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pboogerswbb · 2 days ago

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DON'T KNOW HOW

Paige Bueckers x reader In which Paige is high off a great game and wants to celebrate by fucking you in her jersey. Warnings: sexual content (SMUT, FILTHY FR BEWARNED), strap, slight humiliation, breeding kink, language, etc etc Wordcount: 4K A/C: this is my 1K followers surprise for y'all! YOU FINALLY GET STRAP ik you guys been begging for it (freaks). anyway thank you so much for all of you for supporting me and reading what i write, i appreciate it a lot more than you guys even know. never thought i'd have 1k followers on here so tysm, ily all <3 now go have some fun reading (ok especially to my moots ilysm, i am so fucking happy i met all of you i love each and every single one of you so bad and i always always always got your back, ty for being the best people in the world)

“And it’s good, another three for Bueckers.”

“She's on fire. Been hitting those all night and making it look effortless too.”

“Seventh three of the night wow.”

The entire evening Paige had been like a sniper, shots going in with even more ease than normal. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her blonde ponytail, the wide shoulders nearly too big for the navy Uconn jersey, glistening with sweat as the fourth quarter comes to an end. 31 points. You couldn’t be prouder to call her your girlfriend.

The crowd stands up, you jumping up and down and clapping with them, the white jersey tucked into your bra to crop it, proudly carrying your girl’s name on your back. Another victory for Uconn, as your girlfriend allows herself a small smile after the extraordinary game she just played. You wait patiently. What feels like close to an hour of the blonde shaking hands, signing jerseys and giving out interviews she finally meets your eyes from the opposite side of the court, jogging towards you.

“Babyyy!” You gleam as she wraps her strong, sticky arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Seven threes is crazy,” you praise your girlfriend.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a smug grin on her face as she pulls back and looks at you. “Missed two cause my girl look so fine.”

An involuntary blush spreads to your face as the girl’s blue eyes scam your body up and down.

“You like?” You ask with a sly smile, twirling for her. Paige lets out a low whistle, hand coming to hold your waist.

“Fuck you look hot in that jersey,” she murmurs, eyeing the way it sits on your body. You can see it in your girlfriend’s eyes - the way they were darkening in the way they always did when she needed you.

Feeling flustered, you decide to change the topic, knowing she shouldn’t be eyefucking you in front of these cameras and fans. “So are we still going out with the team tonight? We should celebrate your big win baby.”

Paige laughs hoarsely, in that fuckboy way she does. “We ain’t going out mama, we going straight home.”

You know exactly what she means. Exactly what would happen when you get home. The idea is already making your stomach flip.

“Paige… It was a big night for you, we sh-”

“No disrespect but you need to shut up,” she sternly silences you. “You really think you’re gon’ look like this and not be folded in half in about an hour? Baby, c’mon.”

“Paige stop!” You giggle, her hands holding your waist underneath the jersey, fingertips against your bare skin squeezing as she kisses your neck hungrily. Your hands are fumbling with the key, attempting to open the door to your apartment. Something you were finding extremely hard as the blonde behind you presses her hips into yours, sucking a dark red mark on your neck.

“Open the door,” Paige pants, her voice breathy and hoarse. It’s more a command than a request. Finally, you turn the key and the girl pushes you in with urgency, closing the door behind you.

Before you can say a word, the blonde is throwing you over her shoulder, making you squeal and giggle.

“Put me down!”

“No ma’am,” she laughs, long strides heading towards the bedroom fast. With a grunt your girlfriend lowers you onto the bed, landing you on the soft mattress. Both of you are giggling as she eyes you on the bed, licking her lower lip.

“Wait here baby,” she coos, disappearing into the walk-in wardrobe. Once she returns, there’s an apparent bulge underneath the grey basketball shorts. Your imagination begins to go wild, heat growing between your thighs at the idea of what she had strapped on underneath. Paige had done it before, coming up behind you, the strap poking into your ass under her sweats to let you know what she was in the mood for. It drove you completely wild each time.

“Take your clothes off,” the blonde commands from the doorway, pulling her hoodie off and throwing it on the floor. You know what happens when Paige wants something and doesn’t get it, so you kick off the boots and denim skirt you’re wearing. Your girlfriend follows every move with watchful eyes, tutting once your fingers begin to tuck the jersey off.

“Leave that shit on,” Paige says, walking over to you on the bed. You lie on your back, watching up at her in the sheer white panties and white jersey and an unbearable ache between your thighs.

