#i just want to be a part of this crowd once

[inseobts]

Omg I absolutely adore your Law fics!! I’d love to read about a fake dating scenario between a Strawhat reader and Law in Wano like you did with Zoro. He’d be such a cutie 🥰

Thank you 🙏

Undercover Affection

law x strawhat!reader

a/n: omg I was so excited to write this aknakjd it doesn't really follow the canon events tho

words count: 5.1k

tags: fake dating, fake marriage, teasing, wano arc

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious pirate and doctor, stand side by side in the bustling marketplace, trying to blend in as a newlywed couple. Law, wearing his usual stoic expression, is clearly out of his element, while you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Stop grinning like that" he mutters, adjusting the fake wedding ring you insisted on putting on his finger. He glares at you, but you only giggle louder.

"Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got to make it convincing" you tease, leaning closer to him with exaggerated affection. His irritation is almost palpable.

"I don't need you hanging off me like that. We're here for a mission, not for you to play around." His voice is calm, but the faint redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You smirk, knowing exactly how much it bothers him "But I love how grumpy you get when I do this. It’s like a whole new side of you."

You look at him with playful eyes, wrapping your arm around his, deliberately snuggling closer, and watching the slight twitch in his jaw.

"You're insufferable" he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he's secretly enjoying it. Even if he won't admit it, you know this act is something he didn’t expect and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

You wink at him “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

Law scoffs but the tips of his ears go red, which only makes you smirk wider.

The two of you continue to walk through the crowded streets of Wano, and the people around you don't seem to pay much attention, at least not to Law. But you, on the other hand, draw plenty of stares. It's almost laughable how you're both playing the part of a loving couple so well. You’re sure the act would’ve made some people second-guess themselves, if not for your obvious affection for Law.

“Do you really have to hold my hand like this?” Law mutters, trying to keep his face neutral. His tone is deadpan, but his hand doesn't pull away, even though he clearly wants to.

“Yes, I do. It’s important for the cover, we're married, remember?” You tighten your grip slightly, watching him try his hardest to stay composed, and you can’t help but relish in how embarrassed he looks.

“...I’m going to regret this” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“No, you won’t,” you say sweetly, squeezing his hand with a grin “You like it.”

Law doesn’t say anything for a moment. His face remains impassive, but you can see the little vein in his forehead twitching. It’s clear that he’s not nearly as indifferent as he’s trying to make himself seem.

Before he can retort, you pull his arm, dragging him towards a stand with fresh produce "Look! They have strawberries!!"

You start picking up the plump, red fruit, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. Law watches you, his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

"You’re acting like a child," he observes dryly, clearly disinterested. But you know he’s watching, and deep down, you know that he’s silently amused.

“You’re just mad because I’m having fun. Don’t worry, I'll buy you some too” you say, but the moment you say it, you know he’ll probably refuse it.

Law doesn't respond, but you catch the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just for a moment. His mouth tightens, but it’s not out of frustration anymore. It’s something else, something softer, though he’d never admit it.

You turn to him and offer one of the strawberries "Want one? You might smile for once."

He takes the strawberry reluctantly, muttering under his breath, "You're impossible" but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the smallest hint of a smile might want to escape.

The night comes, and you’re both sitting around a small campfire outside of town, eating a simple meal. Law’s still in his pirate garb, but you’ve managed to dress him up in something a little more traditional, at least in a way that blends with the locals. He looks even more irritated now that he’s out of his comfort zone, but you can’t help but stare at him.

"You know, you really should smile more," you say casually, picking at the food in front of you "You’d be less grumpy."

Law shoots you a glare, his gaze cold but somehow fond "I don’t need to smile."

“You say that, but you do smile sometimes, even when you don’t mean to,” you tease, leaning your head on your hand "Like when you're all annoyed. It’s cute."

His eyebrow twitches, and you immediately know you’ve hit a nerve.

"I do not get 'annoyed'," he hisses "I’m just... trying to survive being stuck here."

“Oh sure, but I’ve noticed something,” you say, leaning in with a smirk “Every time I annoy you, you get this cute little angry face. It’s the best part of the day.”

Law scowls harder, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the way his face softens ever so slightly, as if he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“I’m not cute” he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual edge.

“Oh, trust me, you’re definitely cute. Especially when you try to hide it” you say, reaching over to poke his cheek, making him flinch.

“Don’t touch me” he warns, his patience thinning, but there's no real heat behind it.

You pull your hand back with a grin, trying to hide your glee “I bet I can get you to smile before this mission is over.”

“You won’t" he says, though there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You wink at him “Wanna bet?”

Law looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. But you both know it’s a challenge he’s already lost.

The next morning, the Heart Pirates gather. You and Law make your way back after a quick stop in the town. You’re both still playing the role of a happily married couple, though your grin and the slight blush on Law’s face tell a different story.

"Morning, you two" Bepo greets with a wave as you approach the group. He gives you both a curious glance but doesn’t comment right away. You notice his ears twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Morning" you reply sweetly, wrapping your arm around Law's waist. You can’t resist leaning into him just a little, making sure everyone notices.

Shachi and Penguin, standing nearby, exchange a quick look.

Law doesn't want to draw attention to it, but he's well aware of the curious stares from his crew.

"What's going on between you two?" Penguin asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow "I thought we were supposed to be working undercover, not pretending to be... a couple." He says "couple" with exaggerated air quotes, making sure the whole group hears it.

You giggle, looking up at Law "Oh, we are, don't worry. Usopp said we should go undercover as a freshly married couple, right, honey?" you say, dragging out the last word with far too much affection, but you actually did it to tease him. In facts, Law’s face tenses, and you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Bepo looks between the two of you, his expression softer than the others "You’re really convincing" he says, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He clearly doesn’t quite understand the situation but seems to be happy for you, or at least trying to be supportive.

“You’re making him uncomfortable, y/n” Shachi teases, nudging you playfully.

“Well, it's a fake marriage after all” you reply with a grin “If he likes it or not we have to make it seem real, especially because we almost got caught”

Law huffs, crossing his arms tightly “We’re not really married. It’s a cover for the mission. And you...” He points at Shachi, who seems way too entertained by the situation “...don’t have to comment on it.”

"Sure, sure, but tell me this," Shachi continues, leaning in as though he's unraveling a great mystery "How come every time I look over, you're so close? So touchy-feely for just a mission. There’s gotta be something going on.”

Penguin snickers in the background, enjoying the show “Shachi might be onto something, Law. You sure you’re not falling for y/n?”

You wink at Law, watching his patience fray a little more “Oh, I think he’s already there” you say, making sure to be extra teasing.

Law narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled at the idea of his crew picking up on this “I am not! Stop messing around, all of you. We have more important things to focus on.”

But you can tell that beneath the irritation, there’s a hint of something else, embarrassment? Maybe even… a little fondness?

“I’m just saying,” Bepo starts, his voice soft but sincere “you two look so natural together. It’s kind of adorable.”

Your eyes soften, and you offer Bepo a warm smile "I’m glad someone sees it that way," you reply, winking at Law again. He’s practically fuming now, but there's a twinkle in his eyes that he’s not quite able to hide.

“Adorable?” Law scoffs, his face now an unmistakable shade of red “I swear, you’re all insane.” He glares at his crew, but even the glare doesn't hide how his heart's racing just a little.

Later that evening, as you and Law sit around the campfire again, this time with the rest of the Heart Pirates on watch duty, the teasing continues, though now it’s less playful and more knowing. Everyone’s fully aware that something’s up between you two, and it’s clear that you’ve been having a lot of fun with the idea.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get this out of the way," Shachi starts, taking a seat beside you and leaning in conspiratorially "Who fell first?”

Law doesn’t even look at you, but you can feel his discomfort radiating “We’re not doing this” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.

But the teasing continues, the Heart Pirates are all looking at you two with amusement in their eyes. Bepo and Penguin are now watching you closely, seemingly trying to pick up on every little interaction, while Shachi just can’t stop himself from pressing the issue.

“You two are definitely more than just a cover story,” Shachi says, grinning from ear to ear “You’re always so close, so... affectionate.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in, clearly enjoying the drama “It’s like you guys are really a thing.”

Law remains silent for a few beats, his jaw clenched, clearly holding his frustration in check. But you notice the tightening of his fists and the way his eyes flicker with irritation.

You glance over at him, but before you can even tease him again, you notice his patience clearly running out “That’s enough” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

The whole group falls quiet, the sudden intensity of his voice making them look at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t like this attention, alright?” Law’s voice is colder now, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something harder, something… serious. His gaze shifts to you, and you’re caught off guard by how harsh his words are “I don’t like you hanging off me all the time, I don’t like being treated like your husband, and I don’t like you constantly teasing me. We’re not a couple, y/n. We’re not even close enough for you to call me your friend, let alone you husband...”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. His face is set in a frown, his usual stoic expression replaced by something colder, more distant. You feel a pang in your chest, your heart sinking at how genuine he seems.

The rest of the crew falls silent, unsure of what to say.

You take a step back, your arm slipping as you pull away. Your eyes flicker down to the ground, trying to hide the hurt that's suddenly swelling inside you.

You’re not sure why, but the way he said it, so blunt, so final, makes you believe him. Maybe you had been too forward. Maybe you pushed him too far, even if you were just jocking around.

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak, forced "Right," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this uncomfortable."

Law doesn’t respond, too focused on his crew and the way they’re looking at him. The awkward silence stretches, and you find yourself drifting further away. You can’t bring yourself to joke anymore, to tease him as you had before. The sting of his words cuts deeper than you want to admit.

The rest of the evening goes by in an uncomfortable silence. You eat your meal, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Law, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long. Every time you do, you feel the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

The next few days feel... different. You’ve stopped teasing him, stopped getting close like you used to. Whenever you have to interact, you’re careful to keep your distance, avoiding any unnecessary physical contact. You act as professional as possible, keeping the focus entirely on the mission.

It doesn’t escape the Heart Pirates’ notice, though. They watch as the dynamics between you and Law change. You’re not the playful couple anymore. Instead, you seem more distant, more reserved—especially around Law.

Shachi notices first "Hey, y/n, everything okay?" he asks one morning as you sit near the ship’s edge, watching the horizon. He knows something’s off, and though he doesn’t want to pry, he can’t help but ask.

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Bepo, who’s been quietly observing, speaks up hesitantly “You haven’t been... teasing him anymore. Are you two—”

“We’re fine,” you interrupt quickly, too quickly. You don’t want to explain. You don’t even know what to say "Just focusing on the mission, as it should have been from the very start"

The conversation ends there, but you can feel the weight of their concern. They’re noticing the shift, the sudden distance between you and Law. But none of them, especially not Law, know how to fix it.

Days pass in Wano, and you continue to keep your distance from Law, though the tension between the two of you feels thicker than ever. Every time you’re near him, the awkwardness is palpable. But something else is happening in the background.

The Strawhats are back in Wano. After all the time you’ve spent apart.

It’s in the middle of a bustling market square, where you and Law are walking around trying to gather some supplies for the mission, when you spot them. You freeze, your heart racing. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Sanji.

Without thinking, you let everything fall from your hands and sprint toward him. Sanji’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see you coming until it’s too late. You throw yourself into his arms with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with relief.

“Sanji!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against his chest as you cling to him.

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles softly, his arms wrapping around you “Hey there, y/n” he says, his tone warm “It’s been a while, huh?”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand “I’ve missed you so much” you admit softly.

Sanji raises an eyebrow, but his smile softens “It’s good to see you too. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind, though. You okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then give a small nod “Yeah... I’m fine now. I just... I’ve been through some stuff. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Law watched everything, staying back. As soon as he saw you hugging the cook, he took everything you dropped and left you alone with them, even because it looks like you forgot about him.

The next day, you find yourself meeting up with Sanji at his little noodle shop. You’ve told him everything, how you and Law have been pretending to be a married couple, how your feelings have gotten tangled up, and how, after Law’s harsh words, you’ve pulled away to keep things professional. You tell him about the emotional distance between you and Law, and the complicated feelings you’re dealing with.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit, your hands twisting nervously in your lap “I feel like I’m losing him. He doesn’t want me around, and it’s driving me crazy. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sanji’s expression softens as he listens to you, his gaze gentle

“I thought it was just supposed to be a cover” you murmur, “but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like one. And now... now it feels like everything’s falling apart.” You pause, looking down “I think I care about him more than I thought I did.”

Sanji reaches out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze “You’ve got a good heart, y/n. And I know Law is a complicated guy. But if you care about him, you need to figure out what you want. You’re not just a cover story, okay?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn’t realized you were missing “You’re right. I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

Sanji leans in, his voice dropping lower “It’s okay to take things slow. And if you want to... maybe you could start by not hiding from him anymore.”

Before you can respond, you both hear some footsteps approaching. You quickly stand up and walk away from the alley, but you notice people beginning to gossip behind you.

“You heard about y/n and her husband, right?” one woman whispers to her friend.

“Yeah, I heard she’s been cheating on him with that blonde guy. Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve!” another woman replies, her voice dripping with gossip.

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You feel your face flush with embarrassment and frustration. Cheating? How did they come up with that?

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. The whispers follow you as you walk back to the group, and you can feel the sting of their words deep in your chest.

Later that evening, as you rejoin Law and the rest of the crew, you notice his usual cold demeanor has shifted. He’s standing by the fire, his back to you, as if he’s been waiting for you. When you approach, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge you.

"Are you... okay?" you ask softly, but you can see the frustration in his posture. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens.

“I don’t appreciate people talking about my personal life like that, true or not...” Law says, his voice low and clipped “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now I hear rumors? What’s going on?”

Your stomach twists in knots “Law...”

“I don't care about you and the blondie but...” he cuts you off, his gaze icy “I can’t focus when people are talking about me like that, especially if we're supposed to be undercover here.”

You feel your throat tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s frustrated, and his anger makes your heart ache “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know Sanji is my friend, people just don't know the truth and make things up” you admit, your voice shaky.

Law sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as if he’s about to snap “Then stop avoiding me. We’re in this together, but if you keep pushing me away, I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore... we can't bring so much attention on us.”

The atmosphere between you and Law is still tense. You don’t want things to spiral even further, so you suggest an idea, something that might distract from the tension and let everyone cool off for a while.

"Why don’t we go grab some food?" you suggest, your voice a little hesitant but hopeful.

Law turns to you, his expression neutral “You think food is going to help?”

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood "Maybe. Besides, I’ve been hearing about this noodle shop... the chef is called Sanji, I think?... I’ve heard it’s good..."

Law’s brows furrow, but his interest is piqued "Sanji? You think going right to him won't worsen things?"

You nod "Maybe if people see us all together, as three good friends, they're going to stop talk about me cheating..."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs, clearly not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts any longer "Fine. Let’s go."

The small noodle spot is tucked away in a corner of Wano, busy and filled with the warmth of the cooking. When you and Law arrive, you’re greeted immediately by Sanji’s bright smile, but there’s something in his eyes that softens when he sees you. He’s not as flirtatious as usual, and there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he sees the tension between you and Law.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous 'married couple'" Sanji says, his voice light, though there’s an edge to it now.

You try to smooth things over, grinning at him “Yeah, we’re here to eat...”

It’s time to kill the rumors.

“We’ll sit over here,” you say quickly, guiding Law to a seat “Make it clear to everyone that we’re... still a team.”

Law sits down stiffly, clearly not thrilled, but it’s obvious he’s playing along. He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to acknowledge Sanji’s deliberate coldness toward him.

Sanji brings over bowls of noodles with flair, but his attitude towards Law remains distant, even a little antagonistic. He makes sure to place the food right in front of you, offering a special smile "Just for you, y/n. A little something extra special, like always."

He looks at you, and his smile softens just a bit. But when his eyes flick to Law, the warmth vanishes, and the tension in the room grows thicker.

Law doesn’t react right away, but you can feel the change in him. His jaw tightens, his body language growing even more tense than it was before. He clenches his fist under the table, clearly irritated.

"Stop playing games," Law mutters, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration "Just serve the food and stop making this weird."

Sanji, clearly not intimidated, shrugs "If you don’t like how things are going, maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating her. It’s obvious you’ve got no control over the situation"

You flinch at the words, but Sanji’s eyes flicker to you in a way that makes you feel a bit guilty. You didn’t want this to turn into some kind of game, but now, it’s getting harder to keep things under wraps.

You look at Law, hoping to redirect the conversation "Let’s just eat," you say, trying to keep things casual "We need to look like a normal couple to the town. We don’t want any more rumors."

Law gives you a long, searching look before nodding "Fine. But we’re done with the theatrics, understood?"

As the meal progresses, the silence between you, Sanji, and Law grows thicker. The tension is almost unbearable, but it’s working, people around are starting to get the message. Law and you are a team, no matter the rumors, and the gossip about you "cheating" slowly starts to fade as the focus shifts to you two sitting together.

Sanji seems to settle into his role. He occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re taken care of, but the icy distance he’s putting between himself and Law is unmistakable. Law notices it too, and while he’s trying to keep his cool, it’s clear it’s starting to get under his skin.

Finally, Sanji returns to the counter, his back turned, leaving you and Law in silence. It’s the perfect opportunity to clear the air, but neither of you speaks.

You glance at Law, noticing the frustration in his eyes. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the way Sanji is treating you, doesn’t like the way he’s feeling about the whole situation.

You try to lighten the mood, but it’s hard to ignore the tightness in his shoulders "You know, we’re supposed to be a married couple, not a couple of kids at a playground."

Law narrows his eyes at you "I didn’t sign up for this. The mission’s getting complicated."

You try to ignore the tug in your chest, a bit of confusion creeping in "It’s just a cover, Law. Nothing’s changed. We’re just doing what we need to do."

But the words hang there, and even though you say them, you know that things aren’t so simple anymore. You feel it, and you know Law does too.

As you leave the shop together, the streets of Wano no longer seem as welcoming as before. The weight of the situation presses down on you, and Law’s behavior is starting to affect you in ways you didn’t expect. You can’t figure out if it’s the mission weighing on him, or if it’s something more.

After the meal at Sanji’s, the rumors finally start dying down, but the damage between you and Law lingers. The tension is unbearable, Law barely looks at you, and you, still hurt from his earlier words, keep your distance.

Sanji notices. The crew notices. Even the damn town notices.

One evening, as you sit outside the inn you and Law have been staying at for your undercover mission, you overhear some locals whispering.

“They say that woman is still in love with her husband, but he doesn’t care for her.” “Shame. She looks miserable.” “She was always all so cute and clingy to him but she stopped entirely, he must’ve pushed her away.”

You clench your fists. It’s one thing to suffer in silence, but another to hear strangers pitying you.

Law suddenly walks past you, pausing for a second before speaking, “Go inside.” His voice is firm but quiet.

You don’t move “Why do you care?” you murmur, not looking at him “You made it clear I was just a nuisance to you and it's just a mission, which is almost over anyway given Zoro and Luffy are making trubles after trubles...”

Law exhales sharply “I never—” He stops, frustrated, before running a hand down his face “Listen, I was trying to stop myself from—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenched.

You finally turn to him “From what?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

Your heart clenches, but you shake your head “You don’t have to force yourself to tolerate me anymore, Law. We’ll finish the mission, and after that—”

“Enough,” he snaps, suddenly grabbing your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, just desperate “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you toward him, his voice low but intense “I was a damn coward,” he mutters “You—you were always in my space, always teasing me, and I—” He exhales sharply “I pushed you away because I—”

You hold your breath.

“I fell for you” Law finally admits, looking at you with something raw and vulnerable in his gaze “I fell so hard, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“You what?”

He groans, looking away “I can’t stand you ignoring me. I can’t stand watching you with Sanji, even though I know it’s nothing. And I hate that I made you think I didn’t care.”

The words hit you like a storm, leaving you speechless. He looks genuinely frustrated, at himself.

You swallow hard before whispering, “So what do we do now?”

Law looks at you, his grip tightening slightly “You tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now “Because if you still want me, then I—” He hesitates, then sighs “I don’t want this to be fake anymore.”

Your breath hitches.

For the first time in weeks, you grin “I mean... I think it's too soon to talk about marriage, isn't it?”

Law groans, rolling his eyes “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tug him down into a kiss.

And just like that, the mission doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

Back on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates immediately notice the change.

Law still wears his usual scowl, still grumbles under his breath whenever you tease him, but there’s no real bite behind his words anymore. The biggest difference? He lets you get away with it.

You lean against his side as he studies a map, chin resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you off like he used to, he just sighs heavily, pretending to ignore you.

“Oi, captain,” Shachi calls out, smirking “Didn’t you say you hated being touched?”

Penguin snickers “Yeah, man, what happened to all that complaining? Because right now, it looks like you like it.”

Law doesn’t even look up, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the tips of his ears turning pink “Shut up” he mutters, flipping a page of the map aggressively.

“Oh, come on, it’s adorable,” Bepo chimes in, tail wagging “You used to be all grumpy whenever she clung to you, and now you just accept it?”

You grin, tilting your head up to look at him “Aww, so you do like my attention.”

His eye twitches “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

Shachi and Penguin lose it, laughing while Bepo beams like a proud parent.

Law exhales through his nose, rubbing his temples. But despite the grumbling, he doesn’t move you away. And that’s when it clicks.

Shachi leans back, crossing his arms “Y’know, I think we all got it wrong before.”

Penguin nods, smirking “Yeah. We thought y/n was the lost cause, but—”

They both turn to Law, who immediately tenses, as if he knows what’s coming.

“You actually fell harder.”

The room falls silent.

You blink up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Law glares at his crew, looking about two seconds away from using Room just to teleport them out of his sight. But instead, he lets out a sharp exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he just mutters “Unbelievable.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as his face turns bright red.

Yeah. Maybe being undercover in Wano wasn’t such a disaster after all.

[i-like-loserz]

thoughts about himbo!mingi???

note: everything said here is said with love (and a bit of lust)

---

if there's one thing that you love about your boyfriend, it's his ability to go from a baby chick to a fucking idiot to a rockstar. it's crazy that your sweet shy baby can suddenly command whole arenas full of fans with a few words.

mingi is first, and foremost, a sweetheart. he lives to please you, even when he isn't fully sure what you want.

he has a habit of picking up random flowers that he sees whenever he's out. this could mean plucking some daisies from a field while coming home after lunch with the members, going to a flower shop while drunk off his ass at the end of the night, or even telling the manager to stop in the middle of the road so he can go to a nearby sidewalk and steal some of the weed-like blossoms.

he tries to arrange them into a neat little bundle, even when the stems are uneven and bending, smiling like an idiot as he presents it to you. you take them graciously, trying to blink away tears as you press kisses all over his face. he's so thoughtful and cute that it genuinely hurts sometimes.

then mingi is an idiot (affectionately). there's that one time he stayed up all night on facetime because you told him you wanted to fall asleep and wake up to him since he's been on tour for a while and you missed you.

when you woke up, you saw his sleepy eyes and soft smile. you knew for sure that he stayed up for the handful of hours you were sleeping. when you asked him why he would do that he said: "i didn't want to sleep and miss you waking up."

as if he didn't have a concert that night.

"baby, do you know how pissed atiny is gonna be because i kept you up all night?" you whine, already dreading any hate comments about your drowsy boyfriend.

"don't worry, woo told me that i can mix together two 5 hour energies to get 10 hours of sleep!"

"ming..."

finally, your boyfriend is a certified rockstar. every time you see him on stage you swear the stylists are dressing him up sluttier and sluttier, just for your reaction. (maybe he's the one telling them to do it!)

his shoulders have been looking extra broad, his waist extra grabbable, his face extra fuckable. and the way he looks at the crowd as he performs... you can't wait to have him all to yourself.

you wait backstage as he finishes up, giddy just from hearing his deep voice as he thanks the fans for all their love and support. as soon as he's off the stage, you're in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, kissing his perfect lips off.

his skin is hot and sticky against yours and it only makes you pull him closer, wanting every part of him, here and now. his chest heaves as he attempts to keep up with your movements, still reeling with the pure adrenaline of being on stage.

you pull back to praise him, "you did so good, baby." you breathe the words over his lips, tempted to press against him once again. "you looked so hot up there."

"yeah?"

"why don't you take me home and i'll show you how much i loved it?"

mingi turns his head toward the other members, making sure they can hear him loud and clear: "I'M OFF! I'M GOING HOME!"

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

phone sex, angst, loneliness, mental health struggles, sub!chris?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship

word count - 1.9k

The lecture hall hummed with the usual mid-morning buzz. She sat in her usual spot up the back, the dim lighting above her making the world feel like it was happening just a little too far out of reach. Her pen danced across the notebook as the professor spoke, but her thoughts kept wandering. She let her gaze wander too, getting distracted by a group a couple rows in front of her, talking amongst themselves, laughing. One guy in particular stood out, the messy brown hair, the posture and his laugh. It was almost familiar. The boy turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Too many emotions hit her all at once as she recognised him.

Chris Sturniolo. 

She hadn’t expected to see him at university. He had only been a year ahead of her, part of a different crowd back in their small town. They weren’t exactly close back then, but she noticed him. Too much, probably. He was handsome, loved by all, a star athlete, and someone she had quietly admired from afar back. She remembered how often she would find herself stealing glances at him in the hallways, her heart fluttering whenever he passed by.

She almost told him once. That one moment, standing at the edge of the bleachers after the final game of his senior season, watching him laugh with his friends. She’d almost spoken up. Almost told him everything. How she felt. But then, she chickened out. The moment passed, and she convinced herself that it was better left unsaid.

And here he was, sitting just a few rows ahead in this university lecture hall, surrounded by friends, completely unaware of the secret she’d carried all those years. She couldn’t stop staring, even if she was doing everything she could to pretend she wasn’t.

She quickly looked down at her notebook, heart pounding in her chest. No way he remembers me, she thought. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.

Later that night, Chris sat in his dimly lit dorm room.

The weight of the day had settled over him like a heavy fog. The typical distractions weren’t helping. Parties? He wasn’t interested. Chasing some girl? Didn’t feel right. He hadn’t felt truly good in a while, not with anything, with anyone. The last few months at university had been lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

He didn’t really know how to be close to anyone anymore, so overwhelmed by the difference between suburban and city life. He found himself longing for stuff but lacking the conviction to make it happen. There were nights where his own hands weren’t enough. Porn lost its appeal months ago.

That’s when he stumbled across it. A hotline. Anonymous, safe, and just what he needed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship or something serious. He just wanted to feel close to someone, even if only for a few minutes. To have a connection without having to expose himself in the ways he wasn’t ready to.

He hesitated, but figured he didn’t have much to lose. With a few quick taps, he dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” came the soft voice on the other end, smooth and soothing. Something about it made his pulse pick up.

Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Uh… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just… needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy’s voice was calm, welcoming. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you need.”

Chris swallowed, the easy familiarity of her tone loosening something inside him. “I don’t know… I just feel so... empty, you know? Like there’s something missing.”

There was a brief silence. Chris wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she actually understood. But then her voice came back, gentle yet firm.

“Loneliness is tough to carry. But you don’t have to do it alone, not tonight.”

Chris exhaled sharply. She was saying exactly what he needed to hear, and the calm in her voice made him feel like he could let his guard down a little. He felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth.

“Yeah... I don’t know. I just feel like I can’t really... be with anyone. Like I can’t get close. But I need it. I need to feel something.”

“You deserve to feel close to someone. It’s okay to want that, baby.”

The words, followed by the pet name, hit him harder than he expected. Something inside him cracked open, and before he knew it, he was saying things he hadn’t intended. 

“I just... I want to feel like I’m... wanted. Like someone’s here with me. Not just... in the usual way, but like I’m actually... seen. You know?”

Her voice was soft but firm. It was like she could sense the vulnerability behind his words, even though they were both hidden behind the veil of anonymity. 

“I see you. And I can make you feel seen, if you’ll let me.”

Something about that promise stirred something deep inside Chris. It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore; it was the pull of wanting her, wanting to connect in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling at the same time. It stirred something deep in him, and before he knew it, his body was reacting, an instinctual response he couldn’t control.

“Please.” he found himself whining, a bulge already forming. 

“Are you hard, baby?” Daisy’s voice was quieter now, almost teasing.

Chris let out a strained breath. “Mhm.”

“Good.” She let the word hang there, a subtle promise in her voice. “I want you to trace your pretty cock with your fingers. Just the outline of it, on top of your boxers. Lightly, softly. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Chris murmured, following her instructions. His pulse quickened, and he hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, the action feeling foreign yet somehow natural in the moment.

“Now, take it out.” Chris groans at Daisy’s words, the soft, teasing lilt to her voice. 

“Just like that,” Daisy’s voice continued, cool and soft. “Lightly, just enough to feel it. I want to hear from you.”

She noticed the way his breaths were picking up, and there was something different in her voice now. The usual professionalism slipped a little, the edge of something more... real, slipping through.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, her words softer. “Say it. Let me take care of you.”

She tried to keep herself focused, tried to not to let the rush of unexpected arousal cloud her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this, not for a stranger, not over the phone, and especially not when it was just another job.

She could hear Chris’s breaths, sharp and uneven. He was close, she could tell by the way his words faltered.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Daisy asked softly, the pet name slipping out almost automatically.

Chris’s voice crackled back. “Yeah… just... god, it feels so good.”

Her pulse quickened. It was supposed to be just a call, just a transaction. But his words, the way his voice wavered with need, felt different. Too real. She couldn’t deny the heat creeping up her neck as her mind raced. She had never let herself get this affected before. But there was something about him that stirred her. Something about the rawness in his voice made her wonder what it would be like to have this kind of closeness, not for money, not for a role.

