrets are for, right?'

and that's how you're in your present position.

"you like it when i fuck you like this, hm? yeah you do."

you can barely respond with his dick so far in you you can feel it in your throat. :(

this ass up face down position has you completely fucking destroyed. your once flawless makeup smeared, fat tears streaming down your face, your false lashes lost somewhere in your fluffy sheets.

how many orgasms has he ripped from you–two, three? your to fucked out to count at this point, and your cunt clenches hard when you feel the familiar knot in your tummy. kaiser's whole form is pressed hotly against your bare back, his stray choppy hairs tickling your feverish skin. he breathlessly whispers and grunts degrading praises and sweet promises to you, ones that make your heart and clit flutter. you twitch and tremble terribly through your final orgasm, a loud whine–like cry ripping from your swollen, bitten lips. your body only able to melt into a puddle of euphoria on the mattress as you feel him pull out, his cum shooting thick, white ropes on your back.

you're kinda disappointed he didn't cum inside.

but at the end of it, the real entertainment for kaiser is when ness finally walks through the door at 01:53 AM, only to find you snuggled up in kaisers arms, knocked out, drooling on the crook of his neck as if he was your long term boyfriend. the tv's still playing an episode of gilmore girls in the background on low volume. kaiser smirks towards ness behind your head and the empty condom wrapper on the dresser is all that ness needs to know about what happened while he was gone.

well, he's definitely regretting giving kaiser the spare key.

Quandaledlnglepink © 2025

[rosielovesf1]

spilling secrets on stream | LN4

what better place to hard launch a relationship than twitch?

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none!

author's note: it's been so fun thinking up little story ideas and this is the product of one of them. fair warning that it's been forever since i've played fortnite so probably not very accurate when it comes to that 🤦‍♀️ thank youuu for reading and have a great day!!

also my requests are open if you would like to see a certain story/driver!! 🫶

“Hi guys, sorry I’m late,” Lando said, adjusting his headphones as he started the stream. There were a surprising number of people online for this Thursday afternoon, but he had posted on his story that Max would be joining him, so that could explain the popularity. Not that he would ever tell him that. 

“Max is joining now.” He stretched his arms over his head, smirking when the chat quickly noticed the sliver of skin he’d exposed in the simple motion. Oops. “Is Max with you right now? No, chat, I’m in Monaco. How’s offseason? It’s good. I’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.” 

Lando read through and answered a couple more questions until Max’s face popped up on his screen. 

“Hello hello,” Max said, waving to the camera. “How are we, chat? What are we playing?” 

After a couple minutes of debate, they decided on Fortnite. The first round was short lived- Lando got shot pretty much immediately. Now, him and Max were two of ten players remaining, but the sound of the front door opening caused him to turn his focus away from the game. 

“y/n?” Lando called out after muting himself, turning away from the screen to see if his girlfriend had just arrived home. 

“Bro, what are you doing?” Max protested, his character running circles around Lando’s still one. Two other characters spotted them over a nearby hill and started firing immediately, with Max left alone to defend them. “You muppet!” Within seconds, Lando had died, and Max didn’t have enough time to resuscitate him in the midst of defending himself. 

“My bad.” Lando turned back to the screen, laughing at Max’s distress. 

“That was entirely your fault.” Max responded, pausing to look at his phone alert from Lando. 

I think y/n just got back and she doesn’t know I’m on stream. Can you stay on until I get back? 

Even though Lando and his girlfriend were practically living together at this point, staying at each other’s homes almost every night during the offseason, they were yet to make it official in the eyes of the public. Max knew this better than everyone- often having to cover for the couple when they weren’t cautious enough- and smirked as he typed back a yes. Lando took that as a sign to communicate his exit. “Be right back, chat. Don’t be too mean to Max while I’m gone.” 

He opened and shut the door to the room behind him, padding down the soft carpet runner of the hallway. “y/n?” Her bright pink trainers were by the front door, and seeing as he could hear the shower down the hall, she must’ve just come back from a run. 

All of a sudden, music started blasting- a Doja Cat song, Lando knew from y/n's time on the aux whenever they were in the car together. 

“y/n,” Lando laughed, knocking on the bathroom door, “I’m on stream darling.” It wasn’t that he minded the noise, or that the chat would know very quickly that there was a girl in his house (he wasn’t really the Doja Cat type). If it were up to him, he would’ve posted y/n the day they had made it official, four months ago. But they’d decided to wait a bit and enjoy the privacy. 

No response still. He tried the bathroom door handle but it was locked. She must’ve not known he was coming home, Lando thought cheekily to himself. Otherwise, it would’ve been open. He gave up and retreated back to the room with his setup, shooting a quick text over to y/n that he was home. 

Lando settled back into his chair, turning the camera on. “Alright, chat, I’m back. Sorry to leave you with Max.” 

Max raised an eyebrow at the music that filtered in through Lando’s mic, choosing not to comment on it. The chat wasn’t as sly though, with every other comment questioning the source. 

“Didn’t know Lando was a Doja Cat fan. I’m not.” The ambiguous comment sparked even more questions, and Lando just shook his head jokingly as they started another game. As he died for a third time, Max cursing and threatening to find someone better to play with, the music cut and the distant sound of the shower running stopped. 

“Lando?” y/n called out, freezing as she read over his text in the hallway. Lando’s eyes widened and he quickly muted himself, sliding his headphones off. As he stood up he heard y/n's footsteps nearing the door and managed to shut the camera off just in time. 

Lando pulled open the door and the scent of coconut and hibiscus floated in. y/n looked up at him with wide eyes in sweatpants and a stolen Quadrant t-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that you were streaming.” She peeked over his shoulder and her eyes widened at the rapidly scrolling chat, the viewers going crazy about the distinctly female voice they’d overheard. Max had given up at pretending to ignore them and had shut off his camera as well, only adding to the viewers assumptions. 

He pulled her into a hug, mumbling “You smell good.” into her hair as a way of greeting. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, rocking back and forth. 

“Did they hear me?” 

“Yeah.” They shuffled over to the computer together, her almost afraid to read the chat that was still scrolling at a million miles a minute. Lando read out one comment that said “can Lando’s girlfriend fight?” and raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl next to him. 

“Heck yeah. Look at these muscles. Try me.” She bounced back and forth on her heels, hands up in a boxing stance.

Lando laughed at her, locking her in a headlock that she quickly wiggled out of. “Not fair,” she whined. “Caught me by surprise.” 

He pulled her in front of him to straighten out the locks of hair he’d mussed, and kissed her forehead before looking down at her. “What if we told them about us right now?” 

“You think?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he ran a gentle thumb over it to get her to stop. 

“I think they’re going to love you as much as I do.” She leaned into him at that statement, and he watched her eyes as she seemed to process his statement. 

“Alright,” she still looked hesitant, but brightened up as she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m already wearing the right shirt and everything.” 

“Quadrants #1 fan.” He smiled, pulling her over to the computer. They split the chair so that both of them could sit, and she draped her legs comfortably over his. He rested one hand on her thigh, using the other to restart the stream. “Ready?” 

She nodded, and all of a sudden they were back online. 

“Hi, chat.” Lando smiled, laughing as the comments started pouring in. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone. This is my girlfriend, y/n.” 

“Hi, everyone,” y/n said, sporting a smile to match her boyfriend’s. “How are you doing?” 

“Finally.” Max let out a sigh, clicking his camera back on. 

“Thanks for covering for us, Max.” The trio sat and talked for a little bit, y/n answering questions for her from the chat that Lando pointed out every once in a while. They eventually turned the game back on, y/n holding her own and often outranking Max and Lando. In the midst of waiting for a new game to load, Lando wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her side. 

“I’m so glad I get to show you off now.”

@landonorris: kiss me more 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

@y/nl/n: cat’s out of the bag 🤭

[lay-z]

Thinking about steamy shower sex with a pent up and touch starved soap after his deployment, you would have sent him countless teasing pictures and videos throughout his mission and now he is aching to get bay back by hoisting you up and pressing against the glass door of the shower cabin with your legs wrapped around his muscular and chiseled waist/hips. Could you please write something about that ? I'm definitely aching to read it with your writing style

Thank you for your ask, nonny! 🥰 Since you didn’t specify a gender, I’m going to go with female!Reader since that’s what I always do. Btw, I’d totally write for a x male!Reader if someone would request something. *hint hint* 👀 And if you can’t tell, I am a huge slut for desperate and needy men 😩 Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you’d asked for! 🩷 xoxo

MDNI, 18+ | tw: slight cnc kink; shower sex; needy/desperate!Soap; unprotected sex/creampie; premature ejaculation; not proof-read

Johnny catches you off guard while you’re taking a shower; singing and performing for an imaginary crowd like you always do when you’re in a particularly good mood.

Your eyes are squeezed shut to keep the shampoo from stinging them; the hot shower stream is pelting down on your flushed skin, steaming up the cabin and turning the glass foggy while your head it tipped back as you wash the suds from your hair, still humming a tune like a true Disney princess.

You stand no chance like this. Johnny could hear you as soon as he’d unlocked the front door to your shared flat, dropping his heavy duffel back in the entrance hallway and kicking off his boots with a soft huff. His bad knee is aching, his whole body sore like he got run over by a Humvee, but he can deal with the physical pain.

It’s the way his chest feels tight and hollow simultaneously, his rugged features set in an emotionless frown, which has him more worried as he passes by the small vintage mirror mounted above the shoe rack in the hallway. He’s practically gone non-verbal since stepping foot onto the airfield back on base. His dark stubble has grown out as much as his Mohawk, the bags under his eyes darker; his usually bright eyes now dull with fatigue, giving him a grim expression.

With his last shreds of energy, he starts peeling off his combat clothes on his way towards the bathroom, groaning under his breath as he pulls the tight compression shirt over his head, muscles screaming and aching with the effort as he lifts his arms up. His pants follow, along with his boxer briefs, and Johnny wrinkles his nose at his own body odour; the stench of sweat and blood and death lingering in every crease, caked into his pores. Steamin’ Jesus, he smells ripe…

But you’ll make it better, you always do. He can already feel your phantom touch on his bruised skin; soft palms running over his body, slicked up by nicely scented soap and warm water, and you’ll learn it all anew after weeks apart from each other. Johnny lets out a shuddering groan while his cock starts swelling and twitching, blood rushing in his veins by the sheer imagination of you touching him.

He doesn’t announce himself, can’t even crack a smile at the sight of you, when he sneaks into the bathroom. He’s not even trying to be quiet, but the way his mind is still in the field, makes him watch his steps and open the door in a way that’s silent.

When he slips into the shower cabin behind you, still so blissfully unaware of his presence, his chest expands with a deep breath, inhaling the moist and sweet air. His cock is rock hard, ruddy tip weeping against his lower stomach, coating his bushy pubes with his thick precum; thick and milky, because he hasn’t come in days and his balls are hurting as bad as the rest of his body.

Your eyes shoot open despite the suds still running down your face when you’re grabbed from behind; lungs burning with a sudden, instinctual shriek ripped from your throat, though it’s immediately muffled by a large, grubby hand clasping over your mouth while another strong arm wraps around your midriff, pinning your arms to your sides before pulling your back flush against a solid and equally naked body.

You know it’s him, your Johnny. There is no one else, beside his teammates perhaps, who could break into your flat. The feeling of his body moulding itself behind you, his hand over your mouth, lips latching onto and biting down on the curve of your shoulder while his beard irritates your warm skin – it’s all too familiar to be anyone else. Still, your heart is hammering violently against your ribcage while the lack of oxygen in your lungs is slowly making you dizzy. You slump back against Johnny and he catches you with a pleased rumble in his buff, hairy chest.

“Missed ye.” That’s all he murmurs against your ear at first, gruff and raspy like he hasn’t spoken all day, while your blood keeps rushing with adrenaline; shower stream still steadily raining down on you.

You whimper against his palm, in the far back of your throat, nostrils’ flaring with sharp intakes of breath as your body tries to calm down from the initial shock.

His arm loosens around your waist and he rubs his hand in large circles over your soft, wet stomach instead, wanting to get rid of the dirt and grime before he’d even consider touching your delicate pussy, no matter how desperate he’s feeling for you.

“Need ye, hen,” he mutters, tongue flicking your ear lobe while his hand over your mouth cups you right below your jaw next, “Need ta feel yer warm cunny squeezin’ ma cock. Fuck–! Can I?”

When you’re able to slip your arms free of his grasp, you reach for his hand on your belly, lifting it up to inspect it for any new cuts and bruises as you wash it for him while he’s already grinding his cock against your ass cheeks, his breathing becoming ragged against the nape of your neck. You can already tell in what state of mind he’s in, your poor, sweet Johnny.

And you’re not even ashamed of how slick your pussy has gotten since Johnny grabbed you, when there was a split second when your brain and body had braced themselves for–

Something dark and twisted you shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

“Missed you, too, baby,” you manage to reply when his now clean hand slips between your thighs to cup your pussy. “Take what you need. I’m all yours.”

Johnny whines, breath catching in his chest when he can already feel his balls tighten, painfully so, while his meaty fingers drag through your smooth folds, feeling your warmth and slick arousal, before he rubs your swelling clit roughly. Your flesh is soft and warm, supple under the pressure of his fingertips, unlike the cold steel and metal he’s been handling for the past weeks on his deployment.

He snarls and huffs against your shoulder when your quaking thighs squeeze his prodding hand after he slipped two fingers into your sopping hole at once, and he fingers you slowly and deeply until he feels your velvety walls loosen up around his digits, clamping down whenever he curls his fingers to nudge your sweet spot while he gropes your sudsy tits and tugs on your pretty nipples with his other hand, keeping you pressed against his body.

But his patience and need for you start to overwhelm him as his cock keeps straining and leaking against your ass, begging to be sheathed inside of your welcoming cunt with a mind of its own.

“Turn ‘round f’me,” he growls, already turning you around to him by your shoulders to finally catch a glimpse of your beautiful face and heated gaze. His cock twitches; another desperate whine is torn from his throat. “C’mere.”

He positions his feet carefully on the ceramic tiles, braces himself to support both your bodies as he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, fingers digging into skin and fat as he hoists you up and pushes you against the slippery shower wall. When your back arches away from the sudden chill of the tiles and your lips part with a breathy gasp, Johnny doesn’t hesitate to crush his lips onto yours, licking into your mouth obscenely just to feel and taste as much as he can at once.

He keeps your thighs spread wide apart and pliant for him, his own hips slotting between your legs, muscles bunching and flexing with exertion as he keeps you pinned against the wall while your arms wrap around his muscular shoulders. He’s grimacing at the burning ache in his body as he holds you, but he needs you. Fuck, he needs you so badly; panting and groaning into your mouth, brows furrowed in concentration as he grinds his flushed cock against your folds desperately.

And his eyes squeeze shut with a shuddering breath when you reach down between your bodies to grasp his thick cock and push it into your quivering hole for him.

His head drops forward with a rough moan, so loud and desperate that it resonates inside the bathroom, and his forehead rests against your collarbone as he sinks deeper into your warm, welcoming channel without any resistance. He can tell that you’re aroused for him, that you need him as much as he needs you, and it nearly makes him dizzy.

His muscles start trembling when he starts thrusting slowly and shallowly, barely able to move at all while his ass cheeks tighten and flex as your cunt flutters around his shaft, sucking him in deeper until he bottoms out. The way you moan so sweetly for him and the warm water raining down on the both of you continuously, only adds to the pleasurable sensations, forcing Johnny to relax and cave in while the tight coil in his belly teeters on snapping already.

Johnny grits his teeth and can barely speak, his words coming out a garbled mess. “Fuck–F-Fuck… ‘m gonna cum, hen. ‘m so sorry.”

He apologizes, feels terrible for disappointing you like this again, but you simply wrap your arms tighter around his neck, holding him together and breaking him apart as you whisper sweet nothing’s into his ear. His balls tighten and the pressure almost brings him to his knees, but he manages to catch himself at the last moment before he cries out and buries his face into your neck to muffle his pathetic sounds while his cock pumps his thick load into your eager pussy, coating and claiming your gummy walls with his cum.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.” Johnny keeps chanting and whining against your wet skin, mouthing along the curve of your neck while he keeps rolling his hips into you desperately, fucking himself through overstimulation and exhaustion just to try and make you feel good, too, while you hush and coo praises into his ear, carding your fingers through his hair soothingly.