Paige’s shoulders look broad and filled out in the black sports bra she’s wearing, lower lip trapped between her teeth as her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Look so fucking sexy,” she murmurs, her voice low and raspy. You needed her, badly. So you bring your hand to her core and just as you expected, feel the thick, purple strap underneath the fabric. Wrapping your fingers around the bulge, you rub it as if it’s her actual dick, just like the blonde liked to imagine.

Paige lets out a low groan, squeezing the skin on your thigh.

“You want it?” She asks. It’s not a genuine question, she knows the answer. She can tell by the way you’re squirming, rubbing your thighs together. The way your brows are furrowed in desperation.

“I do,” you whimper, biting your lip and blinking up at the girl with round eyes in the way that drove her crazy. Works every time, and this is no exception, your girlfriend letting out a breathy sigh and throwing her head back.

“Yeah? How bad ma?” She asks, hand slowly inching closer to the edge of your panties, fingertips nearly sliding underneath.

“So bad baby,” you whine, arching your back, hand still working the strap through her shorts. “Just feel,” with a whimper, you grab the blonde’s hand teasing you and slide it inside your panties.

Both of you moan, your wetness covering her fingers the second she feels you.

“Fuck, you this wet just for me?”

“All for you baby,” you whimper. “Love watching you play.”

Paige grins, rubbing gentle circles on your clit already growing puffy and sensitive from how bad your body aches for her, the idea of her strap buried deep inside you making you eager, the wait nearly unbearable.

A sigh spills from your lips as the blonde pulls her hand away, her fingers coming to your mouth and slipping past your lips making you taste yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, lips wrapping around her long digits. Paige hisses, watching closely.

“That shit ain’t fair, I need to taste you too.”

With that, Paige is pulling you to the edge of the bed by your legs, kneeling on the floor face to face with your core. With a swift movement, the blonde’s fingers hook onto your panties and pulls them down.

“Holy shit baby I ain’t even fuck you yet, why you this wet?” Paige groans at the way your cunt glistens in the light, her arms wrapping around your thighs to hold you still for her. You could feel just how wet you were, your slick spilling out of you right under your girlfriend’s gaze.

“Couldn’t help it,” you whimper, attempting to buck your hips but for nothing. You weren’t going to be touched until Paige decided so.

“Yeah couldn’t help it cause you’re such a slut huh?”

The blonde’s lips roam your inner thighs, nibbling and sucking on the skin leaving behind little red marks as a reminder of the night for later.

“Answer me,” she demands, but it barely registers, her hot breath on your core forcing goosebumps to form all over your skin. It’s driving you wild, every inch of your body on fire for her.

Suddenly a hand reaches to your jaw and firmly grabs it, Paige tilting your face towards her.

“Answer me.”

Suddenly even more flustered, your face turns red, needing her even more. “Only for you Paige.”

“Good girl, now lie down.”

The girl lets go of your jaw and suddenly her mouth is on you, tongue everywhere in your folds, licking you up like she’s been starved for life. A loud moan escapes your mouth, hands immediately flying to the blonde, soft hair of your girlfriend.

She’s hungry for it, the victorious game leaving her starving. Her lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly, making you gasp and yank on her hair. But she won’t quit, hands coming to spread you further apart, trying to find a way to get closer in a moment of desperation.

“Oh… fuck baby,” you whimper, legs already shaking as she eats you, tongue swirling in your folds, moving from side to side. Paige hums against you, the sound vibrating against your cunt. She has you leaking like a faucet, not wasting a single drop as she kisses her way down, circling your entrance before her tongue slides in.

“P-paige,” you cry out, overwhelmed by the pace she was moving at, not giving your body time to adjust, leaving you breathless. But she couldn’t care less about your protest, eyes rolling back as she presses closer to you, the bridge of her nose pressing against your clit.

You’re squirming, legs shaking and eyes rolling back as you tug on her hair, whimpers quickly turning more high pitched.

“Perfect pussy,” she groans, practically just to herself. Her tongue presses flat against you in long licks along your slit. Biting your lower lip you look down at the blonde girl kneeled on the floor between your legs and for a moment your eyes meet hers.

With an arrogant smirk Paige brings her tongue flat onto your clit and shakes her head back and forth skillfully, knowing it drives you crazy each time. The glimmer in her eye doesn’t help, making your back arch and head tilt back against the mattress.

“Gonna fuck this pussy,” the girl murmurs against you, the tip of her tongue speeding up on your clit, flicking it back and forth. She’s determined to make you cum. And when Paige was determined, there was nothing that could stop her.

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes and your entire body’s writhing under Paige’s mercy. She’s desperately eating you up, taking turns working you with her tongue and mouth, sucking and licking everywhere. It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as her tongue circles your clit.