“Good boy,” she whispered again. “Now, keep going. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. I want to hear from you. Let me know how it feels.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, the sound of him following her direction ringing in Daisy’s ears. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay professional, to keep the distance that was usually so easy for her when other lonely men called.

But tonight, tonight was different. Her chest tightened with the strange, unfamiliar emotion twisting in her stomach. Maybe it was her loneliness, maybe it was the isolation of the job, or maybe it was just him. His voice, so lost in his own desire, so vulnerable in ways he didn’t realise. 

She bit her lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to slip out. This was supposed to be about the money.

She had to remind herself of that.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something more commanding. It was easier to stay detached when she was in control, when the power was hers. But her pulse raced against her will. “Say it. Let me hear what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched. “I. God, I just want to feel you. I want to...”

His words trailed off into a groan, and Daisy's breath faltered. She pushed herself to maintain control, to keep the rhythm of the moment. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she felt the heat in her own body building, her hand edging closer to where she felt the need the most. Unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

Her pulse quickened, but she tried to keep it in check. “You’re close, aren’t you? Let go for me, baby. Let it happen. You’ve earned it, sweet boy.”

Chris let out a groan, his hand moving faster as she encouraged him. He was almost there, and in that moment, it felt like everything in the world was narrowing down to just this. Her voice, his need, the warmth of the call.

When he finally reached his release, it wasn’t just the physical relief. There was something else, something deeper that he didn’t know he was craving. He could hear her breath, soft and steady, as she guided him through it.

Chris’s response came in a guttural groan, and the sound of his release sent a jolt of heat through Daisy’s chest. She instructed him to slow down, to catch his breath, her own chest tightening as she focused on keeping everything in check. She reminded herself that this was just her job, just another call.

But, as she released a breath of her own, something stirred inside her that shouldn’t have. Something warm and soft. She quickly shut it down. She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him. She had been called by dozens of men, heard dozens of voices, and she’d never felt this way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, not even realizing how tender her voice had become. “You did so well.”

There was a quiet pause as Chris caught his breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t know that Daisy, in some strange way, felt just as affected as he did. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing if he was thanking her for the physical release or for something else. But Daisy didn’t reply right away. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

When she spoke again, her voice was back to its professional calm. “Of course, baby. Take care of yourself tonight.”

But as he hung up, a strange ache settled in her chest. The kind that hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had let slip. Or maybe it was just her own insecurities creeping in. 

As their conversation ended, Chris felt lighter, more peaceful than he had in months. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her, Daisy, the girl that had made him feel so good.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers !!! <3

a/n: gahhhh i made this too long but whatever! hope u enjoy!

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @ishasturnz @sweetshuga @snoopychris comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist !!

till next time!

[h8aaz]

❝ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 .ᐟ ❞

SUMMARY .ᐟ . . . you're a princess from a nearby kingdom, your family being one of the many that were invited to attend the coronation of the oldest winchester son. the two of you meet for the first time, and your worlds suddenly become brighter.

WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . king!dean + princess!reader . love at first sight . kingdom au? idk . kinda a destined to be/soulmates au . fluff + slight suggestive . sweet dean . sam mentioned . use of (name) .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . happy jensen day!! this is obviously based off the song from frozen bc i recently rewatched the first movie and i still LOVE this song. i couldn't find a gif so enjoy the picture of jensen as king bacchus lol. lowkey loved this so maybe it'll become a small mini series idk! but he won't be a hans, i won't do that to yall, i promiseee 🙏🙏. likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!!

you winced in pain as your helpers pulled the strings of the back of your dress, cinching your waist into the figure of the corset. afterwards, you had gotten your hair and makeup done, all being topped with your tiara being placed on your head.

you and your parents gathered into a carriage, riding to the next kingdom over, being ruled by the winchesters. soon the ride was over and you had found yourself amongst many others in the pews of a church, watching dean winchester hold the septar as a crown was placed upon his head; his younger brother, sam, stood off to the side with a proud look on his face.

dean turned around to face the crowd, beaming a grin full of confidence. for some odd reason, you felt drawn to him just by staring at him. maybe it's the new title? the thought of the power he now held? or was it how unbelievably charming he was in the way he carried himself? the way he spoke, words flowing flawlessly through his speech before the choir queued in, initiating the conclusion of the ceremony. there was just something about him, and you don't know if you'll ever quite place what that something was.

but your thoughts came to a halt as your heart thumped in your chest. he was looking at you. the crowd was clapping while he was staring— admiring you.

you began to clap as well, fearing that the reason he was staring was because you weren't. but he continued. to dean, you were the most gorgeous, beautiful, and damn stunning woman in the room. he knew of you and your family, his father having made trades with them in the past. he knew of your recent princess status; and he wanted to change that to queen right then and there.

your eyes sparkled like the shiny and expensive stones on his new crown, and your tiara. it seemed as if the world stopped when the two of you became mesmerized with each other.

sam caught this small fraction of a moment in time unlike the attendees around the large room. he smiled into a side smirk, his dimple poking into his skin.

"just go talk to her, dean." the young brunette urged his older brother as they stood at the front of the room, guests going up and bowing to them before dancing or mingling on the sidelines while they enjoyed the catering.

"yeah, like that's so easy. thanks, sammy." dean responded sarcastically, making sam roll his eyes at the fact that his brother, the ultimate flirt, was too scared to talk to you. "she'll be gone soon if you don't take your chance." sam spoke.

his words lingered in dean's head like a blaring reminder. this was the final part of his coronation, you truly will be gone by the time the party was over. and i mean, look at you! you're ethereal, and if he doesn't act now, the next thing he knows, he'll be invited as a guest to your wedding to a much lesser man who isn't him.

his eyes scanned the room as he had looked away from you to glare at his brother. once he found you again, his vision locked in once more, completely zeroing in on you as everyone around seemed to disappear.

"wish me luck, sammy." he mumbled, blocking out his brother's reply as he was already making his way across the large ballroom to you, grinning at yet ignoring the other guests who congratulated him.

you immediately felt his looming presence as you turned from the table and looked up as he towered over you.

"hi." he mumbled softly with a matching smile. your eyes widened, looking around the two of you to see people staring and murmuring.

you covered your mouth with your hand, "hi- hi, hey. uhm..h-hello, your, uh," you cleared your throat, "sorry, chocolate." you chuckled awkwardly while his smile grew. you curtsied after swallowing the rest of your sweet treat, "hello, your majesty." you smiled.

he found the whole encounter adorable while you, on the other hand, regretted your choices and stutters and basically everything you were doing. "dean is fine. you're (name), right?" he held out his hand, which you gently placed yours in, gasping lightly when he kissed your knuckles.

"oh! uh, yes, heh, sorry- yes, that's me. con-congratulations, dean. the ceremony, this party, you, its all beautiful." you rambled, pink flushing to both of your cheeks at your words.

"i-i didn't mean- i'm sorry- i'm so sorry, that was so weird-" your quick apology was cut off by his laughter, making you more embarrassed by the fact he was laughing at you.

"no, no, it's fine. please, don't apologize." he subconsciously rubbed your knuckles, the two of you not realizing the fact your hands were still connected. "plus, i was going to call you the same thing, so you beat me to it." he admitted, making you giggle.

"really? you think i'm beautiful?" you asked in disbelief. "not just beautiful, i think you're absolutely stunning." he answered. you stared into each others' eyes, sparkles twinkling in shared fondness.

the two of you were now on a balcony somewhere in the winchester castle, having broken away from the party with sam's help, who was incredibly sweet to you when you met, willing to spill all of dean's secrets right then and there had the elder not been there to shush him before he could.

"okay, can i just say something crazy?" dean asked, his arm linked with yours while your other wrapped around it.

"i love crazy!" you replied, making him chuckle as the two of you stared at the view ahead. dean took a deep breath in, soaking in this moment like it could be his very last. he was happy, so incredibly happy. he's never felt this free before.

all my life has been a series of doors in my face

and then, suddenly, i bump into you

"i've never felt this strongly for anyone before, let alone someone i just met. which, isn't a bad thing, not at all. but...i just never felt a connection like this. it feels so strange but so..." he trailed off, failing to think of a word.

i was thinking the same thing, 'cause like, i've been searching my whole life to find my own place

and maybe it's the party talking, or the chocolate fondue

"perfect?" you suggested, your soft voice breaking him away from the scenery to look down at you, seeing you already looking at him with your head rested against his upper arm.

he smiled, a genuine, happy smile. "yeah, perfect." he sighed contently. he moved to adjust your positions until you were standing and staring at each other. he moved some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek.

but with you (but with you, i found my place), i see your face

and it's nothing like i've ever known before

your hands rested against his chest, breathing calmly as if this was all second nature. the two of you glanced to the other's lips then back to the eyes. and as if spoken in a silent language, you both leaned in, connecting together with bodies flush against each other.

love is an open door, love is an open door (door)

your mouths moved in perfect sync, matching puzzle pieces finally clicking together. his other hand found sanctuary on your waist while yours reached up to his neck, pulling him down into you.

your hearts swelled as the two of you moved in passion and with certainty. this was it, this was your person.

love is an open door with you (with you), with you (with you)

love is an open door

after a very heated, nearly getting caught by guards, makeout session; the two of you made your way from the balcony to one of dean's favorite hidden tracks in the castle. you walked through small hallways and narrow open spaces through the garden before settling on a pathway. you had talked about multiple things, finding out you had so much in common.

i mean, it's crazy (what?)

we finish each other's (sandwiches)

that's what i was gonna say!

i never met someone who thinks so much like me

jinx! jinx again!

as a bird flew by, you both ducked at the same time, letting out small giggles as you faced each other, pecking lips until it slowed into real kisses.

our mental synchronization can have but one explanation

you (and i) were (just) meant to be

say goodbye (say goodbye) to the pain of the past

we don't have to feel it anymore

love is an open door

you eventually made your way up to a cliffside, dean leading the way with constant reassurance that you'd be safe as you clung to him tightly.

the view was absolutely gorgeous. the higher position letting you see above the land filled with trees, homes, and the castle itself. you squinted your eyes, seeing your own faraway kingdom's lights in the distance.

"god, this is wonderful, dean." you gushed. "right? my mom showed me this when i was little, i come here every now and again. i've never brought anyone but sam up here." he spoke.

"bet you say that to every girl." you snorted, which made him shake his head. "i haven't. i'm normally too afraid to show myself vulnerable around anyone but sammy." he turned to you, "but with you, (name), it's different. i feel so comfortable and happy and i feel like i can by myself around you."

you stared at him in shock and admiration, nobody has ever felt that way, or at least said they do, around you before. and it made you fall deeply in love with him on the spot, whereas he had fallen in love with you since he first saw you.

you immediately brought him into yet another kiss, your tongues swirling together like a practiced dance. hands roamed around warm bodies straining against uncomfortable, tight clothing.

your bodies moved against each other, chasing any sort of friction from the other. moans of pleasure and love spewed from one mouth to another, trapped between the two of you.

love is an open door (door)

life can be so much more with you (with you), with you (with you)

love is an open door (door)

when you pulled away for needed air, a string of saliva connected you both, breaking at heaving chests releasing pants swollen lips. your eyes gazed over each other's, hues of colors shining in the moonlight behind dilated pupils.

"can i say something crazy? will you marry me?" dean asked in a soft whisper, not really thinking before he spoke, but now awaiting your answer.

"can i say something even crazier? yes!" you whispered back then squealed. grins plastered on your faces before lips smashed and crashed against each other again, hands pulling until you were close, almost meshed, together once more.

tags!: @sunsbaby @j2archives @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @bejeweledinterludes @deansbeer @starzify @bluemerakis @immodestly-marina @legalmente-loca @multiversefanfics

[scarletwinterxx]

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 1/2

buckle up bcs this is going to be a long one, i tried i really did i tried my best writing as much angst as i can. i'm not the best in that genre but i think i like how it turned out... i tried my best to put into words the scenes I had in my head. i needed to make this in 2 parts since it won't let me post all at once😅 so yes THERE WILL BE A SECOND HALF

tbh out of all the stories i wrote here, this one has the most 'me' in it. sad if you realize why i say that but yea😅 in my mind, cheol is the type of man whose love isn't consuming, it just makes everything better, easier, a little less terrifying bcs no matter what you can count on him to be there with you. i guess that's what make me love this story even more. hope you do too!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve heard it all before. You're too picky. Your standards are unrealistic. Men aren’t that bad.

Lies. All of it.

Men are that bad. They lack common sense, can’t read between the lines, and somehow think saying "you’re not like other girls" is a compliment. You’ve dodged so many disastrous setups that your friends have given up entirely, dubbing you "The Man Hater." 

Until a certain someone crossed paths with you. 

It happens on a regular Friday night. Your group is at some bar Mingyu insisted on checking out, and you're barely listening to Jeonghan talk about his latest situationship when you see him.

Seungcheol walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and a presence that makes women glance up instinctively. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s in a plain black tee, jeans that fit just right, and a watch that looks like it costs more than your rent. The kicker? He doesn’t even try to look hot. He just is.

"Who is that?" you ask, cutting off Jeonghan mid-sentence.

Your friends freeze "Did you just…" Jeonghan starts.

"Who," you repeat, your voice dangerously close to sounding interested, "is that?"

Mingyu, still coughing, thumps his chest. "Choi Seungcheol," he wheezes. "Why?"

"He’s hot," you declare, because there’s no point in denying the undeniable.

"You hate men," Irene reminds you, like you’ve somehow forgotten

"I hate most men," you correct. "That one? I want him."

Jeonghan bursts into laughter. "This is the best night of my life."

You ignore them because Seungcheol is making his way to the bar, completely unaware of the chaos he’s caused. You watch, entranced, as he leans against the counter. When the bartender hands him a drink, he nods in thanks. Polite, effortless. Not once does he scan the crowd for attention like most men do. He knows he has it.

Mingyu, having finally recovered, shakes his head. "No way. Seungcheol turns down everyone."

"Not for long," you murmur, already formulating a plan.

Jihyo narrows her eyes. "Oh my God. You’re serious. You’re actually serious."

"I am."

Irene stares at you, then at Seungcheol. "I give you five minutes before he shuts you down."

"Three," Mingyu corrects.

"Ten," Jeonghan bets

"Have some faith," you scoff, already standing up. "Watch and learn, peasants."

You stride towards the bar, heart hammering, but determination stronger. It’s been years since you’ve been genuinely interested in someone. You’ll be damned if you let this moment pass.

Seungcheol notices you as you approach, and when your eyes meet, he tilts his head slightly curious but unreadable. Up close, he’s even better. You swallow.

Then, with all the confidence in the world, you slide onto the stool next to him before speaking

"So, do we skip the small talk, or do I have to pretend I don’t already want you?"

Seungcheol blinks. Then, he laughs. low, rich, interested and just like that, the game begins. He turns fully to face you, one elbow resting on the bar, drink held loosely in his hand. His gaze flickers over you—assessing, but not in that sleazy way men do when they think they have the upper hand. No, this is different. 

He’s curious.

"That’s a bold opener," he muses, taking a sip of his drink.

You smirk. "I don’t do weak ones."

He hums, seemingly unfazed, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him. "And what exactly do you already want from me?"

Your fingers drum against the bar as you lean in slightly, "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, then he sets his drink down with a quiet clink and exhales a small chuckle. "You’re not like the others."

"God, please tell me that’s not your usual line," you tease.

His grin widens. "No. Usually, I don’t even entertain conversations."

"Tragic," you say dryly. "You’ve been missing out."

His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, and you swear you see a flicker of actual interest settle in his expression. Then, suddenly, he shifts gears.

"You came over here with a plan," he states, amusement laced in his voice. "Go ahead. Impress me."

Oh, he’s fun. You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Alright. First, we exchange names not because I don’t already know yours, but because manners are important."

Seungcheol chuckles, but he plays along. "Choi Seungcheol."

You extend a hand. "Nice to meet you, Seungcheol" you say his name, telling him yours also

"I know who you are." That throws you off for exactly half a second, and you hate how much you like hearing him say your name. 

"Oh? And how exactly did you hear about me?"

"I have ears," he shrugs. "And friends who talk too much." he looks behind you. You glance back at your table, where your friends are openly staring.

"They bet against you, didn’t they?"

"Obviously." you scowl then turn to look at him again

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," you echo, matching his smirk.

He looks at you for a moment longer, as if weighing his next move. Then, he leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Alright. You’ve got my attention. Now what?"

You don’t get flustered easily. You’ve shut down men with nothing but a raised brow and a well-placed bless your heart more times than you can count. But there’s something about the way Seungcheol leans in, watching you with that amused little smirk, that makes your pulse trip over itself.

"That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink, or am I going to have to suffer through this conversation sober?"

His smirk turns into a full grin, slow and devastating. "So demanding."

"I don’t waste time," you quip

He chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound, before signaling to the bartender. "Get her whatever she wants," he tells them, then glances back at you. "And if you say something ridiculous, I’m judging you."

"Wow," you scoff, placing a hand over your heart. "You don’t even know my order, and you’re already prepared to be disappointed? You really are different."

Seungcheol snorts. "Just don’t tell me it’s some overly complicated drink with eight different ingredients."

You hum, making a show of considering his words before turning to the bartender. "A whiskey sour."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad."

"Did you think I was going to order an appletini?"

"Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past you."

You laugh, shaking your head as the bartender hands you your drink. You take a sip, enjoying the slight tang, then tilt the glass in his direction. "See? No judgment necessary."

"I’ll admit, I’m a little relieved," he teases, taking a sip of his own drink.

You narrow your eyes playfully. "So, is this your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Buying girls drinks, making them feel special, then walking away like a mysterious, unattainable dream?"

Seungcheol huffs out a quiet laugh. "Not really. Like I said, I usually don’t entertain conversations."

"But you’re entertaining this one."

He tilts his glass toward you in a silent toast. "I am."

You clink your glass against his, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "I must be special, then."

Seungcheol watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze just a little darker now. "You must be."

You linger at the bar with Seungcheol for a few more moments, exchanging teasing remarks and sidelong glances, but eventually, you decide to leave while you're ahead.

"Well, this has been fun," you say, setting your now-empty glass on the counter.

Seungcheol tilts his head. "Leaving already?"

"What, you want me to stay?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "I wouldn’t mind."

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "Tempting… but I like to keep things interesting."

Before he can respond, you slide your arm across the bar toward him, palm up. His brows raise slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate. He picks up a pen left behind by the bartender and, with deliberate strokes, scrawls his number across your forearm.

When he finishes, he caps the pen, meeting your gaze with a knowing smirk. "Your move."

You glance at the numbers, then back at him. "We’ll see." Then, without another word, you turn on your heel and walk back to your table.

As expected, your friends are staring. The moment you reach the table, Jihyo blurts, "What happened?!"

You take your seat, completely unbothered, and casually extend your arm, showing off the ink on your skin. Silence.

Then

"WHAT THE—?!" Mingyu practically screeches, nearly knocking over his drink in the process. “Wait, wait. So, you—the man hater—just casually waltzed over there, flirted with Choi Seungcheol, and now you have his number?"

"Looks like it." You examine your arm with a smug smile.

Jihyo grips your wrist, eyes darting over the digits. "So? Are you texting him? Calling? When’s the wedding?"

You shrug, retracting your arm. "I’m not texting him."

Jihyo looks betrayed. "Why the hell not?!"

"Where’s the fun in that?" You take a slow sip of your drink. "Let’s see if he texts first."

Jeonghan looks at you before the evil smile shows on his face, “You didn’t give him your number, didn’t you?”

“Nope”

Jeonghan leans forward. "Oh, you’re evil."

You don’t text him that night. Or the next. His number, which you took time to save on your phone, remains stagnant on your contact list. 

You’re lounging on your couch, half-listening to a true crime documentary, when your phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. You stare at it for a second, debating whether to answer, before sighing and picking up.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then—

"Was this your plan all along?"

You freeze. That voice is unmistakable. Leaning back against the cushions, you fight the smirk threatening to form. "Choi Seungcheol."

"You remember my name. Good to know," he deadpans.

You hum, inspecting your nails. "You sound a little… frustrated."

"I had to track down your friends just to get your number," he says, and you can hear the irritation laced with amusement. "Do you know how annoying that was?"

You bite back a laugh. "Who caved?"

"Mingyu. He held out for, like, ten seconds."

You laugh, imagining the exact moment Seungcheol probably cornered Mingyu, all intimidating and brooding, while your friend fumbled immediately.

"So," Seungcheol continues, "tell me, was this some elaborate game? Give me your number, wait for me to text, then just ghost me?"

"I didn’t ghost you. I just never texted in the first place."

"Exactly."

You grin, stretching out lazily. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d chase."

A pause. Then, in a tone far too smug for your liking "So you like being chased?"

Your stomach does a stupid little flip, but you refuse to let him know that. "I like seeing who puts in effort," you reply smoothly.

"And? Impressed yet?"

"You’re getting there," you tease.

Seungcheol chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. "Good. Then meet me for dinner."

You blink. "What?"

"Dinner," he repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, a meal? Where two people sit down, talk, and eat?"

"I know what dinner is," you snort. "I just wasn’t expecting you to be so forward."

"You made me hunt you down," he says. "You don’t get to act surprised." Okay. Fair.

"Alright, then," you say, biting your lip to contain your grin. "Pick me up at eight."

And just like that, Choi Seungcheol is taking you to dinner. And at exactly 7:59, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol: I’m outside.

You glance at the time and snort. Of course, he’s punctual.

Grabbing your purse, you take one last look in the mirror before heading out. As soon as you step outside, you spot Seungcheol leaning casually against his car. A sleek, black beauty that looks just as effortlessly expensive as he does.

His eyes sweep over you as you approach, and he smirks. "You clean up nice."

You arch a brow. "I always look nice."

"Cocky."

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at you. "Comfortable?"

You hum, running a hand over the buttery leather seats. "Not bad. I guess your car is alright."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You guess? This car is a masterpiece."

You grin. "I’m sure it’s great at making up for other shortcomings."

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he pulls onto the road. "You just can’t help yourself, can you?"

"It’s a gift," you say sweetly.

He glances at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You really made me work for this date."

"You chased," you remind him.

"And you liked it."

You pretend to consider. "A little."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping."

You meet his gaze, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. Seungcheol pulls up to a sleek high-rise, handing his keys off to the valet like it’s second nature. You step out, glancing up at the towering building, the city lights reflecting off the glass.

You give him a sideways look. “Fancy.”

He smirks. The elevator ride is smooth and silent, except for the way Seungcheol occasionally glances at you. When the doors open, you step into a dimly lit, impossibly exclusive restaurant. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the glittering skyline, the city sprawling below like something out of a movie.

A host greets you by name before leading you to a table near the window. You raise an eyebrow. “How did you even get a reservation here?”

Seungcheol just shrugs, sliding into his seat. “I have my ways.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He leans back, studying you with that same amused smirk. “You like it?”

It’s stunning, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction just yet. “It’s alright.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The waiter arrives, and Seungcheol orders without even glancing at the menu. You squint at him. “You come here often?”

“Not really. Just know what’s good.”

“So, what, you bring all your dates here?”

Seungcheol sets down his glass, eyes locked onto yours. “No.”

You tilt your head. “No?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the first.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous, but you keep your expression cool. “Guess I should feel special.”

His lips quirk up. “You should.”

And damn it, for once, you do. As the waiter leaves, Seungcheol leans forward, swirling the dark liquid in his glass before giving you an all-too-amused look.

“So, I heard something interesting from Mingyu.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.” 

“Apparently, you have a reputation.”

You take a slow sip of your drink. “Do I?”

Seungcheol smirks. “Something about being a ‘man hater,’ quote-unquote.”

You nearly choke. “Oh, for the love of—” You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “I am not a man hater.”

He rests his chin on his hand, clearly entertained. “Mingyu made it sound pretty serious.”

You roll your eyes. “Mingyu is dramatic. I just—” You gesture vaguely. “—don’t waste my time with idiots.”

“So, most men are idiots?”

You sigh, giving him a pointed look. “Look, I just have high standards. That doesn’t make me a man hater.” You pick up your drink, muttering, “Mingyu talks too much.”

Seungcheol just laughs, looking way too pleased with himself. You lean back in your chair, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers, watching him with a knowing smirk.

"You know," you start casually, "I heard something about you too."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You nod. "Apparently, you’re the guy who turns down women without a second thought."

He hums, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down. "Mingyu, again?"

"Maybe."

He smirks. "He really needs a hobby."

"Don’t change the subject," you tease, tilting your head. "So, is it true?"

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches you for a moment, like he’s deciding how much to say. "Depends," he finally says.

"On what?"

"On what you think ‘true’ means."

You narrow your eyes. "That sounds like something a guy who’s absolutely guilty would say."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, I’m not some heartless bastard. I just don’t waste time on something I know won’t go anywhere."

You cross your arms. "And what exactly makes you so sure it won’t go anywhere?"

He shrugs, voice even. "You can tell when someone only wants you for the wrong reasons."

Something about the way he says it makes you pause. It’s not cocky. It’s just… matter-of-fact.

You watch him carefully. "So, what, they just like the idea of you?"

He meets your gaze, unreadable. "Something like that."

You hold his stare, and for a moment, the teasing dies down, replaced by something heavier. Something real. Then, because you refuse to let things get too serious too quickly, you click your tongue.

"Damn," you say, shaking your head. "And here I was thinking you were just playing hard to get."

Seungcheol laughs, the tension breaking. "And yet, you still showed up."

You grin. "Guess I like a challenge, too."

He lifts his glass toward you in a silent toast.

"Good," he murmurs, eyes dark with amusement. "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

The food was amazing, company even better. He’s funny without trying, you don’t think you laughed that much in a while. And a guy being the reason? A miracle truly. 

He’s driving you back home leaning back in the passenger seat, comfortably full from dinner, when his voice cuts through the quiet.

"So." His fingers drum lazily against the wheel. "Why didn’t you text me?"

You glance at him, feigning innocence. "Text you?"

He gives you a look. "You know. After that first night."

You smirk, tilting your head. "Ohhh, you mean when you wrote your number on my arm like some overconfident frat boy?"

Seungcheol scoffs, but his lips twitch. "I was being resourceful."

"Sure." You shrug. "Guess I just wasn’t in a rush."

He raises an eyebrow. "Weren’t interested?"

"I didn’t say that."

"Didn’t not say it either."

You chuckle. "Alright, fine. Maybe I just wanted to see how serious you were."

Seungcheol hums. "So, making me track down your friends and practically interrogate Mingyu was a test?"

You flash him a grin. "And you passed."

He glances at you, amusement glinting in his eyes. "I knew you were trouble."

"You knew," you agree, smirking. "And yet, here you are."

Seungcheol shakes his head, but there’s no hiding the way his lips curl up. "Yeah," he murmurs, like it’s more to himself than to you. "Here I am."

You don’t tell anyone about the dinner. Not because you’re trying to be secretive, but because there’s nothing to tell. At least, that’s what you tell yourself but the others notice something.

"You’re in a good mood," Jihyo says one afternoon, squinting at you suspiciously over her coffee.

You blink. "Am I not allowed to be?"

"You are," she says slowly. "It’s just unusual."

Mingyu chimes in from across the table. "Yeah, you haven’t made fun of me once today. It’s kinda weirding me out."

You roll your eyes. "You want me to insult you?"

"Lowkey, yeah."

Jeonghan, who’s been scrolling through his phone this whole time, suddenly looks up. "Wait. You are acting different."

Irene nods, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah. You’re… less murdery. "You know." She gestures vaguely. "Less I’ll kill a man if he looks at me the wrong way."

You groan. "You guys are so dramatic."

"Okay, so what happened?" Jihyo presses.

"Nothing."

Jeonghan smirks. "That means something." Four pairs of eyes immediately narrow at you.

"Who is it?" Jeonghan adds, grinning like a wolf. "Oh, wait—" His eyes gleam with mischief. "Who’s the poor bastard?"

You roll your eyes. "There is no bastard. Poor or otherwise."

"She’s deflecting," Jihyo announces.

Mingyu leans forward. "It’s Seungcheol, isn’t it?"

You don’t react. Not visibly but the millisecond of silence is enough. Jeonghan’s grin explodes.

"Ohhhh, no way." Mingyu screeches.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. You should’ve known. You deny, deny, deny until they finally give up, though not without a lot of suspicious side-eyes and unnecessary winks from Jeonghan.

By the time they stop prying, you think you’re in the clear.

That is, until Friday night.

It’s just supposed to be a normal night out—drinks, chaos, and Mingyu probably embarrassing himself at some point. The usual.

But then you see him.

Seungcheol.

And he’s not alone. You clock him the moment you step into the bar, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, looking ridiculously good in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s mid-laugh, talking to someone. Looks like a close friend. 

You don’t react, keeping your expression neutral, but Jeonghan notices immediately.

"Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" he asks, following your gaze.

And because the universe is cruel, that’s the exact moment Seungcheol glances over and meets your eyes. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his lips.

Jeonghan watches it all happen. His eyes widen before he turns to you, grinning like the menace he is. "Oh. My. God."

Mingyu, of course, is oblivious. "Drinks first!" he announces, leading the group toward an open spot by the bar.

Irene and Jihyo follow easily, already deep in conversation, but you feel Jeonghan at your side. His eyes are glinting. You just know he’s about to be a problem.

"You know," he says casually, "for someone who ‘definitely did not go on a date with Seungcheol,’ you two sure looked like you have history."

You don’t even blink. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan snickers. "Right. And I’m a law-abiding citizen." You ignore him, signaling the bartender for a drink.