[meltingmidas]

Coachella Rut

Paring: Idol!Hongjoong x Non Idol!Reader

CW: DomJoong/SubReader, Joongie is aggressive :))), pinv, unprotected sex (don’t do this plz this is not sexy!), creampie, mentions of marks and bruises, degradation, pls lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 920

Midas's Notes: So I literally started this right after watching the Coachella stream.. holy shit. Joong really did something to me and idk if I’ll ever be the same. Is there possibly a Mingi one in the works? Maybe. Uhhh this is NOT edited cause I’m too tired and this is just raw horniness so please enjoy (and excuse) this messy fic! PS also didn’t have a fuckin clue what to name it so enjoy the random title <3

🔞 Below 🔞

“Fuck Joong, slow doowwwn- ugh please!” You whimpered as he roughly pounded into your abused pussy, your legs over his shoulders, his arms beside your head. He’s been at it for nearly 2 hours now, rejecting your every single orgasm, giving you no time to rest. Your neck is littered in bruises, cheeks red from his previous slaps, eyeliner dragged down to your jaw. He’s always like this after a concert; but for some reason Coachella has him in a rut.

He’s aggressive, raw, and borderline psychotic. A wild smile plastered on his face, the shitty red dye running down his face over his eyes and around his cheeks, down to his chin and neck. He locks eyes with you as he brings his hand up to roughly hold your jaw, your cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. “You are fucking mine, got it? Your heart, your soul, your thoughts, your pretty pussy, everything. You belong to me. Yeah?”He whispers out, inches away from your face, he’s movements never faulting. You nod, and mewl out a small “Yes sir” before he gives the corner of your lips a small kiss and returning to the side of your head, giving light nips to your neck. Hongjoong looks straight out of a horror movie; and it’s fucking sexy.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by a particular hard thrust, kissing your velvety sweet spot inside you, making you sing his name like it was a prayer. “You look so fucking good underneath me. All fucked up on my cock, yeah? You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grunts out, his voice course from the previous show he put on. You nod eagerly, your nails scratching at his shoulders, bound to leave your mark all over him. “Yeaah that’s right slut. Tell me how good I am.” You moan loudly at his request, surely others would hear (not that you cared), starting to attempt to form a sentence. “Cock feels to-fuck feels too good Joong. Need you to fuck me harder. Please!”.

He chuckles deeply, heavy into your ear, soft grunts and pants leaving his lips. “You feel so fucking good, you were made for me, whore.” You scream out his name as he starts fucking you faster; harder than he’s ever gone before. You whine and whimper, begging for your release, “Please Joong- pleasepleaseplease fill me up sir, I need it so bad. Need your cum inside me so bad.” Hongjoong moans loudly in your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. He lifts up to look at you, the fully sits up, your lower half now slightly lifted up off the bed thanks to your legs still over his shoulders. He gives you a wild smirk, eyes dark and full of love and lust. His hands find the plush spot of your hips, nails digging his shape into it. You whine, tears spilling out as you keep your babbling pleas for his seed. “Fuck- such a good girl, asking so politely for my cum.” One hand moves from your hips and finds your clit, your eyes shoot open and a drawn out moan leaves your lips, a new spark shoots up your spine and your release edging closer and closer.

He grunts, his thrust growing sloppier and harder, you can feel him twitch inside you as he gets closer. “Gonna make you mine sweetheart. All mine- fuck.” He peers down at you, a smile and his signature laugh, “Cum for me, doll.” That was all you needed as you find yourself twitching, hips bucking up into his, you feel your walls convulsing around his, feeling your sweet slick run down to your ass. He moans, voice scratching as a string of “shit” leaves him, as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up. You whine, feeling so full of him and his milky cum. “So so good. Fuck you’re mine. Mine all mine..” he whispers out, more to himself, as he pushes his final spurts of cum inside you.

You look at him through your wet lashes, admiring the scene of his sweat drenching him, basking in his post sex glow. He catches your eyes, a soft smile leaving his lips as he leans down to meet yours. Hongjoong gives you a soft, gentle kiss, completely different to the ones you received earlier. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t do too much did I?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you, a mix of both your cum oozing outside of your puffy pussy. You shake your head, “No, not at all Joongie. But holy shit, I don’t think I can get up after all… that.” You laugh, and you hear him quietly joins you. “Here.” You look over to find him handing you a glass of water (that he already prepped beforehand, what a gentleman), and a towel in his hand beside you. You gladly take it, shaking as you hastily take a sip. You feel him gently lift one of your legs, softly patting and wiping you off. “I’ll start you a bath, and we can take one together. Or would you rather eat first? Which sounds good?” He quietly asks you, throwing the towel to a dirty clothes hamper and grabs your hand to give it a kiss. You giggle, “Bath, then food, please.” He nods, slowly rubbing your knuckles in his hands. “Sounds good sweetheart.” He gets up to start your bath, you sit up, sipping your water and wondering if you should get chicken or a burger.

[rosyblooom]

all u need is a platform x | ln4 smau

PAIRING: lando norris x fem love island contestant!reader SUMMARY: y/n makes a one-off comment about lando norris being her type in a confessional, and the internet rolls with it all the way to lando norris' twitch stream. A/N: just bc i love me some love island 😌

Love Island UK

Twittter

Twitch

Twitter

Instagram

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, yourfriend and 105,830 others

yourusername alright guys, public voting is open! go, go, go!! make sure to vote for the person you want off your screens, so don't vote for y/n!!! tell your friends, family, everyone! we don't wanna see our girl go home anytime soon!! thanks u guys 🥰🥰

#LoveIsland

view all 2,956 comments

username she's one of my favourite islanders🫶 stunning girl

landonorris so if we vote for her she comes OUT you say?👀

yourusername don't you dare🤣 username LMAOO LANDO U BETTER NOT SABOTAGE💀💀

username ugh she's so annoying she needs to stfu🙄 hope she goes home on friday

username he's in the likes👀 ohhh the show's just getting started I see🍿

username I've voted babes! (not y/n of course)

(liked by author)

username I'm sry but I'm gonna have to vote for my girl y/n BUT HEAR ME OUT it's bc there's a better man by the name of lando out here for her I think 😃

username sooo valid (I'm doing the same lmao) landonorris 😊 yourusername uhm- you guys😭😭

Twitter

Love Island UK

Twitter

Instagram

loveisland

liked by yourbestfriend, _jackfowler_, landonorris and 176,488 others

loveisland The public has voted, and that means goodbye to this firecracker! 🧨👋 By the looks of it, it seems Y/N might not need to do much searching for fish in the sea though... 👀

view all 3,582 comments

username ok lando pack it up, jack fowler is in the likes😩

username ugh jack is so fine🫦 username LMAO NOT TOO MUCH ON MY BBY LANDO NOW😭

landonorris 🐠

username lmaooo ENOUGH username help he's so real😭

username finally the bitch is gone

username uhm... chile anyways so

username ppl need to stop putting her up there with maura, amber and the lot cause she's absolutely nowhere close bffr. I rlly don't see the hype🙄

username she's literally the first to break 1 million followers lmao the hype is very much alive even if u don't wanna see it😌 username yeah and how many of those are lando fans hm? exactly username oooh u sound bitter babe xx

username lando and y/n better freaking date soon tho cause if I find out this was all in vain I'm literally gonna flip😭

Twitter

Instagram

thesun

liked by username, username, username and 46,037 others

tagged: landonorris, yourusername

thesun Popular ex-Love Island contestant, Y/N L/N, has arrived in the UK to a warm welcome at Heathrow Airport, where she was greeted by family, friends, and a horde of fans.

Speculation about a potential romance between her and the famous F1 driver, Lando Norris, has been rife on the internet for the past few weeks. Many believe this could be the reason for her sudden dumping from the island, as fans allegedly orchestrated her exit in hopes of pairing the two together.

view all 1,028 comments

username lando can do so much better than some trashy reality tv star 😑

username i got a pic with her!! she was such a sweetheart❤️

username im so excitedddd omg

username let's see what happens now then...😁

username 👀👀

username omg why are ppl still talking about her smh

username i voted for her so it better pay off🙏 i'm looking at u lando

username me and you both 🤝

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption 1: i'm backkk ] [ caption 2: cake bc there's 1.5 million of u guys here😭 AHHH TYSM 🫶🫶 ]

[ tagged: yourbestfriend, yourfriend + more ]

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, _jackfowler_ and 220,748 others

yourusername back in essex and straight to catching up with my lovelies xxx

view all 3,001 comments

username lando norris dating announcement when 😃

username lmaooo her bed in the villa ain't even cold yet😭😭 username real! he should've picked her up from the airport smh chivalry is so dead😞

username telling you all about lando i hope

username and the fact that it's all lando's fault that you were voted off 😋 username LOL DON'T PIN THIS ON HIM NOW

landonorris welcome back y/n!

username loool what happened to ur free shoulders 🤣🤣

username JACK FOWLER STAY TF BACK 🤺🤺🤺 we're team lando + y/n here!!!

username IKTR😌

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: don't need ur shoulders, just ur arms and car 😌 ]

[ tagged: landonorris ]

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 14,026 others

f1gossipofficial Lando Norris has been spotted once again in the company of ex-Love Island contestant Y/N L/N, marking the fourth time in the past month the pair has been seen together in London. This time, fans observed them enjoying dinner together, appearing particularly close as they laughed and had their arms around each other.

view all 382 comments

username real ones know y/n from the first ep of love island😌🫶

username I've been summoned🫡

username love island is bottom of the barrel trash smh anyone who enters that show is a dumbass

username lol okay.... anyway they look cute together🥰

username ahh u guys remember when y/n was in the villa and we'd all wait for lando's tweets during love island🥹 those were the times

username i wanted them together but now it's like when you watch a film in the cinema and then reach its end like what now?🧍‍♀️ username fanpage babe. u make a fan page trust me x

username ew keep her away from lando🤢

Twitter

Instagram

yourusername

liked by ellathomas_, landonorris, whitbrownxs and 587,442 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername thank u love island 🤭

view all 6,935 comments

username AHHH FINALLY IVE BEEN PRAYING FOR THIS🤩

username what do u wanna bet she only has 2 gcses🙄

username well that's a whole lot better than lando's 0 🤣

username @/yourusername i need ur game card RIGHT NOW cause i want mason mount 😩

yourusername all u need is a platform x username brb gonna apply for love island now🏃‍♀️💨

landonorris I think you missed a few spots baby

yourusername lol xxx username oh he's whipped lmaooo

username WHO VOTED Y/N OUT?? WE FUCKING DID ITTTT

username present🫡 username the way we had a vision and look at us now😌 we love to see it username cheers to us masterminds 🍻

whitbrownxs love you guys ❤️

yourusername ly bby xxx

1:06 ──ㅇ────────── 4:11

[brunchable]

This is Your Boyfriend Mom? [3]

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas x f!Reader.

Summary: It's Lucas' 7th Birthday and Bucky finally meets the Dad from Finance. Bucky also FINALLY got a haircut lmfao.

A/N: I will just keep posting Step-Dad Bucky content, this doesn't really have set plot, just cute and funny moments while Bucky navigates how to be a Dad.

The Night Before the Party

You were busy setting up the last of the birthday decorations when you heard the front door open. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then Lucas came sprinting into the living room, eyes wide, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Mom!” he shouted, excitement and shock mixed in his voice. “Bucky’s back, and... uh, something’s wrong with him!”

You raised an eyebrow, turning toward the door just as Bucky strolled in, a smirk playing on his lips. You froze, your hands still holding the banner you were about to hang up.

Bucky had chopped his hair. Gone were the long, unruly locks he’d been hiding behind for months, replaced by a clean, short trim that made him look—well, if you were being honest—like he’d just walked off the set of a cologne commercial. Looking absolutely handsome.

“Wow, look at you. All... polished.” You blinked, trying to suppress a grin.

Before Bucky could respond, Lucas crossed his arms, pacing around him like a tiny detective on the case. “So, Mr. Metal Mop finally decided to join the human race, huh?”

“Really, Lucas?” Bucky sighed.

“Oh yeah. You’re like a whole new person,” Lucas continued, squinting at him. “Seriously, who are you, and what have you done with the walking disaster that usually lives here?”

You let out a snort of laughter as Bucky’s jaw twitched. “It’s just a haircut, kid.”

Lucas tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he pointed dramatically at Bucky’s head. “This? This is not just a haircut. This is a ‘I’m about to show everyone I’m the coolest guy at this party’ haircut.”

“What? No, it’s not! I’m not trying to show off.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, smirking like a seasoned detective who’d just cracked the case wide open. “Oh really? ‘Cause you didn’t care about looking like a caveman until now, right before my party. Coincidence? I think not.”

“I just felt like a change, alright? This has nothing to do with the party. I’m not trying to outshine anyone.” Bucky crossed his arms, standing taller, trying to play it cool.

Lucas grinned wider. “Uh-huh. Sure. So, you just happened to get a haircut right before a big event? Not competitive at all?”

Bucky groaned, clearly trying to keep his cool. “I’m not trying to compete with anybody. I just thought I’d make things... easier for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. Easier. You know, if you wanted to look good for once, you could’ve just said so.” Lucas snorted, shaking his head.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as he quickly looked to you for backup, but you were too busy laughing to jump in.

Lucas leaned in dramatically, whispering, “You can relax, Bucky. We all know Mom doesn’t love you for your looks.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your sides as Bucky stared at Lucas, half-amused, half-offended.

“I’m not—,” Bucky started, running his hand over his hair again. “It’s just a haircut!”

“Oh, sure,” Lucas said, stepping closer, his face serious but his eyes full of mischief. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that Patrick’s gonna be here tomorrow? You’re not trying to look cooler than him? You know he works out, right?”

Bucky frowned, looking genuinely puzzled. “Patrick works out?”

Lucas shrugged. “Yup. I heard him mention it once. But hey, at least now you look like you can keep up.”

“Please. I don’t need a haircut to keep up with your Dad.” Bucky crossed his arms and scoffed.

Lucas smirked, still circling him. “Mmhmm. That’s why you’re all cleaned up—so you can make sure nobody at the party outshines you.”

You were practically doubled over at this point, tears streaming down your face from laughter.

“I’m not competing with anybody!” Bucky insisted, throwing his hands up.

“Right, because getting a ‘too cool for school’ haircut right before the party is totally not competitive.” Lucas grinned wider, seeing that he had Bucky cornered.

Bucky clenched his jaw, still trying to hold his ground. “This is a tactical haircut. Streamlined. It’s practical.”

Lucas grinned, clearly not buying it. “Oh, tactical, huh? Right. Is that what you’re gonna tell everyone tomorrow? ‘Hey, check out my tactical haircut. You like?’”

Bucky chuckles and points at Lucas, “Okay, that’s it. You’re done.”

Without warning, he lunged forward, scooping Lucas up and flipping him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Lucas squealed, laughing uncontrollably. “Bucky! Put me down!”

“Oh no,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he carried Lucas toward the couch. “You’re gonna sit here and think about your life choices.”

Lucas, still flailing and laughing, managed to gasp, “At least I didn’t need a haircut to look cool!”

Bucky plopped him down onto the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re gonna pay for this tomorrow, kid. You just wait.”

Lucas grinned up at him, still breathless from laughing. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, give me a tactical timeout?”

“Unbelievable. You’re supposed to be on my side here.” Bucky glanced at you, exasperated but unable to hide his smile.

You finally managed to calm down enough to speak. “Oh no, I’m staying out of this. Lucas is absolutely right.”

Lucas beamed with pride as he gave you a thumbs-up. “See? Mom knows what’s up.”

Bucky groaned again, dropping down onto the couch beside Lucas. “Alright, fine. Have your fun tonight. Tomorrow, though, I’m stealing all your cake.”

Lucas gasped, feigning horror. “Not the cake!”

Bucky grinned, leaning back. “Oh yeah. Tactical move.”

× × × ×

The birthday party was in full swing, with kids running around, balloons everywhere, and Lucas at the center of it all. You were watching from a distance, laughing softly as Bucky awkwardly navigated the chaos. He was holding a cupcake in one hand, clearly out of his element, but smiling nonetheless. Everything was going smoothly.

The Avengers were scattered around, trying their best to blend in. Clint was at the snack table, sampling every kind of chip he could get his hands on. Tony was in full I’ve-paid-for-everything-here mode, handing out goodie bags like they were shares in Stark Industries. Nat and Steve were casually watching the kids play, exchanging side glances, while Sam was trying (and failing) to explain some complex game rules to a group of seven-year-olds.

Everything seemed perfect.

Until he arrived.

“Uh, hey,” Bucky muttered to you, nodding toward the door. “That’s, uh… him, right?”

You turned to see Lucas’ dad, Patrick, making his way into the party, looking a bit too put-together for a kids’ birthday—pressed suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of someone who had just closed a very important deal five minutes before arriving.

“Yep. That’s Patrick,” you said, trying not to laugh at the grimace on Bucky’s face.