“You gonna cum ma?”

“Yes, yes, fuck baby.”

Your hands are tugging on her hair hard, but the blonde doesn’t mind. The moans spilling from her mouth reveal quite the opposite. The familiar pit somewhere deep in your gut begins to burn, forcing your back to arch off the bed. The jersey on your body hikes up, Paige’s hand scratching on your lower stomach as she keeps working tirelessly, like the strain in her jaw wasn’t there.

“Paige I’m go-”

“Cum for me mama.”

And that’s enough, the coil in your stomach snapping the moment her words register in your hazy mind. The heat from your core spreads all over your body, waves of pleasure washing over you. The room is filled with the sounds of your high pitched moans, and the satisfied hums of the blonde between your legs sucking on your clit. Sweat drips down the back of her neck but it doesn’t matter. She’s not even close to done.

Paige stands up from the floor, leaving you trembling before her, still getting over your orgasm.

“Cmere,” Paige says, licking her lips hungrily and sliding her hand into her shorts to stroke the strap as if an extension of herself. Body still recovering, you do as you’re told knowing the blonde didn’t like waiting. Kneeling on the bed, your eyes flicker from the bulge under the fabric to her blue eyes looking down at you. They’re heavy and dark, her jaw prominent and chest heaving with need.

“Take em off,” she demands, your hands wasting no time finding the band of her shorts and pulling them to her ankles, revealing the purple strap underneath. Paige’s hands wrap around it and stroke, tapping the tip all over your face. Without much thought your mouth parts, eyes locked onto your girlfriend’s.

“Push your tongue out, be a good girl,” Paige groans, brows in a deep frown as she tries to catch her breath but it seems impossible with the way your big eyes stare up at her with your mouth open. She’s dizzy with want.

The moment your tongue slips out of your mouth, Paige is slapping the tip on it and moaning as if she could feel it herself - your warm mouth wrapping around her cock.

“That’s it, fuck ma,” Paige hisses, watching your tongue circling the length of the strap. “Get it wet for me.”

Bopping your head forward carefully, you take more of the strap into your mouth, saliva quickly building up and dripping down the corners of your mouth.

“Look so pretty baby,” the blonde coos, gathering your hair into her fist and holding it back for you. “You like sucking my cock?”

With a slight smile you nod with the strap still filling your mouth. The sight is enough to make your girlfriend moan, and her grip in your hair tightens as she forces the strap down your throat, making every inch disappear into your mouth.

“Mmph,” you whine, tears quickly welling up in your eyes. The sound of you gagging mingle with Paige’s low grunts, your nails digging into her muscular thighs. Paige can’t look away, you look too pretty to look away. Finally pulling on your hair, she allows you a second to gasp for air before returning and guiding your mouth on her cock, never breaking eye contact until your eyes roll back. Surely the strap was wet enough already, spit spilling from your mouth all over its length. But Paige is enjoying this too much to stop.

“You wanna get that pussy fucked huh?” The blonde grunts, pulling your head back with a string of saliva dripping down onto your chest.

“Please,” you whimper, your cunt throbbing, begging to feel the plastic inside you.

“Think you deserve it? Think you deserve my cock?”

“Baby need it,” you cry out, letting Paige rub the soaked tip against your lips and face, messing up your makeup. She always thought this was the best you looked, desperate, eyes red and glossy, mascara flaking underneath your eyes and begging for her. She couldn’t resist any longer.

“Turn around,” she murmurs and you do as she says, facing the other way on your hands and knees.

“Should I take the jersey off?”

“Keep that shit on ma,” Paige says sternly, hissing as she rubs the tip of the purple strap against your soaked folds. Already whimpering, you grip the soft sheets tightly, feeling the blonde’s hands caressing your ass and waist, lifting the jersey just enough to see your lower back. “Fuuuckkk baby,” she praises, watching as the strap begins to glisten just from the sheer wetness spilling out of you. “She crying for me huh?”

“Yes,” is all you can muster to say, stomach flipping as the tip teases your entrance, everything you wanted so close yet so far. Your slick is already dripping on the plastic, Paige letting out a shaky moan behind you at the sight.

“Shit, this pussy loves me,” she groans, gripping your hips and at last sliding the length inside you. A loud gasp escapes your body, the stretch so intense and powerful.

“Oh shiiiit,” Paige hisses, watching the way your cunt stretches around the strap, swallowing her up. The trembling of your body is immediate, the blonde leaning down and kissing over your shoulders and neck. “Feel good mama?”