Everything is fine or at least it was until Seungcheol and his friend start making their way over. You don’t react. But you know Jeonghan notices the way you straighten up, the way your fingers tap once against the bar before going still.

His friend gets there first, smiling easily at the group. "Hey," he greets. "Didn’t know you guys were coming out tonight."

Mingyu perks up. "Joshua Hong! What’s up?" He claps Joshua's shoulder, immediately pulling him into conversation.

And that’s when he speaks.

"Small world, huh?"

You refuse to turn your head too fast, refuse to let your body react. Instead, you sip your drink first, then glance to the side. Seungcheol is looking at you like he knows something..

You raise an eyebrow. "Not really. Bars exist."

Mingyu, bless him, is still too caught up in talking to Joshua to notice the undercurrent of whatever is happening here. Irene and Jihyo are watching, though. They’re pretending to be casual, but you can feel their curiosity.

Seungcheol doesn’t drop it. He leans slightly closer, just enough for his voice to drop between the two of you. "You avoiding me?"

"Why would I do that?"

He tilts his head, pretending to think. "Maybe because someone went on a date with me and then acted like it never happened."

Jeonghan is eating this up. He’s watching like it’s his favorite drama, sipping his drink with barely concealed glee.

You sip your drink again, unfazed. "Must not have been that memorable then."

Seungcheol laughs like, full-on laughs and somehow that’s worse than if he had been annoyed.

"Oh, this is fun," he murmurs, shaking his head.

"You need better hobbies," you reply dryly.

"You’re right. I should pick up dating mysterious, difficult women who don’t text back."

You glance at him. "So you’re saying I’m a challenge?"

He smirks. "I’m saying I like challenges."

Your lips curve, but you don’t let the smile take over. You turn back to your drink instead and just like that, the moment passes. Instead, he just slides into conversation with the rest of the group like nothing happened. Like he’s not already thinking about the next time he’ll get you alone.

The night goes on as if nothing happened. As if Seungcheol didn’t just throw you off balance with his ridiculous smirk and infuriatingly charming presence. But then, when Seungcheol and Joshua drift off to another part of the bar, Jihyo pounces.

"Okay, explain."

You feign ignorance, sipping your drink. "Explain what?"

Irene scoffs. "Don’t play dumb. You were literally just flirting with him."

You roll your eyes. "I was not."

"That was the most obvious non-flirting flirting I’ve ever seen," Jihyo insists. "And I’ve known Jeonghan for years."

Jeonghan smirks. "She’s right, you know."

Mingyu, now finally catching up, furrows his brows. "Wait. Are we talking about Seungcheol?"

"No, we’re talking about your ability to be dense," Irene says, exasperated

Jihyo leans in. "I thought you wanted him."

You groan, rubbing your temples. "I do."

She blinks. "Then what’s the problem?"

You sigh. "That’s the problem."

Mingyu looks confused. "Wait, I’m lost."

Irene pats his arm. "Sweetie, this is grown-up business." This makes Mingyu glare at him, jokingly pushing her sideways

Mingyu scowls. "I am grown!"

"You’re a puppy," Jeonghan corrects.

Meanwhile, Jihyo is still staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. "So you want him, but that’s the problem."

"Yes."

She stares harder. "You’re gonna have to give me more than that."

You huff, crossing your arms. "Look, it’s one thing to think a guy is hot. It’s another to actually want to do something about it. And it’s another thing entirely when that guy is Seungcheol."

Jeonghan hums. "Because he’s…?"

"Because he’s Seungcheol." You gesture vaguely. "Effortlessly hot. Stupidly charming. A literal menace who just gets whatever he wants without even trying."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. "And that’s… bad?"

You exhale. "It’s bad because I don’t lose. And I will lose against him."

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jeonghan bursts out laughing.

"Oh, my God," he wheezes, clutching his stomach. "This is amazing."

Mingyu blinks. "I still don’t get it."

Irene sighs, shaking her head. "She’s afraid he’s gonna wreck her life."

Mingyu tilts his head. "That’s dramatic."

Jihyo just smirks. "So what’s your plan?"

You sigh. "I don’t have one." And that? That’s the real problem.

It happens when you least expect it. One second, you’re at the bar with Jihyo, fending off yet another round of questioning. The next Seungcheol is there.

"Can I borrow her for a second?" he asks smoothly, voice just low enough that only you can hear the real intent behind it.

Jihyo raises a brow, eyes flickering between the two of you. You can practically hear her thoughts. But before she can say anything, Seungcheol’s hand finds yours then he’s pulling you away.

You follow, weaving through the crowd until he tugs you into a small corner of the bar. A photobooth. You barely register it before he pulls the curtain shut behind you. The space is tiny. Cramped. You can feel the heat of him, too close, too intoxicating.

"You could’ve just asked to talk," you say, leaning against the side of the booth like you’re not at all affected.

Seungcheol smirks, eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Your pulse jumps. "You like making things difficult, don’t you?"

"I could say the same about you."

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—steady, knowing, amused as hell—makes it hard to breathe.

"So," he says, voice softer now, more serious, "why didn’t you text me?"

You exhale, meeting his gaze. "Because I knew you’d find a way to track me down anyway."

"You think you have me figured out?"

You tilt your head, letting the silence stretch before you answer. "I think you don’t like losing."

Seungcheol watches you for a beat. Then he laughs. It’s soft at first, then full and deep, shaking his shoulders as he shakes his head. "God," he mutters, "I should’ve found you sooner."

Your chest tightens. The photobooth timer starts blinking.

3…

His gaze dips—

2…

You don’t move away

1.

The camera clicks.So does something else between you.

The next day at work, you’re in a mood. You glare at your computer. You glare at your coffee. You glare at the innocent potted plant on your desk. And your friends notice.

Jeonghan doesn’t ask immediately. He waits until you’re both in line at the café, you’re scrolling through your phone, pretending you don’t notice him watching you.

"So," he says casually, "when are you seeing him again?"

You freeze. Your finger hovers over your screen. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his smirk. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan hums. "Sure you don’t."

You take a deep breath. "Nothing happened."

"See, I know that’s a lie," he says, stepping forward as the line moves. "Because if nothing happened, you wouldn’t be acting like a walking existential crisis."

You scowl. "I am not—"

"—a walking existential crisis?" Jeonghan interrupts, raising a brow. "Oh, please. You’ve been glitching all morning."

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. "You’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" He crosses his arms. "Because if I recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted him at first sight."

You click your tongue, shifting your weight. "And that’s the problem."

Jeonghan leans in slightly, intrigued. "Because?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Because I’m hot and cold about this, okay? One second, I want to see where this goes. The next, I’m ready to vanish into the void."

He blinks. "So you like him."

You hesitate. "I—"

Jeonghan’s smirk returns. "Oh, you so like him."

You glare. "I barely know him."

"But you want to," he points out.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face. "That’s exactly the problem. I don’t get like this."

Jeonghan nods slowly, as if considering. "So what I’m hearing is… Seungcheol has you shook."

You groan, stepping forward as the line moves again. "I hate you."

"You love me."

"Debatable."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, you can keep overthinking this, or you can just let yourself have some fun." He tilts his head. "Unless you’re scared?"

You bristle. "I’m not scared."

His smile widens. "Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just met your match." You stare at him, but before you can argue, the barista calls your order.

Jeonghan winks. "Think about it."

"This," you say flatly, "is why I hate most men."

Jeonghan snickers. "Oh, so you admit you don’t hate all men?"

You glare at him over the rim of your cup. "Unfortunately, some of you have managed to slip through the cracks."

He hums thoughtfully. "And would you say Seungcheol is one of those ‘slip through the cracks’ cases?"

You almost choke on your drink. "Jeonghan," you say warningly.

"Just saying," he muses, blowing on his coffee

You scoff. "Oh, please."

But then you hesitate because, damn it, he has a point. You liked Seungcheol immediately. One look, and you wanted him. And that never happens. It’s annoying. It’s unnerving. And the worst part? Seungcheol knows it.

It’s been a long day. You step out of the building, already thinking about what to make for dinner when you see him.

Seungcheol leaning against his car like he’s posing for a magazine, arms crossed, watching you with an amused tilt of his head. You stop in your tracks.

He smirks.

"Busy?" he asks, pushing off the car as you approach.

You narrow your eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

“Mingyu” you mutter under your breath how you’re going to kill the 6 foot tall man tomorrow. 

Seungcheol chuckles. "Be nice. I was gonna find you eventually."

You glare. "That’s not the point."

He tilts his head. "Then what is?"

You open your mouth then close it. Because, honestly? You’re not sure. Why does he keep coming back? And why the hell do you feel kind of excited that he’s here?

Seungcheol watches you wrestle with your thoughts, then grins. "You gonna invite me up?"

"To my apartment?"

"Where else?"

You fold your arms. "That’s bold."

He steps closer, just enough that you catch the faintest whiff of his cologne. "I don’t like wasting time."

Your heart skips. You should tell him to leave. You should ignore how good he looks in that damn suit. Instead you sigh. "Fine. But if you track me down again because of Mingyu, I’m sending both of you to hell."

Seungcheol grins. "Deal."

The entire drive back to your place is infuriating.

Seungcheol is smiling, smirking, even, like he just won some kind of game. Meanwhile, you’re glaring out the window, arms crossed, regretting every decision that led to this moment. When he finally pulls up to your building, you let out a deep breath, like you’ve just survived something mentally exhausting.

"You always this grumpy?" Seungcheol teases as he steps out of the car.

You shoot him a look. "You always this persistent?"

He just grins. You roll your eyes, leading him up to your apartment. The moment you step inside, you toe off your shoes, toss your bag onto the couch, and grab your phone.

"I’m ordering food," you announce, already scrolling through your go-to delivery app. Seungcheol follows you in, looking around like he’s taking mental notes.

"Nice place," he comments, settling onto your couch like he’s been here before.

You glance at him. "You say that like you weren’t planning to judge it."

And before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Seungcheol looks at you, head tilting slightly. "Doing what?"

You sigh, turning to fully face him. "This." You motion between the two of you. "Showing up. Finding my number. Tracking me down." For a second, he just watches you. Like he’s figuring something out. Then, he leans back, resting an arm over the couch.

"So this is why they call you the man hater."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

“You’re suspicious of a guy just because he likes you?"

You stare at him, trying to come up with a solid counterargument, something to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Weren’t you the one who approached me first?" Seungcheol asks, raising a brow.

You freeze because technically, yes. You were. That night at the bar, it was you who walked up to him. You who spoke first. You who, despite your reputation of never being impressed by men, took one look at him and wanted him.

And Seungcheol, the same man who apparently turns down women without a second thought, didn’t turn you away. And now? He’s here. Sitting on your couch. Acting like this is just the natural order of things.

"You’re twisting my words," you argue, folding your arms.

"Am I?"

You narrow your eyes. "I approached you because I was curious."

He tilts his head. "And now?"

Every interaction with him has been throwing you off your game. You’re used to being in control but with Seungcheol, it’s like every move he makes is intentional, and he’s too good at getting under your skin.

"You’re annoying," you finally say.

He smirks. "And yet, here I am."

You let out a slow exhale, rolling your eyes. "I should’ve ignored your number that night."

Seungcheol watches your expression shift, and something about it amuses him. "You always like this?"

"Like what?"

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fighting yourself."

You stare at him. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupts, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re hot and cold with me, and I think it’s because you don’t like how much you want this."

You hate that he’s right.

"You are so—"

"Annoying?" He grins. "You’ve said."

"Why are you even interested?"

“I like you."

Your heart skips but you refuse to let him see that. So instead, you exhale, shaking your head as you tap at your phone. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you like that," he counters. You pretend you don’t hear him as you place the order.

The food arrives, and you both settle in to eat. Seungcheol sits across from you, comfortably digging into his meal like he belongs here. Like he hasn’t been pushing your buttons all night.

You, on the other hand? You’re still glaring.

He looks up mid-bite, noticing your expression, and smirks. "You always eat like you’re plotting a murder?"

You stab at your food with a little more force than necessary. "Just considering my options."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You should really work on your intimidation tactics."

You huff. "They work on everyone else."

"Ah," he nods, chewing thoughtfully. "So I’m special."

You pause. Damn it. "That’s not what I—"

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. "Don’t worry, I get it. I’m persistent, irritatingly charming, and you don’t know what to do with that."

You scowl. "I know exactly what to do with that."

He raises a brow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You gesture to the door. "Kick you out." Seungcheol laughs. Full-bodied, genuine, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s come across in a long time. You hate how nice it sounds.

"Okay," he says, still grinning. "I’ll leave—after we finish eating."

You squint. "You act like you’re doing me a favor."

He smirks. "Aren’t I?"

You refuse to dignify that with a response. Instead, you focus on your food, pointedly ignoring how Seungcheol watches you with that infuriatingly amused expression, like he already knows he’ll see you again.

After dinner you walk him to the door, arms crossed, your glare still very much in place. Seungcheol, in contrast, looks ridiculously satisfied, like he’s had the best night of his life just bothering you.

You stop at the door, unlocking it before turning to him with a deadpan expression.

"I changed my mind," you announce.

His brows lift slightly. "About what?"

"I don’t like you anymore."

Seungcheol grins. Like full-on, dimple-showing, teeth-flashing grin.

"That so?" he hums, stepping just a little closer, enough that you have to tilt your head to keep eye contact.

Your jaw tightens. "Yes."

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with the same entertained look he’s had all night.

"That’s a shame," he murmurs.

You cross your arms tighter. "Why?"

"Because," he leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, "I still like you." He pulls back, opens the door himself, and steps out. 

"Goodnight," he says, like this is just routine now. Leaving you standing there, your heart beating entirely too fast, absolutely furious that he got the last word.

The next morning, you stomp out of your building and slide into Jeonghan’s car with more force than necessary.

Jeonghan barely glances at you before pulling out onto the street. "Good morning to you too."

You cross your arms, scowling at the window. "I hate him."

"Who?"

You don’t answer right away, mostly because admitting it feels like a loss. But then, under your breath "Seungcheol."

Jeonghan laughs. "You know, for someone who supposedly hates men, you’re really bad at resisting this one."

"I’m not—" You pause. "He’s just—annoying."

"And yet," Jeonghan drawls, "here you are, grumbling his name first thing in the morning."

You shoot him a glare. "Drive the damn car, Jeonghan."

He grins wider, turning up the radio. "Whatever you say, lovergirl."

You get to your desk, ready to start your day with the same level of annoyance you’ve carried since last night and then you see them. A bouquet. Right there. Sitting in the middle of your desk. Jeonghan, who’s still walking behind you, lets out a low whistle. "Oh, would you look at that?"

You drop your bag, snatch up the little card attached, and read it twice just to be sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

Try again. I think you still like me. —S.C.

Your eye twitches. Jeonghan, blatantly reading over your shoulder, bursts out laughing.

"Oh, this is amazing," he says, delighted. "I’ve never seen someone get under your skin this fast."

You slam the card down, glaring at the flowers like they’re the true enemy. "I hate him."

"You’ve mentioned." Jeonghan plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet, twirling it between his fingers. "So what are you gonna do?"

You grab the bouquet with way too much force, march over to Mingyu’s desk, and shove it onto his table. Mingyu, who was minding his own damn business, blinks in confusion. "Uh—?"

"They’re yours now," you say, turning away.

"But—"

"You’re welcome!" you call over your shoulder, marching back to your desk. Jeonghan watches the entire thing with an evil smirk.

"You really think that’s gonna stop him?" he muses.

You drop into your chair, arms crossed. "I don’t care."

Meanwhile, across town Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Joshua with a smirk.

"She gave them to Mingyu?"

Joshua, who had just finished relaying the entire story from Mingyu’s frantic texts, sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She didn’t even hesitate."

Seungcheol chuckles, clearly not deterred. "Figures."

Joshua gives him a look. "You sound way too happy about that."

"Because I am," Seungcheol says simply.

Joshua stares. "You just got rejected via floral delivery, and you’re smiling."

Seungcheol shrugs, completely unbothered. "She reacted."

Joshua raises a brow. "That’s your takeaway?"

"Of course," Seungcheol leans forward, tapping his fingers against his desk. "If she really didn’t care, she would’ve ignored them. But instead, she marched across the office, gave them to Mingyu, and made sure I’d hear about it."

Joshua squints. "That’s…a reach."

Seungcheol just grins. "Is it?"

Joshua sighs, already exhausted. "Okay, so what’s the plan now, lover boy?"

Seungcheol picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he lands on the one he had personally gotten from Mingyu last week. Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you glance at it once. Then you freeze because there, bright as day, Seungcheol.

Your fingers twitch. You shouldn’t pick up. In fact, you should do the responsible thing and ignore him completely but then the call keeps ringing, like he knows you’re staring at it, like he’s waiting for you to break.

You almost ignore it..Almost. With an annoyed huff, you snatch up the phone and answer.

"What."

A low chuckle greets you from the other end. "That’s no way to greet your boyfriend."

Your entire body jerks. "Excuse me?"

"Ah," Seungcheol hums, clearly amused. "Too soon?"

"Way too soon," you deadpan. "And completely delusional."

"And yet, here you are, answering my call."

Your eye twitches. "Do you want something, or are you just here to waste my time?"

"Both," he admits easily.

You resist the urge to throw your phone. "Seungcheol."

"Fine, fine," he laughs. "Just wanted to check if my flowers got delivered."

You glare at nothing. "Oh, they did."

"And?"

"And they now belong to Mingyu." There’s a beat of silence then he’s laughing. And you hate it, you hate how good it sounded. 

“You’re so cute when you’re difficult."

You hang up immediately and then proceed to glare at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you. Across the room, Jeonghan watches your entire reaction unfold, smirk growing wider by the second.

"So," he drawls, "how’s your boyfriend?"

You launch a stress ball at his head.

Later that night, Jeonghan is sprawled out on your couch, one arm slung over his face as he lazily kicks at the air.

"You got any more of those fancy chips?" he asks.

You barely glance up from your phone. "Pantry."

"Ugh. Too far."

"You have legs."

He groans dramatically, but he doesn’t move. You roll your eyes and keep scrolling, ignoring him—until his voice turns serious.

"Alright," he says, sitting up. "All jokes aside—what’s going on?"

You pause, side-eyeing him. "What?"

Jeonghan leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying you in a way that makes you shift uncomfortably.

"You said it yourself that you wanted him," he says, voice softer now. "So why are you acting like this?"

Because you’ve been here before. Because the last time you really liked someone, you got your hopes up, and it all went to shit. Because you’ve learned the hard way that people say one thing and do another, that words mean nothing without action.

Jeonghan knows this. He’s been there through it all—through the flings, the almost-relationships, the guys who were great until they weren’t. He was there when you decided you were done trying, when you shrugged off love like it was an optional extra, not something you needed.

Now, he’s watching you like he’s seeing through you.

"You’re scared," he says simply.

You scoff. "I am not—"

"You are," he cuts in. "And I get it. But you can’t keep pushing people away just because they might disappoint you."

You bite your lip, looking away.

"Seungcheol isn’t them," Jeonghan continues. "And I don’t think he’s gonna give up just because you’re being difficult."

"...Maybe he should."

Jeonghan chuckles, but it’s not mocking. "Too bad for you, I don’t think he will."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "He will."

Jeonghan raises a brow, amused. "You sure about that?"

"Yes," you say firmly. "He’s rich, good-looking, and clearly used to getting what he wants. Guys like him don’t chase for long. The second I make it too much work, he’ll move on."

Jeonghan just smirks, shaking his head. "That’s cute. You think you’re hard to want."

You glare. "Don’t analyze me. I am not dealing with another guy who’s all interest at first and then disappears the moment things get real."

Jeonghan hums, watching you for a moment. Then, with a knowing glint in his eyes, he asks, "So if he doesn’t disappear?"

You blink.

"If he doesn’t give up," Jeonghan says, leaning closer. "If he keeps showing up, keeps proving you wrong—then what?"

You press your lips together, refusing to answer. Because you don’t know.

Jeonghan’s words replay in your head for the next couple of days. You try to brush them off, but they stick. if he doesn’t give up, then what?

But then, Seungcheol stops contacting you.No texts. No calls. No annoying flower deliveries. And in your mind, you’re like, See? I was right.

You told Jeonghan exactly how this would go. Guys like Seungcheol don’t chase for long. They get bored, they move on, they—

Knock, knock.

Your head snaps toward the door, heart inexplicably jumping. It’s late. You’re already in pajamas, wrapped in a blanket on your couch, halfway through a show you weren’t even paying attention to. The knocking comes again.

Slowly, you get up and pull open the door and there he is.

Seungcheol stands in front of you, looking annoyingly good despite the slight exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark coat over a fitted sweater, and there’s an expensive-looking suitcase at his feet.

And in his hand a snow globe.

You blink. "What…?"

"Hey," he says, Just got back from a business trip."

You stare at him. "A business trip."

"Yeah." He lifts the snow globe slightly. "Paris.".

"You brought me a souvenir?"

Seungcheol smirks. "What, you think I’d go all the way to Paris and not bring you something?"

"I—" You pause, suddenly feeling very warm despite the cold draft from the open door. "I just—"

"You thought I gave up," he says simply.

Your stomach flips. You cross your arms, standing a little straighter. "Maybe."

For a second, neither of you say anything. Then, before your brain can catch up, you reach out slow, hesitant and take the snow globe from his hand.

"...Thanks," you mumble.

Seungcheol grins. "You’re welcome."

You step aside, wordlessly letting him in. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, walking past you like he belongs there. 

"Why do you always look like you want to fight me?" he asks, amused.

"I don’t," you say flatly.

"You do," he counters, dropping onto your couch like it’s his. "You’ve been glaring at me since the day we met."

You cross your arms. "Maybe it’s just my face."

"It’s cute."

You narrow your eyes. "Don’t start."

Seungcheol laughs, stretching out comfortably. "You gonna offer me a drink or just keep staring at me?"

You inhale sharply, fighting the urge to throw him out. Instead, you turn and march into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water. When you return, he’s still lounging on your couch, completely at home.

You set his glass down with a little too much force. "Here."

Seungcheol picks it up, giving you a slow, knowing look. "You’re really bad at this," he says.

"At what?"

"Letting yourself like me." You almost choke on your own water. And Seungcheol? He just smiles.

He takes a slow sip of his water, watching you over the rim of the glass like he’s studying you. Then, like he can read your mind, he says, "Before you start spiraling—I didn’t text because I was busy. Meetings from morning to night, different time zones, clients to entertain. I barely slept, let alone had time to talk."

You blink. "I didn’t ask," you say, defensive.

He smirks. "Then don’t overthink."

You open your mouth to argue because you were not overthinking, thank you very much—but he just keeps going.

"I was in Paris for four days. Mostly business, but I had a few hours to walk around. Thought about you when I saw that snow globe."

Your stomach flips against your will. You grip your glass tighter. "You—what?"

"I thought you’d like it," he says simply. "Or maybe you'd just glare at it. Either way, it reminded me of you."

You stare at him, lips parting slightly because what the hell is he even saying? Because he says it like it’s not a big deal. Like it’s normal to have you on his mind while he’s halfway across the world. So, naturally, you do what you do best—deflect.

"You just showed up at my place," you say, voice carefully flat. "What if I wasn’t home?"

Seungcheol grins. "Then I’d have waited."

"Like a stalker?"

"Like a guy who wants to see you."

Your brain short-circuits.You scramble for something anything to say, but he beats you to it.

"You really don’t get it, do you?"

You frown. "Get what?"

He leans forward, setting his glass down on the coffee table, and your whole body tenses when he holds your gaze. "I don’t do things halfway," he says. "I wanted you from the start. That hasn’t changed."

And suddenly, you’re overthinking again. You fold your arms across your chest, keeping your expression carefully neutral. "You're just saying that because you like the chase."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "And you're saying that because you want me to think you're still a man hater."

"Excuse me?" you say, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugs, completely unfazed. "You keep acting like you don’t care, like you’re waiting for me to mess up so you can say ‘See? I told you so.’ But you’re just trying to protect yourself."

He’s too damn perceptive. Too calm, too confident in the way he calls you out.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you mutter, looking away.

Seungcheol scoffs. "I do, actually."

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "You liked me the second you saw me," he says, voice lower now, smoother. "And that scared the hell out of you."

Your breath catches because he’s right. You hate that he’s right. And the worst part? He sees it. You don’t answer. That's when Seungcheol does something you don’t expect. He stands up. And just like that, the whole atmosphere shifts. The teasing glint in his eyes is gone, replaced with something steadier. Something serious.

"If you don’t want me here, say the word and I’ll leave."

You swallow hard. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your sweater. Because this is it. The out you’ve been waiting for. The chance to end this before you get in too deep.

Your voice is quieter than you intend when you say, "If I do, will you leave?"

Seungcheol watches you, his gaze unwavering. "Yes." You know he’s telling the truth. He’s not the kind of guy to stick around where he isn’t wanted.

"You won’t fight for it?" you ask, hating how vulnerable the words sound.

A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I already am."

Your breath catches because damn him. Damn him for saying things like that. Damn him for not pushing, not forcing, just waiting. 

So instead, you exhale, looking away. "Sit down, you’re making me nervous."

Seungcheol smiles and just like that, the tension cracks.

"Yes, ma’am," he teases, sinking back onto the couch like he owns the place.

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrays you—a slight, reluctant twitch. He sees it, of course. And you don’t miss the satisfied look on his face when he does.

A few days later, Mingyu ruins everything.

“We should go out for drinks,” he says, like it’s just a casual suggestion and not a trap. And like idiots, you all agree. You don’t think anything of it until "By the way," Mingyu adds, far too casually, "I invited Seungcheol."

You freeze.

Mingyu grins, oblivious to the murderous intent in your eyes. "You don’t mind, right?"

Jeonghan snickers. Irene and Jihyo exchange looks.

"Why would she mind?" Irene asks, ever the instigator.

"You’re all insufferable," you mutter, grabbing your drink and pretending you’re unaffected.

You’re going to ignore him. You’re going to sit with your friends, drink, and not think about him. It’s a solid plan.

Then he walks in.

And suddenly, your plan evaporates.

Seungcheol is unfair. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking effortlessly good in the worst possible way. He steps into the bar with Joshua beside him, scanning the room and then his eyes land on you.

You should play it cool. Pretend to be mad at him. Hold onto your last shred of self-respect but the moment you see him, you walk straight up to him, ignoring the way your friends watch with poorly concealed amusement.

Seungcheol’s lips twitch, like he was expecting this. "Hi."

You scowl. "I hate you."

He grins. "You said that last time. Didn’t sound very convincing then either."

You open your mouth to argue—but you don’t. Because damn it, you don’t hate him at all. So you stare at him, arms crossed, and say, “What, you’re too busy now?”

His smirk deepens. “Didn’t know you’d miss me so much.”

You scoff. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re deflecting.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

Seungcheol tilts his head, amused. “Didn’t I text you?”

Your lips press together. Okay, fair point. He did text. A few times.

A "How was your day?"A "Don’t overthink too much." 

Still, you lift your chin. “Texts aren’t the same.”

His brow arches. “So you’re saying you wanted to see me?”

 “That is absolutely not what I said.”

Seungcheol just laughs. “But it’s what you meant.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

His grin is downright infuriating. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.”

You spin on your heel. “I’m leaving.”

Seungcheol just laughs, completely unbothered, like he already knows you don’t mean it. He slides into the seat beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“I was busy because of work,” he murmurs, voice smooth, almost apologetic—but not quite. “Wanted to come see you, but I figured you’d be tired after work, too.”

Your eyes narrow. “That’s your excuse?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “It’s the truth.”

You glare harder, hoping it’ll somehow make him squirm. It doesn’t. He just watches you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting back a laugh.

“So considerate of you,” you say dryly.

He hums. “I try.” Seungcheol, of course, takes that as his cue to get comfortable. He leans back, stretching his arm along the back of the booth—not quite touching you, but close enough.

“You’re still mad,” he observes, sounding entirely too entertained.

“No,” you deadpan. “I’m thrilled.”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath. “You’re cute when you sulk.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes burning with fresh irritation. “I am not sulking.”

He just grins. “Whatever you say.”

You step out onto the balcony, the night air cool against your skin as you take a deep breath. You just need a moment, one single moment to yourself. Of course, that’s impossible when Seungcheol is involved.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Don’t mind me. I’ll sulk on my own.”

Seungcheol hums as he leans against the railing beside you. “Nah, can’t let that happen.”

You throw him a glare. “And why not?”

He shrugs, watching the city lights with an infuriatingly calm expression. “I’d feel bad.”

You scoff. “Oh, now you feel bad?”

“I’ve always felt bad.”

“You don’t look like you do.”

He tilts his head toward you, smiling slightly. “Alright, what do you want, then?”

You exhale, glancing away. The truth sits heavy on your tongue, but you don’t say it. You’re still you, after all. Instead, you mutter, “For you to stop being annoying.”

A breeze drifts between you, carrying the sounds of laughter from inside. For a second, neither of you speak. Then Seungcheol nudges your arm lightly. “You’re really not gonna admit you missed me, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

His smirk softens into something else. Something dangerous. “I can wait.” He exhales, watching you carefully. The smirk fades, replaced by something quieter. something real.

Then he says it.

“I missed you.”

The words slip out so casually, so effortlessly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers tighten around the railing. Your brain stalls. Your heart does this stupid little flip in your chest. You finally turn to face him, none of the usual teasing or frustration in your expression is just seriousness.

“If it’s going to be like this,” you say, voice steady, “you disappear for days, then coming back like nothing happened then it’s not going to work.”