Patrick spotted Lucas and waved. “Hey, buddy! Happy Birthday!” He strode over confidently, handing Lucas a brightly wrapped present.

Lucas opened it, pulling out a brand-new Nintendo Switch. He looked up at his dad and gave a polite smile. “Uh, thanks, Patrick.”

Bucky, still watching from a few feet away, cocked his head. “Why’s he callin’ him Patrick?”

You shrugged, whispering, “Lucas just started calling him that on his own. I think it confuses him.”

Patrick glanced over, finally noticing you and Bucky standing there. He smiled—though it was more of a tight-lipped one—and made his way over, extending his hand to Bucky.

“Hi, I’m Patrick. Lucas’ father,” he said, with an air of someone who’s used to introductions being brief and businesslike.

Bucky hesitated for half a second, staring at Patrick’s perfectly manicured hand like it might explode. Then he awkwardly wiped his own hand on his jeans before shaking it.

“Bucky. You know, the boyfriend.”

The words hung in the air like an awkward mist. Patrick’s smile twitched. “Ah, yes. The… boyfriend. Great to meet you.”

They stood there, shaking hands for what felt like five or ten seconds too long, neither one letting go, each one’s grip tightening ever so slightly. You watched from the side, holding back a laugh as the tension built.

Finally, Patrick cleared his throat and let go. “So, uh, how’s the party going?”

Bucky shrugged. “Good. You know, kids. Loud. Messy. Chaos.”

Patrick nodded, chuckling awkwardly. “Ah, yeah. Well, you know, in finance, things are a bit more... orderly.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Finance, huh? That sounds... fun.”

Patrick straightened his posture, clearly missing the sarcasm. “Oh, it’s very rewarding. Numbers, investments... making sure the market flows smoothly.”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah, I bet. I usually just stop markets by throwing people out windows.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Patrick stared at Bucky, unsure if that was a joke or a confession.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “So, how about that gift?” you asked, trying to change the subject. “Lucas, do you like it?”

Lucas, who had wandered over to Bucky’s side, gave a polite nod. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Patrick smiled, clearly not noticing how forced Lucas’s enthusiasm was. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

As Patrick turned to talk to one of the other parents, Bucky crouched down next to Lucas and whispered, “Hey, what’s up, buddy? You don’t seem that excited.”

Lucas looked up at Bucky and sighed. “I already have a Switch. He bought me one for my 6th birthday. He just… forgot.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, glancing between Lucas and Patrick, who was fidgeting with his phone. “Ah. I see.”

Patrick, overhearing, laughed nervously. “Well, uh, you can never have too many Switches, right?”

Bucky stood up, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah. Or, you know, you could... I dunno, maybe remember what you got your kid for his birthday last year.”

Patrick blinked, clearly not sure whether Bucky was joking or not. “Well, you know, with finance and all... numbers just blur together sometimes. I have a lot on my plate.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Right. Numbers blur. Must be hard to forget when you’re counting millions.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Patrick chuckled, but it was the kind of chuckle people do when they’re uncomfortable. “Yeah, well… finance life.”

Bucky gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, but I bet remembering your kid’s birthday gifts doesn’t really blur with anything, does it?”

Patrick looked away, clearly flustered, mumbling something about "busyness" as he shifted awkwardly in his suit.

From the other side of the party, you could see Clint and Tony watching the exchange with amusement, whispering something to each other while Steve shook his head at the spectacle. Nat gave a sly smile in your direction, clearly picking up on the tension, while Sam made a “yikes” face, pretending to zip his lips as if to say, Yup, this is awkward.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, and you let out a snort of laughter, patting Bucky on the arm. “Well, Lucas, now you can... switch between your Switches?”

Lucas looked up, a confused smile on his face, while Bucky chuckled softly under his breath. Patrick, however, just stood there, looking like he wished the earth would swallow him whole.

Patrick, cleared his throat and forced a smile. “So, Bucky, what did you get Lucas for his birthday?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing at you for a second before smirking. “Oh, I didn’t go the ‘two-of-the-same-gift’ route,” he teased, earning a snicker from you.

Patrick’s forced smile faltered slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Right, but I’m sure you got him something nice.”

Bucky gave a nod, gesturing toward the corner of the room. “Got him a custom-built bow and arrow set.” He paused for effect. “You know, something a little more memorable.”

Patrick blinked, clearly caught off guard. “A… bow and arrow? For a seven-year-old?”

Bucky crossed his arms, still smirking. “Hey, I’ve got a friend who’s pretty good with those. Thought it might be a good skill to have. Besides, Lucas loved it.”

Patrick glanced over at Lucas, who was currently showing the bow set to Clint, who was eagerly demonstrating how to hold it properly. Lucas was grinning from ear to ear.

Patrick, trying to recover, chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I’m sure the Nintendo Switch will still get plenty of use.”

Bucky leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough so only Patrick could hear, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, if Lucas forgets he already has one.”

Patrick's smile tightened again as he awkwardly laughed, clearly regretting asking.

From the sidelines, you could see Tony and Sam observing the whole interaction with raised eyebrows. Tony leaned over to Sam, whispering, 

“I’m giving this five minutes before Finance Dad taps out.” 

Sam grinned, nodding in agreement.

× × × ×

The birthday cake was finally brought out, candles lit, and the room filled with the excited chatter of kids and adults alike. Lucas stood proudly at the center, his face glowing in the soft flicker of the seven candles. Everyone gathered around the table, cheering him on.

"Alright, everyone!" you called out, smiling down at Lucas. "On three! One… two… three! Make a wish, Lucas!"

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and puffed out his cheeks before blowing out all seven candles in one swift breath. The room erupted into cheers, and you bent down to kiss the top of his head.

Just as the cheers started to die down, someone in the crowd—most likely Tony—yelled out, “Time for a family picture!”

The laughter and chatter quieted as you, Lucas, and Bucky moved toward the cake, ready for the photo. But, just as Bucky stepped up beside Lucas, Patrick appeared at the other side, standing just as close.

Both Bucky and Patrick froze, their eyes locking in an awkward stand-off. Neither moved, both unsure of what the protocol was in this moment. Patrick chuckled nervously, shifting on his feet.

“So… family picture, huh?” Patrick said with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah. Family picture,” Bucky replied, his tone flat, clearly unimpressed.

The two men stood on either side of Lucas, staring at each other, neither willing to give up the spot closest to the boy. Lucas, meanwhile, was too focused on choosing the biggest slice of cake to notice the tension brewing between the two.

Clint, who had been quietly observing the whole thing from the side, leaned over to Natasha and whispered, just loud enough to be heard by others, “Looks like someone's gotta blink first.”

Natasha smirked but said nothing, her eyes fixed on the scene in front of her.

Sensing the growing awkwardness, you tried to step in. “Um, you know what, why don’t we take a couple of pictures? That way, everyone gets in,” you suggested, hoping to break the standoff.

But neither Bucky nor Patrick moved. Instead, they both shuffled even closer to Lucas, determined to be the one standing right beside him. Patrick forced a smile, trying to mask his discomfort.

“Well, I mean... I’m his dad, so...” Patrick began, his voice light but strained.

“And I’m here every day,” Bucky shot back, his voice deadpan, arms crossing as if he was daring Patrick to push further.

They stared at each other, tension hanging in the air, both waiting for the other to step back. By now, the Avengers had all noticed. From the other side of the room, Tony leaned over to Sam, his voice a stage whisper that was impossible to miss.

“Who’s taking bets? This is about to get good,” Tony said, grinning.

Sam chuckled. “Ten bucks on Bucky. He’s got that murder stare locked and loaded.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping forward before things got any more awkward. 

“Alright,” you said, laying down the final word. “Bucky, you can be in this one. Patrick, you’ll be in the next one.”

Both men blinked in surprise, caught off guard by your no-nonsense tone. Bucky gave a small, smug smile and slipped into place beside Lucas, casually throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

Patrick nodded stiffly, his smile tight and forced. “Sounds fair.”

“Great,” Tony clapped his hands dramatically, clearly reveling in the tension. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. Everyone say ‘awkward’!”

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, Bucky’s subtle triumphant grin beside Lucas, while Patrick stood to the side, looking like he was mentally calculating how soon he could make a polite exit.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

The Cat Distribution System 2/5

Summary:

When a stray kitten adopts Lando Norris, the self-proclaimed cat hater accidentally starts a soft-launch spiral with his secret girlfriend the ballerina Ariana Riverria.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, SMAU

Warning : none, just yeah the kitten will be different in some pictures

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

CHAPTER TWO :

@landonorris "does bringing a cat on a boat dangerous ?"

@landozoned: sir that is a BABY what if he falls overboard 😭

@maxfewtrell: do you even OWN a cat carrier or is it just vibes now??

@pietra: not the yachting kitten era

@charles_leclerc: cat has better balance than me respect

@catdadconfirmed: peak chaotic cat dad energy I love this journey for you

Texts messages :

Ari 💃:

HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT????

Lando 🧡:

hello to you too 🧡

Ari 💃:

DID YOU ACTUALLY BRING CHARLIE ON A FREAKING BOAT??

Lando 🧡:

he likes the breeze. he’s a sea explorer now.

Ari 💃:

HE’S A CAT NOT A VIKING. WHAT IF HE FELL IN?? WHAT IF A SEAGULL TOOK HIM??

Lando 🧡:

he had a towel nest. and snacks. and I almost bought him cat-sized sunglasses.

Ari 💃:

you're out of control. i'm changing your name in my phone to "Captain Whiskers"

Lando 🧡:

you’re just mad he likes it. he purred for an hour and fell asleep like a sailor off-duty

Ari 💃:

oh he’s yours now. emotional support kitten. you two are inseparable.

Lando 🧡:

...help?

Ari 💃:

nah. enjoy your new title: maritime meowther 🐱⚓

@landonorris "long week. swipe for serotonin."

@landozoned: so we’re just pretending the kitten is normal now?? cool cool

@maxfewtrell: how is he not suffocating in your arms bruv

@catdadconfirmed: serotonin delivered, thanks lando

@alexandralovely: lando norris and his son. i’m crying.

@arianariverria "Sunday snuggles ✨"

@pliésballet: WHERE did the orange one come from again???

@kitteninfirst: they’re siblings now and I won’t hear otherwise

@balletnation: honestly the cats are soft-launching their humans at this point

@pietra: cute cats. suspicious caption.

But nothing broke the internet quite like Ariana's story one quiet Thursday night.

It was only up for three minutes. Just long enough.

A grainy photo, snapped from the side: Ariana curled up on a grey couch, head resting on someone’s shoulder, half of her face hidden in the crook of a hoodie. A ginger kitten sleeping across both their laps. The boy’s face wasn’t visible, but his profile was unmistakable to those who knew how to look.

The post was gone by the time most people refreshed their feeds.

But not before it was screenshotted.

Twitter Thread by @balletxf1 :

[1] OKAY WAIT.

[2] That Ariana story??? The one she deleted?? I’ve done the work. Let’s investigate.

[3] Zoom and enhance. That hoodie? The McLaren one Lando wore two days ago in his Twitch stream.

[4] The kitten? Lando's one.

[5] The arm? The watch? That is Lando Norris.

[6] Not to be dramatic but I think we just got a full soft-launch slip

@f1girlies: I KNEW IT. I SAID IT IN JANUARY.

@balletinthepit: we were fed. accidentally. but fed nonetheless

@landoffline: y'all analyzing shadows like CSI and winning

@catloverxoxo: obsessed with the fact the kitten is the one exposing them

@formulapirouette: Lando and Ariana are co-parented a cat it’s canon

Text messages :

Lando 🧡:

did you mean to soft-launch us or are we just on autopilot now?

Ari 💃:

I didn’t mean to post it omg my finger slipped

Lando 🧡:

sure sure sure

Ari 💃:

I DELETED IT IN 3 MINUTES

Lando 🧡:

that was enough. they CSI'd the hoodie AND my watch

Ari 💃:

ffs. it’s the cat. he’s the problem

Lando 🧡:

you mean our son? our fluffy, chaos-bringing, matchmaking menace?

Ari 💃:

oh so now you LIKE cats suddenly?? mister "i don't trust anything with claws" is now a cat dad who brings Charlie to boat trips, gaming streams, brunch dates ??? 😹

Lando 🧡:

i plead temporary insanity caused by toe beans and purring. this is not who i was. he changed me.

Ari 💃:

i’m blaming him forever. he soft-launched us. not me

Lando 🧡:

fair. he’s grounded

Ari 💃:

grounded and cuddled. he’s on my lap right now

Lando 🧡:

traitor

Part 3

[eggielix]

Choco Sweet 🤍🍫

Just had a fun thought: Twitchstreamer!Felix, Twitchstreamer!reader, fluff, Felix fanboying over reader... love to see it.

When I say big streamer, think of Valkyrae of a Sykunno... that's how big Felix's twitch channel is. So like 1,3M followers.

Chococarmel = your streamer name :) You're still a small streamer, but have a trusty 3K following :)

HAVE FUN READING 🤍🤍

Felix groaned, leaning back in his chair as he glared at his monitor. It read in big red letters "DEFEATED". He glanced at his chat, which were all laughing at him and sending him hearts.

"That was so fucking bad," Felix complained, running a hand through his hair as he adjusted his headset. "Good game, good game, guys." he mumbled, sending a gg in the chat. "Is what I would say if my teammates weren't so bad, Yunho!" His friend spluttered through the mic, making Felix giggle.

"Bro- I got 1000 in hits... AS MERCY!" Felix threw his head back, laughing as Yunho's rage made the microphone stutter. The chat went crazy, laughing at the two and giving advice for the next game.

Phonepinapple: I mean Yunho never plays support 🙃

Lixieieieieieieieieieie: Why doesn't Yunho play dps?

"We decided to switch it up," Felix explained, glancing at the chat. "He usually plays... what was it again?"

"Hanzo."

"Yeah, and I like to play as a tank or support." Felix continued. "I'd rather play as Diva."

"Lix, wanna go do another round?" Felix saw the pop-up of another invite. Felix sighed, rolling himself closer to the desk.

"I think it's time for me to head out, yu." Felix sighed, stretching. "I've been streaming for almost five hours already,"

"Ah... that's fine! Have fun with ending the stream,"

"Thanks Yu. have fun!" Felix closed the call with Yunho, switching the overlay of his stream to chatting with chat.

Blosomdomom: No... already leaving? 🥺

Felixfangirl: BUT WE WERE HAVING SO MUCH FUN!😭

Lixieieieieieieieieieie: Lixieee....

Phonepineapple: Pleaseeeeeeeee another hour!🥹🥹🥹

"Sorry, Chat," Felix sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest, glancing at the notifications that came rushing in. "I'm tired, my concentration is gone. And I still have to eat. What shall I order?" He grabbed his phone, swaying at the relaxation music in the background. "Hm... pizza... burger... Chat, I am eating healthy!" he shouted as he saw the worried messages about his health. "Please... I go to the gym every day... almost every day- but that's beside the point!" He looked at the chat, giggling at some of the replies.

Phonepinapple: Felix! Did you see chococarmel is live? 😏

Felix felt his heart skipping a beat, his eyes widening as he stared at the sentence of one of his top supporters.

"THEY'RE LIVE?!" His phone got discared as Felix hurried to twitch, hurrying to his favourite channel. He squealed as he saw the red dot with "live now". "Chat, I'm ending the stream. We're going to raid choco. I've never had the chance to do this before, we're raiding them."

Blosomdomom: HAHAHAH! ITS A CANON EVENT FELIX!

Yunho.bestboi: Felix is in love...

Phonepinapple: Lix, your inner fanboy is shining through.

Felixfangirl: Chococarmel isn't even cute... they're ugly!

Lixieieieieieieieieieie: Yo! Be nice >:(

Phonepinapple: Don't be like that, choco is super cute :(

"Chat. Behave yourself!" Felix scolded. "Yo, felixfangirl, have some fucking decensy?! If I see you in Choco's stream and you're hating on them, you're banned."

Yunho.bestboi: Let's go Felix!

Blosomdomom: TELL THEM! TELL THEM!

Leebit.know: Yeah felixfangirl, don't be such a bvtch!

Felix shook his head, suppressing his smile as he saw everyone protecting Choco from the felixfangirl user.

"Okay chat, we're going to raid Choco, be nice to them and send them lots of love from our stream. I'll see you guys later this week, bye!" Felix send the raid to chococarmels stream, ending his stream soon and watching the reaction.

Beautiful. Felix didn’t know what else to say. He loved looking at your streams. He hadn’t subscribed yet, simply because he was usually streaming when YOU were streaming. But he was always watching the streams back. And god- everytime you appeared on the screen, his eyes lit up, looking with loving eyes at his monitor.