“Y-yeah baby,” you’re still breathless, body slowly adjusting to the size.

“You tryna get fucked?”

“Mhm,” you hum, needy for your girlfriend to begin moving behind you. But she remains still.

Her big hand grips your ass harshly, slapping the skin leaving you with a slight burn. “Work for it mama, show me how bad you want it.”

You immediately know what she wants, craving to have you whimpering and pleading before she’ll give you what you crave. Paige always had to tease you just a little further than you could handle.

So you begin to move forward and back again, slowly pressing your ass against her. The strap slips in and out easily, but the size keeps you overwhelmed, slick dripping onto the sheets as you throw it back for your girlfriend, arching your back just right.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, legs already feeling weak, hands balled into fists as your girlfriend’s hand slaps your ass again, the sound echoing around the room.

“Look at that,” she praises, letting out a shaky low moan as the vibrator against her clit buzzes. But you can barely hear, mind spinning and not a single coherent thought in your head anymore. “Such a fuckin’ slut.”

The nickname makes you whine, craning your neck to see the blonde behind you, eyes locked onto where your body is swallowing her strap up. Her mouth is wide open and cheeks burning red, she wants it just as bad as you do.

Her blue eyes travel up your spine to the jersey, grabbing a handful of your hair to hold up. To allow her to admire the way the jersey fits your body. Her name, her number on you as she fucks you. It’s enough to get her bewildered.

Meeting your eyes the blonde smirks, chest heaving with need. “You like that? When I call you that?”

You nod, maintaining eye contact as you grind your hips back into her.

Paige shakes her head in disbelief, hissing again as the vibrator angles against her just right.

“Course you do, fuckin’ slut.”

Your upper body crashes against the bed, too tired to hold it up, ass remaining in the air.

“Paigeee,” you whine, begging for her to take control, legs too shaky to continue.

“What’s wrong mama?”

It’s almost sadistic, her tone. She knows exactly what’s wrong. But it wasn’t enough, Paige had to hear you say it, getting off on humiliating you just a little longer.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You whine again in frustration, wiggling your ass in the air. But Paige remains stern.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, making the blonde smirk and lick her lower lip.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

You nod in desperation, letting her pull your face up from the sheets by your hair, other hand coming to hold your hip.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” she leans down and groans into your ear. “Gon’ fuck you until you cry.”

With that, her hips slam into you, the intrusion so intense you can’t help the way your eyes roll back. You gasp, Paige letting go of your hair and standing back up behind you, both hands on gripping your waist, fucking her hips into you at such a pace it’s making you see stars.

“Ohhh shit,” the blonde grunts, watching the way your ass jiggles as her hips slam against you. The sound of skin clapping and the squelching of the strap deep inside you fills the room, only thing cutting through are your joint moans.

“Baby fuck-” you cry out, part of you wanting to push her away from how crushing her thrusts are, the strap buried deep inside your soaked pussy.

“Look at you takin it, fuck baby,” Paige groans, right hand smoothing over her last name on the jersey. Over the number she wears each game. “Takin’ my dick while wearing my name. So fucking good f’me.”

Your cunt is throbbing, squeezing the strap making it hard to think clearly. You wanted more, wanted less, you weren’t sure. But you could feel your eyes growing wet against the sheets. Paige’s hand travels all the way up to your hair, grabbing it harshly and shoving your face into the mattress.

“You take it like a slut huh?”

You moan, feeling your slick dripping down your thighs, surely covering Paige’s legs now as well.

“Your slut baby,” you whimper, upper body pressed snug against the soft cotton as the blonde pounds her strap into you.

“Aww fuck- good girl,” Paige gasps, the vibrations having her legs shaking. With a swift movement, the blonde manhandles you onto your back, placing your legs onto her shoulders, sliding the purple strap back inside you.

“Need to see your face,” she groans, eyelids so heavy they’re barely open as she keeps fucking you. “Need to see you cum on my cock.”

“Baby, so big,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the blonde kneels on the bed and leans forward, folding you over with ease.

“Take it so well tho,” Paige coos, bringing her face to yours, hand wrapping around your neck as she keeps slamming her hips into you. That athlete’s stamina could have her going like this for an hour. “Gonna cum inside this pussy.”

Her words leave you a moaning mess, your hands scratching at her shoulders leaving red marks behind. “Fuck,” you whimper, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fucking you so hard you’re gon’ have my kids.”

The squelching becomes louder, wetness dripping out of you as Paige’s strap hits deeper than before, making you gasp and scratch her soft skin harder.