Seungcheol’s smirk fades completely. He studies you, really looks at you, and you can tell he understands that you’re not just saying this to pick a fight.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” You cross your arms. “You come and then go, then you just show up out of nowhere. Do you expect me to just—” You shake your head. “I don’t play games, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he says immediately. “I know you don’t.”

You sigh. “Then what are we doing?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, “I didn’t think you’d want me to check in like that.”

You blink. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He hesitates. “Because you act like you don’t care half the time.” That stings. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right.

You inhale sharply. “That’s just how I am.”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “But if I’m going to try with you, I don’t want to be another person you expect to leave.”

Seungcheol holds your gaze, unwavering. “So tell me what you want. What you really want.”

For the first time since this started, you don’t have a comeback. You suddenly feel the urge to leave.

Seungcheol’s words sit heavy in your chest—you act like you don’t care half the time. It stung more than you wanted to admit, and now the whole night feels ruined.

“I’m heading out,” you say abruptly, turning on your heel.

You return inside, Seungcheol following behind you. Jeonghan, ever the observant one, catches on immediately. “Let’s go home yea?” he says, grabbing his coat. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press. Just sticks by your side, because he knows you.

Mingyu frowns. “Already? But we just—”

“Let her go,” Seungcheol says. His voice is unreadable. You don’t look back. Jeonghan walks you out, calls a ride, and when you’re finally inside the car, he leans back with a sigh.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

You stare out the window. “No.”

He hums, not pushing further. Instead, when you get home, he stays. Puts on a random movie, hands you a blanket, and lets you sit in silence.

Because Jeonghan knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. He doesn’t look at you right away. He stays focused on the movie, lthen he hears it.

A sniffle.

It’s quiet, barely there, but Jeonghan notices everything.

He doesn’t immediately react, doesn’t turn his head or ask if you’re okay, because he knows you. Knows that if he does, you’ll shut down completely.

“I think I’m screwing it up.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even blink. “With Seungcheol?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” he says, blowing on his own tea. “I figured.”

You furrow your brows. “How?”

He snorts. “Because you’re you.” You glare at him again, but he just drives. Eyes still on the road

“I’m serious,”

“So am I,” he says easily. “You’re panicking because this is probably the first time in a long time that you actually like someone. And instead of dealing with it like a normal person, you’re, well—”

“Ruining it?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Self-sabotaging. But close enough.”

“Great.”

Jeonghan watches you for a moment. Then, softer this time “What did he say to make you leave?”

You hesitate. Then, voice barely above a whisper “That I act like I don’t care.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

You snap your head toward him, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You scowl, ready to argue, but then the truth of it hits you.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much. Because Seungcheol wasn’t wrong. Because you do act like you don’t care, even when you do. Because this whole time, you’ve been pushing and pulling, running hot and cold, and yet

Yet, he’s still here. Still choosing you. The realization makes your chest feel uncomfortably tight.

So you do what you always do when it gets too much. You don’t reach out.

Not the next day. Not the day after that. You tell yourself it’s for the best. That it’s easier this way. That Seungcheol will eventually get the hint and move on.

But then why do you feel like absolute shit?

You go through the motions—work, home, repeat—but there’s this persistent weight in your chest that refuses to go away.

It’s easy to avoid Seungcheol, at least. He works across town, and it’s not like you run in the same circles outside of Mingyu dragging him along. Still. You hate how aware you are of his absence. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve only known him for a few months, but somehow, he’s already made himself at home in your thoughts.

You wonder if he’s given up on you yet. If he’s decided you’re not worth the effort. The thought makes you feel worse.

You almost walk right past him.

Almost.

“Hey.”

Your steps falter. You take a slow breath before turning to him. He’s standing by the entrance of your building, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s been waiting.

You scoff. “Oh. Now you know me?”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

You don’t even know what exactly you’re doing, but you’re already annoyed. “Do what?”

He gives you a flat look. “Push me away.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe you should take the hint, then.”

Seungcheol steps forward. “You don’t want that.”

You step back. “I don’t?”

“You don’t.” You hate that he’s right. That he can see it. That it’s written all over your face no matter how hard you try to deny it and it frustrates you. More than it should.

“Look, Seungcheol,” you sigh, voice heavy with exhaustion. “You can’t just disappear for days and then show up like—”

“Like what?” he interrupts. “Like I actually give a damn about you?” You flinch. It’s not even what he said. It’s how he said it. The sincerity in his voice. The quiet frustration.

You look away. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He laughs under his breath. “Yeah. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You hate the way he’s looking at you. Like he knows. Like he’s waiting for you to stop fighting him. You shake your head. “You should go.”

But Seungcheol doesn’t move. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.  “Do you want me to?”

The answer is no but you don’t say it. You can’t stand the way he looks at you, like he’s already figured you out. Like he knows every excuse, every defense mechanism, every wall you put up before you even have the chance to throw them at him.

So you do what you do best. You push.

"Let’s just go back to thinking I don’t care." The words taste bitter, but you swallow them down, turning on your heel before he can say anything else.

You walk away.

One step.

Two.

Three.

You expect him to stop you. To grab your wrist. To call your name again. To say something but he doesn’t.

The air is heavy with everything unsaid, with everything you’re choosing to leave behind. And yet the farther you get, the harder it is to breathe. Your own words echo in your head, louder and louder, until you almost want to take them back.

Almost.

But you don’t.

Because that would mean admitting that he’s right. That you don’t actually want him to leave. That you’ve just been pushing him away because it’s easier than facing what’s really scaring you.

Because if you admit that you care—really, really care—then that means he has the power to hurt you.

And you’re not sure if you can survive that again.

And Seungcheol?

He lets you go.

The next day Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say anything. The moment he sees you step out of your apartment building, he knows. Your eyes are puffy, your hair is a mess, and you look like you barely got any sleep. Like hell, basically.

"So, rough night?" he asks, starting the car. You grunt in response, which tells him enough.

"You wanna talk about it, or should I just let you wallow in silence until you eventually explode?"

"Silence."

"Got it."

The drive is quiet, but Jeonghan sneaks glances at you every now and then. He’s been with you long enough to recognize when you’re doing it again. The overthinking. The self-sabotaging. The pushing away before you can get hurt.

He knows you want Seungcheol. He knows you care. And he knows that you’re terrified of letting yourself have something good.

So when he finally pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, he doesn’t unlock the doors right away. Instead, he turns to you, voice softer this time.

"You look miserable."

"Wow, thanks."

"I mean it. You look like you barely slept. You’re doing that thing where you overthink yourself into a corner and decide for yourself that you’re better off alone before anyone can prove you wrong."

You hate how accurate that is. "I don’t wanna talk about it, Hannie."

"Fine." He unlocks the doors. "But at some point, you’re gonna have to."

You sigh and grab your bag, stepping out of the car. But as you walk toward the building, Jeonghan calls after you.

"Just answer me one thing—if he calls, are you gonna pick up?"

You pause. The fact that you even hesitate tells him everything. Jeonghan watches you, waiting. Maybe hoping. But when you finally speak, your voice is so quiet.

“No.”

It’s not stubborn. It’s not defensive. It’s not even angry. It’s just… defeated. Like every last bit of fight has already drained out of you.

And that is what makes Jeonghan shut up. 

So, even though it kills him to see you like this, he sighs and just says, “Alright. Dropped.”

But Jeonghan doesn’t move right away. He just sits there in the driver’s seat, watching you disappear through the doors. And for the first time in a long time, he wonders if this time—with Seungcheol—maybe you’re making a mistake.

Jeonghan, Jihyo, Mingyu, and Irene are already a few drinks in when Mingyu suddenly stiffens, his eyes narrowing toward the entrance of the bar.

“Oh, shit.”

Jihyo follows his gaze and lets out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to look. He already knows. Joshua Hong walks in first, smiling as he exchanges greetings with someone at the bar.

And right behind him? Choi Seungcheol.

It’s been 2 weeks and Seungcheol looks… the same. Maybe a little tired, but still him. The group watches as he follows Joshua toward a table, not even glancing their way.

“Are we going to talk to them?” Irene asks, swirling her drink.

“Should we?” Mingyu hesitates.

Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen. Because of course it would. The universe wouldn’t let things be that easy.

Jeonghan exhales, slow and measured, before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll go.”

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Jeonghan shrugs as he pushes back his chair. “Someone has to.”

Mingyu shifts in his seat. “Want me to—”

“No,” Jeonghan cuts him off, shaking his head. “If it’s just me, he won’t feel cornered.”

They don’t argue. They know Jeonghan well enough to trust him with this. So, with one last glance at the others, Jeonghan straightens his shirt and makes his way across the bar.

“Joshua.”

Joshua turns first, eyebrows lifting in surprise before his lips pull into a smile. “Jeonghan! What a coincidence.”

Seungcheol looks up then, mid-sip of his drink, and his expression flickers—just for a second—before smoothing out. Jeonghan pulls out a chair and sits without asking.

Joshua leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. The others here too?”

Jeonghan ignores the question and turns to Seungcheol instead. “You doing alright?”

Seungcheol stares at him, unreadable. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeonghan hums, tapping his fingers against the table. “Dunno. Just seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”

Joshua looks between them, lips twitching, but he wisely keeps quiet.

Seungcheol finally exhales, setting his drink down. “Is this about—”

“Of course it’s about her.” Jeonghan doesn’t even let him finish. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeonghan tilts his head. “She’s been avoiding everything that even remotely reminds her of you. And she’s stubborn as hell, but I know her. She’s not okay.”

Seungcheol’s grip tightens on his glass.

Joshua sighs, leaning back in his chair. “This is why I told you to just talk to her already.”

Seungcheol runs a hand down his face, clearly frustrated. “And say what?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “Say you’re sorry. Say you care. Say literally anything, because she’s convinced herself you don’t.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply. “That’s not—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “She told me to leave.”

“She tells everyone to leave,” Jeonghan deadpans. “And she’s always surprised when they actually do.”

Seungcheol goes quiet. Jeonghan leans forward, voice steady but firm. “If you don’t care, then stay away. But if you do? Do something. Because right now, all you’re doing is proving her right.”

Seungcheol stares down at his drink. Jeonghan watches him, waiting.

And then, after a long moment Seungcheol stands.

Joshua blinks. “Oh? We’re going now?” Seungcheol ignores him, pulling his wallet out and throwing some cash on the table. Then, finally, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Where is she?”

Jeonghan tried calling again. Straight to voicemail.

He frowned. “She’s not answering.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Is she home?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan muttered, already pulling up your shared location—but of course, it was off.

Joshua exhaled through his nose. “Maybe she’s asleep?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “She always leaves her phone on, even if she’s mad. If she’s not answering, it means she either doesn’t want to be found or—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line. Seungcheol didn’t need him to finish the sentence. His hands curled into fists.

“Where would she go?” he asked, voice tight.

Jeonghan exchanged a look with Mingyu, who had come over after noticing their conversation.

Mingyu sighed. “There’s a place. She used to go there when she needed to clear her head.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste time asking more. “Where?”

Mingyu hesitated, just for a second. Then, seeing the way Seungcheol was barely holding himself together, he pulled out his phone and sent the location.

“Don’t mess this up,” Mingyu muttered.

Seungcheol was already heading for the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got there, but an old bookstore tucked into a quiet street wasn’t it. The lights inside were dim and warm, casting a soft glow through the large windows. He pushed the door open, the bell above jingling softly. 

An old woman, sitting behind the counter, looked up. She peered at him through her glasses, eyes sharp despite her gentle smile.

“You must be the one,” she said simply.

Seungcheol blinked. “Excuse me?”

The old woman hummed, nodding toward the back. “She’s here. Been here all day.”

He followed her gaze and, sure enough, there you were—curled up in one of the armchairs near the back, a book resting on your lap, though you weren’t reading it. Instead, you were staring out the window, lost in thought.

You felt his presence before you saw him. Maybe it was the way the air shifted, or maybe you had been waiting for him all along, but when he stopped in front of you, you weren’t surprised.

“You’re a hard person to find,” he said quietly.

You closed the book in your lap, fingers tracing the edges of the cover. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be found.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like talking.”

Seungcheol crouched down so he was eye level with you. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. His eyes were searching, his face unreadable. And for some reason, that made something in your chest tighten.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He exhaled softly. “Can I sit?”

You didn’t answer, but you moved your legs so there was space on the other armchair beside you. He took the silent invitation, settling in.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of the bookstore surrounded you.

Finally, Seungcheol broke the silence. “Why did you run?”

You frowned. “I didn’t run.”

He gave you a look. “You disappeared. No one could reach you. That’s running.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the chair. “I just needed time.”

“To do what?”

“To think,” you muttered.

Seungcheol tilted his head, watching you closely. “And?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the book. “And I don’t know what to do with you.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m serious.”

His expression softened. “So am I.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol. I don’t know how to trust that this won’t end up like before.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “I’m not whoever hurt you.”

You swallowed. “I know that.”

“Do you?” His voice was gentle, but firm. “Because it seems like you’re punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

Your chest ached. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said. “But I need you to at least give me a chance.” You stared at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But all you found was sincerity.

The lump in your throat grew. “And if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll wait.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling shakily. “You make it sound so easy.”

He smiled, though there was something sad in it. “It’s not. But I think you’re worth it.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say.

The old lady approached with slow, deliberate steps, her sharp gaze flicking between you and Seungcheol. She had seen you come in and out of this bookstore too many times, always with a heavy heart.

“So,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “Is this the boy that’s been making you cry?”

You inhaled deeply, forcing a small smile as you shook your head. “All of them do.”

She clicked her tongue, giving Seungcheol a pointed look before patting your shoulder. “Men,” she muttered before walking off, leaving the two of you in tense silence. Seungcheol didn’t speak for a long moment. You knew he was looking at you, but you refused to meet his eyes.

Then, finally, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Did I really make you cry?”

You swallowed, keeping your gaze on the book in your lap. “Why do you care?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I didn’t want to.”

A bitter chuckle slipped out. “That’s funny,” you said, glancing at him now. “Because I remember you saying that I don’t care.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was angry.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressing together. “So what do you want from me?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You turned fully toward him now, frustration bubbling up again. “What do you want, Seungcheol? You say you’ll wait, but for what? You keep coming back even when I push you away. What are you waiting for?”

He stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes. “You.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yes, I do,” he shot back. “I know you act like you don’t care because you’re afraid. I know you run before anyone gets the chance to hurt you. And I know you like me.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “That’s why you’re trying so hard to convince yourself that I’ll leave.”

You clenched your jaw. “You will.”

Seungcheol exhaled, shaking his head. “I won’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but before you could, another voice interrupted.

“There you are.” You both turned to see Jeonghan standing by the entrance of the bookstore, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. “I was looking for you.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, glancing at Seungcheol, whose jaw was now clenched.

Jeonghan sighed, looking between the two of you. “You need space,” he said simply. Then, to Seungcheol, he added, “Give it to her.” Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. His gaze stayed locked on you, searching, waiting but you didn’t say anything.

Finally, he exhaled and stood. “I’ll wait.”

You hated that those words made your chest tighten. Without another glance, you followed Jeonghan out of the bookstore, leaving Seungcheol behind.

The moment you stepped out of the bookstore, Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” you muttered, already knowing what was coming.

“I didn’t say anything yet,” he shot back, but the look he gave you was enough.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, crossing his arms. “Because now I am going to lecture you.”

You groaned. “Jeonghan—”

“No, listen to me.” His tone was sharper than usual, firm in a way that made you stop walking. “You keep doing this thing where you push people away the second they get too close. And I get it, I do. You don’t want to get hurt. But you are the one hurting yourself.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing.

Jeonghan huffed. “You like him,” he stated, like it was a fact. “And I know you like him because you’re acting like this.”

You scoffed. “That makes no sense.”

He gave you a pointed look. “It does when it’s you.”

You exhaled slowly, looking away. “He’ll leave.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Jeonghan challenged. “Are you really going to throw this away just because you think he might leave?”

You pressed your lips together. “You don’t understand.”

Jeonghan let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I do. Because I’ve watched you do this over and over again. And I didn’t say anything before because, honestly? Most of those guys weren’t worth it.”

You frowned. “And you think he is?”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Don’t you? Look, if you really don’t want him, then fine. Walk away. But if you do want him—even just a little—then stop making it so hard for yourself.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.

Jeonghan softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure if you could so you just nodded, and Jeonghan let it go. For now.

Come morning the next day. Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan, arms crossed as he studied him. He had been skeptical from the start—why Jeonghan always knew exactly what to say to you, why you let him in when you pushed everyone else away.

“You know a lot about her,” Seungcheol said, voice laced with suspicion. “More than just a friend would.”

Jeonghan smirked, stirring his coffee lazily. “That’s because we’re not just friends.”

Seungcheol’s grip on his cup tightened slightly. He wasn’t sure why that statement irritated him so much, but it did. “Then what are you?”

Jeonghan glanced up at him, watching his reaction carefully before finally saying it.

“She’s my stepsister.”

“What?”

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, sighing like this conversation was long overdue. “Her dad left when she was a kid. It was ugly—messed her up. My dad married her mom when we were in our teens, and suddenly, we were family.”

It made sense now. Why you and Jeonghan were inseparable, why he always seemed to understand you in a way no one else did.

“She doesn’t talk about it,” Jeonghan continued, voice quieter now. “Not to anyone. She pretends it doesn’t affect her, but it does. It’s why she is the way she is. Why she pushes people away before they get too close.”

Seungcheol exhaled, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Jeonghan met his gaze, all traces of amusement gone. “Because if you’re serious about her, you need to know what you’re up against.”

Now, he understood just how much he had to fight for you. Seungcheol stayed quiet, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with you. The push and pull, the way you shut him out just when he thought he was getting close. Now, it all made sense.

Jeonghan sighed, watching him carefully before speaking again.

“It’s hard to love her less once you get to know her more.”

Seungcheol’s gaze snapped up, meeting Jeonghan’s knowing eyes.

“That’s why she keeps people at arm’s length,” Jeonghan continued. “Because she knows it too. She’s terrified of people staying just long enough to leave.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “And you think I’m just like everyone else?”

Jeonghan smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “I think you’re different. That’s why she’s this scared.”

Seungcheol didn’t sleep much that night.

Jeonghan’s words stayed with him, looping in his mind until he couldn’t ignore them anymore. You weren’t just pushing him away because you wanted to—you were pushing him away because you were scared. Because you expected him to leave.

And if there was one thing Seungcheol hated, it was being predictable.

The next day, he found himself outside your office again, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. He knew your schedule well enough by now, and when he saw you stepping out, he straightened.

You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was flat, but Seungcheol could hear the exhaustion underneath it.

He pushed himself off the car, hands slipping into his pockets. “I needed to see you.”

You exhaled through your nose, already tired of this conversation. “Cheol—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “This time, just listen.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t walk away. That was enough for him.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “You asked me what I wanted from you. I didn’t answer then, so I’ll answer now.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “I want you. I want every version of you—the one who glares at me, the one who shuts me out, the one who lets her guard down when she thinks no one’s looking.”

“And then what?”

Seungcheol tilted his head slightly. “Then I keep wanting you. Even when you push me away. Even when you tell yourself you don’t care.”

Your jaw tightened, your emotions warring against your better judgment. “I don’t need saving, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he said easily. “You never did. But you do need someone who stays.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Seungcheol could see the way your fingers twitched, 

So he softened, just enough. “Jeonghan told me.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, Seungcheol saw something other than defiance in your eyes. It was vulnerability, raw and unguarded.

“I don’t pity you,” he said before you could say anything. “I don’t think you’re broken. I just wish you’d let me in.”

You let out a breath, but it wasn’t exasperation this time. It sounded tired. Resigned. “I don’t know how,” you admitted.

Seungcheol gave you a small smile, tilting his head toward his car. “Then let’s figure it out.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to convince yourself this was a bad idea. That you should walk away like you always did.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Seungcheol grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

He opened the car door for you, waiting. And after another beat, you got in.

As Seungcheol got into the driver’s seat, you folded your arms and eyed him suspiciously.

“So?” you prompted.

He glanced at you. “So, what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What exactly did Jeonghan tell you?”

Seungcheol tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if debating how much to say. “Enough.”

You scoffed. “Right. That’s not vague at all.” He smirked but didn’t answer immediately, which only irritated you more.

You shifted in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “He probably just told you my sob story to make you feel bad.”

He exhaled. “Yeah, he told me about your parents, about how things weren’t easy. But he didn’t say it so I’d pity you.” His voice softened. “He said it so I’d understand you.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly before you shut them again.

“Jeonghan’s known you for years,” Seungcheol continued. “And he made it pretty damn clear that if I wanted to keep you in my life, I had to stop being an idiot and actually see you.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “And what do you see?”

Seungcheol’s gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “Someone who pretends not to care because it’s safer. Someone who pushes people away before they get the chance to leave.”

“But also,” he went on, “someone who cares way more than she lets on. Someone who makes it impossible for people to love her less once they’ve gotten to know her.”

Your head snapped back to him. That was Jeonghan’s exact wording.

Seungcheol’s lips twitched. “Yeah, he said that too.”

You huffed, leaning your head against the window. “He talks too much.”

Seungcheol chuckled, but then his voice dropped, quieter now. “Look, I’m not here because of what Jeonghan told me. I’m here because I don’t want to be just another person you expect to leave.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because you didn’t know how. Instead, you just muttered, “You’re annoying,” under your breath.

Seungcheol smirked. “You’ve mentioned.”

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He didn’t push you to say anything more, and you weren’t ready to give him any more than you already had.

When he pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park and turned to you. “So what now?”

You shrugged, gripping the door handle. “I don’t know.”

Seungcheol leaned back against his seat, watching you carefully. “Are you gonna keep avoiding me?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the handle. “…No.”

That seemed to amuse him. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

You sighed, turning to face him properly. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol.”

His expression softened. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

You stared at him, searching for something—any sign that this was some kind of game. But all you found was patience, quiet and unwavering.

You exhaled and looked away. “I should go.”

He nodded, but before you could push the door open, he spoke again. “You never answered my question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

Seungcheol tilted his head, as if debating whether to repeat himself. Then, in a voice much softer than before, he said, “What do you want?”

Your breath hitched because wasn’t that the question you’d been running from this whole time?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol studied you for a long moment, then simply nodded. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He smiled slightly. “Okay. You don’t have to know yet.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “That easy, huh?”

His smile grew. “Not everything has to be a fight, you know.”

“Tell that to my brain.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “I’ll work on it.”

You bit your lip, stealing one last glance at him before finally opening the door. “Good night, Seungcheol.”

“Good night,” he said.

PART TWO COMING SOON

[nanamincreampie]

The CEO’s Hidden Flower: Part 2 (part 1)

The offices of Sukuna Enterprises thrived on efficiency, precision, and intimidation. Every employee knew their place, their role, and above all else, the iron-fisted authority of their CEO, Ryomen Sukuna.

No one slacked off. No one dared to waste time.

But today?

Work had come to a complete standstill.

It started the moment she walked through the glass doors again, the woman who had sent shockwaves through the company just months ago, stunning everyone with her warm demeanor, effortless beauty, and most shocking of all her identity as Sukuna’s wife.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

“Hi again!” she greeted cheerfully, shifting the soft pink baby sling around her shoulders, adjusting the tiny bundle nestled against her chest. “I’m just dropping off my husband’s lunch. He forgot it this morning.”

The receptionist, who had barely survived the Great Muffin Incident of two months ago, nearly fell out of her chair.

“H-Hold on… wait… You already—? You had the baby!?”

She laughed, gently swaying on her feet as if soothing the sleeping infant. “I sure did! Two months ago, actually. She’s been keeping us very busy.”

The woman’s voice, warm and honey-sweet, carried through the office like a breeze, drawing attention immediately.

Heads turned.

People whispered.

The employees who had witnessed her first visit froze at their desks, their jaws going slack as they registered the tiny baby strapped securely against her.

One of the junior associates nearly dropped his coffee.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. That’s— That’s his—? He’s actually a dad?!”

“Holy shit, I thought we were still in the pregnancy arc!”

“I thought we had time!”

“She just—just casually walked in here with his baby like it’s nothing—”

More and more people abandoned their work, curiosity outweighing their fear of their terrifying boss. They inched closer, whispering in disbelief.

Finally, someone from HR, probably the most fearless among them stepped forward hesitantly.

“Oh my God… She’s already here?”

The new mother beamed and adjusted the baby sling, brushing a delicate hand over her daughter’s back. “Mhmm. She came a little early, but she’s happy and healthy.”

A woman from the finance department gasped dramatically. “So that’s why Sukuna took a leave of absence! I thought he was handling some shady underground business deal or something!”

Sukuna’s wife chuckled. “No shady deals this time. He was home with me and our baby.”

The entire floor processed that information at once.

Sukuna. Their Sukuna. The ruthless, cutthroat businessman. The terror of the corporate world.

Had taken paternity leave.

People were struggling.

One of the interns, a nervous young man, cleared his throat, staring at the sleeping infant in absolute awe. “U-Um… Would it be okay if we… got a peek at her?”

“Of course! Just be quiet. She’s sleeping,” she whispered as she carefully pulled back the fabric of the sling.

The moment they saw her, a wave of soft gasps filled the space.

The baby, tiny, peaceful, her little fists curled against her mother’s chest—had a full head of soft, rosy-pink hair.

Just like him.

“Yup. That’s his kid,” someone whispered in awe.

“She has his hair. Oh my God.”

“I— I never thought I’d say this, but I think I want to see Sukuna holding a baby now.”

The receptionist clutched her heart. “She’s so precious. What’s her name?”

The new mother smiled, running a finger over her daughter’s tiny fingers. “Her name is d/n.”

The group collectively melted.

“d/n,” one whispered, as if testing it out. “It suits her. It’s… delicate.”

“Unlike her father,” someone snorted.

The growing crowd around her had become so engrossed in the moment that they failed to notice a hazardous presence approaching.

“Why the hell is nobody working?”

The deep, thunderous voice sent chills through the air.

Like a spell had been broken, people scattered, employees darted back to their desks, some fumbled with their papers, and others tried to act like they hadn’t just been seconds away from cooing over a baby.

But his wife?

She simply brightened at the sight of him.

“Ryo!” she chirped happily, lifting the lunch bag in her hand. “I brought your food! You forgot it this morning.”

Sukuna’s sharp crimson eyes flickered to the bag, then back to her. His gaze softened, just a fraction, as he took in the sight of his wife holding their daughter.

A long sigh left him as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Flower, you really shouldn’t be carrying her around like this. You just had her.”

She pouted, adjusting d/n's sling. “I’m fine! Besides, I wanted to get out of the house for a bit.”

“You could’ve sent a driver.”

She huffed, placing a hand on her hip. “And miss the chance to see you?”

He narrowed his eyes, but the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

One of the braver employees coughed awkwardly. “Um, congratulations… sir?”

Sukuna barely spared him a glance. “Took you all long enough to figure it out.”

The employees collectively held their breath as their boss turned his attention back to his wife.

Then, in a move that should have been impossible, Sukuna, the merciless CEO, the demon of the corporate world, leaned down and kissed her forehead.

The office shattered.

Someone nearly fainted.

Another grabbed onto the nearest desk for support.

A senior associate actually whispered, “No fucking way.”

If the first visit had been a shock, this was earth-shattering.

Sukuna, completely unfazed by the chaos, exhaled and ran a hand down his wife’s back. “Come on. Let’s go to my office.”

She giggled, letting him lead her away, but not before turning back to the stunned employees. “It was nice seeing you all again! I’ll bring cookies next time!”

And just like that, they were gone.

What followed could only be described as pandemonium.

“HE KISSED HER.”

“He called her Flower......again!”

“Did you see the way he looked at the baby?”

“This man is whipped. He’s actually in love.”

For the entire week, nothing else mattered in the office. The legend of Mrs. Sukuna had only grown more, cementing her place as the most fascinating, most talked-about mystery in the company’s history.

And Sukuna?

He didn’t bother addressing the rumors.

Because at the end of the day, there was only one thing he cared about, his wife, his daughter, and making sure they had everything they ever wanted.

Even if it meant tolerating the absolute chaos she left in her wake.

Tag list : @totallygyomeiswife @slushycoookie

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter Two: Kokomo

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The first few days back in Fiji was heaven on earth - until things start to unravel.

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has long-ish hair, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), alcohol and food consumption, wedding talk, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of OC substance abuse, an air of mystery, perhaps?

WC: 7.4K

Series Masterlist

A/N: inspired by this ask. I should also mention I have some personal stuff going on that I've been struggling with and yesterday things took a nose dive — I haven't been on here as much as usual but I'll try to hop on when I have the ability. Thank you for understanding ❤️

It had only been a couple days at The Parador and Joel had warned you repeatedly the hotel wasn't fully operational yet, to expect some things to not be ready or up to snuff, but so far it felt like literal heaven on earth. Waking up the past few mornings with the warm sea breeze floating in through the open doors of your bedroom, laying next to the man you loved more than anything, your future husband, while exotic birds sang somewhere outside had you on cloud nine.

The first day you arrived, you had wandered around the villa in awe. There were three bedrooms, including the master, and each had its own ensuite bathroom. You realized right away your parents easily could have stayed with you, but you didn't say anything to Joel. Deep down, you appreciated the privacy, and you had a feeling Joel wanted the same. The way your parents acted any time you mentioned Joel or the wedding was really starting to gnaw at you, and resentment was burning brighter than you let on.