"I'm not sure what we'll be playing," you laughed, adjusting the Hogwarts uniform you'd put on. "I think it's going to be... maybe Hogwarts Legacy?! Duh! Got my uniform and everything and- oh?!"

Felix laughed as your eyes widened, the chat buffering as it tried keeping up, all the love and wishes from his stream going to them.

"what?" you laughed, putting a hand in front of your mouth. "Oh- my god, hello everyone." The viewer counter shot up, from 3K to 120K. "WHAT THE FUCK?! Uhm-" you waved, your eyes still trying to keep up with the chat. "Hi, I've never been here before, what do I do?" You scrolled up, hand in front of your mouth. "Where did you all come from!?" Felix giggled, kicking his feet as he smiled at your overjoyed but stunned reaction. He typed in the chat.

Sunnylix: Surprise Choco! :) Hope you have a nice stream!

Your jaw dropped, seeing Felix's comment appear in the chat.

"Oh my god- Felix? Thank you so much for the raid," You gasped. "OH my god- Hi!"

Lixieieieieieieieieieie: Felix has a crush on you!! He ended the stream because u were live! 🫣

Blossomdomom: yeah, he has like a HUGE crush on you!🤭🤭

Phonepineapple: Like biggest crush ever, he's your fanboy!🤩🤩

Leebit.know: we’re talking as in the biggest fanboy EVER🤭🤩

Felix screamed, burying his face in his hands as he saw the comments from his subscribers.

Sunnylix: CHAT DON'T DO ME LIKE THIS T.T

You laughed, throwing your head back and clapping in your hands.

"That's such a big compliment, oh my god..." you laughed. "Thanks for the raid, Felix. Really, I appreciate it so much." Felix smiled.

Sunnylix: So... you're playing Hogwarts Legacy? What house are you in?

"I'm in Slytherin!" you smiled, showing the Slytherin ropes you'd purchased for when you're playing Hogwarts Legacy. "The green suits my eyes," you joked.

Sunnylix: It definitely does!

Sweetaschoco: Choco... you're pretty in each color!

Blossomdomom: UGH- green is your color!!

You giggled again, the comments rushing in.

"But Felix, now the question is, what house are you in?"

Sunnylix: Hufflepuff! :D

Leebit.know: they match- THE BEST DUO OMG!

Phonepineapple: FELIX X CHOCO CONFIRMED!?

Lixieieieieieieieieieie: OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG IT'S HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM!

Lovely.chan: HUFFLEPUFF X SLYTHERIN- OMG IT'S A CANON EVENT!

Felix laughed at the comments, your laugh echoing through his headset.

"When are you two going to play a game together?"

Felix head snapped up, looking at the screen with wide eyes. Someone just asked whAT?! “Oh, guys, I don't think Felix has time to play games with me, he's so busy!"

Felix almost fell out of his chair with how quick he reached for his keyboard.

Sunnylix: Have you ever played it takes two?

Lixieieieieieieieieieie: SHUT UP- OMG-

Blossomdomom: IT TAKES TWO WOULD BE SO MUCH FUN!

Sweetaschoco: CHOCO DO IT!

Lovely.chan: GO PLAY IT TAKE TWO TOGETHER!

Felix sat back in his chair, fingers crossed as he awaited your reply.

"I haven't played it takes two yet," you responded. "I mean if you have time, and want to play it with me we could definitely set something up..."

Felix stared at the monitor, your shy smile creeping up on your face as you laughed at the comments.

“Oh my god…” he breathed. “Oh my god… am I dreaming?”

Sunnylix: I’d love to play it with you! I’ll send you a message through Instagram if that’s okay!

“Gonna be sliding in my dm’s?” You laughed. “That’s fine, Felix! I’ll see you there!” You laughed, making a heart with your arms above your head.

Felix couldn’t help but smile. His heart was beating out of his chest, hands trembling as he was progressing what just happened. He bolted out of his room, sprinting to his roommate.

“CHAN! CHOCO LIKES ME!”

[ ]

[ ]

[ ]

So I wanna start a twitch channel that’s how I got the IDEA HAHAHA- if you like it please repost and like!

Anon / tag list is open <3

[tttabii]

— 심재윤 PUPPLY LOVE JAKE SIM X READER

note: slightly inspired by the kdrama twinkling watermelon. deaf!reader x band!jaeyun. word count: 6989

YOU NEVER REALLY ENJOYED THE SILENCE.

It was not like the romanticized kind of peace and quiet that people post to social media about—the kind that makes mornings sacred, the bookstore magical, and so on. Yours was a silence of absence. Of being out of the conversation. Out of the laughter. And perhaps out of safety, too.

You wore your wired earphones all the time, plugged in or not, as if to pretend you were wearing headphones. A barrier. A disguise. If they don't know, maybe they won't treat you differently. Maybe they won't feel sorry for you—or even worse, take advantage.

Like today.

The station buzzed with the evening rush hour, people moving in concert. You dropped your Mofusand keychain without noticing it, your little plush figure falling silently to the ground behind you while you swept away to the exit. You didn't hear the boy calling your name behind you.

Jake Sim bent down to pick up the keychain, only halfway smiling. He always noticed you—your neat little bun, the way your bangs framed your face, somehow, as always, looking calm. But when you didn't turn around, and he kept calling, his smile dropped entirely.

You were already gone.

He got off at the same stop. He always did. His house was near yours, and he'd long memorized the timing of your routine—not in a creepy way, but in that soft, teenage "I-like-you-so-I-notice-everything" kind of way.

But today was different. You weren't just walking ahead of him like usual. You'd vanished.

Then he heard it—laughter, too loud and too cruel—coming from an alley just a little ways off the main road. Jake's steps slowed. Something twisted in his stomach.

And then he saw you.

Your tote bag lay discarded on the pavement. Your damaged earphones dangled from it, useless. One girl held your arms back while a few boys circled, sneering and taunting. One of them reached for your skirt.

You screamed, but no one heard. Or at least, they pretended not to.

Jake did.

He didn't think twice. He was screaming before he even landed on the ground. "Hey! Get away from her!"

The group jumped at his voice, turning to see him shove the guy who was closest to you. He didn't look intimidating, but he had fire in his eyes—rage, protective and desperate.

"You think this is funny?!" he yelled, fists clenched. "She can't hear you, you assholes."

The girl was startled and released her hold on you. You stumbled forward, unconsciously falling into Jake's arms before even registering who he was. "It's okay, I got you," he said softly, wrapping his arms around you. "You're safe now."

You blinked up at him feeling a little disoriented, as tears streamed down your face. He made sure you were looking at his face, looking at the way his mouth moved. You're safe. Over and over, he said it, huge exaggerated mouth movements for you to see.

You nodded your head.

He pulled off his jacket and put it around your shoulders, very gingerly picked up your bag, and then the keychain he never got the chance to give back to you.

He held your hand in his, and walked the rest of the way to the café, not letting go.

Jake didn't lose his grip on you, not once—certainly not when you turned the corner toward the café, and not when you paused at the door, nor when you let your gaze fall in embarrassment, as if what had transpired earlier was somehow your fault.

He saw it all: the way you scrunched your shoulders inward; how your other hand trembled just enough for your fingers to twitch as if they were still recalling someone else's grip. He felt his heart ache.

The café door opened with a gentle ring.

"She's here," Jake said, quietly addressing the owner, an older, kind-faced man who had been washing mugs at the counter, who quickly emerged looking worried. "Something happened."

Jake described what he had seen, in low but steady tones, noting how he saw everything happen at once, but wanting to reassure you that you hadn't done anything wrong. The man's jaw clenched, briefly, and without a moment of thought he encircled you into a fathering hug. You didn't cry (perhaps because you were numb, or maybe you didn't want to collapse toward the ground in public), but you did keep your hand at the back of the owner's apron a touch longer than you might normally.

"She's off the clock today," the owner said with a determined nod.

"No—hold on," Jake interrupted, gently laying your backpack down. "Let her rest. I'll do her job today. I know how she makes the drinks—I've watched her for weeks." He smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just until she's feeling okay. She can still get paid, right?"

The owner of the shop blinked, and then slowly broke into a chuckle. "You're her boyfriend?"

Jake's ears turned bright pink. "N-No—! I mean—not yet. I just... I like her. A lot."

The owner smiled and slapped him on the back. "You should be. She could really use someone like you. Her parents... they try. They're overseas, doing everything they can to try to get her hearing or at least set her up for a future. But, it's hard. She has always been alone."

That truth settled hard in Jake's chest like lead.

You were now sitting quietly at one of the tables near the window, an iced tea in front of you. Your fingers were twisted around the straw, and you were biting gently at the end—not even drinking it, just grounding yourself. Jake could not take his eyes off you.

"Can you help me talk to her?" He asked the owner.

The owner nodded, walking over and motioning to you in sign. You looked up slowly.

He wants to talk to you, the owner signed. He wants to ask if you're sure you're okay.

Jake stepped forward, gingerly placing your keychain on the table in front of you. "You dropped this," he said softly, hoping his eyes said what his words might not yet.

Your gaze fell to the little Mofusand plush, and for a moment, your lip trembled. You reached out, brushing your fingers over it before finally looking up at him, your eyes glassy with unspoken emotion.

Jake knelt down a little so he was at your level, then he looked at the owner to assist him. The owner translated again when Jake spoke:

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand what you were going through. But I understand now. And it won't ever happen again. Ever."

You stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. And then you nodded slowly. Just once. A small, trembling movement—but Jake saw it. And that meant everything.

He smiled, a little sheepishly. "Teach me?" he said. "Sign language."

You blinked. And for the first time all day, the corners of your lips turned up into a tiny smile.

That was the day Jake Sim became your safe place.

The next day, the air was cool but soft, and the sun bathed the quiet streets in gold patch after gold patch. You had your tote bag slung across your shoulder again, earbuds tucked in—not that they worked anymore, but they were still your shield from the world.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder that was gentle. You turned to find Jake there, smiling like he'd been waiting for you. He offered up a small notepad filled with floating letters and words, neatly written: "Can I walk with you to school and the train? My school is nearby too."

You blinked with a warm heart at his kind day one open act of friendship. You nodded, one of those slow nods. He smiled like you had just agreed to jump out of an airplane.  

As the two of you strolled toward the train station, your steps side by side, students passing by whispered. Most of them were from his school, and they gawked quietly, muttering things like:

"Isn't that Jake Sim? The golden retriever from photography club?"

"He is walking her to school!"

"She's...the deaf girl, right?"

"She's really pretty though...I've never seen him with anyone before."

Jake didn't flinch. He didn't even glance their way. He was too focused on walking at your pace, occasionally scribbling things in his notepad to make you laugh or smile. You didn't need to hear it—his energy alone made you feel it. Safe. Seen.

At school, you waved goodbye, not expecting anything more. But Jake lingered, watching you disappear through the school gates, heart fluttering just like it did the first time he saw you—sitting in that café, headphones in, quietly brewing drinks with a focus and grace that pulled him in completely.

That afternoon Jake went back to his school, completed some light club duties, but mostly just carried around his camera for no real reason. Something felt off. Maybe it was you. He realized you hadn't yet shown up to the station.

Curious—and maybe a tiny bit worried—he decided he would check up on you. It wasn't as if he hadn't done it before. The front desk lady at your school blinked at him when he said: "I'm her friend. I came to take her home. I think she has after school activities?"

She nodded, "Art club today. Top floor."

So he went up the stairs, camera bouncing against his chest as he went, to peek into the art room. The door creaked gently as he walked in—and there you were. The room was filled with the smells of acrylic paint and pencil shavings, and late sunlight poured in across rows of stools and canvases.

You were at your usual spot, back to the door, anxiously brushing color onto a canvas.

And then he saw it. Jake almost gasped. 

It was him. Your painting—there was no doubt about it—you had painted him. His hair, his smile, even the soft blur of light behind him as if caught in one of his own photos. You were painting him from memory.

Although a voice next to him startled him. "She only draws real people when they make her feel safe," your art teacher said, smiling knowingly. "Or when they have made contact with her heart."

Jake couldn't move for a second, his eyes glued on your concentrated state, brow slightly scrunched as you made soft strokes of light across the painting's cheek bones. You hadn't noticed him yet. But his heart was already full.

Jake's cheeks burned the split second your teacher asked, "Are you her boyfriend?"

He blinked, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar as he clearly had not processed the question. His ears turned a deep pink, then red. He looked every bit the golden retriever boy everyone called him—loyal, soft-hearted, but now flustered beyond belief.

Your teacher beamed with understanding, as if she already seen through him. "You're someone she needs in her life" she said gently, watching the way his eyes never left your body. "A puppy always following her trail. I'm sure she'll accept you as her boyfriend if she decides to give in. It's hard for a deaf person to open up—they often think they're a burden." 

The words echoed in Jake's mind.

Is that why... she always keeps to herself? Is that why she hides so much of her pain?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The reason why your earphones were always in. The reason why you trembled a little whenever they got torn. The reason why you looked away whenever people stared too long. And maybe the reason why he felt the urge to protect you.

Your teacher smiled at him one last time before walking toward you, softly signing that Jake was here to pick you up. You blinked, surprised, instinctively turning around—and immediately tried to cover your painting with a cloth. Jake's heart leaped when your eyes met his, so wide with embarrassment.

The painting was covered, but the color in your cheeks said enough.

Across the room, a couple of girls not in the deaf program whispered just loud enough for Jake to hear as he approached. "She probably blackmailed him or something. No way Jake Sim's into her."

"Yeah, she can't even talk to him. Poor guy's probably just being nice."

Jake stopped in his tracks, turning to them. The smile faded from his face. His usual soft features sharpened, eyes narrowing, jaw tight. "Do you talk about everyone like this, or just girls who are better than you?"

The girls flinched, going quiet immediately.

He didn't say anything more, just turned his back to them and walked towards you, softly touching your arm. You looked up, blinked several times, and still holding the bag with shy fingers.

And then Jake smiled, and all the warmth came back to his smile. He pulled out his notepad and wrote, "You don't need to hide the painting. I'm really honored, you know."

You flushed deeper and looked away, biting your lip before grabbing your bag and following him out. You didn't sign anything, but he didn't mind. Your presence was enough.

The train ride to the coffee shop was quiet but not uncomfortable. Jake stood beside you, and every time the train shifted, his fingers brushed against yours. You seemed far away, a little off, fidgeting with your mad respect—twisting your sleeves, adjusting the strap of your tote, nibbling at your bottom lip.

Jake could tell your head was spinning; probably about the painting and probably about him. So, he wrote on his notepad again, folding the edge of the page and tearing it off; then, when you both were standing, waiting for the train at the platform, he slowly slipped the note into your palm.

You opened it slowly.  

"I like you. I really, really like you. You're not a burden. You're the most peaceful part of my day."

You stared at the words, unmoving.

And when you looked up—he was already smiling at you, waiting patiently.

Jake wasn't in a hurry. He let you lower your walls slowly inch by inch—in the right way, and never pushed and always patient.

The first time you took his pen and wrote:"But I only met you two days ago."

He just smiled and ruffled your hair a bit, and then wrote,"I've been watching you for months. I just never had the guts."

Your cheeks were hot and you just nodded, speechless and your words gotten stuck somewhere in your throat. But Jake could see from your eyes that you were curious, maybe even hopeful.

But you were scared too.  

Jake understood. Maybe you wanted him to court you. Maybe you just needed more time. Maybe both.

At the coffee shop, and on your break, you sat across from him and taught him one word at a time in sign language—your fingers moving slow and patient, your lips formed the words even though sounds did not come out. You wrote each of these on to his note pad, carefully.

He continued to clap along and began to nod his head, with his golden retriever grin.You handed him your personal sign language book—its pages creased and full of your tiny notes. It was your most treasured learning tool, and you were giving it to him. His heart soared.

He kept it close, even brought it to school.

The next day, he was surrounded by his rowdy friend group.

"Why're you reading that?" Heeseung asked, eyes wide.

Jay snatched the book before Jake could answer, flipping through. "Is this sign language?"

Sunghoon raised a brow. "Wait—you're learning for her?"

Jake just nodded. Calm and proud, "Yeah. I'm learning for her."

The teasing came immediately, all of it lighthearted.

"Jake's whipped."

"Our golden retriever's got a muse!"

"Is this why you skipped violin club?"

He only smiled, never denying it. He was smitten.

So when people said rude stuff about you—he would not stand for it. His regular soft energy evaporated in minutes, mass cold stares, tight jaws, eyes sharp. Even when girls tried to flirt with him, he just waved them off and said coolly, "I'm busy studying."   Outside of that, Jake's world exploded with new creative energy.He was in a band with Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, Sunoo, and their junior, Nishimura Riki—a dreamy transfer prodigy guy from Japan with the softest smile and killer dance skills.