“Aw- fuc- shit, ma that’s it. So deep in your guts,” she rambles, eyes beginning to roll back, trying to hold back on her orgasm. She brings her fingers between your legs, thumb beginning to rub lazy circles on your clit as the strap slips in and out of you, fucking into you at a rapid pace.

“P-Paige feel so good,” you cry out, gushing around the plastic desperately. Paige’s head lulls back and forth, fighting her orgasm.

“Mama I need to cum inside you, needa fill you with my cum,” the blonde whimpers, voice growing more high pitched as she nears the edge, fucking her hips into you with such force you think you might black out. The familiar burn ignites at her words, pussy throbbing around the plastic, muscles beginning to coil in your stomach.

“Shi- baby I need you to cum on my cock,” she gasps, eyes squeezing shut, grip around your neck tightening enough to make you lightheaded.

“Paige I-” You cry out, Paige’s thumb pressing into your clit and the tip of the strap hitting the perfect spot with each stroke.

“C’mon ma, lemme fill you up,” she whimpers desperately, legs shaking but never easing the pace. You can’t hold it anymore, letting go and allowing the fire to take over your body.

“Paige I’mma cum,” you gasp, the blonde letting out a moan of relief.

“Gonna cum inside you,” Paige grunts into your neck, as you lie underneath, helpless. Your back begins to arch off the bed, the blonde squeezing the sides of your neck and pinning you down, hips slamming into you. “Gonna fill this pussy aw- up- fuck.”

With that you’re both gasping, rolling over the edge as your climax takes over, pussy squeezing the strap tightly and gushing around it, all over the sheets and Paige on top of you.

“Oh shit-” Paige gasps, breath hot in your ear as she finishes, your mind blank as the ecstasy takes over your body, leaving you trembling underneath the girl, eyes shut tight.

“Holy shit,” the blonde murmurs, trying to catch her breath. Your chest is heaving and your face flushed. As your eyes flutter open, they’re met with the blue of Paige’s irises. She scooches both of you up the bed, crashing on top of you, the plastic still inside you, almost soothing. You wince as she pulls it out carefully, leaving you with an uncomfortable emptiness.

“You’re so great baby,” Paige sighs, resting her head in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms and legs around your girlfriend, pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead. “My number one girl.”

“You really like this jersey huh?” You chuckle as her pink lips kiss your collarbone, neck, jawline and finally your lips.

“Let’s everyone know you mine,” she coos, nuzzling her nose into you and rubbing the skin on your midriff where the fabric has hiked up.

“All yours baby,” you hum, body worn and tired but heart fluttering with love.

“All mine ma.”

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @bueckersfive @d3arapril @bueckersbitch @rosemariiaa @makethemhoesmad @xxloveralways14 @omg-imtumbling @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @thelightknight21 @vamptizm @ohmybueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @avvwritesstufff @authentic-girl03

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x fem reader #paige bueckers fanfic #wnba smut #wnba x reader #Spotify

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beanietopia · 1 day ago

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choso has a porn addiction, plain and simple. every morning for him starts with the same: open up twitter, get his bottle of lotion, and scroll through his bookmarks until he can cum. he’s had girlfriends in the past, they all thought his addiction was gross. what girl would ever entertain a guy that jerked off to random girls getting creampied on twitter?

well, you, of course.

he messaged you on a random morning, ‘hey’, was all it said. you happened to have a slight porn addiction of your own, having filled your bookmarks for your own solo sessions. you didn’t realize your messages were open and felt your brow go up as you read his message. a click to his bio and there wasn’t much there, just the year he was born and 🇯🇵. your first instinct was to delete the message, but your curiosity got the best of you. you messaged back, investigated how he found your account, and choso revealed his intentions.

‘are you into the idea of sending some nsfw posts to each other?’

choso used to sext with his ex girlfriends, but none of them wanted to include porn. they found it weird and considered it cheating to look at videos while in a relationship. now here he was, randomly texting a stranger on the internet to get a quick nut. if he wasn’t palming his dick through his shorts right now, he’d actually think he looked a bit pathetic. it wasn’t until you said yes and started sending your bookmarked videos did he realize what he was getting himself into.

freeing his dick from his briefs, he started to stroke himself while imagining himself doing the things in the videos with you. he didn’t know what you looked like, hell, he wasn’t even sure you were who you said you were. but you were just as porn obsessed as he was, and he didn’t think you could get any better until you sent another message.