Granted, your relationship with your parents hadn't always been great. Growing up in their house had its challenges. You and your mother butt heads a lot and your father had a tendency to work as much as possible, creating a void between you during the most formative years in your life. It was around the time you announced you were moving to Los Angeles for college that you felt your relationship with them crumble even more. They absolutely hated the idea of you living in L.A. — preconceived notions of the city they read online had your mother convinced you would be homeless and your father thinking you would "fall into the wrong crowd". But once you graduated and got a job at a production company, you thought their minds would be put at ease, so you did your best to repair that relationship. As more time passed and the phone calls became shorter and more uncomfortable, you began to wonder if they had hoped you would fail just so you would have to move back home, proving them right.

All of that aside, getting engaged and moving in with Joel should have shown them how happy and successful you were. They should have been happy, too. Yet, they still held back, refusing to get to know Joel better or talk much about your engagement.

It was the only dark cloud over an otherwise amazing time in your life, so you were ultimately glad Joel decided to book them a villa in a different hotel instead of sharing a room. The last thing you wanted was for them to ruin the grand opening of The Parador with their negativity looming around every corner. Both you and Joel worked so hard on the hotel, you deserved to enjoy yourselves.

And enjoy yourselves, you did. It was your third day on the island and even Joel couldn't resist how spectacular it felt to be back in paradise. He looked so relaxed and happy that it was hard to remember you were technically there to work, with some wedding planning scheduled during the quieter parts of your days. But it didn't stop either of you from lounging by the pool or beach whenever you could with your phones and laptops while upbeat music played softly through the speakers surrounding the area. It surprised you at first, to see Joel so relaxed during a workday. It was a far cry from the way he behaved the last time you were in Fiji.

Another thing you certainly didn't recall him doing the last time you were there was having a cocktail or two with lunch. He had grown particularly fond of frozen drinks, something that always made you giggle when you saw him sipping around all the fruit and a fancy umbrella, shoulders shifting slightly in rhythm with the music.

"What?" he asked hazily from his lounge chair when he heard you. His sunglasses were perched on the tip of his nose and his lips were wrapped around the bright pink straw of his piña colada.

"Nothing. I'm just loving this side of you," you grinned. His laptop sat open at the end of his chair but right next to it was a book he had been reading, spread open and face down while he ate. "Can't wait to see more of this relaxed Joel on our honeymoon."

You could tell by the way his cheeks were slightly pink and the glassy look in his eye that he was just a little tipsy when his eyebrow arched at the topic of your honeymoon.

"'Bout that," he said, putting the fancy glass down next to him. "Have you decided where you wanna go?"

You shrugged and shook your head. "Maybe Italy? Or Costa Rica?"

"What 'bout Paris?" he asked before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"Maybe," you said, pursing your lips in thought. "Not many opportunities to see you in those swim trunks in Paris, though."

Joel grinned and turned his head to look at you over his sunglasses. "You like me on the beach, huh?"

You giggled, making his smile spread even wider.

"You do seem at home on the beach."

He pushed his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose and took another sip from his drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his email program pop up with an alert in the corner of his laptop screen, but he didn't seem to give a shit. The sun felt so nice and it was indescribably peaceful, sitting in your own private garden-slash-patio while the waves crashed lightly against the sandy shore not too far away. The sound drew Joel's attention and he turned his head, watching the foamy crests splash down onto the smooth sand. Then, a thought occurred to him and he frowned.

He remembered a time from your first week on the island, back when he had hired you to pretend to be his fiancée. When you first met Glenn, you made up a story about how Joel proposed to you on the beach in Santa Monica. Later, when he asked if that's what you always wanted, you shrugged it off. I tried to think of the most romantic thing possible and it just popped into my head, you had said. Joel turned back to you and took off his sunglasses.

"Should I have proposed to you on the beach?"

Your head snapped up from your phone in surprise. "What?"

"That story you told Glenn, when we were—"

"No!" you exclaimed, sitting up in your chair. "I love how you proposed to me. Both times!" you added, holding up both hands and making him grin. "You could have proposed to me literally anywhere and I would have said yes. I already told you, Joel," you scooted closer and leaned forward to cup his face with both your hands. "I love you so much, I would marry you anywhere. All the rest of this... stuff—" you jutted your chin towards your phone, where you had been replying to an email from Nadia, "—it's just for fun. It doesn't really matter. This is all that matters."

You pressed your lips lightly to his, feeling him smile before leaning back and dropping your hands to your lap.

"Hopeless romantic," Joel teased, his dark eyes sparkling and playful. You just giggled and shook your head at the familiar accusation. When you picked your phone back up to finish your email, Joel groaned and suddenly jumped up from his chair.

"I fuckin' love this song," he announced before swaying his hips. He began to sing softly to himself as he shuffled around the edge of the pool, and it wasn't until he was further away that you heard the lyrics to Kokomo filtering through the speakers.

"C'mon, pretty mama," Joel called, swiveling around and holding out his arms for you. "Dance with me, baby," he added, smirking while slowly bobbing his shoulders and mouthing the words in your direction. You burst out laughing and shook your head.

"You're drunk!"

"I ain't drunk, I'm fuckin' happy!" Joel exclaimed loudly. His chin tilted towards the clear blue sky and closed his eyes while he continued to move from side to side around the patio. When he stumbled a bit, you laughed and tossed your phone on the table so you could join him.

"Be careful, you're going to trip," you scolded playfully, wrapping your arms around his bare torso and resting your chin on his warm, sun-kissed chest.

"Maybe I should get you another ring and propose on the beach," Joel murmured, gazing down at you. He was still swaying, pulling you with him as he spoke.

"Don't you fucking dare."

He laughed and his hands settled on your hips, tugging you close so you could move in sync with the music.

"Alright, fine," he relented, slowly spinning you both in a circle. "Least let's play this at the wedding."

"Kokomo? You want to dance to Kokomo in front of all your super rich buddies?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" he asked with a little concerned crease between his brows. The earnest look on his face had you melting on the spot.

"Nothing," you said softly. You swiped your thumb over his frown, smoothing it out before stretching onto your tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "We can dance to Kokomo, I think it's perfect."

His lips captured yours before you could pull away, forcing you to sway back and forth on the balls of your feet with your chest against his. In the background, you could hear the final few lyrics of the song fade out, a new one starting right on its heels. It was a faster tempo, but Joel kept you both moving slow, your hips pressed together while his tongue pushed languidly into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like coconut and pineapple with just the faintest hint of rum.

You made a pleased little sound in the back of your throat when you felt him begin to harden through his swim trunks. Pulling back and grinning when he chased after your lips, you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and asked, "Getting all hot and bothered, Mr. Miller?"

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," he insisted, lips finding a home on your neck. "You're lookin' a little warm, though," he added, tilting his head and switching to the other side of your throat. Your eyelids fluttered when his teeth grazed your pulse point. "Maybe it's you who's feelin' hot?"

You swallowed tightly before answering.

"It's really hot," you whispered.

"What is?" Joel asked, lips puckering around your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake.

"The s-sun," you stammered. Obviously. But both of you were beginning to forget what you were talking about.

Joel hummed and walked you backwards a step or two, his arms wrapped around you tightly, preventing you from tripping.

Or so you thought.

"I got just the thing for that."

"Huh?" you asked hazily with your eyes still closed and your fingers getting tangled in his hair. But before you even had a chance to scream, Joel twisted around, tightened his grip around your waist, and jumped backwards into the pool, pulling you down with him.

The water was heated but it was still a shock to the system. You screeched underwater and kicked away, propelling yourself out of his arms and to the surface for air. You gasped and snapped your eyes open, hair plastered to your face as you whipped back and forth until Joel emerged from the water, laughing and reaching for you again.

"Oh, I don't think so!" you exclaimed, and before he could get his hands on you, you kicked off the wall of the pool, giving yourself the advantage and swimming away.

Your fingers grazed the railing of the steps. You were so close, but then Joel's hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you back across the water as you screamed and giggled until he had you flipped around, lifting you up so he could wrap his arms and legs around you, immobilizing you completely.

"Where y'goin', baby?" he breathed, "Don't it feel good?"

Panting, you gazed up at him through your wet lashes. He looked so genuinely happy and at ease, it took your breath away. You couldn't stop admiring him; the sparkle in his eye, the dimple in his cheek, his broad shoulders... but the way the sun glittered on his tanned skin made you finally stop struggling. When he felt your muscles relax, his grip loosened.

"What?" he finally asked when you took too long to speak. You smiled and shook your head, then pulled him tighter again.

"How'd I get so lucky?" you whispered softly. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, deflecting the compliment, so instead you circled your arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. Under the water, his hands reached down to cup your ass, pulling you snug against his hips while you deepened the kiss with a moan.

Your chest felt light, heart tapping excitedly against your sternum with each touch and kiss. It was impossible to keep the smile from your face. How could you, when you were having the time of your life in paradise with the man who you planned to spend the rest of your life with?

"Speaking of—" Joel said breathlessly when he broke away. He massaged you underwater, fingers greedily stretching so he could grab as much of your ass as possible. Your eyes followed a drop of water that trickled from his hair and down the side of his face and you licked your lips. "Am I 'bout to get lucky, or what?"

"Here?" you questioned, but he just smirked and nodded.

"Why not? No one can see us."

You bit your lip and glanced around, trying not to let his roaming hands and his hot mouth on your neck distract you. He was right - there weren't any other guests in the hotel but even if there had been, the gardens and natural fauna surrounding the patio were too thick to see through.

Joel nipped at your throat, teeth gently pinching your wet skin and you sighed, relaxing into his hold. "O-okay," you whispered.

"Atta girl," Joel chuckled before swinging you around in the pool so your back was pressed against the side. Fortunately, it was the side facing the ocean. There was no concrete lip behind you so as to mimic the water merging with the horizon. It allowed you to comfortably rest your weight on your elbows, which were perched on the smooth tile edge, and lean back so Joel could pull your bikini bottoms off.

Before you met, Joel would never have been caught dead blowing off work in the middle of the day. He practically worked around the clock, his only focus in life being his company and what he could do to become more successful. But now, his focus remained firmly planted on you. Even back home, it didn't matter how busy he was, in the back of his mind he always thought of you, finding comfort in knowing you were somewhere in the building and just a phone call away.

But having you within arms reach in the middle of paradise proved to be harder for him to resist than he thought.

Just as quickly as he shed you of your swimsuit, he was back with one hand pressing flat against your spine, pushing your bodies together while his mouth continued to suck on your neck. Underwater, your legs wrapped around his waist, the movement feeling like quicksand, but you weren't sure if it was the buoyancy or the desire coursing through your veins that had you feeling sluggish.

Joel's hand dropped between you, fingers quickly undoing the tie on his shorts so he could loosen them around his hips. Meanwhile, his mouth found yours again, kissing you with a deep groan when his tongue slipped past your lips.

The pad of his finger caught on your clit, making you whine as the familiar heat bloomed between your legs. Your hips rolled forward, chasing his hand, wordlessly asking for more. A sly smile pulled across his mouth and then he tore himself away, fingers still teasing featherlight strokes along your slit.

"I'll be right back," he said, pushing off the wall.

"Wh- what?" you stammered, eyelids fluttering. Joel took a deep breath then disappeared below the water and before you had a chance to process what was happening, his hands wrapped around your thighs and pulled you onto his mouth.

"Shit!" you cried out when you felt his hot tongue gliding through your lips. He ate at you messily underwater, knowing he would soon have to return for air left him unable to take his time and savor it like he normally would.

A flash of heat seared through you, a lightning bolt from the center of your legs that reached to every nerve ending in your body. Something about feeling weightless and having the ability to relax your muscles entirely while Joel alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your clit had you shaking in a matter of seconds.

When he tore himself away and crashed through the surface of the water with a frantic gasp for air, you had the audacity to pout. You whined his name and writhed against the side of the pool, causing him to smirk amidst catching his breath.

"What is it, baby?"

"You can't do that. That's teasing," you grumbled. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and grabbed your thighs underwater, spreading them apart roughly before growling, "Did I say I was done?"

He had about half a second to clock the delight in your face before he inhaled deeply and dove back under. His mouth seared against your pussy immediately, tongue probing and licking desperately until he needed more air.

It was a new sensation, being brought to the edge just to be pulled back when he needed to breathe. It had you clawing at his shoulders and murmuring filth in his ear every time he came up to recover, but you couldn't help yourself. Your ears were ringing and your body felt like every nerve ending was frayed whenever he tore his mouth away, but thankfully after being toyed with one too many times, his hand took the place of his mouth when he emerged.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned, fingers working quickly under the water. Two thrusted inside you, curling and stretching while the heel of his palm massaged your clit. His free arm came to rest on the ledge behind you so his entire body ended up caging you in. When you peeled your eyes open, mouth agape and mind blurry, all you could see was Joel towering over you.

"Need you to come for me," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Need to fuck you, baby, c'mon, lemme see it."

Water splashed lightly near your shoulder from how fast Joel was working his wrist between your legs. It only took a few more slaps of his palm against your clit before your muscles tensed and your eyes rolled back with a low moan. Your hips rocked forward and you gasped as each wave of your climax shuddered through you, all the while crumbling under Joel's intense stare.

"That's it — feels good, huh?" Joel's lips found the underside of your jaw and began sucking lightly at your skin. "Pussy's so tight, squeezin' me so fuckin' good... that's it, you're alright, shh, so pretty like this. So fuckin' pretty—"

His mouth crashed over yours, silencing his ramblings and your moans until you relaxed and he slowly removed his fingers.

"Joel," you whimpered, chest heaving and heart racing. You reached for him, a trembling hand searching for him under the water, needing him just as badly as you needed oxygen in your lungs.

One leg hooked around his waist and a hand cupped the back of his neck. You felt delirious; lost entirely to the feeling only Joel was able to create. Everything about him, you loved. You loved how he knew you so well, in every way imaginable. You loved how he took care of you, protected you, worshiped you. All of those reasons and more told you he was the man you should spend the rest of your life with.

And if that wasn't enough, he somehow always managed to drag the most intense pleasure from you. He knew what you needed without you having to ask, undoing you every single time.

"Sure you're ready?" Joel breathed shakily, but he was already lining himself up, chin tucked into his chest, eyes peering through the water. You nodded and swallowed, fingers tightening around the back of his neck.

You felt him there, swollen tip resting against your opening, and you held your breath. Both of his hands held your hips steady, keeping you in place, and then his eyes flickered up to yours. All you saw reflected back was utter devotion when he pushed inside, each of you gasping in unison. You refused to look away, his dark eyes too magnetic, as his hands pulled you down onto his cock, nice and slow. He held your gaze until your hips sat flushed with his and he released you in favor of cupping your face. His mouth slanted over yours, nipping desperately at your lower lip while you fluttered and pulsed around him.

"How's that, huh?" His hips shifted, stretching you open and reaching the furthest depths of you. Your back arched off the side of the pool, gasping into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whined around the messy kisses Joel was peppering against your lips.

"Feel all of me in there?" He rolled his hips deliberately, touching lightly against a spot that had you grappling feverishly at the slippery curls on the back of his head.

"Fuck," you cursed again, "yeah. More, Joel, please."

"Yeah? Think you can handle it?" he asked, his mouth dropping to your chin, then your jaw. "Think this perfect fuckin' pussy can take it?"

You couldn't answer. All you could do was whimper pathetically, each snap of his hips driving the air straight from your lungs. But he didn't mind, because he was already too lost in the feel of you to demand an answer.

"You got no idea—" Joel grunted, slowing his hips when he felt himself nearing his peak too soon. He shifted his weight, wrapped an arm around the curve of your back under the water, and took a moment to catch his breath. "—you got no idea how fuckin' crazy you make me," he finished, staring deep into your eyes.

Your leg tightened around his waist and you leaned forward, grazing your teeth lightly over his throat when you said, "Crazy enough to fuck me in a pool on a Wednesday afternoon."

Joel growled, the sound vibrating against your lips. "You like this, don't you? You like gettin' me so hard 'n worked up, I can barely think."

You thought you managed to whisper out a yes, but you couldn't be sure because a second later, Joel was pounding into you again. Water splashed up, dotting both your faces and lips with little droplets. One strong arm pinned you roughly to his chest, and the other protected the back of your head from the tile, completely immobilizing you. Your open mouths hovered inches apart, leaving just enough room for your shared grunts and moans to escape, each devastating thrust bringing you both closer to the edge.

"Oh, f-fuck," you stammered, body jolting violently in his grip from the force of his hips slamming into you. His jaw tightened, brow furrowing as he fought back his own climax. You were close, he could feel it. He just needed to give you a little more.

"Don't stop," you begged, and Joel shook his head, stomach tensing with the need to let go. A strangled noise made its way past your lips and you feverishly clutched the sides of his head. "Kiss me," you pleaded.

His mouth crashed against yours, tongue sliding past your lips, and all the while he maintained that same, steady pace underwater. There was a moment where he thought he might not be able to hold back any longer, but then he felt your body go rigid and a broken version of his name tumbled into his mouth. A second later, the sweet feeling of relief flooded his veins as he came, pumping you full of his seed while you both rode out the rest of your highs together.

Joel broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, then buried his face in the crook of your neck so he could catch his breath. Your fingers combed lovingly through his hair and you closed your eyes, basking in the sun and the afterglow of your orgasm with Joel still buried deep between your legs. His arms remained wrapped around you, as well, keeping you so close that your chests bumped together with every shaky breath. After several quiet minutes, Joel whispered your name, his soft way of checking in.

You swallowed, throat hoarse and dry. "Say it," you mumbled drowsily. You felt his lips twitch against your neck.

"I love you."

A slow smile stretched across your face and you sighed.

"I love you, too."

The drive to Glenn and Mary's mansion brought back so many memories. Nerves, excitement, and anticipation filled you the first time, hoping you would do a good job at selling your fake engagement so Joel would appear relatable to Glenn and therefore make him look like the best choice to purchase the land for the hotel. Then afterwards, uneasiness and pangs of jealousy once you found out that Joel used to carry on an affair with another hotel mogul's wife, Tammy.

This time was different. Now, you were legitimately Joel's fiancée and madly in love. No more secrets, no more feelings of betrayal. You couldn't have been any happier.

"I'm looking forward to seeing them again," you told Joel. He sat next to you in the backseat of the town car, your left hand engulfed by his across the middle seat. His thumb distractedly played with the huge diamond on your ring finger and he smiled.

"Should be nice. Just them, Trevor and Zoe," he recapped.

Zoe. You were so excited to see your old friend, a port in the storm the last time you were on the island. She was young, beautiful, carefree and a former sugarbaby. While you hid that part of your history from everyone — with the exception of Joel's trusted assistant, Liam — Zoe had told you her secret in confidence early on in your trip. As much as you wanted to share with her your own background, you knew how detrimental it would be to Joel, so you kept your mouth shut. Still, Zoe turned out to be an incredible friend. She was there the night Brooks — Glenn and Mary's son —assaulted you in a restaurant bathroom. She took care of you until Joel arrived that night. She also had your back when Tammy and Lynne accused you of being a gold digger during a dinner party towards the end of your trip.

Needless to say, after the trip ended, you remained close friends. You were thrilled to find out she quit being a sugarbaby and found herself a boyfriend... none other than Glenn and Mary's other son, Trevor. Who actually didn't turn out to be that bad, compared to his brother.

"Much better group than last time," you said, squeezing Joel's hand.

He smirked and rolled his eyes, knowing full well you were referring to Tammy and her little sidekick, Lynne.

"Easy," he teased.

Glenn and Mary lived right on the beach in a stunning Mediterranean-style house which was surrounded by exotic plants and meticulously maintained gardens, a home that still took your breath away whenever you saw it.

When your car pulled up, you could see all the lights on inside, and when the chauffeur opened your door and you stepped out, you could hear the soft sounds of music echoing from the backyard.

"They must be on the patio," you said to Joel, looping your hand through his arm and allowing him to lead you to the front door.

"They do love their view," he murmured.

A man you didn't recognize but who appeared to be part of the catering service opened the door for you with the offer of champagne. You each took a flute before heading through the familiar, grandiose foyer. The kitchen and dining areas were silent except for the staff furiously working away. Your gaze drifted to look through the glass that lead out to their gorgeous pool area, spotting four familiar faces smiling and laughing around the outdoor bar. When Zoe turned her head and locked eyes with you through the windows, her face lit up. Yours must have done the same because you immediately dropped Joel's arm and squealed excitedly.

Hurrying outside, you ran to meet Zoe halfway, then threw your arms around each other's necks, swaying back and forth and murmuring compliments in the other's ear while trying to simultaneously not spill your drinks.

"Your hair! It's so long!" you gushed when you pulled away. Your fingers idly slid down her shiny locks with a smile so wide, your cheeks hurt. "And this dress! Oh my god—"

"You should talk! You're practically glowing!" Zoe beamed right back before snatching your right hand to hold it up to the dim garden lighting. "Or is it this massive fucking rock?"

She whispered the last part so none of the others heard. They had come forward to greet Joel while you and Zoe got reacquainted, fortunately buying you an extra minute to come up with some excuse as to why you had two engagement rings.

"Oh, this?" you laughed, stretching your fingers out so you could both admire it. "Joel thought he owed me another one since it's taken us so long to get married."

"Goddamn, Joel. You are one smart man," Glenn bellowed behind you. You swiveled around with a huge grin so you could give Glenn, Mary, and Trevor each a warm hug. When you were about to step away, Mary tsked and held out her hand, so you placed your right palm in hers while they got a good look at your new ring.

"Felt bad that storm set construction back a few weeks," Joel explained, quickly rolling with your story. He curled an arm around your waist when everyone was done admiring your ring, tucking you into his side. "Caused a headache with the wedding planner. Y'know how it is."

"I always told you — happy wife, happy life," Glenn chuckled before waving everyone over to the appetizers, which had just been set out near the bar. "C'mon, dig in. Then I wanna hear all about the soft open."

Joel opened his mouth to reply when a man's familiar sounding drawl rang out behind you.

"Oh, well, what do you know? We just came from there, I can tell you all about it."

Your body reacted before your brain had a chance to figure out what was happening. The hairs on your arms stood up and your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat.

You knew that voice.

"Scott! Didn't think you were comin' in til later!" Glenn called out cheerily. Zoe's hand found your forearm and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then, Joel murmured something in your ear but your blood was pumping so fast and loud, you couldn't hear him. Because if Scott was there, that meant...

"Tammy!" Mary sang, raising her arms above her head with a sweet smile. She didn't notice your reaction, neither did Glenn. They were too busy giving them both hugs and murmuring something to them about the weather.

Joel tried to get your attention again but you felt frozen in place. Zoe released your arm, whispered breathe in your ear, then followed Trevor over to greet them next.

"C'mon, let's just get through this," Joel urged, and you blinked before snapping your head to look at him.

"Did you—"

"No."

You exhaled in relief. It was a surprise, Joel didn't know they were coming. Still...

"Get over here, you son of a bitch," Scott laughed, tapping Joel on his shoulder. He let you go and plastered a polite smile across his face before giving him a hug. He hesitated for half a second, then gave Tammy a quick kiss on the cheek. You knew he had to do it. It would have looked weird if he didn't. But it still had your claws coming out, so you tucked your hand behind your back, squeezing your fingers into a tight fist to release some anger.

Tammy's eyes landed on you and she gave you a fake smile, murmured your name, and stiffly leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek. It took everything in your power to move, to press your cheek against hers, to say nice to see you and act like either of you meant it.

You broke apart quickly, each of you avoiding eye contact and retreating back to your partners. Joel wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers pressed into your hip, wordlessly trying to soothe you, to tell you it was okay. With your cheeks hot, you caught Zoe's eye. She looked just as taken aback as you.

"Did you, uh, say you were at The Parador?" Joel asked. He sounded guarded, like he was bracing for something. He must have already connected the dots and for some reason, you were lagging, because Scott nodded and announced the obvious.

"We were lucky enough to get one of the rooms for the soft open." Scott tossed Joel a grin while lacing his fingers together with his wife's. "Don't worry. We won't be too harsh in our review. Right, honey?" he joked.

Scott looked down at Tammy who batted her lashes and nodded.

"That's right. We know there's bumps to iron out when a new location opens up. We understand the business."

Scott owned his own chain of hotels and was in contention to win the plot of land Joel ended up getting on the island, so they were no stranger to the hospitality industry. But as nice as Scott was, at the end of the day, Joel was a competitor and he won something Scott couldn't have. It had your gut twisting nervously by Joel's side.

"Well, if somethin' doesn't meet your standards, you let me know immediately," Joel responded. You had to give him credit, he was handling the turn of events much better than you were, but something told you he would be expressing his true thoughts on the matter in the car later.

The only saving grace all evening happened when Scott and Tammy chose to sit at the opposite end of the table from you and Joel. It afforded you a chance to get your bearings and breathe.

"I didn't know," Zoe whispered before you could even ask. "I heard they had a layover on their way to Australia, but I didn't think they'd be stopping here."

"It's fine," you mumbled, picking at the fish on your plate. "Maybe they're just saying long enough to see Glenn and Mary."

You were wrong.

By the time your plates were cleared and dessert was being served, the topic of Scott and Tammy's unexpected arrival finally came up.

"Australia? What's taking the two of you there?" Mary asked. Candlelight that decorated the table flickered across her face, making her dark hair shimmer. She was beautiful and always very sweet. Even after your altercation with Brooks, both she and Glenn stood by your side and made the difficult decision to send their son off to rehab on a neighboring island. You were grateful for their kindness and generosity towards you during your last stay, but you had to admit, you were envious of how absolutely clueless she and her husband were about the dynamics at their table. You couldn't be certain about Trevor, but considering Zoe knew all the drama with Tammy, you had to assume the only people at the table who were in the dark were Glenn, Mary and Scott.

"Thought we'd take some time off down uhnda," Scott laughed, "Figured we deserved a little break. Hotels have been doing great but it's cost me a lot of late nights. So, we planned a little trip, just the two of us. But when we realized The Parador was about to have its grand open? Well," he breathed, locking eyes with Joel. "Couldn't miss that, now could we?"

"The boys were beside themselves but I told them when they graduate college, we'll consider taking them somewhere of their choosing," Tammy cooed, swirling her crystal wine glass in her hand. "That is, if their grades reflect the hard work they claim they're putting in."

"You sure you ain't lookin' to expand in Australia?" Glenn asked coyly. Scott gave him a sly smirk and shrugged.

"Who's to say."

Tammy scoffed and playfully swat at his shoulder. "No business, you promised!"

While the men laughed, you and Zoe exchanged glances and focused on your plates. Scott, to your knowledge, never knew Tammy had an affair with Joel all those years ago. So to watch them act so sickeningly sweet and in love irked you both. Especially when Joel confessed to you that Tammy had developed strong feelings for him during their tryst.

"When do your parents get in?" Zoe asked softly, but Mary overheard anyway and perked up.

"Oh! Your parents? That's lovely! They must be coming to help you plan the wedding!"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm when the entire table dragged their focus onto you.

"Yes, they arrive late tonight, actually," you responded. "They'll help a bit, but they aren't the type to take vacations, well... ever, really. So it was Joel's idea to get them out here and relax for once."

Joel smiled and his hand found yours underneath the table. He gave you a gentle squeeze, soothing your frayed nerves.

"Well, that's thoughtful. We all oughta go out to dinner before they leave," Glenn suggested. You swallowed tightly and nodded before Zoe swooped in.

"Mary! I forgot to tell you... we went to that new restaurant the other day."

"Ocean Terrace? How was it?"

And just like that, the attention shifted to Zoe and Trevor as they told the table about a horrendous dining experience.

"Dinner's almost over," Joel assured you quietly. You met his gaze, his dark eyes glittering in the dim lighting making your chest tighten with affection. "We'll make up some excuse not to get dinner with 'em again, don't worry."

You let out a shaky breath and nodded. You could do this. Besides, what could Tammy possibly do that hasn't already been done? She was a mood killer at that point and nothing more.

Your shoulders relaxed after your plates were cleared and people began to stand. Scott mentioned something about jet lag and Joel made an exaggerated yawn before making a comment about having an early meeting.

Zoe pulled you in for a hug and murmured in your ear about getting lunch. You told her you wanted to spend some time with your parents the next day, but promised to text her and set something up after. Then you gave Trevor a quick hug, which resulted in an avalanche of farewells and polite pecks on cheeks.

Joel was leading you through the house, back the way you came. Every step made you breathe a little easier until Glenn suddenly jogged up behind you.

"Joel? You got a quick minute?"

Joel's eyes flickered between yours and Glenn's, confusion etching his face before he nodded and let go of your hand.

"I'll meet you in the car."

You didn't think anything of it. Figured it was business related; that maybe Glenn wanted to book a few villas for friends or maybe host an event in one of the ballrooms. You took out your phone after you settled into your seat and opened a text from your mother, letting you know they safely landed and that they were checking into their hotel. You tapped out a quick response, telling her you would call them the next day and advised them to get some rest when Joel slipped into the backseat. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his brows pulled tight. You quickly dropped your phone back into your purse when you sensed the tension rolling off his shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his hand found the button for the partition. You could hear the little motor whirring as it slowly closed, giving you privacy from the driver as he drove down the empty streets, back to The Parador.

Even in the dim ambient lighting from the ceiling, you could read Joel's face. He was pissed.

"Joel?" you tried again. His jaw tensed and your eyes dropped to his knee, which was bouncing anxiously as he mulled over whatever Glenn had just said. Then finally, he forced his gaze onto you and your stomach dropped when he said, "Brooks is outta rehab. Been back on the island for a week, and—" he bit the inside of his cheek before huffing in disbelief and shaking his head. "—and he wants to see you. Says he's got somethin' important he wants to say. Glenn thinks he plans to apologize. Make amends or some shit. Part of some program..." he trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh while you remained frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from the cut of Joel's jaw.