Jake played bass, rapped, danced—and was now writing a song.

About you. 

A soft acoustic ballad done with warmth and tenderness. He practiced alone in his room, kind of singing quietly and strumming, he practiced the sign language version in front of him mirror.He had some day to play it for you, in your language.

Meanwhile in your world, you also seemed to be sketching Jake in your notebook more often than not. His profile face, his smile, and the way he tucked his hair behind his ears when he really concentrated. You wrote about him too—his gentleness, his presence.

You would wander the city on your walks, peering into hole-in-the-wall shops, hunting for something that would make you think of him. Something like a keychain. Or a pin that looked like a camera. It could be anything small—but meaningful.

You wanted to give him something. Not because he was your boyfriend—but because he was your safe place. Your one person who made you feel seen.

One day, while you were both taking your break, he started to sign. Not perfectly—but enough to get it. You were stunned.

He signed, "I want to learn more. From you."

You smiled. Softly. Slowly. It was shy. And when he lifted his camera to take a picture of you sipping your iced tea, you did not look away this time. You let him take that picture. He already knew how you despised coffee—it upset your stomach.

You loved tea. It calmed you down.

He knew you loved hotteok and cherries. Especially cherries. The way the red stained your lips made him feel like he was losing his mind—but he behaved himself every time he came over to your house. It was so big and empty—but your room? It was cozy, warm, and you. Hello Kitty plushies, small pop mart figurines, your favorite pieces of art and prints. 

He belonged there, in your quiet world. He just didn't know yet—you were slowly, silently drawing him into it.

────୨ৎ────

Jake was down bad. Whipped. Head over heels. The whole damn fairy-tale-boyfriend-package without the title. He found out about the talent show—basically an annual spring festival for his school, where everyone else can come too including students from other campuses.

Perfect timing.

Time to make a move.

He would ask you to come the day before the concert. Right after exams. Right when you needed a break, and when he was finally ready to show you the song that he had put his entire heart into, in your language.

But in the meantime?Jake was going through it.He brought you iced tea every morning, sliding it across your desk without a word with a shy grin and a wink, and it still felt cold from the little cooler bag he would carry it in.

He literally walked into your school to do this, even when people would stare. Even when whispers would start.His friends, of course, never let him forget it.

"You're joking."

"I cannot believe you are rejecting girls who are literally goddess tier, for a girl that hasn't even kissed you yet."

"Jake. You're gone. So gone."

"She didn't even look at you today and you are still simping."

Jake? Unfazed. Loyal. Whipped. "She's worth it." was all he said. 

There were times during the midterms that you hardly glanced at him, eyes glued to the drowning darkness of your books with highlighters smudged across your fingers, your sketchpad nowhere near you. Jake sat beside you, bravely not taking it personally.

You were stressed out. You needed your space, he got it.

But he couldn't help but wonder— Did you even like him back, or was he just your sweet loyal friend?

He didn't know that you sketched him. That your journal had pages and pages all about him. That you were just too shy—too much of a jumble of feelings and everything you wanted to say but couldn't find the words if you tried.

Sometimes he'd talk to you softly next to you while you worked, knowing you would never hear it, but needed to say it anyway.

"I like you so much, it hurts."

"I want to kiss you but I know you're not ready."

"You make me want to be soft forever."

You never noticed. But it was okay, because it made him feel better. Like saying it out loud, meant it wasn't just sitting there bottled up inside him.

One day, you were outside and saw a cat on the street, and you got all sparkly-eyed, and you crouched down and reached your hand out. 

Jake panicked.

"No—no no no—don't touch it! It's probably dirty, baby—like...not safe!"

You blinked, lips slightly pursed in a pout.

He cracked instantly.

The next day he brought you to a cat café instead. Reserved a table and everything. Bought you a slice of strawberry shortcake too. You left with cat fur on your clothes and the softest smile he'd ever seen.

He was awkward with cats, being a dog lover instead but he wanted to see your cute little smile when you cradle the cat close to your chest as if it was your own child.

But now? During midterms? You barely had time to breathe. Jake didn't blame you. But the distance... it scared him. Had he moved too fast? Were you pulling away?

He had no idea.

You were just trying to get through the week—exams, art deadlines, pressure. What you did know, though, was that Jake still showed up with iced tea. That he still waited outside your school gate after your last class. That he still sat beside you, head tilted, watching you with soft eyes even when you didn't say much.

And that meant everything.

────୨ৎ────

Jake was losing it. Exams were finally over.

The festival was days away. He had been looking forward to asking you to come and see him perform his song—a song about you, for you.

Now? You were fawning all over Woo Do-hwan on the screen. Jake was standing behind the couch, arms crossed but one arm inconveniently draping over your shoulder as if he were laying claim to it (not that he would ever say that).

You, on the other hand, were way too busy staring at the TV, all curled up in an oversized shirt that, in Jake's opinion, practically slid off your shoulder leaving just enough for your bra strap to be visible that was slowly driving him crazy.

You were eating cherries. The juice had once again stained your lips and Jake was sweating his pants off, he knew he was going to lose his mind.Then it got worse.

A scene came on—the scene—where the male lead pulled the girl into his lap and kissed her like the world was ending.(His world was in-fact ending.)  You were biting your lip, staring with your big, dreamy eyes, and Jake? Jake couldn't move. He was going back and forth between the screen and you.

Your shirt falling off. Your lips bright red. Your eyes sparkling. Your soft little sigh. That lip nibble.

With every breath in his chest, Jake leaned just a little, the front of his t-shirt brushed softly over the back of your head. He whispered, "Do you want that too?"

You didn't respond because you clearly couldn't hear him. You were still watching, unaware of how tense he'd gone behind you, his jaw clenched, his breath shaky. He looked like he was thinking—deeply. The kind of thinking that could make or break everything.

You turned your head a little, craning your neck to look at him, lips parted in curiosity. He immediately collected himself and smiled, signing something with his free hand as the other rested on your shoulder. "You really like him that much?"

You grinned, shy but excited, and nodded.

He rolled his eyes and gave you an incredulous look before signing: "He's not real. I am."

You blinked. A little caught off guard.

And then he signed again.

"Come to the festival."

You tilted your head, confused.

He picked up the pen and notepad from the coffee table—thankfully still nearby—and scribbled it down.

Come to my school's festival next weekend. Please? I want to show you something. Something just for you.

You read it. Looked at him. Then nodded slowly, chewing on a cherry while giving him that small, sweet smile that made him feel like his ribs might crack open from the pressure of loving you so much.

He smiled back and signed softly: "Good. It's a date."

Your eyes widened. He winked. Then he went to finish folding your laundry—like the golden retriever boyfriend-in-waiting he was—while trying very hard not to think about you in that oversized shirt... or Woo Do-hwan stealing your attention.

It was supposed to be the perfect day. Jake had left early that morning, and kissed your forehead with the softest kiss, and quickly signed to you with that big goofy grin of his.

"Wear something pretty. I'll be waiting."

He was so excited. The band was excited. All his friends, hyping him up to no end, joking about how happy he looked.

Jake, the cool, charming, calm one who never looked sad, couldn't stop smiling. He had practiced and practiced the song.

He had perfected every single chord. He had memorized every single sign. But more importantly, he had practiced how he was going to express that.

This song was for you. You were the girl he adored. The one who changed his outlook on the world. But you never showed up.

Your outfit was ready. Hair brushed, makeup done with care, your fingers trembling slightly in excitement. You clutched the cherry blossom pin he gave you once—nervous but happy.

Until it came.

A folded note slipped into your bag, probably by one of those girls. Written in harsh, angry ink.

"Isn't it a shame that he's basically using you for pity points? Everybody's going to crack up when they see you sitting there and watching him put on a fake show about being sad over some love song just to get attention. You're deaf, sweetie. He doesn't want you. He only wants the applause."

You looked at it for what felt like hours, then reread it. The lights inside your chest went out. You flickered the last little bit of hope away. You stood alone in your hallway with a promise you dressed up as a dream and felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

Jake walked out onto the stage, guitar in hand, the other boys were setting up beside him. His heart rate was out of control—not from nerves, but from hope. He looked at your seat.

Front row. Reserved with your name written in pink cursive and a little cat sticker.

Empty.

And the spotlight was focused right there. Still empty.

He blinked once. Hard. Maybe you were just late? He cleared his throat and lifted the microphone to his mouth. "I... um," he started, letting out an nervous chuckle. "This song is really personal. I wrote it... for someone really special to me."

The crowd cooed. A few phones went up. 

"She's not here yet, but I really hope she shows up. She's the reason I learned to hear.... even if it's silence."

He stopped. Then added, softly, hands shaking just a bit— "And if you are watching this later... well, I want you to know that I meant every part of this. This is for you."

Then, the music started, and he sang and signed—at once.

You didn't see it.

You were standing out in the rain, your cute outfit wet and clinging to your body, cuddled up in front of that little flower shop you both went to once.

The shop with the baby's breath and the soft pink carnations he helped you pick. You stood blankly looking at the window, tears pouring and blending in nicely with the rain rolling off your cheeks.

From inside, the florist, who could easily recognize your face gave you a concerned look but didn't interrupt you. It was clear you looked heartbroken, lost, and distressing.

Back at the school, Jake finally came off stage, fingers shaking, took his guitar off his well-worn shoulders, and his heart sank deep into his chest.

Then he heard it.

The girls. Laughing behind the bleachers.

"She really believed it, huh? Like he would actually be into her."

"Oh my god, did you see how serious he was? That's so embarrassing-"

"Do you think she's crying right now?"

Jake turned immediately, eyes dark, jaw set. "What did you say?" His voice was low. Dangerous.

They blinked. "It's just a joke-"

"No," he said, stepping forward. "You think humiliating someone is funny?"

The rage in his chest ignited. "You're the reason she's not here?"

They tried to brush it off—but he was already pulling out his phone. Texting his friends. Telling them to help pack up. He was going to find you.

Rain or not.

Jake had been running through about half of the city. The rain had been falling, drenched through his hoodie though he didn't care.

He checked the café, your bus stop, even the small bookstore at the corner whose front window you liked to slow down and look at.

Nothing.

His heart pounded like it was going to snap a rib. Then, he turned around the corner past the florist shop—the place where you both argued over whether it was daisies or carnations that looked better in the kitchen window, and...well, there you were.

There you were. Standing in front of the window with your head down, that pretty outfit emerging from the downpour, make up smeared, mascara swirling down your cheeks, fingers clenching that cherry blossom pin.

You looked like you were sitting there waiting. For something. For someone.

His stomach curled up. You got all dressed up for him.He called your name. Once. Wobbly and breathless. You didn't even flinch. He stepped a bit closer.

Forward, careful, in front of you. You finally looked up, eyes wide open red and furious. The florist inside noticed him immediately, clutching her mug like she was watching the climax of a drama unfold right outside her store window.

Your hands moved fast. Angry. Sharp. Your pout was trembling, but your signs were loud. "Don't talk to me. Don't look at me."

You signed again, more forcefully. "You think it's funny? Did they dare you? Was it some kind of game?" He couldn't keep up with how fast your fingers were going, but he saw the pain. The betrayal.

His heart ached.

Jake shook his head immediately, rain pooling in the bottom of his lashes, and signed, "No. No. That's not what happened." You scoffed and turned away, but he stepped in front of you again, desperate. "Please, just watch this."

He struggled to pull out his phone, his fingers fumbling with the cold, and there it was; his friend had sent him the video link—a recording of the performance, uploaded to the school's blog. It was shaky; it was the whole thing. He tapped play and turned the screen toward you.

Not the sound. Only the subtitles. The image.

It was him. On stage. Nervous. Eyes filled with hope.

You watched with your arms crossed and jaw clenched, unsure.Then, you saw him sign it. Each word."This is for her. The girl I love. She taught me to listen, even when there is silence. She's strong, and funny, and smart, and beautiful."

Your eyes widened. The way he gazed at the empty chair. Your chair. The way he bent his neck to gaze and search for you in the audience. The footage showed him signing the lyrics of his song, each movement full of heart, no hesitation. Not a trace of mockery. He meant every word, and he meant them for you.

Your fingers trembled as you put down the phone.Jake stepped closer, covering your hands with his own.

"I didn't know," he signed slowly. "I swear. I didn't know what they told you." His jaw was clenched in a way that made it seem like he was holding back tears of his own.

"I wrote that song for you," he continued. "Not anyone else. Just you."

You blinked, stunned, your lips parted but no signs were coming out yet. The weight of your misunderstanding and the pain you had been carrying all day cracked just a little under that look.

Then finally your hands moved, more slowly this time. Hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Jake gave you a sad, almost helpless smile as he stepped closer, gently tucking your wet hair behind your ear. His hands moved with purpose, signing carefully but with a tremble in his fingers.

"I wanted to see your smile when I signed the song live. That was all I could think about." He paused, brows furrowed as his hands hovered midair. "I'm sorry I didn't explain sooner. I'm sorry I wasn't there when they hurt you."

Your bottom lip quivered again, more tears slipping silently down your cheeks. You didn't move, didn't sign back right away. Just stood there—heart heavy, soaking wet, eyes searching his.

Jake didn't wait for a reply. He reached for you, pulling you gently into a tight, rain-soaked hug, holding you like he'd never let go again. 

Then came the kiss.

Jake looked at you—rain dripping from his lashes, eyes filled with something warm and intense. He cupped your cheeks with both hands, gentle but certain, thumbs brushing over your skin as if anchoring himself.

You barely had time to process before his lips met yours—soft, careful, like a question he was too afraid to speak aloud. Your eyes widened at first, startled, but slowly fluttered shut as you kissed him back.

You tasted like your cherry lip gloss.

Sweet. Familiar. All his.

Behind the glass, the florist gasped audibly, scrambling to put together a bouquet with ribbon and free stems, already deciding she'd gift it to Jake to give to you. Romance deserved flowers—and this was the kind that made her believe in love again.

The next morning, the sun was back out. The sun had dried the streets, but for Jake it did nothing to cool him down.He strolled beside you holding your hand, with his backpack over one shoulder and yours hanging from your arm.

But he couldn't keep his lips off your face: your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. Jake was just rambling about how much he loved you, how you were his future wife (he repeated this part over and over, loud enough for anyone walking behind you or to the side of you to hear).

It didn't matter that you didn't hear what he was saying. He wanted the world to know. Specifically, he wanted those who were trying to belittle you to see it.

Jake's friends standing across the street saw you together and immediately got rowdy, cheering out loud things like:

"Jake's plotting plan is working!"

"She's got him whipped!"

"He is so down bad it's embarrassing!"

Jake only beamed, shamelessly proud.

When you got to the gates of the school, and there were a bunch of girls from the other school walking by, Jake caught a glimpse of them.

You don't even know what happened, so fast he turned to you and said goodbye with the most extended goodbye kiss —right on the lips, long and intended. 

Your eyes went wide, and you swatted at him, trying to pry him off with flustered hands.

He giggled and quickly signed, "I'll pick you up after school. Don't miss me too much, darling."

Your ears were burning.

He noticed.

And loved it.

────୨ৎ────

You had graduated, and Jake had finally debuted. Three long months apart, during which he fought his way through the rigorous survival show, I-LAND.

It had been three months of hell for both of you—too many nights of loneliness and longing, missing each other. But through all the trials, he made it!

He was finally here, taking his first steps as a member of the idol group Enhypen, the moment he had been waiting for. But the second he could, he ran right to you; he didn't even greet his fans at first.

The instant he laid eyes on you, he pulled your body into his arms; didn't care that the cameras and the fans were around, he just needed to feel you close to him again.

He buried his face in the hoody, holding you like he had never planned on letting go and whispering repeatedly in shaky signs and soft words how he missed you. He had been away from you for too long, but he was never letting you go again. 

Though Jake adored his fans, he couldn't shake the feeling that none of them could ever compare to you.

No one knew and understood him like you did, no one supported him like you did, no one made him feel so so seen like you did.

He had such gratitude for his fans despite there not being a proper quarterback, but they would never take your place, you were the one who he thought about every day when he was away.

He wanted to show them there was someone who had always stuck by him, someone who saw him for him. He had been through so much, but it was worthwhile because he did it all for you.

You were his grounding point, his thought process, he wanted everyone to know that.

Several months later, Jake asked you to come and see Enhypen for their first big concert. You hesitated, thinking about if you wanted to go or not, especially since you could not hear any music.

Jake didn't care. He remained positive, looking right at you with a bright smile, "I hired a sign language translator. They are going to be on stage, right in front of you."

He would find a way to bring you as close as possible to this concert experience he wanted you to experience.