‘let me suck it while you play video games.’

it’s like you knew the exact words to say to get him off. choso hastily reciprocated, although it had become quite difficult to type with one hand. he confessed on how desperately he wanted to cum in your pussy and how you suck him in so well, not knowing that you too had started pleasuring yourself at the mere thought. it had been a while and you needed some action too, okay? his messages started getting further and further apart until he asked you to send a post he can finish to. bringing yourself back to reality for a quick moment to send him a creampie video, how could you have known his favorite genre? you found yourself soon chasing your own orgasm. the echoes of the moans coming from your phone had blended with yours, and you soon came undone on your fingers.

once you remembered to look at your phone again, choso had let you know that he had made a mess, followed by a picture of his cum stained hand and torso. when you sent back a picture of your glistening fingers and soiled sheets, choso audibly moaned. what a pervert.

‘fuck, you’re making me hard… is same time tomorrow good with you?’

--------

uhh welp this is my first piece of work on tumblr LMFAO HEY GUYS! special shoutout to my pookie bears @gojoscinnamonroll @xixflower @takumasimp @webism for encouraging me and AAAAAAAA I HOPE SOMEBODY LIKES THIS,,,, i wanna keep posting on here so lmk what you think :3 ok bye beanie out

#choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #would you guys believe me if i told you this is loosely based off my life LMAO #beanie writes 📝

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synvil · 2 days ago

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say it back // bf! rafe cameron blurb (( tiktok trends mini-series ))

synopsis : you play a prank to not respond to rafe when he says ‘i love you’. suggestive warnings.

“Alright, i’m heading out. I’ll be back in a few hours. I love you baby.”

as he passes the couch, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head. you smile sweetly his way and look up at him. “okay, be safe.”

rafe was already past the couch when he hears you stop talking and glances over his shoulder. “i will. love you, babe.”

you just send him an innocent wave and a cute grin. “okay, see you later.”

“…sigh..” the man exhales heavily as he briefly checks the time on his watch. “[name].” your name comes out almost as a warning as he starts taking strides over to you. “i don’t have time for these games. say it back properly.”

but determined to keep up the act, you swallow whatever nerves you had and muster up the courage to remain innocent. “i don’t know what you mean, babe?” you furrow your brows and look to the door. “you should get going though.”

“you’re right, i should.” rafe crosses his arms as he decides to test you once more. “so i’ll be going now.. i love you.”

“i like you too!”

rafe actually lets a laugh slip, except it was out of disbelief. “you know what—“

“w-wait, i-i love you, i’m sorry, it was a joke!” realizing he was losing his patience, you raise your hand defensively and he scoffs, grabbing your wrist and pinning you to the couch back behind you. “enough of your jokes- i think i’ll teach you a lesson instead.”

you flush at his words and stare into his eyes, a pink hue spreading over your cheeks while your legs cross underneath him, a small arousal growing at how aggressive he was being. “but you have to go- you’re supposed to meet with barry for a couple hours.”

“screw that, i’ll spend the next couple hours pounding those three words into your damn mind so you won’t ‘forget’ again.”

a/n : hope you enjoyed ! <3 i’ll probably be doing these for a bit while i get back into the groove of writing because i have been burnt out and feeling out of these days and these mini blurbs are easier to handle. let me know your thoughts!

#rafe cameron #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe #obx rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #outer banks x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe cameron #rafe cameron hc #rafe cameron fluff #obx fluff #obx blurb #outerbanks x reader #outer banks rafe cameron

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foerchen · 17 hours ago

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Pic 3: (headcanon that won’t leave me alone and might be turned into a fic)

For some reason, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Steph and Cass thought it was an excellent idea to play extreme hide and seek in the WE building when Bruce was away on a business trip. I mean, why not? The building is huge with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in! It’s also really creepy at night when empty and with the lights turned off. The guards make a good obstacle too. Perfect.

Nothing could go wrong.

Yeah, no.

1. Tim hid in one of the lesser known employee lounges inside a broken sofa. Comfy, warm and perfect to take a nap in. (Which led to him not to be seen anymore until the end of the game.)

2. Cass was going to seek. She was the stealthiest of them all, meaning that she could give all of them a guaranteed heart attack. (Well… the next morning, 6 guards handed in their resignation and needed therapy.)

3. Dick saw the WE building as one big opportunity to do gymnastics, (leading to dozens of broken ceiling lamps and lots of ripped curtains from when he tried to tie them into a ladder to scale the tall foyer fountain.)

4. Damian disliked this game from the get go and decided to head into his future father’s office to try his hand at the business. Hacking into the computer was ridiculously easy. Everything was going great… (until he somehow tanked half of the company’s European stocks, sacked most of the Japanese employees and started a new animal product branch in Zimbabwe.)