"What?" you whispered. Joel heard the tremor in your voice. He quickly turned his focus back onto you, taking your hand in both of his and drawing soothing circles on your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

"It's fine. He ain't comin' anywhere near you, y'hear me?"

You nodded because it was all you could manage to do. Your throat was too tight to speak. This was all too much—

"I don't care what they say. He's their kid, 'course they're gonna believe him when he says he ain't using," Joel muttered. You cleared your throat and took a breath.

"Well... maybe he is—"

"Ain't up for discussion," Joel said coldly, cutting you off. Goosebumps flashed across your skin at his tone. "If it's that important, he can call or write a letter or some shit. He ain't ever gonna lay a hand on you again."

You nodded and clamped your mouth shut. It wasn't often Joel put his foot down, and considering what happened last time, he had every right to be suspicious and on edge. Besides — you weren't interested in seeing him. Only just morbidly curious.

The rest of the drive was quiet. He kept your hand on his leg, his warm palm pressing comfortingly against yours while you both stared out your respective windows, lost in thought.

Foolishly, you thought it was over; that the universe had thrown you enough curveballs for one night.

When Joel swung the door open to your villa, the room was dark. He stepped inside and began to flick on all the lights, leaving you to close and lock the door behind you. Somewhere in the master bedroom, you heard the curtains closing, but your gaze had fallen to a crisp white envelope under your shoe. You frowned, eyes darting from the envelope to the door, then leaned down to pick it up.

You flipped it over in your hands: it was sealed and not addressed to anybody.

"I'm gonna shower," Joel called from the bathroom.

"Okay," you answered distractedly. You heard the water turn on as you wandered into the kitchen, studying the envelope while trying to remember if Joel had mentioned he was expecting anything.

Curiosity eventually got the best of you and you ripped it open. Inside was just one white piece of common printer paper with four simple words staining the page, yet those four words made your blood run cold and dread settle over you like a blanket of snow:

I know your secret.

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[nathanbatemanfucker]

Vuelve a Mí Pt. III

summary: you and joaquin run into each other...there's only some progress.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

wc: 1,379

contents: 18+/MINORS DNI, angst, pining, longing, a SMIDGE of hope

an: so this series is really taking on a life of its own and will be longer than anticipated bc the angst is just...not going away? i can't control them okay, they're doing whatever the want and i'm just writing it.

vuelve a mí masterrlist

There hasn’t been much contact between you and Joaquin since the night you kissed. He’d texted you that night to make sure you made it home safe and of course you replied.

Every other week or so he would try to check in with you, and sometimes you would answer— other times you would let the messages come, the number growing and growing as you continued to isolate, not just from him but from almost everyone in your life. 

You were going to call him. You were. You’re going to call him when you’re ready, if that time ever comes. You meant what you said, and lying to Joaquin…it’s never been an option. Not when he looks at you with those deeply honest brown eyes. 

You’ve started with less abrasive parts of your old life. 

After weeks of simply walking by it, you return to your favorite cafe. It’s a place you shared not only with Joaquin but also with your family and friends. There’s so much meaning to this simple place that’s a mix of browns and creams and greenery.

As you take the last few steps to the cafe, you send prayers up to the universe, begging that no one from your past will be there. The coast is clear once you make it inside– none of the baristas look familiar and the crowd has certainly changed.

You order what used to be your regular– a dirty chai– forcing yourself to stop changing things. That’s all you’ve done since being back– change and change. You cut your hair, you darkened your style and found a new job despite your company offering you your position back. You were convinced your taste buds had changed, avoiding all the things that were your favorite. The most obvious is that you’d broken up with Joaquin. 

But, as you take the first few sips of your drink, it tastes like it always has. Light, the perfect mix of sweet and spiced. For the first time in two years you feel…normal.

Sucking in a deep breath, you let yourself sink into the feeling of being yourself, the woman before you had crumbled. Your body feels recognizable and new all at the same time. It's good, sitting in this cafe, sipping chai with scone in tow.

It’s so, so good—until it isn’t. 

You would know his voice anywhere. That is something that never changed despite the blip. His voice, the way his hair falls, the shape of his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw; all of these are things you could forget if you tried. And you had tried, tired of the pain of not being with him.

You go still at the sound of his voice, hoping that he won’t notice you. Daring a glance, you see him at the counter. He must have just finished training– the grey t-shirt he has on clings to his skin, darker in some places than others from sweat. 

You don’t mean to stare, but he’s Joaquin and he’s here. That frozen feeling from when the two of you reached for the same puzzle floods your body and you overwhelmingly feel unlike yourself again. You’re internally chanting at yourself to look away as you watch him pay because if Joaquin were to turn around right now, your eyes would meet. 

Look down. Look down and focus on your scone. 

But it's too late– what you feared would happen does and you’re face to face with Joaquin. There’s several strides and a cafe of people between you but it doesn’t feel that way, not with the intensity of his gaze. Not with the way he makes your heart flutter a million miles a minute. You’re finally able to look away a few moments after your eyes meet, your self preservation finally kicking in.

You start to move, slipping your scone back into its bag, throwing your bag over your shoulder so you can stand. As you do so, Joaquin is already making his way towards you, though his steps aren’t as confident or smooth as you expect them to be. 

“Hi,” He breathes cautiously, hands grasping at the baseball cap in his hands.

“Hi. I was just leaving, you should be here, not me.”

“Querida, that makes no sense. This is your favorite cafe. Plus–”

“I have errands to run anyway, it's not a big deal.”

“I’m not staying– I have to meet Sam for some recon.”

Your heart beat slows a bit where it had quickened. “Oh, um– well…you’ll be careful, right?”

“Always,” He promises sincerely. There’s an uncharacteristically awkward beat before he speaks again. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay. Working on it.”

“Yeah?” It's impossible not to hear the hopeful shift in his tone. 

“That's why I’m here. I wanted to see if…if I could be in places I used to be. Enjoy things that I used to.”

“And?”

“Well, it was going okay…” You say delicately, trailing off. You don’t want to blame him– you truly believe that none of this was his fault but you wouldn’t be nearing an out of body panic attack if he hadn’t showed up.

He tilts his head in confusion, you can practically hear his brain churning to understand and you pray that it doesn’t. Much to your dismay, clarity materializes in those beautifully warm brown eyes. “Then I showed up.”

Your stomach feels heavy. When will you be able to outrun this guilt? Every time you get a head start, every time you believe that it's finally left you alone it rears its ugly head and takes grip of your heart. 

“No, Joaquin, that’s not fair to you.”

“But it's true, isn’t it? You didn’t deny it,” For the first time, there’s some bitterness in his voice, some anger. As you look in his eyes, you see the sadness that’s been rooted there since you returned.

You can’t blame him. You deserve it.

“Yes,” You admit softly, regretting allowing yourself to say it when you hear him sharply inhale. 

“Y’know, querida, maybe you were right. Maybe we just aren’t the people we used to be.” 

You frown at his words, trying to explain it the best you can. “Quino, it's not like I want this. I’m going to call when I’m ready, I meant what I said.”

“You know what Abuela says; you shouldn’t promise things you don’t believe are possible,” He murmurs matter of factly. 

“I… I’m trying. You don’t– have to be so unkind,” You grit out, trying your best to contain the tears that have pooled in your eyes. 

Joaquin realizes that he let his frustration override his patience and love for you once he sees the shine of tears in your eyes. But, just as it was the moment he turned around to face you, it's too late. His words—no matter how much or little truth they hold—feel etched into your brain.

They’re added to the pile that confirms your worst fears. 

You’ll never be the same. You’ll never figure out what’s wrong with you. Never be able to safely love and be loved by Joaquin again.

You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have thought that things could ever be the same or that some part of who you were had come back with you.

“Querida–” He begins.

“Goodbye, Joaquin,” You say stiffly, attempting to rush past him to make your exit.

His hand grasps yours– firm enough to stop you in your tracks, but gently enough that you can let go if you wish.

You aren’t sure what you want at this moment but you stop, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It's just…frustrating. Quiero que vuelvas,” He squeezes your hand, running a thumb over yours.

You squeeze his hand back, trying to soothe not only him but yourself. “I’m trying, Joaquin. I want me back too. Give me time to find her.” 

"Okay," He agrees, resigned.

“Be careful with Sam.”

“I will. And you too…cuídate.”

You give him a simple nod–not trusting your voice– before you walk towards the door and make your way. Joaquin stays cemented in place, eyes tracing every detail of you that he can just in case his biggest fears come true. But he’ll hold onto hope, he has to.

must be 18+/have your age displayed to be added to the taglist!

joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @moonymeloncholymoney, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuff, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @giuliahowlett, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9, @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤshield ! reader ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤpart one !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤBITTER REUNIONS.

summary soldier boy's first stop in his grand return is to collect his suit and his shield, only to find out just how different & bittersweet things have become in his absenceㅤㅤㅤwarnings feminine rage, discussions of trauma, hurt/hurt because there's no comfortㅤㅤㅤword count 2.5k

ㅤㅤㅤTHE FLATSCREEN TELEVISION SCREEN CRACKLES IN THE LEGEND'S LIVING ROOM SPACE. on it, a basketball game, two teams that you've never given a shit about, but it's what the legend likes to watch, and so you sit on the worn-out couch and do what you've always done: endure other people's shit, and bite the hand that feeds you.

you would think by now that he knows you better than this. that you pick a fight every single time he flips through the channels with the device he won't tell you the name of, lest you figure out how to access the internet and learn how to use it. that you have smashed three of his televisions in your time with him.

frederick vought warned the legend before he'd handed you over. his words were slurred, tired, defeated — but they were clear enough to still be used against you, repeated by many who encountered you.

she is a cruel one, that shield i've reconstructed.

cruel, indeed.

"i do not want to watch," you shout across the empty space, making a furious reach across the sofa to snatch the television stick off of the other side's abandoned cushion. the bell to the door rang ten minutes earlier, and the old man had yet to return.

you glare at the screen, as if you could will it to silence with nothing but your mind. impossible, of course; at least, you hadn't been successful yet. you hated the buzz of high pitched chatter in the televised crowd, the way it crawled into the crevices of your mind through the passages of your ears and nested.

a furious growl leaves your lips, and you rise to your feet, steps away from the bright screen. you are cruel, and everyone thinks so, but you have kindness tucked away in your rage, sometimes. the score is 120-88. you take note of it, shoving the numbers into your pocket, before you slam the remote into the screen.

the shards of glass that embed into your hand don't hurt. your lips twist into an irritated scowl at the sight of them, plucking out each piece and littering it on the hardwood floor. the remote is in pieces, too, crushed in the tight squeeze of your hand.

you release your grip, letting each piece crumble to the ground with loud thumps. fury crackles through you, acid burning in your bloodstream. it is unlike the man you've been stuck with to abandon you to your own devices for so long. it is also unlike him to force you to watch something you do not like in his absences.

you liked jersey shore, and the real housewives. you liked seeing girls like you get to live lives you'd never get to. it was therapeutic and gutwrenching all at once, and that only added to the fuel of your anger, crackling inside of you.

the walk you take down the lengthy hallway into the part of his home that you were strictly forbidden from was punctuated by the echo of your stomping feet. these were the parts of the house that the legend kept locked. the front entrance, the actual living room, and the man's own bedroom. all places that he deemed his, and all places with quick access to the public, meaning exits.

it was not a laboratory. but it was not a home, either.

your fist slams on the wood of the door, right into the indent of it that you'd already created. this was not the first time that you'd broken down this door. it wouldn't be the last, with how many secrets he kept locked away from you, and how much of the world you were forbidden to see.

"open the door, legend, or i'm going to pummel your fucking skull—"

"enough of that." his voice is muffled when it cuts through your threats, close enough that he sounds like he is right on the other side of the wood. you slam your fist into it again, hard enough for the wood to splinter in the center of your indentation. "enough, indy. i'm comin' back."

"you left the fucking game on." you throw your hand backwards in gesture, even though he can't see it. that was easy enough to fix. you punch through the splintered wood, creating a fist shaped hole to the other side. "you know i hate watching men play games."

the legend is used to your antics by now, and so he doesn't flinch at the break. you see enough of his face to note the downward scowl, and the disappointment behind his dark glasses. "you don't much like the women playing them, either."

"because it is not fun." didn't he understand by now? you were a girl locked away, punished for being created and what you were shaped into. you did not get fun of your own, so you needed some kind of outlet to drown yourself into. it was no wonder that you were thought of as a monster. your only glimpses of the sunny skies were in the gaps of the legend's barred off windows. titanium, so it was not impossible for you to bend them, but it was not an easy feat.

he sighs through his nose, smoke curling around his face from the cigar in his fingers. "two minutes, indy." he holds up two fingers, as if he thought you could not fucking count or comprehend how long two minutes was. "that's all i need."

"who the fuck is in there?" another voice asks, deep and rough and familiar. so familiar. forty years was enough time to age someone — you knew this from how the legend looks now, compared to when he'd first had to take you in — and yet...

the legend's eyes dart over to the source of the voice at the same time as yours do. recognition comes in the form of a racing heartbeat. it builds, and crescendos, and suddenly you are shaking as you beat on the door again. "whoa, whoa, whoa—"

each time he got the door redone stronger. soon enough, he'd have a door made of titanium guarding his proper guests from the rest of his house, and from you.

no one could know about you, not when you were the makings of a sick imagination burrowed in an intelligent man's head.

that did not mean you didn't try. it was such a lonely life, locked away in a penthouse with a man that grew closer and closer to dying with each passing year, and no one knowing anything of what you'd become.

the anger flares, flames licking at the electric sparks in your veins. the door crumbles with one harsher hit, and you're standing in the space you're kept from. you've been here before, never permitted past this doorway, always whisked away before you can get a breath of fresh air.

"hi, sweetheart," soldier boy says, one corner of his mouth curled high in an arrogant smile. bold of him to still carry the same confidence he did back when you knew him, when now, he was in nothing but sweatpants and a zip-up jacket almost too small for his frame. his green eyes stay on you as he says over your shoulder, "she's young. can you even fuckin' keep up with her?"

your eyes flare. it's two steps to be in front of him, and the third is just for good measure, when you clock him in the chin. his head snaps backwards, surprise making him stumble backwards a step.

soldier boy rubs at the skin of his jaw, irritation as bright as your anger staring back at you. you know the calm he wears in his expression. it barely conceals a storm, brewing beneath the surface. you know it because you'd often been the weapon he chose in these moods of his. you know it because you adopted that ire yourself.

"that's enough." the legend steps over the broken pieces of his door, grimacing at the splinters littering the ground. "indy, enough."

you glance over your shoulder to eye the man's expression, trying to determine what he was feeling by look alone. he was not capable of hurting you, nothing was, but he knew how to weaponize words when you upset him, all of which only steeled your skin further.

there is not enough damage in the world you can inflict onto soldier boy to make up for the things he did with you. bashed skulls, took bullets, burnt her steel until she glowed vibrant orange. you expected him to be dead. you wanted him to have been dead, if only so you'd be spared from this moment. but you never got what you wanted. no jersey shore, no fresh air, and no freedom from soldier boy.

you raise your arm to deck him again, but his fingers close around your wrist tightly, tugging it harshly back down. his smirk says everything you need to know about how much he knows. he does not know that you've learned all of his weaknesses, and that he often left himself vulnerable in times when he thought he had the upperhand.

you yank him toward you in the same moment as you ream your knee straight into his cock.

soldier boy stutters on a groan, releasing his grip on you like you’d burnt him. you don’t relish in his pain, or the surprise that you could hurt him. it’s not enough.

the legend gives you the same disappointed look you’re used to getting from him, his head shaking in disapproval. “i locked the door for a reason.”

“you always say this.” you turn on your heel, jamming your finger into the center of his chest. you missed the days when he cowered under your anger and attitude, now it only seemed to exhaust him. “you always lock the door for a reason, and then it is just grace. you do not even let me see grace.”

“and look what happened the time you decided to break the rules.” the legend nods behind you, toward the man you do not turn to look at again. his footsteps are heavy as they approach. “this is what i keep you away from. the possibility of this.”

the urge to break every bone on the older man’s face is almost enough to overtake any rational thinking inside of you. he must see it, because he shakes his head again. “stand down.”

“where’s my suit?” soldier boy asks from behind you, and you still in place. he’s too close. every instinct of fight clicks into gear, the safety off as the bullets load up.

the legend nods down the hallway, in the direction of your space. you had so little that you could call your own. the bigger of the guest bedrooms was yours, shared only in the terms of the collectibles he kept in the expansive closet.

you knew soldier boy’s suit was in there. you could smell the tobacco and the whiskey from it, sometimes, from the safety of your bed. you sometimes could catch a whiff of cologne, on days where you let go of the mask that you were okay with being alone for the rest of your life. when you wished upon a star outside of your barred windows that just one person would find you again.

“you cannot go in there.” you are already starting down the hallway, eager to reach your room before any of them could.

all of your fury was gone. stand down was an order. a kill switch programmed into you to bury all of the tension that often broke free of your restraints. it was not safe, vought once said to you when you were a child, to have a girl who can’t break without a few weaknesses. a few. some of which you didn’t even know, but your mind did.

there wasn’t any electricity in your veins anymore, but there was bleeding desperation. no, they could not invade your space. it defeated the purpose of having it. it would force the legend to open the rooms he locked away from you, too, and you knew he wouldn’t ever. if you granted either of these men an inch, they’d take a mile, and crush you in the process.

“he needs his suit, indy.”

your nose twitches, fighting against the command still ringing in your head. you grit your teeth, jaw clenched tightly. “he needs nothing.”

“who the fuck is this?” soldier boy asks again, and he’s relentless in his pursuit now, coming for your space with the authority of a man who has never been told no in his life. “get out of the way, sweetheart, or you won’t like how this blows up in your face.”

he had hurt you before. you were not human then, but you remembered all of the aches of it. you knew that soldier boy did not goad before he hurt you, or make bold-faced threats. he was lying.

you tilt your chin up, holding the eye contact. he was an unkind man, cruel in every crevice — but so were you, weren’t you? how evil it was to see yourself reflected in a man you hated, who you wanted to break into pieces and burn so all of the tears you shed fizzled away with him. “you will not like what you see.”

soldier boy cocks an eyebrow. “y’think i’m gonna hold it over your head if you’ve got a pair of panties left out?”

you step back into your room, all clean and panty free, and wait for him to take the step to follow you before you slam the door against his nose. the door rattles in the frame. soldier boy, on the other side, grunts in surprise, before he kicks at the hinges.

“that is enough!” the legend’s voice rips through the expansive space of his penthouse, his cane clicking across the floor. “i am not losing two fucking doors to this childish shit.”

you’ve moved, now. you can’t prevent soldier boy from busting down your door, but you can prevent them from fully infiltrating your bedroom. you go into the closet, to the deeper parts lined with memorabilia that you tried to ignore every time you were in here, and snatch the army green suit off of the hanger.

your eyes catch on the shield, hung up on the back wall. useless now. all of its indestructibility existed within you now, making it nothing but a heavy disc of metal.

tucking it under one arm, you hurry back to your bedroom, the arguing male voices outside getting aggravated enough that you know the door is about to crumble.

you knew soldier boy. you knew he could not help but exert some sort of dominance, if he could, to feel more in control. but you would not be in there when he came in and saw the display left on your bed.

instead, you tucked away in your closet, closing your eyes to try and find any sort of solace in the solitude. as always, it did nothing but squeeze tight around you, trapping you in a cage of your own making.

you can hear the exact moment your door is kicked down, along with the moment that soldier boy sees his things laid out for him. his suit, unwrinkled and unmarred. his physical shield, dented and decimated and as light as a kitchen plate.

and his real shield, hiding away from the reality that your nightmares always seemed to catch up to you.

notes. believe it or not i did not start this with the idea that indy was going to be so rapunzel. but it makes sense </3 there's a lot of lore i'm going to slowly incorporate that is hinted at in here / spawned from this so <3 perfect starting point! cannot WAIT for the boys^tm to meet this lil thing. hope u guys love her like i do my lil evil princess !!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz

[chaoswiththeprettyspine]

Batfam Karaoke tournament headcanons

I firmly believe that the batfam has a bi-monthly karaoke night, which is mandatory for all family members. You can enter with a serious song or a joke song it doesn't matter, but you have to perform. It doesn't matter if someone can sing or not, the others judge them on execution and ✨️vibes✨️. It's forbidden to let any preexisting grudges affect your rating. You WILL be called out if you do.

Dick has a nice voice, but nothing extraordinary. He usually goes with his favourite song at the time, or something really relatable to him. His dance routines always slap tho. Best performances include: Holding out for a hero by Bonnie Tyler, Inertia by AJR and 30 by Bo Burnham

Barbara usually only performs the one mandatory song, but she's a ruthless judge. She is responsible for recording the event, and making memes from it that can be used in the groupchat. Her favourite song to perform is Burn for You from the Bridgerton musical that she and Dick made a choreography for when they were still dating. They perform it at least once a year for nostalgia sake. Other than that, her best performances were I am not a Robot by Marina and a duett of Mamma Mia with Steph.

Jason "theatre kid" Todd is living his best life every tournament. He usually has 3 songs prepared, and depending on the mood, he performs one. His voice is really fucking good. And the worst part is, he knows and weaponizes this. He usually makes podium, if not wins it all together. Best performances include: Bad Reputation by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, My Petersburg from the Anastasia musical and Dos Oruguitas by Sebastian Yatra (which DID make everyone cry for 3 hours)

Tim goes with a meme song every single time. His voice is horrible. Despite that, his choreography and dedication sometimes gets him to the podium. His best performances include: How bad can I be? from The Lorax, Barbie and Ken by Scene Queen and Set it Off (duett with Steph) and on one memorable occasion WAP: Midwest emo rendition. He WAS disqualified for the last one, but it was legendary.

Steph gives it her all every single time, and she usually makes it to the podium. Her voice is good, but it's the dedication which she performs with that sells the show every time. She usually sings at least 2 songs, sometimes even a duett at the end. Best performances include: Die Young by Kesha, Girls just want to have fun as a duett with Cass, and all American bitch by Olivia Rodrigo

Damian doesn't like singing. His voice is at the stage where it starts cracking, and he doesn't really listen to music with words. He does like to dance tho, so he usually sings duetts where he can be a background dancer while the other performs. Best performances include: It's tough to be a god with Duke, Revolting Children performed by the whole Batkidclan and Prince Ali sang by Jason ABOUT him, while he acted out everything Jason sang about.

Duke likes singing, but he's mostly here to judge. His points are always fair and well thought out. He's the most influential judge right after Alfred. He does have to perform tho, so he usually chooses something he listened to right before the competition and is already in his head. Best performances include: Bourgeoisieses by Conan Gray, Dirty Town by Mother Mother and Come on Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners.

Cass is selectively mute, so depending on the day, she might just dance, or she might sing you to tears. Her voice is a little rough around the edges from misuse, and she mispronounces some words, but the emotion behind it shines through every time. Best performances include: a ballet to Swan Lake, a modern dance interpretation of Luminery by Joel Sunny, and Last Words of a Shooting Star by Mitski (which also left everyone crying for 3 hours)

Bruce is not exempt from the competition. His kids are adamant he performs too, but he doesn't actually care what he sings, so the song depends on what kid gets to him first. Crowd favourites include Bring me to life by Evanescence, Teenagers by MCR, Little girls from the Annie musical, and one time when Tim got to him first My Dead Gay Son from the Heathers musical.

Alfred performed exactly once, and it was a heartbreaking rendition of Frank Sinatra's My Way. He was forbidden from participating because he would win every single time. Now he's only judging, and his points are greatly sought after.

[hederasgarden]

vi et animo

Summary: When one of Rome's senators insults you, Lucius makes an example of him. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 1.2K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Light angst, humiliation, mentions of pregnancy, and protective!Lucius. A/N: This is part of Lucius and the Fisherman’s Wife Series. Thank you to @whatblogisthis216 for inspiring this story and @ryebecca for beta'ing. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

As you walk beside Lucius, your hand tucked into the crook of his arm, the rich blue fabric of your gown sweeps across the cold stone floor. The soft rustle it makes is the only sound breaking the silence of the grand hall. Gold embroidery adorns the hem, a perfect complement to Lucius' robes, while the twin laurel wreaths resting atop your heads mirror one another. Each senator you pass inclines their heads in acknowledgment, a sign of respect, but Lucius hardly notices. A storm of anger clouds his face, his body tense with restrained fury that you can almost feel in the air around you. 

He leads you toward your marble throne, where he urges you to sit. Felix stands at your right, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, eyes trained on Lucius. It’s clear that everyone in the room is watching, waiting for the reaction they know is coming. Your gaze drifts to Senator Cato, standing at the far end of the room. His once-rosy cheeks are now ghostly pale, almost sickly yellow. Last night, his voice had boomed with confidence as he told his ill-thought joke regarding you and your unborn child, but now he looks as though he’s shrinking, attempting to fade into the crowd of men who all look so similar.

Lucius gestures sharply, beckoning Cato forward. The young senator hesitates, his sandals scraping the stone floor loudly as he takes slow, nervous steps toward the front.

“My Prince,” Cato says, bowing deeply. “I wish to apologize for the misunderstanding that occurred last night with the princess.”

“The misunderstanding?” Lucius inquires, his voice cold. “I was not present for the joke you told. I would like to hear it now.”

The silence that follows is more than tense and you can’t help but seek out Acacius. If things spiral further, you would need his influence, but to your dismay you find him casually leaning against one of the marble columns, his expression amused, almost eager. Beside him stands Lucilla, her face unreadable. Yet, when her gaze meets yours, she gives you a small, reassuring smile. Your exhale and try to let her quiet confidence become your own. 

"I... I had simply inquired about when the child was conceived," Cato stammers, his hands raised defensively, palms out, as though he expects Lucius to strike him.

Lucius’ lips curl into a tight, dangerous smile beneath his beard. “I wish to hear it exactly as you told it.”

Cato hesitates, his eyes flicking to you for the first time.

“Do not look to her for mercy,” Lucius commands. 

You watch the other man’s mouth open and close in rapid succession as he seems to gather what little courage he has left.

“I asked if all of Rome’s future heirs would be conceived on a dining room table with an audience,” he states, twisting the golden rings on his fingers.

“And?” Lucius presses.

“...and I asked if we could be invited to the next one.”

The words hang in the air and it takes all your willpower not to look away or shrink back in humiliation. You can feel a multitude of eyes on you, waiting and watching for your reaction. Everyone in this room knows the circumstances that brought you and Lucius together, but none have ever been bold enough to speak of it so plainly. 

You stroke your hand over your swollen belly, seeking the comfort of your unborn child. If it were up to you, Cato’s insult would have been ignored but deep down, you know that an example must be made of him. You are a princess of Rome, and in just three days, you will be its empress. Such open disrespect could not be tolerated, not only for your husband’s sake but for your own. It threatens all the changes you hope to bring about.

A glance at Lucilla and Acacius steadies your nerves, and you nearly have to bite back a smile at the wink Acacius sends your way. With a soft exhale you force yourself to meet every eye that turns your way with a cool, unaffected expression. There is nothing for you to be ashamed of here. It is Cato who should be cowed. 

“I hear no joke,” Lucius replies. “Though, I find no amusement in the suffering of others as you clearly do. But perhaps I will tell my own joke,” he says, a soft, contemplative sound resonating in his chest. “One you yourself will understand.”

Your husband takes a step forward, stopping a hair's breadth away from the senator, looming over him. “Strip,” he commands. 

Cato’s face drains of color, and for a moment, you wonder if he might faint right there on the spot. “My Prince... I—I...” he stammers, glancing desperately at the other senators on either side of him, but he finds no support or friendly face. 

“I will not repeat myself,” Lucius adds. 

You shift in your seat, fighting against the discomfort of the scene unfolding before you as another, unexpected sensation stirring within you. The sight of your husband standing firm, unwavering in his defense of you, fills you with a rush of desire and pride. He’s fought like this before, as a Gladiator, but his defense was always with sword and strength. It is another thing entirely to see him do it as a ruler. 

Lucius’ gaze meets yours, a brief, secretive curve of his lips appears before it vanishes as he turns away once more.

With trembling fingers, Cato begins to push the heavy fabric from his shoulder, his hands shaking as he reaches for the tie at his waist. Just as he is about to pull it free, Lucius' voice rings out, halting him in his tracks. The senator freezes, his eyes flicking nervously to Lucius.

"I would strip you bare for all of Rome to see and mock," he declares, his gaze never leaving Cato's face, "but my wife, your future empress, urges mercy." He steps closer to Cato, his tone growing even colder. "You will do well to remember her kindness...I'm not inclined to be so generous."

To your surprise, Cato looks up at you, his head bowed and his hands outstretched in a pitiful gesture of supplication. "Thank you, thank you, princess," he stammers, his voice trembling.

Seeing him reduced to this, so blatantly at your mercy, curdles your stomach. You suppress the unsettling feeling, thinking back to your lessons with Lucilla, to those quiet afternoons on the sun-dappled balcony of the villa. The way she showed you that power, true power, is often about restraint, about wielding influence with grace and calm. 

With careful steps, you rise from the throne, allowing your gaze to pass beyond Cato to the senators and soldiers in the room until you find Lucilla. Her smile bolsters the words that begin to form in your mind. 

“We are all here to restore Marcus Aurelius’ vision of Rome,” you begin. 