You were important to him, and he figured no one would understand music better than you, even if you couldn't hear it. He's not asking you to be a fan, he needed you to be the person who always believed in him.  

The night of the concert arrived, and the venue was filled with energy and excitement.

The lights flashed brightly across the stage as Enhypen began their performance. You were in the front row, your seat specially reserved for you, and the translator stood beside you, making sure you understood every single moment.

Despite the loud crowd, your attention was entirely on Jake. You couldn't hear the music, but you could feel it—feel the passion and energy that radiated off him.

Every time he glanced your way, a soft smile would tug at your lips. And then, in the midst of the performance, Jake did something just for you: he pointed directly at you during one of his fanservice moments.

You blushed, feeling the heat in your cheeks as you realized that, even in front of thousands, he was teasing you with a wink. He was having fun, but he was making sure that you knew he was thinking about you.

But it wasn't just the fan service. When Jake lifted up his shirt during the concert to flash his abs—they were a sight, very sculpted work of art, all glistening—you knew it was not for the fans.

It wasn't meant for the camera at all. You knew he was teasing you and wanted you to stop looking at Woo Do-hwan, and instead wanted you to look directly back at him.

It felt like a special moment just between the two of you, but still, you had to look away, embarrassed covering your face but your heart racing. The way Jake would cheekily tease you was what he loved to do, always eager to make you flustered. 

A year passed since our last interaction, and things had changed in a drastic way. Jake was continuing to work hard and be a member of Enhypen, but he was holding a secret deep within for one long year.

Jake had been practically begging his company for an entire year to allow him to tell all of you about me at a live concert.

He couldn't hide me anymore. He wanted everyone to know who I was to him and why he had a translator on stage with him at every single concert.

And finally, his company said yes.

Jake stood on that stage, illuminated by that bright light, with all those fans watching him, and breathed out deeply before he spoke.

He signed for the translator to share with the audience, but you could still feel the weight of his feelings in his signs.  

"Why do you see a translator at every show? I bet you've all wondered that." Jake said with a steady voice full of meaning.

"It's not just because accessibility is important. While that is a very important reason, it's because there is a person very special to me, who is always here supporting me, even when she can't hear the music."

The crowd went quiet because they seemed to understand the depth of his statement. Jake looked directly at you without wavering in his gaze.

"Even when she can't hear the music, she can feel the music. She feels the love, the passion, everything I put into it. She understands me more deeply and better than anyone else." He paused again and his gaze softened looking at you. 

"She is my muse, my reason for writing, my reason for singing, my reason for standing here today." It was so quiet in the room you could hear a pin drop. "Her name is Y/n. She's the most important person in my life."  

The fans were in shock, some even crying, while others cheered loudly. The translator was smiling as they relayed Jake's words, and you felt your heart swell.

Jake wasn't just sharing his story with the crowd; he was sharing you—the person who meant everything to him. As the crowd erupted in applause, you stood there, overwhelmed by the love Jake had just poured out for you. You didn't even have words to express it.

[keeryhours]

obey your (dungeon) master - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

1k Celebration Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie teaches you a lesson for being impatient.

1k celebration prompts: “Keep talking back, I dare you.” & “I’ll give that mouth something to do.”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), dom!eddie, oral (m receiving), face fucking, degradation

Word Count: 857

A/N:

Thank you so much for celebrating with me! I hope you like this little blurb! Divider by strangergraphics

“Eddie, I’m bored,” you whined as hour 4 of Hellfire planning ticked by. Eddie was planning their next campaign, and you were…sitting off to the side, waiting. “You said this would only take a couple of hours and then we could hang out.”

“I’m busy, sweetheart,” Eddie said for about the millionth time. He was starting to get irritated.

“But Eddie…” You ran your hand down his arm. “Please? Why don’t you take a break. You’ve been working hard…and I want to hang out with you.”

“No,” Eddie answered firmly. “Not right now. Believe me, we’ll spend time together when I’m done.”

You were frustrated. This had gone on way longer than Eddie said. You were about ready to just go home, but you didn’t want to give up that easily.

“Come on, Eds. You’ve done enough today.”

Eddie looked at you, something dark behind his eyes. “Keep talking back. I dare you.”

You froze. There was a threat behind those words - maybe more of a promise. A promise of something you wanted, badly.

You walked in front of him, swaying your hips as you walked. You were dressed in some tiny shorts and a tank top, an outfit Eddie really liked. You bent over, your cleavage right in front of his face. “Just a break. Please?”

Eddie sighed, slamming his D&D book closed. “Really? You couldn’t just let me finish this?”

You pouted as you stood up straight. “Eddie, you promised-“

“You want attention that bad?” Eddie stood, looming over you. He ran his thumb down over your bottom lip, parting your lips slightly. “Wanna run your mouth until you get what you want?” He leaned in close, his face inches from yours. “I’ll give that mouth something to do.”

You swallowed, nervous yet excited as Eddie pushed you down to your knees. His hands immediately went for his belt, undoing it and his pants as he pushed them down to his thighs. His cock was already half hard, twitching to life from the way you were looking at it.

“Open that pretty little mouth, princess,” he said, parting your lips with his thumb, resting it on your tongue. “Such a good girl. Look at you.”

You wrapped your lips around his thumb and sucked on it, swirling your tongue around it. Eddie closed his eyes with a groan, his cock throbbing and desperate to be touched.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he hissed, removing his thumb from your mouth and wrapping his fist around his cock. He squeezed it at the base, his tip flushed red as precum leaked from his slit. “You gonna take me down your throat, princess?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

Eddie smirked, pleased. “Open wide.”

You did as you were told, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out. Eddie slapped his cock against your tongue a couple times, rubbing the underside against it. You always felt so impossibly good.

You wrapped your lips around him as he began sinking further into your mouth. No matter how many times you sucked him off, you never got used to how huge he was. And he wasn’t being gentle about it this time, either.

You gagged as his tip reached the back of your throat, and Eddie groaned. “Yes, that’s it. That’s it, pretty girl, you’re taking me so good.” He stroked your cheek affectionately, but his movements were aggressive as he grabbed you by the hair and started to fuck your face.

“Is that hard enough for you? Deep enough?” he asked, his voice condescending, mocking. “Fuckin’ needy slut. I know you like when I use you. Nothing but a toy for me to cum in.”

You whimpered, tears streaming from your eyes as Eddie thrusted in to the hilt with every movement of his hips. You loved it when he fucked you like this. It was filthy, obscene, mean, rough- none of the things Eddie was in normal life.

Eddie was panting, losing his composure the closer he got to his release. His fingers tightened in your hair, his hips snapping into you harder and harder. You could barely breathe, it was nearly too much.

Finally he pulled out with a strangled gasp, his cock twitching as he held back his orgasm. His trembling hand shook as he still held your hair, trying to calm himself. He couldn’t cum yet - had to be inside of you.

He caressed your cheek again, this time softly. “Good girl. You did so good for me.”

He pulled you up onto the bed, pulling off your shorts and panties, pushing your shirt up to expose your tits. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it hard and making you gasp before he moved to the other. He kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth. His kisses trailed all over.

You could feel his cock pressed against you, like it was begging for you. His grip tightened on your hips - you both needed each other, badly.

“You know I love you, right?” Eddie asked, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

[morbidlcve]

strike - n.r

KINKTOBER DAY 1: KNIFE PLAY

word count: 1.2k!!

pairings: natasha x reader

cw: knifeplay, blood play, oral (n), fingering (r), praise, face sitting, biting, heavy make outs (?), please let me know if i’ve forgotten any ..

also requests are open!

an: i’ve literally been gone… college started up again and i’ve been so busy with trying to stay on top of things but i wanted to quickly get this out (if there are any inevitable mistakes, i profusely apologise, i wrote this at 2am)

N.R MASTERLIST || KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Natasha fell backwards onto the bed, peering at you through heated eyes as you crawled on top of her; she thought it cute, you trying to take control. You had been ordered from some guy to take out the red head, how hard could it be? right?

Her eyes flickered down to glance at your lips back up to your eyes, your body felt molten pressed against her with little to nothing on. You got word that the widow would be attending a gala tonight, you tried to look your best, wearing a navy blue spaghetti dress with a glossy two inch heel to run if things got out of hand.

Your lack of clothing made you feel everything, every twitch of her body, the rise and fall of her chest, her twitching fingers on your hips.

You’re quick to press your lips against hers, falling into a rushed heated rhythm between you. Her tongue would dance along your lips, and you would suck it into your mouth languidly, making Natasha groan in response. Her hands come to cup your neck slightly squeezing the sides, sending you spiralling and your eyes rolling back.

“Such a pretty girl” she whispered to you, reaching behind you to unzip your dress, you’re quick to pull the little knife you had stashed on you away and under your thigh whilst the woman is a little preoccupied with looking at you.

“So pretty”, despite your best efforts, a blush splashes onto your cheeks, and your hips involuntarily roll against her abdomen, sighing feeling the dense muscles underneath you.

Her hands trace the sides of your body coming to squeeze at your breasts, rolling your nipples between her fingers.

Sighing you shakily reach for the knife underneath your leg.

You’re quick to press it against the Widow’s neck. “Tell me Natasha, does this get you worked up?” you ask, pressing further into her, seeing a shiny coat of red liquid stream down her throat column.

She smirks, tearing the knife out of your hands, “you’re good, just… not good enough.” Natasha’s quick to flip you over so you’re now situated underneath her, the knife tip being pressed at your chin, as well as her hand cupping your face, holding you to look up at her.

You lose focus, eyes locked on the red that’s drooling down her neck to the middle of her tits, leaning forward, you lick the stripe of blood up to the wound, revelling in the metallic taste that coats your taste buds. Natasha watches you with a sinful look on her face, she can’t even find it in her to be offended that you held her at knifepoint, she’s far too fascinated in the concept of you.

No one has ever had the audacity to try and even get that close to her, and then pull a move like that. If anything, she was impressed. The need for you only grew stronger.

You moan as you pull away from her neck, pressing your chin further onto the blade, coming up to kiss her, the taste lingering in her mouth as your tongue brushes the roof of her mouth. “Fuck it.” she huffs, throwing the knife at the wall, gripping your hands to hold them at the side of your head.

She reaches down to lick and suck and kiss at your neck before attaching her mouth to your nipple, biting ever so slightly, sending a delicious shiver up your spine. The reaction is not lost on her; she smirks, switching over to the other breast to suck and bite at it too leaving you to be a writhing mess beneath her.

Her hands release your wrists coming to feel their way down your body, pulling your hips up slightly to work your skimpy and ultimately ruined underwear off you. “Oh baby, so wet, all for me?” she smiles, running her fingers through your glistening folds, chuckling when she catches your clit and your mouth drops open in a silent moan.

“All this pussy, all for me huh?” she says, working her middle and index finger in circles around your nerves, sending you into an oblivion. “Yes!” Y-Yes all for you.. oh my god” you breathe as she seathes her fingers into your entrance, curling them slightly, just about brushing the sensitive spot within you.

“So perfect,” she sighs, watching your arousal coat her fingers working in and out of you, the sight of you panting and moaning, back arching with the remnants of her blood around your mouth, making her go feral for you.

She hovers back over you coming to lick at the dried blood on your chin, lapping at it whilst her fingers increase their speed inside you assaulting your poor walls. “Fuck Nat! Oh god… It’s s’good.. don’t stop please” you whine bucking your hips up to meet her fingers, licking your way into her mouth, tasting your blood on her lips.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl? Make a mess on my fingers? Yeah?” she grunts into your ear, licking and sucking at your neck. Her words ignite the fire within you, your body starts to tremble. Only when Natasha brings her hand back down to your drooling cunt and pinches your clit do you lose it.

White hot fire spreads over you as your body convulses, shaking as she works you to the end of your orgasm. Taking her fingers out of your spent pussy, she’s quick to put them in her mouth, licking them clean, tasting you in the process. A guttural moan leaves her throat as her eyes flutter shut; cupping your face she ropes you back to reality.

“There she is,” Natasha chuckles as you open your eyes, you grin, taking a hold of her hips, running your fingertips up and down the smooth skin, you see her shiver and you smirk up at her. Her confusion is quickly replaced with a knowing look as you pull her up to your face.

“Yeah, i’m never letting you go now” she sighs as your tongue glides through her wetness, the sweet taste of her made you groan and press your mouth further into her, your nose bumping against her clit.

“Fuck, taste so good” you mumble against her clit, suckling at it like a mad woman, natasha’s shaking above you, gripping your hair, the pain sending a thrill up your body, spurring you on.

You venture further and gently bite down on her nerves, “Fuck! Oh my god!” she cries out, moaning above you, sweat beads at her forehead as you look up at her smirking.

You quickly replace your mouth with your fingers, your tongue coming to prod at her seeping entrance. You push your tongue in, revelling in the beautiful sounds the woman above you is making. “I’m so close, fucking shit” she grits out pressing her head against the wall, looking down at you.

Your eyes are blissfully shut, working her body like your own instrument, curling your tongue at an insane speed within her as well as circling your fingers on her poor little clit. You feel her walls squeezing your tongue, indicating her approaching orgasm.

Her body goes still as she reaches her high, her grip impeccably tight, you wonder if she’s going to yank your hair out. Her juices flow into your mouth as you lap her up, slowing your pace to work her down from the euphoric bliss.

She climbs off you, coming to lay down next to you, her hand works into yours pulling you into her. “I think your almost as fucked up as me” she whispers into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You laugh looking up at her, “I might just be.”

i fear this is insane y’all i apologise 🙂‍↕️

[princesseilish]

NO MATTER WHAT

Police!Officer!Paige Bueckers x Pregnant!Kidnapped!Wife!Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, kidnapping, violence, emotional distress, pregnancy-related danger, injury, slow-burn rescue, and intense emotions.

7:08 AM

The morning was slow, easy. The kind of morning Paige always wanted more of but never got enough of.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting a golden hue over the countertops as the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. The radio played softly in the background—some old love song you liked humming to under your breath.

Paige sat at the table, still half-asleep, blinking slowly as she nursed her coffee. Her uniform was already on, badge clipped to her belt, gun holstered at her side. She looked the part of a cop—stoic, tough—but right now, with her hair still messy from sleep and a soft smile tugging at her lips, she just looked like your Paige.

You, on the other hand, moved around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, one hand pressing into your lower back as you packed her lunch. At eight months pregnant, even the smallest tasks felt heavier, but you’d be damned if you let Paige go to work without a decent meal.

“You know I can just grab something at the station,” Paige mumbled, watching you.

You rolled your eyes, setting the packed container in her bag. “And spend another day running on gas station coffee and half a granola bar? I don’t think so.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “You spoil me.”

You gave her a pointed look. “I take care of you.”

Paige smirked, taking another sip of coffee before gesturing toward your belly. “And who’s taking care of you?”

You shot her a glare, even as your lips twitched into a smile. “Don’t start.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” you huffed, but the way your hand instinctively rested on your stomach betrayed you.

Paige stood up, crossing the kitchen in a few slow steps before wrapping her arms around you from behind. She rested her chin on your shoulder, hands gently pressing over your belly. “You’ve been on your feet all morning.”

You exhaled, leaning into her warmth. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you,” she countered, pressing a slow kiss to your neck.

You sighed, melting just a little. “Maybe I’ll nap later.”

Paige hummed in approval. “Good.”

For a few moments, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you.

Then—

“Did you ever think of names yet?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

You turned in her arms, raising an eyebrow. “For the baby?”

Paige nodded, running a hand over your stomach absentmindedly. “Yeah… I mean, I know we talked about it, but we never really decided.”

You bit your lip, considering. “I have a few I like.”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah? Lay ‘em on me.”

You grinned, rubbing slow circles against her chest as you teased, “Not yet.”

She groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. “Come on, you can’t just—”

“Later,” you interrupted, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “You have work, and if I start now, we’ll be here all morning.”

Paige pouted but didn’t argue. “Fine. But we’re talking about this when I get home.”

You smiled, patting her chest. “Deal.”

8:45 AM

Paige finished breakfast, grabbed her things, and kissed you goodbye at the door.

It was soft, slow—like she didn’t want to leave. Her hands lingered on your waist, her lips brushing against yours once, twice before she finally stepped back with a sigh.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said.

“I always do,” you reassured her.

She gave you one last lingering look before heading out.

The apartment felt quieter after she was gone, but not in a bad way. You finished tidying up, made yourself a cup of tea, and curled up on the couch with a book. The baby kicked every now and then, and you smiled, rubbing your belly.

It was a normal day. A good day.

Until it wasn’t.

2:17 PM

The knock on the door wasn’t Paige.

You knew it the second you heard it.