5. Jason and Steph tried to play the game seriously at first… (until they found some spray paint cans in one of Marketing’s offices and decided it was a good idea to wreck the offices of any board people that ever looked down on them at galas. Good riddance.)

At 6 a.m. sharply, they all got a notification from Oracle. Bruce knew what they’d done and would be back in an hour.

Shit.

Which leads us to the third picture where they are all gathered in a conference room, trying to make a plan to save themselves from being grounded until they are 50.

(They ended up being grounded for a month and had to help out at WE for three months as an effort to apologize to the company and its employees.)

((Somewhere in the Manor, Alfred cackled. Thank god he gave them the idea. The surveillance footage was hilarious to watch.))

bat-shenanigans

they’re the hero’s gothem deserves…?? maybe??

#batfam #dc #batfam headcanons #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #headcanon #dc headcanon

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nhlclover · 7 hours ago

Text

DOROTHEA LUKE HUGHES

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke's sophomore season is far from what he had imagined. the weight of expectations, buried by the grueling pain of a long season begins to weigh on him. so, when the mid-season break rolls around, instead of going to four nations to watch his brothers, luke heads back to michigan in hopes of finding his love for hockey again.

warnings: vague mentions of anxiety, luke being extremely self critical, poor self-conscience, a bit of swearing, fictionalized events (e.g, how the devils season is going, games that haven't happened yet)

wc: 8.40k

notes: based on ‘dorothea’ by taylor swift. this one will may or may not tug at your heart strings. also quite a bit of this is made up. i know luke isn't having a bad season whatsoever + the devils aren't doing that bad. it's for the sake of the story!

“That’s not fucking good enough Hughes!”

Luke barely registered the assaulting tone of his coach’s voice above his labouring breaths. His chest heaved as he bent at the waist, gloved hands braced on his knees, lungs screaming for oxygen that never seemed to come fast enough. Every inhale burned, every exhale was shaky and ragged. Sweat dripped in a relentless stream down his temples, pooling in the collar of his jersey and turning his pads into a suffocating prison.

Just twenty-six more minutes of hockey, Luke reminded himself. Just twenty-six more minutes until thirteen, blissful hockey-free days.

The Four Nations break, a reprieve that couldn’t come soon enough, felt tantalizingly out of reach. It felt like time had slowed during this game, making it even more painful for Luke.

It wasn’t just his joints that ached or his lungs that burned; it was deeper than that. It was bone-deep. Soul-deep. It was the kind of ache that didn’t go away after a night of icing and a couple of ibuprofen. This was exhaustion — not just of the body, but of the mind.

This wasn’t the way Luke’s sophomore season was supposed to feel.

Luke entered the season with expectations stacked high enough to scrape against the rafters. Media outlets had anointed him the next big thing — another Hughes boy destined for stardom. His debut season had been solid; a Calder finalist-worthy season, in fact. Flashes of brilliance here, mistakes there, but he was still a kid learning the ropes. They’d forgiven him then. But now? Now they wanted dominance. Consistency. Leadership. They wanted him to be everything.

And he was coming up short.

The cold, hard fact of it was written across the scoreboard: 3-1 Canadiens, late in the second. The Devils couldn’t sustain any pressure in the offensive zone, the power play was sluggish, and the defensive breakdowns were enough to make Keefe nearly burst a blood vessel on the bench. Luke knew he wasn’t solely to blame, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still somehow on him. That he wasn’t doing enough. That maybe he wasn’t enough.

“Get your head out of your ass and look like you’re trying to do something, Luke!” Keefe said from the other end of the bench.

Luke didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He simply absorbed his coach's words, shoulders sagging as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. The damp fabric felt cool for a fleeting second before the heat radiating off his body rendered it useless.

“Hey, shake it off man,” Nico said from a few people down. The captain leaned forward, hands wrapped tightly around the edge of his stick. “Plenty of time left.”

Luke nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. Plenty of time. Sure. That’s what they always said until the buzzer sounded and it was too late. He stared down at the ice in front of him, tracing invisible patterns with his eyes, trying to block out the noise of the crowd, the critical eyes of the coaching staff boring into him, and the sharp stab of self-doubt that never quite went away.

He felt like he was moving underwater. Every shift was a struggle to keep up, every decision a split-second too late. Passes he’d made effortlessly when he was playing college hockey were suddenly bouncing off the heel of his stick. He hesitated when he should attack. He pinched when he should hold back. And he knew — God, he knew — the more he overthought it, the worse it got.