Despite your efforts, your voice wavers and your heart races wildly in your chest until you feel Lucius’ steady warmth beside you, the comforting pressure of his hand in yours. His thumb strokes the back of your hand in quiet encouragement and you clear your throat, lifting your chin. 

“Let us focus on the people of Rome, the ones who have suffered most these past 16 years.”

“To the future of Rome!” Acacius shouts, his words rippling through the crowd as others take up the chant.

“To our future,” Lucius whispers, his hand settling on your stomach. “To the Rome we build for our child.”

You smile, accepting the fierce kiss gifts you. “To our future,” you agree. 

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this series!

[tbyfandoms]

Home | Joe Burrow x Reader

Pairing: joe burrow x f!reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: after hearing news of a break-in, joe rushes to his house in hopes he’s not too late to protect what really matters (requested)

Warnings: depictions of a home burglary, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

AN: hello! according to the poll I made regarding this request, majority of you were interested in reading this fic, so here it is! I still don’t know how I feel about it, so please read only if you want to, and if it’s not your cup of tea, go ahead and keep scrolling! even still, thanks so much to the anon who requested this, I hope you enjoy! as always, lmk what you think :)

Your boyfriend's house is dark and quiet as you unlock the door and step inside. The serene atmosphere is a nice reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the downtown part of the city you just came from, and you can't help but revel in it.

To say you had a long day at work would be an understatement. It's Monday and per usual that consisted of everything that typically comes with a Monday. Meetings seemed to last forever, phones seemed to never stop ringing, and emails seemed never ending. Although you're grateful for your work and couldn't imagine being in any other career, you still find it tiresome at times. You're just happy the day is finally over and you're able to relax and wait for your boyfriend, Joe, to get home.

You were sad when you realized you wouldn't be able to attend Joe's game tonight, especially since it's a home game. The two of you have been dating for just under a year now, and ever since the season started you've tried your best to make it to every game you possibly could. Joe always insists on telling you that it's okay if you can't make it—knowing how busy your own schedule can be—but even still you try your best. Although you know he'd never admit it, he adores you coming to his games, and does get a little disappointed when you can't make it.

It warms your heart; the fact Joe has begun finding your presence at his games a comfort. You can see it in the way his eyes shine once they've found yours in the crowd, and in the way he'll always sneak in a thank you for coming to his game in a conversation you'll have afterwards in which he thinks you don't pay any mind to it—but you do, every single time.

Since you couldn't make it tonight, you figured you'd do the next best thing and surprise him once he gets home. You've planned to cook his favorite meal and maybe even put on one of your guys' favorite movies if Joe isn't too tired to stay up. You typically don't come over after a weekday game, knowing Joe's week is shorter and he won't have as many days to rest, but you figure it's okay just this once. Especially because the last time you checked the score on his game, you're pretty sure he'll be ending up with a win tonight, and what better reason to celebrate?

After putting away all the ingredients you brought over to use for dinner tonight, you head upstairs to Joe's bedroom. As you reach for the handle and push open the door, you find yourself marveling at the inside. No matter how often you come over to the house, it still never fails to leave you in awe. It's a beautiful house, one Joe's no doubt worked hard for, and it's truly something to be admired.

Making your way over to his bathroom, you turn on the light and begin to wash up after your long day. You figure you'll freshen up a bit before heading down to start making dinner, not wanting Joe to be met with your less than ideal appearance. Just because you had a long day doesn't mean you need to look like you did, for your boyfriend or for yourself.

Opening a drawer to your right, you rummage around in it looking for the products you need. You smile as you do so, thinking back to the day you filled this drawer with your stuff. It was about a month ago when Joe gave you a key to his house and told you you could bring over anything you needed, wanting you to be able to come over whenever you wanted and for you to be able to feel every bit at home when you do. The action nearly had you in tears, knowing how important it was. Joe's come to trust you deeply in the near year you've been dating, and him offering you the key and space in his house—wanting you to take it—solidified it completely for you. It's hard to do when you're in a position like Joe's, so for him to do that for you meant the world, and it still does to this day.

Sliding a brush through your hair, you almost drop it on the floor as you hear a loud bang come from downstairs. The sound startles you and gets your blood pumping, but you don't dare make a move, wondering what in the hell could've made that sound.

It's silent for a few minutes, nothing else seeming out of the ordinary. You brush it off and try not to let it bother you. You can't imagine what could've made that sound, but since nothing followed it you're sure it's nothing. Not anything to raise alarm for...right?

Turning off the light in the bathroom, you leave Joe's room and begin to make your way back downstairs. The house is darker now, the sun having long since set. You curse yourself for not turning on any lights, thinking you could make do with what little light was streaming in through the windows.

I swear to God if I run into something—

Your thoughts are cut off as you reach the bottom of the stairs and suddenly you're met with the sound of glass shattering. A scream nearly escapes your lips as you turn and see the sight before you. One of the tall windows that looks out into the backyard is completely shattered and it takes you only a second to make out the figures that are climbing through it and into the house.

Your eyes widen and you waste no time in turning around and rushing back up the stairs. When you reach the landing, you try to push away the fog of anxiety clouding your judgement right now. There's people in the house—presumably bad ones—and you need to find a place to hide and call the police, now.

Joe's bedroom enters your mind, typically a place of comfort and safety for you, but you know that's not a good idea. Whoever is here is no doubt looking to rob the place, and Joe's bedroom full of all his jewelry and designer clothes is most definitely high on the list of rooms to raid.

Fast footsteps against the hardwood floor downstairs have your heart rate spiking, and you make a split decision to hurry down the hall and enter the next best room to hide out in; Joe's office.

Shutting the door as quietly as possible, you lock it before running to the other side of the room. Your eyes trail over Joe's certificates and other accolades lining the walls and you hope to God that whoever's decided to break into Joe's house doesn't plan on trying to find any of these things. Maybe the office wasn't the absolute best idea, but options were limited, all things considered.

Dropping to the floor, you slide under Joe's large, oak desk. Despite your heart feeling like it's going to beat out of your chest, you lightly chuckle as you recall the memory of Joe telling you why he picked out this desk in the first place. He said it reminded him of one of his science professors' desks back at LSU. He said it always made his professor look serious and more old-fashioned compared to others. Joe knew he wanted the same vibe for his desk when he was setting up his home office, and because you know he's "so scholarly". His words, not yours.

With this desk, the front of it is fully enclosed. You aren't able to see the legs of the person sitting at it, which is good because as you situate yourself better under it you hope that even if someone does break into the office, maybe they won't be able to tell you're in here. That thought alone whisks away any remaining humor left in you and has you reaching for your phone, fingers rapidly tapping against the screen until you've successfully dialed '911'.

The call is answered instantly and you do your best to calm your shaking voice as you explain to the operator what's going on. More and more sounds of things crashing to the floor echo throughout the room, and the blows cause you to start crying as you practically jump out of your skin with each passing second.

The operator does her best to try and calm you, but she's not the one you want to talk to. She's not the one who will make you feel safe and like nothing's going to hurt you. So, despite her advice to stay on the line and after getting confirmation that the police are on their way, you hang up the phone.

You know he won't pick up, but that doesn't stop you from clicking on Joe's contact and holding the phone as close to your ear as possible. All you need is to hear his voice and let him know how much you love him.

As the phone continues to ring, the sound on Joe's end no doubt being drowned out by the roars of the crowd inside Paycor Stadium, you find yourself trying to ease your breathing. The tears are still flowing freely down your cheeks, but if you could just steady your—

BANG! A door slams open down the hall and a strangled cry leaves your lips as you realize the intruders have made their way upstairs and presumably into Joe's bedroom, which isn’t even twenty feet from where you are now.

Joe's voicemail clicks over and you basically burst into tears at the sound of his voice. You wish he was here with you right now, or even better that you were there with him. His short message ends and it takes everything you've got to keep yourself somewhat together in order to start talking.

"Joe, i-it's me. Something's happened—" your voice cracks and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold back on breaking down. "Some people broke into your house. I'm here I-I wanted to surprise you after your big game. I called the police but I don't know when they're gonna get here. The burglars are still inside and I'm-I'm scared, Joey." You practically whisper the last part, your lip beginning to tremble as you try to focus on your message to your boyfriend but also on whether or not the people who broke in are getting closer to where you are.

"I locked myself in your office and I'm hiding under your desk. It got me thinking about when you told me why you chose this one out of all the options the designer gave you." You let a light laugh slip past your lips, trying to ease even just a little bit of the tension in your voicemail. "I love that memory of you, of us. I love all our memories together. This past year with you has been one of the best of my life. I appreciate all you've done for me, for-for all the love you've given me. I'm so proud of you, too. For all you've accomplished and all I know you'll accomplish. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Joe. I love you—"

Hard, rapid pounding against the office door causes you to let out a scream and drop the phone from your hand. You reach up and slap your palm over your mouth, but it's too late. Whoever's on the other side of that door heard you and they know you're in here.

"Hey! There's someone in here! The door's locked and I heard a scream!" It's a deep, male voice and it's slightly muffled behind the door, but it's enough to send a shiver of fear down your spine.

The door handle rattles and even though Joe has a nice house, it's also not Fort Knox and it won't take much to break down the door if that's what the man behind it chooses to do.

As you work up the courage to look around and try to find something to protect yourself with if the guy outside does decide to break in here, you're immediately stopped in your tracks, a second male voice drifting in from the other side of the door.

"Forget about it, let's go! If someone's in there, they probably called the cops already. We gotta leave, now!" You've never been more grateful to hear something in your life.

Good, you think. Maybe they'll leave and this will all be over.

No sooner do you think those thoughts, three more loud raps on the door surround the space you're in, causing you to nearly hit your head as you jump up out of fear and surprise. You're shocked the door doesn't cave in, the rattling sound of the hinges echoing as one of the males behind it starts to cackle loudly.

Sick bastards.

Strained sobs continue to rack your body as you listen in on the burglars—not so quietly—leaving Joe's house. Part of you wants to feel relieved. They're finally leaving, they probably stole so much stuff, but at least they're gone. But another part of you is crippled with the fear that they can just be waiting for you to let your guard down and come out of the office. Your mind reels with the possibilities of what can happen if you get up and walk out that door right now.

You're scared, too scared to even chance it. So, with your dying phone clutched in your hands, you sit and wait.

As time passes, every sound seems to echo around you, sending a jolt of anxiety through your body each time. You're terrified that the people who broke in will come back, or that they never even left in the first place and these sounds you're hearing are really just them roaming around the house.

Your fears seem to become a reality when suddenly you hear footsteps bounding up the stairs. You can hear deep male voices once again and you instantly start to panic.

You shoot up from under the desk and quickly grab one of the trophies Joe has on a shelf. There's only one reason the intruders would be coming back up here, and you'll be damned if you go without a fight.

Hands shaking, you lift the trophy beside you, not even completely sure if you'll be able to do any real damage with it considering there's at least two of them and only one of you, but so be it.

The handle on the door shakes and your breath gets caught in your throat. Your grip tightens on the silver statue and then—

"Cincinnati Police Department! Is anybody in there? Call out!"

*****

Joe's heartbeat hammers in his eardrums as he jogs off the field and into the Bengals' locker room, the sound of the roaring crowd filling his chest with pride. Another win is under his belt and he feels as if this season is finally going in his favor. The game was brutal, but a good game always is.

Taking off his gear quickly, the Bengals quarterback tries to steady himself as he comes off the high of the win. It's always such a surreal feeling, playing in the NFL, let alone winning a game in it. The blonde doesn't think he'll ever be able to get used to it.

As Joe grabs a towel from his locker and begins wiping off as much of the dirt and grime from the game as possible, he catches his phone screen light up in the corner of his eye. He smiles at it, knowing it's probably his parents, a friend, or maybe even you texting him after the big win.

His grin widens when he sees the message is from you, a voicemail actually. Joe glances up slightly, looking to see if any of his teammates are noticing him grinning like a maniac. He can't help the way he feels when he thinks about you, and these guys make damn sure that Joe doesn't forget it.

Pulling on a fresh shirt over his head, Joe contemplates whether he'll have enough time to listen to your message before he has to head off to do his presser. He decides it's worth the risk of being a minute or two late, anything to hear your sweet voice after a day of not getting to talk to you.

As Joe slides on his shoes, he holds the phone up to his ear after pressing play on the voicemail. It takes only a second for your voice to come through and only a second more for your boyfriend to realize there's something very, very wrong.

"Joe, i-it's me. Something's happened—" The crack in your voice leaves a crack in Joe's heart, and in an instant he's back in game-mode, only this time his objective isn't to score a touchdown, it's to get to you.

In a flash the blonde has snatched his keys and wallet from his locker, the rest of his stuff not even a concern as he starts making his way to the garage where his car is parked. His teammates are loud as he navigates through them to get out of the locker room, but still your voice is the only thing he hones in on.

"This past year with you has been one of the best of my life. I appreciate all you've done for me, for-for all the love you've given me. I'm so proud of you, too. For all you've accomplished and all I know you'll accomplish. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Joe. I love you—" Your scream is the last thing Joe hears before the message ends, and the sound sends his heart plummeting to his stomach.

The quarterback can't even think about replaying your message or hitting the "call back" button because suddenly there's a tug on his arm and his trek to make his way to you is put on hold.

"Yo, where's the fire? I know we won but I've never seen you that eager to do a press conference before, bro," Ja'Marr laughs. The humor doesn't last long though because in no time he notices the serious look on his friend's face. "Ay, what's wrong? What's going on?"

"Y/N's in trouble. My house got broken into, and I guess she's there but I don't know if she's hurt or what's going on. She left me this voicemail and-and she screamed before the line went dead. I don't know, I just gotta go." Ja'Marr's eyes go wide as he takes in this information. It's a scary revelation, and he can tell Joe's mind is running a million miles an hour because of it. He's always known the quarterback to be cool, he's called 'Joe Brrr' for a reason, but he can tell that guy's nowhere to be found right now. The wide receiver can see that his friend is on edge and is wracked with anxiety.

"Go. Go to her and make sure everything's okay. I'll handle the press conference, don't worry about anything else besides getting home. Call me as soon as you can and let me know everything's alright." Ja'Marr pats the blonde's arm, all but ushering him on his way. Joe nods, appreciating his friend's help, but before he can take off, Ja'Marr speaks up again. "Be safe, Joe."

"I will. Thanks, bro, I appreciate you," Joe says with a nod before rushing out of the locker room.

*****

To say it was hard to get out of Paycor Stadium would be an understatement. Everywhere Joe turned it felt like he was met with someone or something that would hold him back from getting to you. Fellow teammates would want to stop and chat or fans would call out to him from the hallway as he rushed past them. Although usually he wouldn't think twice about stopping, now was not one of those times.

Eventually, he did make it out and into the garage. He'd never been as thankful for the player only parking lot as he was in that moment, his ability to get back onto the highway much easier than if he was stuck in the regular lot. The thought of what it would've been like trying to get out over there, and how much more time he would've lost, is too much for even Joe Burrow to handle.

Now, as Joe speeds down the highway and probably breaks countless traffic laws, he can't help his tightening grip on the steering wheel. His eyes keep flicking to the clock on the dashboard, his already unyielding anxiety spiking every time yet another minute passes.

Since he's left the stadium, Joe's tried calling you numerous times, each call going straight to voicemail. Even though you don't pick up, your boyfriend can still hear your voice replaying in his mind over and over again. He can hear you tell him you love him followed by a scream so terrifying, it shakes him to his very core.

Joe can't stand the fact someone has scared you that much. Can't stand the fact he isn't there for you in a way he's always promised you he would be. The quarterback is aware things like this happen, especially to people like him, but never in his wildest dreams did he think you would ever be put in a position like this. Sure you knew what you were taking on becoming his girlfriend, but you never agreed to putting your life at risk. Joe hates the reality that that's exactly what's happened.

Although his drive home isn't that long to begin with, Joe still manages to cut the arrival time in half, his leg bouncing impatiently as he waits for the gates to his subdivision to open up.

Holding on to some shred of hope that maybe, just maybe you'll pick up the phone, Joe uses the dial assist on his car to call you again. The phone starts ringing, the monotone drone of the ring practically shaking Joe's car as he turns up the volume, not wanting to miss the click of you picking up the phone. With each passing ring his chest tightens. Breathing seems impossible as the winding roads to his house seem more endless than they ever have before.

"Something's happened—"

"I-I'm scared, Joey"

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Joe"

"I love you—"

A click., a glimmer of hope, and then—voicemail. Again.

A frustrated groan—almost a cry—leaves Joe's lips, his nervousness and desperation only growing. His mind reeling with every worst-case scenario imaginable.

Did they find you? Are you hurt? Did they take you? Or worse, did they...oh, God.

Shaking his head, the blonde tries to steady his breathing. Thinking like this will get him nowhere. He just has to focus on getting to the house and finding out what's exactly happened.

Begrudgingly, Joe steps on the brake. Police lights start to become visible as he pulls onto his street, and Joe can feel his pulse skip a couple beats as he notices the ambulance up ahead as well.

Fear creeps into the back of his mind as he pulls into the driveway. Joe can't help the panic he feels as he thinks about why an ambulance would be necessary. Those worst-case scenarios start to seep back into the forefront of his mind as the quarterback throws his car into park and immediately rushes out of it.

Blue eyes scan the ambulance, but are unable to locate the girl in question. A medic is rummaging in the back of the truck, but other than that there's no one inside as far as he can tell.

Good, Joe thinks. Maybe it's just a precaution. She's not actually hurt.

Even though his mind is able to assure himself of this, Joe's heart refuses to believe it. He can feel it still beating erratically in his chest as he rushes to the open front door, police officers surrounding the area.

As Joe reaches the front door and begins to push past all the officers, he's met with resistance.

"Woah, there! Sir this is an active crime—" Joe doesn't even give the police officer a chance to finish his sentence, instantly pushing back as the officer attempts to prevent him from entering.

"This is my house!" Joe snaps, his patience wearing extremely thin. The officer has a flash of recognition cross his face before giving into Joe's resistance and moving out of the way as he pushes past him. Not like he had much of a choice, though. Joe wouldn't even let an army come between him and making sure you're okay right now.

Stepping through the front door, Joe's immediately met with disarray. Shards of glass are scattered across the floor and furniture along with other miscellaneous items litter the area as well.

The picture of what happened is pretty easy to paint, and that only makes Joe feel worse. He can't believe this has happened. He can't even imagine the stress you must've been under, the stress you must still be under.

Joe's chest feels tight, tears beginning to form in his eyes. His hands start to shake—something that rarely happens—and he abruptly starts looking around the room, taking in every face as he passes over them.

Officer after officer moves past him. Joe doesn't even care about the looks they give him as they realize who he is. None of it matters; not the articles he knows will come out after this, not the questions he knows will be thrown at him during his Wednesday press conference—none of it. As he rushes further into the house, Joe realizes nothing is as important as—

You.

It takes only a second for Joe's world to finally stop spinning. For the air to finally return to his lungs and his ability to breathe to be restored. It takes only a second of seeing you standing in the middle of the living room talking to a police officer to have Joe start running towards you, the need to wrap you in his arms stronger than ever before.

*****

"Y/N!" Your boyfriend's voice breaks through your racing thoughts as you recount your experience to the police officer before you.

You've been able to do a pretty good job with keeping yourself together since the police came to the house and led you out of Joe's office earlier. But the moment your eyes lock with those familiar blue ones, everything you felt while the break-in was happening comes rushing back.

The fear, the anxiety, the thought of possibly never seeing your boyfriend again comes at you full force, and suddenly you can't picture yourself doing anything else in this moment besides holding onto the blonde and never letting go.

"Joe!" You cry, fresh tears beginning to stream down your face as you practically leap towards the Bengals quarterback.

The strength in Joe's arms as they wrap around you instantly makes you feel safe, more grounded. Even having been in a room full of trained officers for the past half hour has nothing on the effect Joe's presence has on you.

Your tears seep into the fabric of your boyfriend's shirt, but Joe pays no mind to it. All he cares about is the fact he finally has you in his arms, that he's no longer suffocating with anxiety over the thought of whether you're safe or not. Now, your familiar scent fills his nose and he practically shudders over it, tears slipping from his own eyes at this point.

"What happened, baby? Tell me everything," Joe says as he pulls back slightly from you, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands. When your eyes trail up to meet his, he can still see the traces of fear in them.

Joe looks over your shoulder and can see the obvious entry point the burglars took. The glass window is nearly gone from the frame and it's clear from the state of the living room that these people had no care for the destruction they were causing. He immediately thinks that if they didn't care about the state they left things in, they certainly wouldn't care if they hurt someone in the process too, as long as they got what they wanted and got off free.

The thought boils Joe's blood. Even though it appears you weren't harmed, it doesn't change the fact it could've happened. It doesn't change the fact these people thought it was okay to break into his house and leave his girlfriend fearing for her life. Joe thinks back on when he walked up to his own front door and saw all those officers standing around, and the others he can see now milling about the house and doing nothing but poking and prodding at things.

Why is no one moving? Joe fumes inside his mind. They should be out there looking for these assholes!

As you open your mouth to start telling Joe everything that happened, he breaks away from your grip, a hard look on his face. You watch as he makes his way over to the officer you were just speaking to, and straight away you can tell this isn't gonna be good.

Quickly, you rush after the blonde, cringing as you hear him call out to the officer in a sharp tone, clearly wanting answers and wanting them now.

"What's going on here? My house just got broken into and my girlfriend just had her life at stake and it seems all anyone is doing is standing around! When are you guys gonna go out there and catch these people! You're wasting time!" Joe's cheeks are flushed, his frustration evident as he towers over the police officer. To anyone else he might look intimidating, but you know he's just upset and can tell that it's probably eating him up inside that he couldn't be there for you earlier, and that he can't really do anything to make sure these guys never come back again. Your heart breaks for him over it.

"Mr. Burrow, I know you're upset right now, but I can assure you we're going to do everything we can to find these guys. There are just protocols we have to follow—"

"Respectfully, I don't give a damn about the protocols! I just need you guys—" Stepping in between the two men, you press a hand to Joe's chest, cutting him off. The last thing you need is for him to get into it with an officer and end up in a cell right along with the burglars.

"Joe, it's fine! Drop it, please! Let's just go over there together and I'll tell you everything that happened, I promise," you plead, pulling gently on Joe's arm to try and move him away from the officer who is clearly losing his patience. Even though Joe is Cincinnati's Golden Boy, you doubt questioning the police department's authority would go over well.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes soften as they flicker from the officer's down to yours. He nods his head lightly after a beat and allows you to lead him away.

The police officer shakes his head but says nothing more before returning to his notes and begins speaking animatedly into his radio. You're grateful nothing comes from Joe's confrontation. You don't know what you'd do if you lost your boyfriend to a cop car in a time when you need him most.

As you and Joe huddle into a corner away from the hustle and bustle of the police force, you let out a breath as he reaches out and tenderly strokes your arm.

"I'm sorry, I know the last thing you need right now is to see me get arrested. I'm just so—" Joe lets out a groan, his anguish evident on his face and in his tone. His eyes are glossy once more as he looks down at you. "I just can't stand to see you scared, and I can't stand the fact this happened to you. If I could've traded places with you, I would've in a heartbeat."

"It's okay, Joe. I'm okay, I promise. I'm just shaken up, is all." Joe cups your face in his palms and you smile at the familiarity and comfort of it. "And hey, it's alright we couldn't switch places. I don't know how much help I would've been with trying to throw a ball fifty yards while multiple three hundred pound men came barreling towards me."

This gets a laugh out of Joe, and as you chuckle along with him, you find yourself feeling relieved. Relieved that you get to continue making jokes with him, relieved that you didn't lose this, relieved that you didn't lose him.

"I guess you're right about that one, sweetheart." Leaning down, Joe's forehead meets yours and you both bask in the warmth of each other. Letting out a breath, his next words come out almost as a whisper, "Please tell me what happened."

Your eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments, reality settling back in as you realize this conversation needs to happen. Although you've already had it with the police, you need to have it again with Joe. He needs to know what happened.

Lifting your head, you begin to retell the story you know will live on with you for the rest of your life.

"I-I wanted to surprise you when you got home from your game tonight. I know we don't usually get together during the week, especially when it's a short one for you, but I missed you and thought it'd be nice considering it looked like you guys were gonna win." Joe feels like a weight has been re-added to his chest. He wishes so badly that that is what tonight would've consisted of. He couldn't think of a better way to celebrate a win than a night in with his girl. "I came in and put away the food I brought before heading upstairs to freshen up. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, didn't see anything, but when I was in the bathroom in your bedroom I heard a bang."

"I thought it was nothing, maybe a neighbor or an animal outside, I don't know. I didn't do anything, I waited a few minutes and then went downstairs. It was dark and I-I could barely see. I never saw them coming, I just—" Your voice goes out, your emotions overtaking you as you begin to see everything unfold in your mind. "I just went downstairs and all at once everything just happened. I heard the window shatter and saw people coming through it so I ran. I ran back upstairs and locked myself in your office and called 911. I was so scared, and all I wanted to do was hear your voice, so I hung up the phone with the operator and I called you even though I knew you wouldn't be able to answer."

Your heart starts beating rapidly just like it did when this all happened. You try to take a deep breath to calm yourself, but it comes out shaky. Gripping onto Joe's arms, you try to remind yourself those guys can't get to you anymore. They're gone and you're safe. Joe's here now and you know he won't let anything hurt you.

"At one point there were at least two guys upstairs with me and one of them started banging on the door." Joe's grip on you tightens, not enough to hurt you, just enough to let you know this retelling upsets him just as much as it upsets you. The quarterback thinks those guys should feel lucky he wasn't there, because there's no telling what he would've done if he saw the guys that did this to you. "They left and thankfully the police showed up after that. They brought me downstairs and I got checked out by the medics, but I'm fine, seriously. I've been here with them ever since. I wanted to call you once everything was settled, but my phone died. It was all just a lot."

Your shoulders sag in defeat. Reflecting on what happened—on how everything just spiraled one after another—leaves you in a state of disbelief. It's crazy to you how all this can happen, and how it can all happen so fast.

Staring at Joe, you feel a sense of guilt begin to creep in. You're standing in his home right now. In a place full of things he worked so hard for. Where he's supposed to feel safe and at peace. Your mind begins to swim with possibilities of different scenarios that could've gone down tonight instead of the one that actually did.

“Everything’s such a mess. The window, your stuff—“ You pull away from your boyfriend and look around, fully taking in the sight of the disaster that’s struck Joe’s house. Sure it’s all replaceable, but you can’t help but feel you could’ve prevented it if only you’d acted faster. “Oh God, Joe, I’m so sorry! When I heard the noises I shouldn’t have waited, I—“

Joe can see the wheels turning in your mind and not in a good way. It's obvious to him that you feel guilty about what happened even though you shouldn't. Joe thinks this is far from your fault. You're not the one who decided to break into someone else's house just for the hell of it. You did everything you could and even if you had called the police just a few minutes earlier, he highly doubts that would've prevented those guys from breaking in. If not here, then somewhere else, and Joe's sure about that.

“Hey, stop. None of this is your fault. I don’t care about any of that stuff. At the end of the day that’s all it is; a house and some material things." Joe gently takes your hand in his, bringing your attention back to him instead of the chaos surrounding you. "You’re my home, and all I care about is that you’re okay. I’m sorry you were alone when it happened. I wish I could’ve been here with you or that you were with me at the game, safe. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you. So don't worry about the house or the things in it. All I care about is you. I love you, Y/N.”

Tears spring to your eyes, but this time not ones of fear, anxiety, or even frustration. No, ones of love. Love for the man in front of you who, despite everything he's lost tonight, only cares about the fact he didn't lose you.

"I love you too, Joey," you whisper before standing up on your tip-toes to wrap your arms around his neck and hold him impossibly closer.

Joe rubs his hands up and down your back and you nearly melt at the feeling. You cup the nape of his neck and lightly scratch at the base of his hairline, knowing it's something that helps soothe him. You may have been the one to experience the burglary, but you know Joe was wracked with just as much anxiety and fear. You can only imagine how you would've felt if the roles were reversed.

Taking in a deep breath, you release it as you contemplate how long you'll be able to stay in this blissful state before reality comes creeping back in and you'll both be forced to confront the situation at hand.

Obviously, it's not long, because before you know it someone's clearing their throat behind you and you reluctantly let go of Joe to see who it is and what they want.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Burrow, Ms. Y/L/N, but we'd like to begin making an itemized list of everything you both believe to have been taken now. That is, if you're both ready for that." You remember this officer from earlier. he's not the one you gave your statement to, but he was one of the first ones who showed up and made sure you were taken care of. He's kind and you appreciate him not wanting to cross any boundaries, making sure you and Joe are both ready before diving into what you're sure will be a long process.

Joe stands beside you, warm hand firmly grasped in yours. You tilt your head up towards him, and as you look into his pale blue eyes, you feel at ease. You feel like no matter what comes next while dealing with all of this, as long as you have Joe by your side, you'll be okay. And you have a feeling he feels much the same about you.

So, with a slight squeeze of your hand and a nod up at your boyfriend, you turn towards the police officer and say;

"We're ready."