Paige never knocked. She had a key. And even if she forgot it, she always called first.

This knock was different—sharp, insistent.

Your stomach twisted.

You hesitated, glancing at your phone. Maybe it was just a delivery, a neighbor—

Another knock. Louder.

You swallowed, standing slowly. The baby kicked again, almost like a warning.

Something was wrong.

You reached for your phone just as the door burst open.

2:42 PM

Paige was at her desk, halfway through writing up a report, when her radio crackled.

“Possible 10-15, domestic disturbance at—”

She barely heard the address before she was running.

Her chair slammed against the floor as she bolted out of the station, her heart in her throat.

She broke every traffic law getting home.

But by the time she got there—

You were gone.

Hour 80

Paige could hear them.

She could hear everything.

She wasn’t stupid—she knew how these cases went. She knew what 72 hours meant.

And so did they.

“We’re doing our best, but at this point…”

“With no leads, the odds are—”

“Sometimes, you have to accept—”

She slammed her fist against the desk. “Don’t fucking say it.”

The room went silent.

Officer Cruz, her partner, exhaled sharply. “Bueckers—”

“No.” Paige’s voice was raw. “I don’t wanna hear another damn word about ‘odds’ or ‘accepting’ anything.” She swallowed, her throat burning. “We keep looking. We don’t stop.”

Nobody argued.

But she could still feel it. The doubt. The hesitation.

It made her sick.

She pushed away from the table, ignoring the way her hands shook, and stormed out.

Hour 82

The house wasn’t a home anymore.

Paige stood in the doorway of the nursery, her chest tight.

The crib still sat in its box, untouched.

She was supposed to build it this weekend.

You had been so excited, talking about how you wanted it near the window, how you wanted to hang those little glow-in-the-dark stars above it.

“It’s gotta be perfect, P.”

Her hands curled into fists.

She couldn’t do this.

She turned away, stepping back into the bedroom, but it was worse there.

Your slippers were still by the bed.

Your robe still hung over the chair.

The mug you had left on the nightstand, half-empty from the last morning you spent together, sat untouched.

She should’ve washed it.

She should’ve—

Her phone rang.

Paige nearly dropped it in her scramble to grab it, her pulse hammering.

Unknown number.

Her stomach dropped.

She answered. “Hello?”

Static.

A second of silence.

Then—

“You listenin’, Officer?”

Paige froze.

The voice was low, distorted, like it was run through some kind of filter.

Her grip on the phone tightened. “Where is she?”

A chuckle. Slow. Amused.

“She’s here.”

Paige’s heart nearly stopped.

“You hurt her, and I swear—”

“You’re in no position to make threats.”

Her breath was shaky, but she forced herself to sound steady. “What do you want?”

Another pause.

Then, casually, “A few things.”

A list followed. Demands that didn’t make sense, requests that felt random, like they were playing a sick game just because they could.

And Paige could barely breathe.

Because in the background—faint, almost unnoticeable—

She heard you.

A muffled sound. A whimper. A sharp inhale.

It took everything in her not to break.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Prove she’s alive.”

Silence.

Then—

A shuffle. A rustle. And then—

“P-Paige—”

Her knees nearly buckled.

“Baby,” she choked out, stepping forward like she could somehow reach you through the phone. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Another shuffle. A muffled noise.

Then the voice returned.

“Now you know. Don’t make me regret calling.”

The line went dead.

Paige stood there, gripping the phone so hard her knuckles ached, her heart hammering against her ribs.

You were alive.

For now.

But she wasn’t going to wait until it was too late.

Her hands were already shaking as she grabbed her badge, her gun, her keys.

She was going to find you.

No matter what.

Hour 85

The FBI was in her precinct.

The FBI.

Paige had never thought she’d be on the other side of this—watching a team of federal agents take over her case, walking through her department like they belonged there.

But she didn’t care.

She couldn’t care.

Because this was for you.

Because if it meant getting you back, she’d let them do whatever the hell they needed to do.

Special Agent Thomas was leading the task force. He was seasoned, sharp, the kind of guy who didn’t waste time sugarcoating things.

“We’re running a full analysis on the call,” he said, flipping through a folder of information Paige hadn’t even seen yet. “Our digital forensics team is working on voice decryption. If there’s even a trace of a real vocal pattern, we’ll find it.”

Paige sat stiffly in her chair, arms crossed. “They used a voice modulator.”

“We’ve cracked those before.” Thomas nodded toward a man standing near the computer station, his eyes fixed on multiple monitors. “Agent Miller—our best in digital forensics. If there’s a way to extract even a syllable of the original voice, he’ll do it.”

Miller didn’t even look up, just muttered, “Already working on it.”

Paige’s eyes flickered toward the screen, where waves of audio data pulsed in real time. It meant nothing to her, but it meant everything to them.

A different agent—Lina Patel, information technology specialist—was working beside him. “We’re also tracking possible locations based on the call’s origin. They used scrambling software, but we’ve seen similar patterns before. Takes time, but not impossible.”

“Time isn’t something we have.” Paige’s voice was sharp.

Thomas sighed. “We know.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Then Miller exhaled. “Got something.”

Paige’s heart leaped into her throat.

“What?” Thomas moved behind him. “Talk to me.”

Miller’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “It’s faint, but… there’s another sound in the background. Not just the victim. It’s like… a frequency. Low. Almost like—” He adjusted the sound levels, isolating the noise.

A faint whooshing filled the speakers.

Rhythmic. Steady.

Paige’s brow furrowed. “What the hell is that?”

Miller analyzed the waveform, his eyes narrowing.

Then he snapped his fingers. “That’s an air vent.”

“A what?”

“Industrial ventilation system,” Miller confirmed. “Not residential. That’s high-powered airflow. Could be a factory, a warehouse, some kind of industrial building.”

Thomas was already pulling out his phone. “I’ll get the search radius adjusted.”

Paige gritted her teeth. It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

She turned back to Miller. “Can you get more?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I can try.”

Patel jumped in. “I’ll check city blueprints—see what kind of buildings use that type of system. If we narrow it down, we might get lucky.”

Paige hated the word lucky.

This wasn’t about luck.

This was about finding you before it was too late.

Hour 90

The news was everywhere.

Pregnant Woman Still Missing After 90 Hours—Wife a Police Officer

Possible Ransom? FBI Now Involved in the Search

Time Running Out? Experts Say Every Hour Lowers Chances of Recovery

Paige turned the TV off before she put her fist through it.

She sat in the dark, gripping her badge so tightly the edges bit into her palm.

The house was so empty it hurt.

She didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. She barely breathed.

All she did was wait.

Wait for another call.

Wait for another lead.

Wait for something to bring her back to you.

Then, finally—

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

Paige’s stomach lurched, her hands clammy as she answered. “Yeah?”

Silence.

Then—

“I see you’ve been busy, Officer.”

Her blood ran cold.

They knew.

They knew the FBI was involved.

“I told you not to waste my time.” The voice was calm. Amused, even.

Paige forced herself to stay steady. “Where is she?”

A low chuckle. “Ah, you don’t get to make demands. But since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll give you something.”

A shuffle.

Then—

A whimper.

Your whimper.

Paige felt something in her break.

She gripped the phone. “Baby? Baby, I’m right here.”

Your voice was weak. “P—”

The line cut.

Paige shot up from her seat. “TRACE IT.”

Miller was already typing furiously. Patel was flipping through maps.

Thomas grabbed his radio. “All units, be ready.”

Paige clenched her jaw.

She didn’t know where you were.

But she knew one thing.

She was going to find you.

And God help the people who took you.

Because she wouldn’t.

Hour 91

Paige stood in the middle of the precinct, the phone still clenched in her fist, your voice echoing in her head like a ghost she couldn’t shake.

The way it wavered.

The way it barely even sounded like you.

They had you. And you were alive.

But for how much longer?

“Anything?” Paige’s voice was raw, her throat burning from lack of sleep, from screaming into the void of a case that felt endless.

Miller looked like he wanted to give her good news. But he didn’t have any. “They’re using some kind of signal scrambling. We got fragments, but no exact location yet.”

“How big is the radius?”

Patel sighed. “Too big. We’re looking at over fifty possible locations.”

Fifty.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling sharply.

She didn’t have time for fifty.

She needed one.

She needed you.

Hour 94

The next call came quicker this time.

But it wasn’t from them.

It was from you.

Untraceable, of course. But Paige answered it so fast she barely registered her own voice saying your name.

The line crackled. Then—

“Paige.”

She nearly collapsed.

Her grip on the desk was the only thing keeping her standing.

“Baby. I’m here, I’m right here.” Her voice was hoarse, frantic. “Where are you? What do you see?”

There was rustling, heavy breathing. “I—I don’t know. It’s dark. I can’t—”

A sharp cry.

Paige’s whole body tensed. “What? What happened?”

Your breath hitched. “They—they’re getting impatient.”

Paige’s vision blurred. “I swear to God, I’m going to find you. Just hold on. Don’t—”

The sound of something shattering.

A door slamming.

Then—

The line went dead.

Hour 96

“Where’s the nearest abandoned factory with a ventilation system like the one we heard?” Paige demanded, pacing furiously.

Miller was already typing.

Patel snapped her fingers. “Here.”

A map popped up on the screen.

“Old manufacturing plant. Shut down three years ago. It has the exact ventilation system we identified, and it’s in the call radius.”

Paige was already reaching for her gear. “That’s it.”

Thomas hesitated. “Paige—”

“No.” Paige’s glare was deadly. “That’s it.”

She turned toward the SWAT team, her fellow officers, every damn person standing there watching her unravel.

“Get the vans.”

They didn’t argue.

Hour 97

The convoy moved in silence, a coordinated beast of flashing sirens and bulletproof vests.

Paige’s hands trembled over the steering wheel. Not from fear.

From rage.

From desperation.

From the thought of you, scared, alone, calling her with the last bit of hope you had left.

I’m coming, baby.

She repeated it in her head like a prayer.

I’m coming.

The building was a skeleton of rust and dust, hollowed out by time and decay.

But you were here.

She knew you were here.

Paige moved with trained precision, gun drawn, breath controlled. The SWAT team spread out, clearing each section methodically, voices murmuring through her earpiece.

Then—

A sound.

Muffled.

Strained.

Paige’s heart stopped.

She turned a corner.

And there you were.

Tied to a chair, gagged, your face streaked with tears.

A man stood beside you, gun pressed to your temple.

Time froze.

Paige’s entire world narrowed to the sight of you, the way your body flinched under his grip, the way your wide, terrified eyes met hers.

It was only a second.

But it felt like a lifetime.

Then—

The man jerked you up, pulling you as a shield. “Back up, or she dies.”

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Her finger hovered over the trigger.

She could end this. Right now.

But your stomach—your baby.

The risk was too high.

The man’s grip tightened. “I swear to God—”

Then—

A shot.

Not from Paige.

From the side.

A sniper.

A single, clean bullet to the head.

The man crumpled.

Paige was moving before his body even hit the ground.

She dropped her gun, her hands already on you, untying the ropes, ripping the gag away. “Baby, baby—”

You collapsed into her arms, sobbing.

She held you so tight she thought she might break you. “I got you. I got you.”

You clung to her, hands fisting her uniform. “I—I was so scared—”

Paige pressed her lips to your forehead, to your cheeks, to every part of you she could reach. “I know, baby, I know. It’s over. You’re safe. I got you.”

Her hands slid over your stomach, feeling the soft swell beneath her palm.

A heartbeat.

A miracle.

You were alive.

You and the baby.

Paige’s whole body shook with relief, her forehead dropping against yours.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, over and over. “You’re okay.”

But the truth was—

She wasn’t.

Because she had almost lost everything.

And that thought alone?

It would haunt her forever.

The Aftermath

The house felt different when you came home.

It wasn’t the same place you had left.

Paige had left the crib half-built in the nursery.

She had spent days staring at it, wondering if she’d ever finish it.

Now, she sat beside you, watching as you traced your fingers over the tiny wooden frame.

“Can we finish it together?” you asked softly.

Paige swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, baby. Yeah, we can.”

Your hand covered hers, squeezing gently.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Paige’s throat tightened.

“I thought I’d never hear you say that again,” she admitted.

Your eyes filled with tears. “You will. Every day. I promise.”

Paige kissed you.

Slow. Deep.

A promise of its own.

That no matter what?

No matter how close to the edge she had come?

She would always find her way back to you.

[totaly-obsessed]

Good Luck, Babe!

➳ Nika Mühl x reader

➳ pt. 2 of Casual

➳ Summary: A complicated, on-again, off-again relationship where they try to move on but keep getting pulled back together. There’s jealousy, mixed signals, and heartbreak, but no matter what, they can’t seem to fully let go - until maybe they have to.

➳ Word count: 4.178 (idk how I got here)

➳ Warnings: A lot of cursing? Pls be nice to me, it's my first fic in like 6 months...

It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth. And I guess I’m the fool

Ignoring someone who was such a constant in your life turned out to be much harder than you expected. Sure you were convinced you were done with her and didn’t need her anymore, but pulling through with it? It was a whole different world.

The Huskies had just played a fantastic game against Creighton when the brunette finally managed to catch up to your friend group outside in the hallway. Nika had put in a shift in the game, giving her all on the court, so she was already out of breath, when she called out a sharp “Hey, stop!”.

A deep sigh left your body, there was no way out of this now, once she set her eyes on something, there was no other option in the basketballer's mind. “It’s alright, I’ll catch up to you guys later.” They didn’t seem too sure to leave you alone with someone who just a couple of weeks ago had brought out a side of you they had never seen before.

“You’ve been acting like we’re nothing. Like I don’t exist.” Nika’s arms were crossed over her chest, clearly frustrated and ready to defend herself. And the scowl on her face told you that she did not like the scoff you let out, or your rolled eyes.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Casual, no attachment?” You hadn’t even noticed the hallway emptying, leaving just you and Nika. Carefully you tried to shift away from her, putting a bit of space between the two of you, trying to save yourself some embarrassment. But the brunette was quick to follow your movements, forcing you closer to the wall behind you.

“It’s fine. It’s cool,” and just like that her eyebrows that tend to make her look angry relaxed, and that damn cocky smirk won over her face. By now you were completely pressed against the rough wall behind you. Nika came closer and closer, eventually leaning down, her face only a couple of inches away from yours.“You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.”

She was right. You did know.

That didn’t mean you could continue being toyed with.

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself before finally locking eyes with her. Christ. You had nearly forgotten just how deep they were, and you could feel yourself slipping. But your voice was firm, unwavering “Yeah, I know the truth, Nika. And I guess I’m the fool but I’m done being something to you only when it’s convenient or you’re bored for 5 seconds.”

The Croatian’s smile nearly fell off her face, and you swear if you squinted you could see a quick flash of hurt on her face. But you decided not to wait around to question it, instead moving past her - ignoring the pain in your chest and the way her hand twitched in your direction.

But walking away didn’t feel like you were winning like you finally stood your ground. It really fucking hurt.

With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

After you got back to your friends they decided to do something against the tears streaming down your face. And what better thing is there to do in Storrs Connecticut than 5 young adults in a car chasing sunsets?

By now the sun had been long gone, and the cold night air bit at your stretched-out arms, but you barely noticed. The trees flew by in a blur as Daisy held on to your legs, terrified that you would fall out of the sunroof of the car.

Just for a second, it was as if you were flying. Like you were free like an angel.

But was freedom supposed to feel this empty? Were angels truly free or just servants of god?

The howling wind tangled your hair, as you squeezed your eyes shut - trying to get rid of the ache still left in your chest as if someone was squeezing you too hard. Maybe you could leave it all behind. But who were you kidding? As dramatic as it sounds, right now there was not a possibility in your mind to get over Nika.

Daisy’s grip on your thighs tightened, pulling your attention away from the star-painted sky. “Alright, I think that’s enough main-character moment for one night,” she yelled over the blaring music and the roaring winds. You could hear the slight concern hidden behind a laugh.

With a sigh you let her pull you back down to earth, but also back in the car as you collapsed against the worn leather seats, your heart still racing. The others were singing along to some old song, not hitting any note of it and laughing about themselves. It was warm and safe in the chaos of it all.

But the emptiness was still there.

Maybe angels weren’t free. Maybe just like you, they were stuck between wanting to fly and staying.

I don't wanna call it off But you don't wanna call it love

It turned out, that Nika isn’t all that calm, cool, collected either. Her performances in recent games had been sloppy and everyone was able to see that something was off with their secretary of defense.

The worst part of it all was seeing her get frustrated with herself. Whenever Geno took her out, she had tears in her eyes as her jaw clenched on the bench.

Giving up, however, didn’t seem to come to her mind. At any party, game, or lesson she had a glimpse of you, Nika tried to find excuses to be near you.

Oh, look! You’re here too, directly next to the fan whose shirt I’m signing. What a coincidence!

And it was safe to say that you weren’t oblivious to it. The way she lingered just a second too long when you were close, how her eyes automatically looked for you in crowds (just to find that you were already looking at her once she actually found you), the way she laughed extra loud, hard and fake at people, trying to act unbothered, just to stop once you turned away. 

At first, you thought this was just Nika being Nika - dramatic, relentless, and not accepting of a loss even if it wasn’t on the court. But the coincidences started to pile up.

Oh wow, the only open seat in the dining hall just happens to be at your table? No way.

Oh, she’s just suddenly best friends with the person sitting next to you in class? What a small world!

Oh look, you’re leaving a party at the exact same time, at the exact same exit, and she just has to walk in the same direction as you? Who would’ve thought?

Despite her games, her need to be close and her pure annoying-ness, she never actually said what you needed to hear. She never called it what it was.

“I don’t wanna call it off,” she had once told you in passing, the first thing she actively said to you after the hallway conversation, her voice low and her gaze unreadable.

But she never called it love either.

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

If the dumb universe wouldn’t help you get over Nika, you would just have to do it yourself, or at least that was the plan. Which is why you ended up at some Alpha Delta Phi Frat party - halfway through your third drink that you barely liked, in a mass of sweaty people with hands on your body. 

You were trying to pretend that the warmth of someone else’s hands on your waist would be enough to make you forget.

Of course, it wasn’t.

But it was better than nothing, which is why you still threw your head back, downing whatever vile concoction was in that cup, and dragged the guy, whose hands were currently trying to find a home on your hips, off the dance floor. He was cute enough, said the right things, well as far as your drunken mind cared, he leaned in a little too close - but none of that mattered.

Because even with the bass running through your body, and unfamiliar lips brushing against yours, all you could think about was her. 

Daisy caught you when you stumbled your way back over to the bar, promising the guy to get some drinks. “You done?” she asked unimpressed, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed strangely sober. Or maybe you were really drunk. 

“Not even close”, you leaned over the counter so that the barkeeper, who really was just another frat boy, could actually hear you as you ordered more drinks.

These were supposed to help, right? This is what people did when they wanted to move on. But it didn’t work, not for you at least. You could kiss a hundred different people in a hundred different bars, take a hundred shots, but the feeling never left. 

No matter how you tried to drown her out, or maybe drown yourself with other sensations, she always resurfaced.

And the worst part? You knew exactly where she was.

Just across the room. Watching you. 

You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, 'nother stupid reason Good luck, babe

She was staring.

And it wasn’t an ‘oh I was just looking over, and there you are! What a surprise!’. No. Nika was standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed, jaw tight and eyes locked with yours. She was daring you to keep going.

Like she was waiting for you to break first.

Fuck this. Instead of breaking, you took the shot instead. The burn in your throat was nothing compared to the ache you felt in your chest, as you made your way back to the guy from before.

Finally meeting her gaze again felt like a crime, but you could see it. The frustration, the jealousy. But she didn’t move. She didn’t storm over like you had thought she would. 

She just stood there, watching.

The smirk made its way onto your face before you could control it - just to piss her off even more. You let the guy, whose name you still didn’t know pull you closer, feeling him breath down your neck, and you prayed that the Croatian didn’t see the way you grimaced. If she wants to pretend that everything is fine, then two can play that game.

You could nearly hear the scoff all the way across the room - Well you couldn’t hear it, but you saw it, and you knew exactly how that expression sounded - before she turned her head and walked away.

What you didn’t see was Daisy pulling the tall basketball player back inside by her arm before she could fully escape.

“You just gonna stand there all night?” Daisy snapped, her voice low but sharp.

Nika clenched her jaw, ripping her arm away. “What do you want me to do?” she muttered, eyes flickering back toward you, wrapped up in someone else’s arms.

Daisy scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe stop acting like a fucking coward.”

Nika’s glare snapped to her. “I’m not—”

“Oh, spare me,” Daisy cut in, shaking her head. “You can say it’s just the way you are. Make a new excuse, ‘nother stupid reason.” Her voice dripped with frustration. “But you and I both know that’s a load of shit. So… Good Luck, Babe.”

Nika didn’t respond, just tightened her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

Because Daisy was right.

And she fucking hated that.

I'm cliché, who cares? It's a sexually explicit kind of love affair And I cry, it's not fair I just need a little lovin', I just need a little air

To no one's surprise, you didn’t last much longer at the party. Maybe it was the thick air or the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t think straight. A certain brunette is always present in there. 

So you left. Slipped out the front door silent as a grave. But before you had reluctantly taken the guy's phone number that he had scribbled on a piece of paper ‘just in case’. The cold air had hit you in the face. This felt nice, to finally be able to breathe. Clearly, you needed this.

You didn’t expect her to still be here, after seeing her leave earlier. But of course, she waited. 

“You think that’s funny?” Nika's voice had cut through the night like a blade. And you didn’t even need to turn around to know that she was right there, just a step behind you.

“What?” You decided to play unknowingly, pretending not to know what she was talking about.

“You know what,” As the last few times you’ve spoken to her, her voice was sharp but you could hear a slight wavering. “Dragging some random dude with you, making a show off it.”

With a scoff, you now fully turned around to her. “What I do, is none of your business.” She let out a dry laugh, not the kind of laugh that you liked, but a mocking one. “Bullshit. You were looking at me the whole time. Don’t lie to yourself.”

And that was the problem. You were looking at her. All the time.

“God, you’re so fucking - “ you stopped yourself, hands gripping the hairs at the side of your head in desperation, trying to push down all the feelings. Make them go away. “I don’t get you, Nika. One minute you don’t want anything to do with me. The next-”

“I never said I didn’t want anything to do with you.” Her interruption was sudden, but not unexpected. Her voice was quieter than before, but it sounded dangerous somehow. “I never said that.”

“No?” It was your turn to chuckle now. “Then what the hell is this,” you pointed wildly between the two of you, becoming aware of the lessening distance, “Because I can’t keep doing whatever this is.” Your chest was heaving up and down, so fast as if you had just run a marathon.

The brunette didn’t say anything for a moment, she was just looking at you, trying to find the right words, and just when you thought you had broken her again - “I’m cliché, who cares?”

“What?” You were the broken one now.

“I’m cliché,” she said again, repeating herself, her lips curling into that goddamn smirk you loved so much. “Dramatic, stupid, jealous as fuck - I’m all of it, you’re right. But you -” She took a step even closer, and suddenly, there was barely any space left between you, to the extent that you could feel the warmth radiating off of the tall girl in the cold night. “You make me lose my goddamn mind.”

And instead of heaving like before, your chest stopped moving as you held your breath. Fuck. If she had said this a few months ago, you would have folded instantly. Maybe none of this would have happened and instead, you’d be - No. You couldn’t even think about it. 

But it was too late, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, well,” you took a step back, ignoring the pain. “Maybe you should have figured that out before you decided I was only good for convenience and in private.”

The smirk fell off her face.

“That’s not-”

“Save it, Nika.” The words hurt in your throat. And seeing the hurt on your face nearly killed you. But you were doing this for yourself. Too long you had yourself as a last thought. “You don’t get to be mad. You don’t get to act like I did something wrong when all I ever did was want you.”

Something behind her eyes snapped, and her right hand went up to grasp at her shirt. “You - You think I don’t want you?” Nika’s voice broke slightly as she demanded an answer “You think I don’t feel this?”

You stared at her. “Then say it. Tell me what you feel.”

She hesitated. Of Course, she did.

Because that’s what she always did. That’s what she’s good at. Dancing around the truth, playing games, got close but never too close or close enough. She was a coward. And you were so fucking tired of it.

"Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You turned on your heel, ready to walk away. For real this time. But then -

“I just need a little lovin’,” she said, with a voice so quiet that you nearly missed it. 

You froze.

“I just need a little air,” Nika’s beautiful eyes were glued to the ground, hands fidgeting with each other when you turned back around. She looked wrecked. 

Something in you twisted painfully. Because god you understood.

You understood what it was like to want something that scared you. To be so afraid of losing it, that you ruined it yourself before anyone else even had the chance to do it.

But that didn’t change the fact that she had hurt you. And she knew that it hurt you. She made you believe that she didn’t care all this time when in reality she did.

“I cry,” the admittance made her scoff at herself, but seeing you smile, made it feel a little better. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” you agreed, the cold night wind carrying it over to the brunette, “It’s not.”

The silence felt suffocating between both of you, the tears in your eyes were begging to be set free. But then - 

“It’s a sexually explicit kind of love affair,” she said like she was confessing something like she was finally laying herself bare.

This was her way of saying It was never just about sex. It was never just a fling. It was always more than that.

The noise you made was somewhat between a laugh and a sob “Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife

The sheets felt wrong. Too crisp, and not familiar. The room was bathed in soft moonlight, casting shadows on the wall. But it was all strange, hazy, like a blur. Like she was watching it, instead of actually experiencing it. 

Nika turned over in her bed, expecting to find it empty, but the weight beside her made her stomach sink. His breathing was steady and peaceful. It was like he belonged here, the room was colorless, without character, which fit to him. But she didn’t belong here. This wasn’t right.

The Croatian squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her temples. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. 

When she was lowering her hands, the wedding band on her finger caught her eye, the moonlight reflecting off of it.

No. No, no, no. 

Suddenly she felt as if she was suffocating, the breath getting stuck in her lungs. The air in the room was thick, pressing down on her chest. She didn’t know who was beside her, didn’t know his name, and she couldn’t remember how she got there. She couldn’t feel anything besides the aching hole inside her. The one that has been there before.

The one that has always belonged to you.

She stumbled out of the bed, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. Nika could feel her heartbeat in her ears. The reflection in the mirror was a stranger - with tired, empty, and lifeless eyes. 

And when you think about me all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so"

And then she saw you. Standing in the doorway like you had always been there, always waiting. 

She couldn’t read your face, but your eyes - god your eyes - held everything. The frustration, the hurt, the longing, the knowing.

She had fucked this up.

You tilted your head, arms crossed over your chest, lips parting just a tiny bit like you were about to say something. But Nika already knew what you were going to say.

“I told you so.”

It wasn’t smug, you weren’t trying to hurt her more. It was just the truth. A truth that crushed her.

Her throat tightened again like she was drowning. It came so suddenly it felt as if she let go of something that wasn’t just important, but vital - necessary.

The brunette wanted to reach for you, take you in her arms, and tell you that she was sorry. That she never stopped thinking about you. But before she could move, say something, you were gone. And you took all the warmth and light with you.

You were gone.

And she woke up.

You know I hate to say, I told you so

Nika jolted upright. Her chest heaving as if her air was cut off in real life and not just her dream. Sweat clung to her skin and her heart was racing, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the dream or the realization that came with it.

Shaky hands ran through her hair, blinking at the darkness, but familiarity of her room as she was trying to calm herself down. But it wasn’t working. Because she knew.

This wasn’t just a dream, this was a fucking warning.

If she didn’t do something, that’s how she would end up. Incredibly unhappy, a wife to some dude. Without you. If she didn’t stop running or hiding and she stopped being a coward, this would be her future. 

And she would lose you for good.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Not now. Not ever.

Nika threw the covers off and grabbed her phone.

It was time to fight for you.

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

“Can you meet me?”

It was nearly 3 am when you got the text. Of Course, you were still awake. After coming home and explaining what had happened to Daisy, the two of you decided to watch some movies. 

The answer was easy, “Yes.”

“I’m outside.”

The next minutes were a blur as you grabbed your keys, got some shoes, and put on a jacket. Why were you so nervous? This was only Nika.

Walking down the flights of stairs to get to the front door of your student housing felt endless. Outside you could see her. Standing on the sidewalk, hands gripping the strap of her bag, shifting on her feet - you feel it before you even reach her. That pull. That undeniable force.

After seeing you, her face lights up. But you could still see the dark circles under her puffy eyes. 

At first, neither of you speak. Just standing across from each other, reveling in the comfort the others' presence brought. Then with a deep breath, Nika took an uncertain step forward before finally pulling you into a hug, resting her head on yours, while you buried your face in her neck.

“You’d have to stop the world just to stop this feeling,” she whispers against your hair.

And right then, you know - you never want it to stop.

You held her tighter as the world outside kept moving. Every now and then cars zoomed by or people walked past you. But for you and Nika time slowed down. 

She pulled back just enough to be able to look at you, one of her hands cupping your cheek so gently, that she must have thought you would break. There’s something unreadable in her expression. Something raw.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “That if I said this out loud, it would disappear. You would disappear.”

Your fingers brush a strand of her behind her ear “It’s real,” you say softly. “It’s been real the whole time.”

She exhaled shakily, but the hand that was holding onto your jacket didn’t let go. Instead - she smiles. A small one, but it was there, and it was as if a boulder was lifted off of your chest. 

“I don’t want to run from this anymore,” she murmured before pressing a kiss on your forehead. You could feel the heat shoot up to your face, knowing she could feel it too, one hand still cupping your face.

“Then don’t.”

A beat. Then she laughed, and it’s the kind of laugh that melts through every doubt you have ever had. “Okay.”

You had to laugh too, and before you could think, before fear or hesitation could creep in, you cupped her face right back and pressed your forehead to hers. The warmth of her skin, the way she sighed like she was finally home - was enough to make your heart ache in the best way.

“This is crazy,” she whispered, but she was smiling.

You grinned. “Maybe. But I don’t care.”

And then, finally, she kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was slow, filled with every unspoken word, every moment that led you here. 

It was a promise, a beginning.

[lazarusrisingx]

hm something about frenzy enhanced praedetor zayne

who insists he hasnt lost control of himself while hes pounding you.

your face down ass up on the wardens desk, tears streaming down your face as the wardens hands grip your hips and he groans and gasps behind you, struggling with himself.

you can feel it in the way he thrusts. Zayne wants to be gentle. he really truly does. the poor man doesnt want to lose thag facade of control hes tried so hard to keep you from seeing theough.

one second hes gentle, chest pressed to you back, slowly and deliciously dragging his dick in and out of you.

just for it to be gone in an knsyant, and zayne is back to pounding your poor hole with reckless abandon.

“ha-ah-ah m-my apologies y-y/n, im-ngh-trying but… gods you feel so good so perfect and tig-ht.”

zayne is all growls and breathy pants. struggling to stop himself from absolutely wrecking you. but its no use. your mouth is wide open, drool sliding down your chin, hair a mess, hands gripping the edge of his desk for dear life. your like a toy in this odd tug-of-war. the losing side belongs to the gentle calm man you know, the other side is feral and animalistic zayne.

his fingertips squeezeing intk your hips as his thrusts get harder and deeper. and then the nastiest words fall from his mouth. voice raw and a quiet rumble.

“your so pretty like-like this. so tight and ngh~ needy for me. serves you-you right for teasing me all day. mngh~ swaying these”- he punctuates himself with a smack on your ass- “these beautiful hips all day. teasing, making fun of me.”

zayne is can handle a lot, but not rhe way you tease him. and its true youve been a brat all day not knowing it would push your boyfriend to a frenzy.

zayne panted squeezing the now sore spot on your ass and slowing down on his thrusts. he geabbed your hair and forced your head up, kissing your cheek as he continued deep and slow strokes.

“i can easily remedy this behavior dont you think?” he said softly into your ear, his breaths came in short gasps as he continued to slow down, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

“bratty girl… so good for me.” zayne mumbled softly. it reminds you kf when hes drunk. the way his pace changes and he tries to slow down and be gentle.

of course this was your own doing. you know how much zayne hates getting teased, and you know teasing him in front of people is a terrible idea. thats how you got to this point anyways.

zayne releases his grip on your hair, letting your head rest on the now soiled paper work you were bent over on. he went bsck to his rough thrusting, muttering obscenity’s you thought only happened in those porn videos you watch.

“fuck~ dirty bratty girl… ngh~ such a slut t-teasing me hm? this-this was your end goal yes? bent over , fuuck~, bent over my desk just like this? cant stop cumming.”

he really couldnt. the man had stamina like you had never seen. the sound of his cum getting fucked into was loud and lewd, your pussy made a mess of your own juices mixed with his seed. it was obscene really.

uour shoulders tensed and you felt your walls twitch around zayne. you groaned and heard a soft laugh come from zayne.

“again? cumming again? feels to good hm? cum for me beutiful, one more time.”

it was not in fact one more time. actually zayne went for hours, losing himself in the tight warm walls you have. he doesnt think he can get enough, and as soon as he musters enough self control to pull out of you, hes slamming back in again as praedetor brain takes over.