[justmylvr]

lock and key.

band au!touya todoroki x gn reader.

a/n: I LOVE THIS !! DONTTRUSTME by 3OH!3 was a huge inspiration. it does get a little nsfw.

you were all too familiar with this area. the smell of sweat and weed filled your nose, bringing your already hazy mind to a place of nostalgia. you and touya broke up three weeks ago, he didn't say much about why though. so what better to do than to show up at his gig?

he would always come back to this place, the first time he ever got a real audience. that night was clear in your mind: the smudged eyeshadow under his eyes, the way his gaze always found its way back to you, how he sang a little louder during the more romantic songs. you two had matching necklaces: one decorated with a small key charm and the other a lock. you didn't have the strength to take it off yet, especially not after it had remained there for years.

you weaved through the crowds, your fingers reaching for the bar to find something stable. a sweet smile flashed at the bartender helped him remember exactly who you were so it made ordering easier. once you got your drink, gently swirling it with one of those neon pink straws. you finally made your way to the stage, or atleast infront of it. your fingers ran over the initials carved into the stage floor, jagged but done with love, as he intended. though you stepped back quickly, not trying to be entirely noticed immediately.

maybe fifteen minutes later, they all appeared on stage, touyas eyes searching the crowd. a small part of you hoped that maybe he was looking for you like he used to. he hadn't noticed you yet, talking to the crowd like he always did when everybody was getting comfortable. as he walked around the stage, paying attention to different areas of the crowd, you couldn't help but notice what he was wearing. not his clothing but he still had the necklace on, just like you did. the lock was obvious, small but obvious.

sometime through the show, he found his voice quiet when he sang the song he wrote for you. a sort of longing tinged his lyrics, his eyes looking through the crowd. as if everybody had moved away from you, singling you out, he found you. a small, genuine smile graced his face. it wasn't very noticeable behind a microphone but when you heard his voice get slightly louder, more confident, you knew.

the show ended after an hour and a half, people waiting outside with hopes of meeting the band. not you, though. he knew where you'd be. appearing at your side with an almost superhuman speed, your lips were caught in a kiss you couldn't deny. his hand held you gently despite his fingers digging into the plushness of your hips, desperate for you. the kiss was all too quick despite it being so heavy, he wasn't quick to let go of you though.

"you came, why?" he asked, his voice a little raspy from the singing.

"you know why. it's the same reason you're wearing this." you hummed. your finger gently pulling at the necklace he wore.

he chuckled, shaking his head. he placed his forehead against yours which you weren't entirely against, a quiet and content sigh coming from you both. one of his hands found the small of your back, his fingers gently running that spine tattoo he knew was there.

it was a quiet show that you two both wanted eachother terribly, that you needed eachother. with quiet whispers of 'i love you', you were happy.

a key isn't anything without it's lock, is it?

tags: @rueclfer

[sunflowersonatas]

TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 5

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

a/n: YAYYYY CHAPTER 5 OUT EARLY!!! i've been so so appreciative of all the love for this series 🥹 i figured it was the least i could do to get my ass up and edit the rest of it. hehehehe enjoyyyyy!!! ☀️🌻

series page for prev chapters

wc: 2197

5: Too Good to Be Fake

— 1 —

The next few days pass in a blur, and my real life and my fake life begin to meld all the same.

It’s subtle at first—little things, easy things. James slinging an arm over my shoulder in the corridor, without thinking about it, his hand drifting naturally to my waist when we squeeze through crowds. Me leaning into his touch on instinct, him whispering a joke just for me in class, both of us laughing too effortlessly.

The stares haven’t stopped. The whispers haven’t faded.

But somehow, I don’t care as much anymore.

Or maybe—I don’t care why they’re watching.

It’s not just the school anymore, though. It’s our friends. Alice and Jade don’t even try to hide their amusement anymore. Sirius has started giving James looks. Remus has started watching me.

Lily Evans has started paying more attention, too.

It’s another Saturday when I realize how far I’ve let this go: Quidditch practice.

I would never normally go to these. I’ve never had a reason to sit in the stands, watching a group of sweaty Gryffindors hurl themselves through the sky while screaming at each other.

But today, I’m here.

I keep telling myself it’s for appearances. People have to see me invested, have to see me acting like a real girlfriend. I bring a book, find a spot on the stands, fold my legs beneath me, and pretend I’m not watching James too closely.

I tell myself it’s just part of the plan. Making it look believable.

And then Lily arrives.

She doesn’t sit. She stands at the base of the stands, arms folded across her chest, gaze fixed on the pitch. I know who she’s watching, everyone does.

James cuts through the sky like he was born to be there, all fluid motion and instinct, his windswept hair a perfect mess, his body moving with a confidence that’s utterly effortless. The sun glints off his grin, bright and reckless, like he’s drunk on the thrill of it, and I feel that familiar lurch within me again—something warm, something unsteady, curling deep in my stomach before I can shove it away.

Lily tilts her head slightly.

Then, she glances back at me; and suddenly, it’s not just a game anymore. She’s watching me watch him. A challenge, a test.

Suddenly, I realize—this isn’t about her anymore. It’s not about making her jealous, and it’s not about Simon either. Because the thing unnerving me the most isn’t that Lily Evans is watching me.

It’s that James Potter hasn’t looked at her once.

— 2 —

The courtyard is quiet in the early evening, the last flickers of sunlight stretching long across the stone pathways. The air is crisp, cool enough to wake me up a little, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. I tell myself that’s why I’m lingering here instead of heading back to the dorms.

Not because I’m waiting for him, and not because I know he’ll find me. But then he does.

James’ footsteps are easy to recognize—a little too confident, a little too deliberate, like he’s always walking into a room expecting something fun to happen. But here, now, he doesn’t say anything right away. He just falls into steps beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, like this is normal. Like it’s always been normal.

I glance at him. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed like you wanted company.”

I huff, turning my gaze back to the darkening sky. “Oh, right. I always exude warmth and openness.”

James chuckles, nudging my arm. “You say that, but you haven’t told me to leave yet.”

I don’t respond. Because… he’s right.

The pause stretches, the courtyard filled only with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. For a second, while it’s just the two of us, walking in relative silence, it’s nice. Easy. Comfortable in a way I don’t have time to question.

Then James exhales, a little deeper than necessary, and leans against the railing beside me.

“You know,” he says, “you’re kind of terrible at taking a compliment.” His tone is too light, too airy for the kind of comment he’d just made.

I frown, caught off guard. “What?”

His gaze flickers to mine, and something in his expression softens—just slightly, but enough that it throws me off balance. “I mean, when I do something nice, you just… get awkward and run away.”

I blink at him. “That is— so not true.”

James lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? So last week when I said you looked nice, and you immediately knocked over your drink and changed the subject, what was that?”

I open my mouth— close it.

He smirks. “Exactly.”

I turn my face and look down the path we’re following, blinking, genuinely considering. “You just catch me off guard, that’s all.”

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “because the idea of me being nice to you is so shocking.”

“Yes, actually,” I quip, but the words come out lighter than I mean them to.

And that’s when James does something dangerous.

He shifts closer—just a little, just enough. His shoulder brushes mine, his voice lower now, softer. “You know, I like being nice to you.”

My stomach twists—thrilled, unsteady, completely betraying me. I let out a laugh, too quick, too high-pitched, a little too obviously forced.

James watches me, expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something patient, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he’s already figured out.

“Alright,” I say, pushing away from the railing, not letting this get any more real than it already is, not letting myself think too hard about it. “This has been fun, but I’m going to—”

“Walk away before you have to acknowledge that you actually like me?” James finishes for me, eyes glinting with amusement.

I huff, already turning on my heel. “Exactly.”

I don’t get very far. James is right behind me, catching up too easily, too effortlessly, like he always does. “Merlin, if you wanted me to chase you, you could’ve just asked. Would’ve saved us both some time.”

I throw him a glance over my shoulder, my lips curving just enough to make his eyes flicker. "Where’s the fun in that? I like to keep you on your toes, Potter."

James huffs, but the way he watches me—like he's already planning his next move—sends something dangerously close to excitement skittering through me.

We’re walking towards one of the large entrances to the castle from the courtyard— there are some more students around now to witness our little interaction. He’s still beside me, still too close, still too smug.

“So what I’m hearing,” he muses, tilting his head, “is that you like me exactly where I am.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t speed up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

James only grins, falling into step beside me like he belongs there. “Too late.”

— 3 —

The castle is cooler in the evening, the last remnants of daylight casting long shadows through the stone archways. The halls are quieter now, but not empty—the low murmur of conversation lingers, footsteps echo in different directions, and clusters of students drift toward their common rooms, pausing now and then to whisper as James and I pass. My footsteps sync with his, the weight of his presence beside me something I’ve stopped questioning. It’s been like this all week—effortless, natural, dangerously easy. And maybe that’s why I don’t notice her at first. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize we have an audience until it’s too late.

Lily Evans is waiting just inside the entrance hall.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, posture relaxed, but there’s something unreadable in her expression. She isn’t blocking our path, isn’t doing anything at all, really—just watching. Watching us. Her gaze flickers between me and James, taking in the casual way we’re walking together, how close we are, the way his fingers brush against my wrist when he gestures absentmindedly.

She sees it all.

James notices her just a second after I do, and though his steps falter, it’s barely noticeable. I feel the shift in his presence, the way something in him tightens, like he’s bracing for impact. But when Lily finally speaks, her voice is light, almost gossiping, like she’s indulging a passing curiosity rather than confirming something she already suspects.

"You know," she says, tilting her head slightly, "you two make sense together. I see it."

And James—James preens.

I see it happen in real time. The way his shoulders straighten, the way his lips curve just slightly at the edges. It’s instinctive, automatic, like some deeply ingrained part of him just got the validation he never even thought to ask for. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t check my reaction. He just moves.

I can’t even react— his fingers tighten around my wrist, spinning me expertly into him. Somehow it feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before, like we’ve been moving toward this exact moment without even knowing it. His free hand settles at my waist, warm and steady, pulling me close in a way that leaves no space, no room for doubt.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not for show. Not a performance. His lips press against mine, sure and unhurried, like he’s settling into something that’s already his. Heat flares at the base of my spine, climbing fast, white-hot flames licking up through my chest. His fingers flex slightly at my waist, like he’s anchoring himself, like he’s making sure I don’t pull away before he’s had his fill of this moment—of me.

The warmth of him crashes through me, a spark to dry tinder, setting every nerve alight. His lips move against mine, confident but measured, and for a second—just a second—I let myself fall into it. I feel the way he’s leaning in, the way he’s holding me there, the way his breath mingles with mine, like we exist in a pocket of air separate from the world.

But we don’t.

The corridor isn’t empty. The world doesn’t disappear. Students slow their steps, voices hush, a ripple of whispers spreading like wildfire. I hear someone inhale sharply, catch the flicker of movement in my periphery as people pause outright, wide-eyed, watching like they’ve just witnessed something they shouldn’t have.

And they have. Because this isn’t a show. This isn’t a play. It’s real, it’s burning through me, and it’s happening in front of everyone.

I break first.

I pull away too fast, too obviously flustered. I’ve probably ruined everything. I should’ve just played along— like he said to me before, enjoy the experience. I could’ve done that. Now I lost my chance.

James doesn’t move right away. He stays close, his breath still warm against my skin, eyes searching mine for something I can’t name. The silence stretches between us, heavy, lingering, filled with something I am not ready to understand.

Lily clears her throat, but she’s smiling now, something small and knowing. She looks between us, her eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

"Yeah," she says, tilting her head slightly. "I knew it. You two are really cute together."

She doesn’t linger. She just gives James one last look—something approving, something almost pleased—before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving us standing there in the weight of what just happened.

I scramble for something to say, but my mind is blank, wiped clean by whatever the hell just happened. My skin is burning, my pulse erratic, my body betraying me in ways I can’t even begin to process.

I force a laugh, light and dismissive, as if my heart isn’t trying to claw its way out of my chest. "Merlin, James," I say, shaking my head, playing it off, forcing the act back into place even as my hands tremble. "You could at least warn me before you go proving a point like that."

James watches me carefully. Too carefully.

And then, just like that, the mask slips back into place.

The easy grin. The effortless charm. The one thing he’s always been good at.

"Where’s the fun in that?" he teases, voice smooth, casual, like he’s not still standing closer than he should be.

The tension in the air is suffocating.

I step back. I need distance, space, air.

"Right," I mutter, my voice too light, too forced. "Well, this has been fun, but I should go—"

James doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting for something I can’t give him. The silence between us stretches, thick, heavy, a question neither of us is ready to ask.

And then, because I can’t take it, because my heart is still slamming against my ribs, because the ground beneath me suddenly feels unsteady—I run.

I barely register the students still watching, barely hear the whispers that are sure to follow me. All I know is that I need to get away, to breathe, to pretend for just a little while longer that none of this means anything.

Run run run.

But no matter how fast I move, I already know—there’s no outrunning this.

☀️🌻 requests are currently open!!

[matsbaby]

Stalker much? pt. 2

photographer!matt x popular!reader

…

The next day passed in a blur for Matt, his mind elsewhere as he sat across from you at your vanity desk, flipping through pages of The Great Gatsby without truly seeing the words.

He couldn't focus on Gatsby's love life when his own mind was consumed by fantasies of you.

That was, until you spoke these words.

"You have any plans tomorrow night?" you asked casually, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you glanced up at him with those irresistible eyes.

He blinked, snapping out of his lustful daze as he met your gaze. "Uh, no... I don't think so. Why?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. Great, it fucking sounded like he was going through puberty again.

"Well," you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your long, lean legs. "There's this party tomorrow night. My friend's parents are out of town, so..." You shrugged, letting the implication hang in the air between you.

Matt's mouth went dry, his tongue suddenly too big for his own mouth. "Oh," he managed to choke out, his mind racing with possibilities. A party. You, in a crowded room, in a short dress, laughing and dancing and singing...

"S-so, um... you want me to come with you?" he asked, hardly daring to believe the words were true.

Your smile widened, your eyes sparkling with a secret amusement. "Yeah. Y’know, since we're studying partners and all..." You trailed off, letting your words linger in the charged space between you.

He swallowed hard, knowing he was about to make a decision that would change everything. Knowing that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I'll come."

…

As Matt walked beside you up the driveway to your friend's house, he couldn't believe this was really happening.

He had spent an eternity getting ready, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he tried on every shirt and pair of pants he owned, desperately attempting to look just the right amount of put-together and cool. But as he walked beside you now, he felt painfully aware of how out of place he was, like a fish out of water in this sea of preppy, perfectly coiffed popular kids.

You, on the other hand, looked like you were born to be here. Your hair was down, loose and beachy and perfect, falling in soft waves around your face. You wore a simple outfit, your makeup on point as usual. He couldn't stop staring at you, his eyes glued to your face, your body, the way your hips swayed with each step.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the pounding music.

He nodded, even as his feet were ready to turn and make him walk away.

…

Twenty minutes into the party, Matt found himself huddled in a corner of the living room, a red plastic cup of warm beer clutched in his sweaty palm.

He couldn't believe you had stuck by him this whole time, even as the party swelled with more and more people. He half-expected you to abandon him as soon as you walked through the door, eager to lose yourself in the fray of your social circle. But instead, you had taken his hand and pulled him along with you, introducing him to friends and classmates, never leaving his side for more than a minute.

Now, as you laughed at something a tall, blonde girl said, Matt felt a pang of annoyance twist in his gut. He wanted to ask your friend to leave you two alone.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Because what right did he have to claim you, to act like he owned any part of you at all?

As if sensing his thoughts, you turned to him with a bright smile, your hand finding his bicep in the crowded room. "Hey," you said, leaning in close so he could hear you over the pounding bass. "You okay?"

Matt nodded, trying to return your smile with a weak one of his own. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, his voice strained. "Just... a little overwhelmed."

You squeezed his arm in a way that made his heart skip a beat. "I know," you said, your voice soft. "But you're doing great. Everyone loves you."

He couldn't help but scoff at that, his eyes darting around at the sea of perfect, beautiful people surrounding them. "Yeah, right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure they do."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never wavered. "I mean it. Alex here said you’re the nicest guy she’s ever met”

Matt blinked, stunned by your words. He glanced over at Alex, who was now chatting with a group of guys near the punch bowl, and felt a flicker of surprise. He had barely spoken two words to her, too intimidated to engage in more than surface-level conversation. But hearing you say she thought he was nice...

It made him feel a little less out of place. A little less like the awkward third wheel.

He turned back to you, his eyes wide. "She did?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

You nodded, but your smile faltered a little once you noticed his face “yeah. you interested?” you asked.

Matt felt his entire body stiffen at your question. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that you would even ask him such a thing.

Was he interested? In your friend Alex? How could he possibly be interested in her when he was so hopelessly, completely in love with you?

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara. "I... I don't know," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I mean, she seems nice and all, but..."

He just shrugged “not really my type” he finished.

“not your type?” you asked “and what is your type?”

Your smile was back now, playful and teasing, your eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. It was a look that made Matt's knees feel weak and his palms sweat even more, if that was possible.

You. You. You’re my type, goddamn it say it Matt, he thought.

"Honestly? Just… someone who makes me laugh" he said lamely in the end.

You nodded then spoke again. “do i make you laugh?” you asked tilting your head.

Matt's heart stuttered in his chest as you tilted your head, your hair falling in soft waves around your face. He could barely breathe, barely think, as he stared into your eyes and saw the playful, teasing glint that seemed to be reserved just for him.

He licked his suddenly dry lips, trying to find the right words. "Are you askin’ if you’re my type?”

Suddenly Alex grabbed your elbow, and Matt saw your smile fade, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. You glanced over at your friend, your body tensing slightly.

"Hey, can I borrow you for a sec?" Alex asked, her voice loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. She didn't wait for your response before pulling you away from Matt, towards the kitchen.

Matt stood there, frozen, as he watched you disappear into the crowd. fuck. you had just opened your mouth to respond. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

….

After that, your time together had been very limited. It was now 2:46 am and he had been searching for you everywhere to get you home safely before your curfew expired at 3.

He had already checked the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom upstairs. But there was no sign of you anywhere. He pulled out his phone, hesitating for a moment before typing out a message to you.

"Where r u? Gotta go soon"

“Otsouide.”

Matt's frown deepened as he read your misspelled text message. He shoved his phone into his pocket and hurried towards the front door, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed through the crowded foyer.

Outside he scanned the darkened porch, seeing a few couples making out in the shadows cast by the dim porch lights. That's when he spotted you, sitting alone on the top step of the front stairs.

"Hey," he called out, his voice sounding louder than he intended in the relative quiet of the night. He walked over to you and sat down next to you.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" he asked, glancing around nervously. "I was waiting for you inside"

You sniffled and looked down at your boots “i’m sorry…” you whispered softly, biting your lip “i needed some air, I think I drank too much”

Matt's heart clenched at the sound of your soft whisper, seeing the way you sniffled and looked down at your boots. He could sense the vulnerability in your voice, the slight slur of your words.

Shifting closer to you on the cold concrete step, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, feeling the warmth of your body heat the fabric. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to apologize."

He hesitated for a moment before placing a tentative hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm just glad I found you. I was gettin’ worried."

Matt glanced up at the dark sky, the stars hidden behind a veil of clouds. He knew he should be getting you home soon, but he didn't want to rush you. Not when you looked so... fragile. So beautifully, heartachingly real.

You finally looked up at him “can i stay with you tonight? my parents can’t see me like this” you mumbled.

Matt's heart skipped a beat at your words, hardly believing what he was hearing. Stay with him tonight? At his place?

He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew he should say no, should insist on taking you home like he was supposed to, should maintain the boundaries that kept you safe and their relationship platonic.

But as he looked into your eyes, seeing the vulnerability and desperation there, he knew he couldn't refuse you anything. He was putty in your hands, a puppet with his strings tied to your fingers.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, you can stay at my place tonight."

You pouted even more, fresh tears forming in your eyes “thank you” you said.

Matt felt his heart clench at the sight of fresh tears welling up in your eyes, your plump lower lip trembling slightly as you thanked him.

Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your soft skin. "Hey, don't cry," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just... I'm glad I can help."

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. "Let's get you home, okay?"

Matt stood up from the cold step, holding out his hand to help you to your feet. As your fingers brushed against his palm, he felt a jolt of electricity course through him, your skin soft and warm against his own.

He led you to his car, opening the passenger door for you and waiting until you were settled inside before closing it gently behind you.

The drive to his house was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from your direction. Matt reached over and took your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he navigated the dark streets.

As they pulled into his driveway, Matt felt a flicker of nerves twist in his gut. He had never brought a girl back to his house before, had never wanted to risk his parents asking too many questions.

But as he helped you out of the car, steadying you on your unsteady feet, he knew that having you here was worth the risk.

He led you inside, flipping on the dim lamp in the foyer. The house was quiet, his parents long since asleep upstairs.

He turned to you, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in your disheveled appearance, the way your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the slight sway of your step. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded “yeah just… i think i need to lie down”

Matt nodded, his concern growing as he saw how unsteady you were on your feet. "Of course," he said quickly, taking your hand and leading you upstairs to his bedroom.

"Here," he said softly, pulling back the covers for you. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."

His breath hitched as he watched you struggle to remove your boots, your balance already compromised from the alcohol coursing through your system. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your waist to steady you.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and concerned. "Let me help you with that."

He knelt down in front of you, taking one booted foot in his hands. His fingers brushed against your calf as he unzipped the shoe, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. He repeated the process with the other foot, setting both boots aside before standing back up.

"Better?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand remained on your waist, steadying you even though you seemed more stable now.

You nodded and his breath caught in his throat as he watched you slide your skirt down your long, shapely legs. He tried to look away, to give you some semblance of privacy, but he found himself utterly transfixed by the sight of your creamy skin being revealed inch by tantalizing inch.

You took off Matt’s jacket too and hugged yourself tightly as you looked up at him “can i have some pants?” you murmured almost shyly.

Matt swallowed hard as he took in your appearance - the way your long-sleeved t-shirt clung to your curves, the way your panties rode low on your hips, exposing the tempting expanse of skin above your thighs. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could feel the blood rushing to his head and other places.

"Uh, yeah," he managed to say, his voice slightly hoarse. "Just a sec."

He rummaged through his dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of his oldest, most well-worn sweatpants.

"Here," he said, his hand brushing against yours as he passed them to you. "These should fit you. I think."

He watched as you shimmied into his sweatpants. The sight of you in his clothes, surrounded by his scent, sent a possessive thrill through him.

The sweatpants were far too big on you, the waistband slipping down your hips.

"Thanks," you murmured softly.

You just looked at each other for a while before you looked down and grimaced.

He watched as you pressed a hand to your temple, your face paling slightly. "I think I'm gonna-"

But you didn't finish your sentence before you suddenly turned and stumbled towards the bathroom. Matt's heart raced as he realized what was happening, and he quickly followed after you, just in case you needed him.

Matt rushed into the bathroom just as he heard the sound of you retching violently into the toilet. His heart clenched with concern and he hurried to your side, gathering your hair back from your face with one hand while rubbing soothing circles on your back with the other.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice low and calming. "I've got you. You're gonna be aight."

As your retching finally subsided, Matt helped you sit back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall.

"Feel better now?" he asked quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded and let out a chuckle “i’m never drinking again”

Matt couldn't help but chuckle softly at your declaration. "Yeah, I hear ya," he said with a wry smile. "Tequila has a way of sneakin‘ up on you like that."

His gaze lingered on your face, taking in the way your skin had lost some of its rosy hue, the way your eyes looked tired and sore.

"C'mon," he said softly, standing up and offering you his hand. "Let's get you back to bed. You need to sleep this off."

You nodded and let him lead you to his bed, sliding underneath the covers and letting him tuck you in.

Matt watched as you curled up under the covers, your eyelids already growing heavy. He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you in his bed, surrounded by his scent.

His heart ached with a fierce, all-consuming love. He wanted nothing more than to climb in next to you, to hold you close and never let you go. But he knew he couldn't. He had to be strong, had to respect your boundaries, no matter how much it killed him.

Instead, he left for the living room, sneaking one last glance at your tired body before closing the door on his way out.

a/n: guys part two!!! i don’t know if i love this as much but stay tuned cause i already got some ideas for part three where reader finds out about the photograph.

Lots of love,

Mats 💐

[h0neybb]

— i'm so mature, i'm so mature

୨୧ yoon keeho x m!7thmember!reader ୨୧ keeho finally convinces you, the grumpiest and most monotonous member, to sit in on his solo stage, and you have a very embarrassing fun time. ୨୧ request?: yes ! ୨୧ caution: none, just fluffy goodness! (+2nd person, not proofread) ୨୧ wc: 1.2k

—

It was probably about the hundredth time he'd asked; and that was no exaggeration. It had been happening for the past week. Keeho would come up to you, drop to his knees if he could, clasp his hands together as if he were praying — the more you thought about it, he probably was — and just beg you to be a part of his solo stage. He had tried everything, too. He asked nicely, he asked not so nicely, he tried to be commanding, he tried to be cute, he tried to be funny... but you just weren't budging.

You had heard him practicing the song one day and decided to sneak in and listen. You had always loved his voice, after all. So you leaned on the doorframe as he sang. The words flowed from his lips like honey, and you sighed softly at how soothing his voice was when he wasn't being unreasonably loud or silly.

You clapped a bit as he finished singing, startling him. Soon, though, he smiled, and a light dusting of pink settled on his cheeks.

"Did that change your mind?" He suddenly asked, and though you wanted to pretend like you didn't, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

"How about this," You began in that slightly raspy baritone that everybody seemed to love so much. "I'll sit in once. Just to hear you."

You could've sworn that Keeho had just received all of the wealth in the world. His eyes lit up and he pulled you in for a tight hug. You were never the greatest with physical affection, but you had to admit, seeing him happy made your heart skip a beat. "I love you." You suddenly heard him mumble from where he was buried into your chest, his voice muffled, but just as strong and sincere as ever.

"I love you," You whispered in return. He was so persuasive. What had you gotten yourself into?

Soon enough, you were travelling around, and he asked nearly every morning if today was the day that you were going to sit in. Every day, you shook your head, and he began to worry that maybe you had lied to him to get him to stop talking.

It seemed like out of nowhere, it was the final day of the entire tour. He came up to you that morning with almost sad eyes, and you held his face gently, running your thumb over his cheekbones as you spoke. "We made a deal, didn't we?" You leaned in and quickly pecked the tip of his nose, and he instantly perked up. He was so excited, he was practically bouncing off of the walls, telling the rest of the members — hell, telling pretty much anyone that would listen — that you had actually agreed and how he was right, even though nobody believed him. Nobody was actually just Theo and Jiung, but he didn't care. He got to stick it in their faces, now.

That night, the show went on as per usual. But, of course, the solo stages swung to the forefront, and you were now sitting down on a small stool on center stage, thousands of cheers ringing out around you as the fans saw not only Keeho onstage, but you as well. You apprehensively smiled, as if trying to silently communicate to every P1ece in the crowd that no, you're not here by choice. you're here because Keeho annoyed you into agreeing to be here.

Yet, you heard that honey-like voice ring out again, and your expression immediately softened. You could picture it even now; tiktoks posted with the caption being 'He has such a soft spot for Keeho', the clip being used in youtube compilations with text popping up on screen saying that they totally shipped you two. You chuckled to yourself

You didn't have much time to think about it, though, because Keeho was suddenly right next to you, tilting your chin up to look at him as he stared back down at you with his lovely, bright smile.

"I might kill my ex, not the best idea," He sang, carefully tapping the end of your nose with the tip of his finger, obviously teasing you. "His new girlfriend's next, how'd I get here?" His voice dripped with happiness and the most subtle type of love that you had learned to pick up on. He was singing the original lyrics, that cheeky bastard. He had swapped the gender of them for every other show, but no, he was very obviously singing the original lyrics.

This continued, too. He pinched your cheeks, grabbed the collar of your shirt to pull you closer, and was an overall menace as he continued to sing sweetly, close enough to your ear at times that you could hear his natural voice, not heightened or reverberated by the microphone and pa system.

"I did it all for love" He placed a hand-heart against your cheek.

"I did all of this on no drugs, I did this sober" He grabbed his usual prop, the sword, from one of his belt loops. "Don't you know I did it all for us?" He pretended to stab you with the sword as he continued to sing, plunging it between your arm and your torso to make it seem like he stabbed you in the stomach. Honestly, you couldn't help but play along. He was just having so much fun, you had to crack a smile at how silly he was. You doubled over and clutched your stomach, trying to refrain from laughing as he looked back at you and laughed into the mic mid-lyric.

When the song came to a close, the crowd cheered thunderously, and Keeho dropped his prop and jogged over to you, hugging you from where you sat.

Later that night, long after the concert was over and you were back in your hotel rooms, Keeho knocked on your door. His hair was damp and the faint scent of a sweet-smelling body wash lingered on his skin. He was smiling brightly when you opened the door, and He immediately hugged you again.

"You killed it out there." He mumbled as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

"How much do you wanna bet somebody's gonna start a rumour that we're dating because of that performance?" You chuckled, pulling him into your room and shutting the door behind you as he dragged you over to the plush hotel bed.

"Well, they wouldn't really be wrong, would they?" Keeho retaliated as he flopped down on the mattress, smiling when he heard the laugh that so rarely slipped out of you. "...Thank you." He whispered, suddenly serious. He held onto your hands, bringing them up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. You laid down next to him and he pulled you close settling under the covers. Of course, he wasn't going to sleep in his own bed. You should've known better.

"You're never gonna be my ex." He mumbled, already half asleep due to your warmth and the exertion of the day.

"Is that so?" You responded with a chuckle, slipping under the covers yourself as exhaustion began to overcome you, as well.

"I'm gonna make sure of it." Keeho yawned. He shut his eyes and cuddled up to you, finally quieting down for the day as he slipped deeper into sleep.

"If you insist." You replied, your hand finding its way into his hair before you, too, succumbed to the sweetness of your life on hold as you rested next to Keeho.

—