The crowd erupted as the Canadiens scored again. Luke didn’t need to look up to see the damage. The groan of the goal horn, the flashing red light, and the collective exhale from the bench told him everything he needed to know.

Luke gripped his stick tightly, knuckles white beneath his gloves. Twenty-six more minutes.

Blissful, hockey-free days loomed in the distance like a mirage. But would they really feel that way? Would he be able to shut it all off — the doubt, the pressure, the lingering echoes of every misstep? Would time away help him get his head back on straight, or was this just the start of something darker?

A few weeks ago, Luke had turned down multiple invitations from his teammates for getaways to white sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters. Nico was going to Cancun, Timo was going to the Bahamas. All of them were going on getaways for some much-needed rest and relaxation. But Luke couldn’t. He needed something more than just the sun. He needed a mental reset. A return to something grounding.

When the final buzzer blared, signalling yet another disappointing loss, Luke didn't even glance up at the scoreboard. The sting of defeat was something he’d grown uncomfortably familiar with, but it didn’t hurt any less. As he skated off the ice and into the tunnel, his legs felt like lead, his mind clouded with frustration and exhaustion.

He went through the monotonous routine of a loss; pulling off his sweat-soaked equipment one piece at a time while hearing a berating speech from Keefe outlining every single mistake they made, then spewing the same PR rehearsed answers to the media as he was forced to do availability yet again.

As soon as he was out of the arena, Luke pulled out his phone, scanning his notifications. While Jack took to pestering his brother in person, Quinn had messaged him earlier in the day, asking if he’d changed his mind about coming to watch them at Four Nations. It was the first time Quinn and Jack would be on the same team again since their younger days, and they’d been excited about the chance to represent Team USA together.

Quinn: It’s been a minute since we’ve all been in one place. Would be good to see you.

Luke sighed. A younger version of himself would’ve jumped at the chance to be there. To be around his brothers, the guys who’d been his idols growing up. But now, the thought of sitting in the stands, watching them thrive, only highlighted the weight of his own struggles. They deserved his support, but Luke wasn’t sure he could handle being there, feeling like the odd one out in his own family. The longer Luke thought about what he needed to do and where he needed to go, the clearer it became.

Michigan. That was where he needed to be. Not Cancun. Not the Bahamas. Not at Four Nations, no matter how much he wanted to see Jack and Quinn dominate together. Luke had made his decision. Back home was where he needed to be.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, the distant hum of the plane engines and the chatter of fellow passengers faded into the background. His thoughts settled on Michigan. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew it was there. The pull was inexplicable and undeniable, like gravity tethering him to a place he used to call home.

The wheels touched down with a jolt, and Luke pulled his coat tighter against the January chill as he stepped out of the terminal. The air smelled of snow and wet pavement, a scent so distinctly winter in Michigan that it stirred a pang of nostalgia in his chest.

He drove the winding roads back to his childhood neighborhood, the landscape coated in a blanket of fresh snow that shimmered under the streetlights. When he pulled into the driveway of the Hughes family home, the familiarity hit him like a slap. The dented hockey net at the end of the driveway and the porch light his mom insisted on always staying on, even when no one was home — it was all the same. And yet, it wasn’t.

Inside, the house was silent. Ellen and Jim were already in Montreal for Four Nations, cheering on Jack and Quinn as he’d known they would be. The usual warmth of his mom’s laughter, the clatter of pots in the kitchen, and his dad’s voice offering quiet encouragement were all absent. Instead, Luke was greeted by an almost eerie stillness.

He dropped his bag in the hallway and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The framed photos lining the walls, the scuffed wooden floors from years of indoor hockey games with his brothers — it was like stepping into a time capsule of a simpler life. A life before contracts and endorsements, before fans and expectations, before the weight of the NHL threatened to crush him.

Luke’s footsteps echoed as he made his way to the den. The fireplace was unlit, the room cold. He collapsed onto the couch, running a hand through his hair and staring at the ceiling. His chest still felt tight from the game, his body aching in a way that told him he wasn’t just physically tired but emotionally spent.

Luke had expected something — comfort, nostalgia, maybe even peace. Instead, he was met with an odd hollowness, a space in his chest that Michigan didn’t instantly fill. Maybe that was the point. He wasn’t the same kid who had once called this place home. Still, despite the emptiness inside him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his path back to himself began here. He didn’t know when or how he’d feel whole again, but he was certain it wouldn’t happen overnight. It wouldn’t happen in Cancun, the Bahamas, or even on the ice in a Devils uniform. If it could happen anywhere, it would be here — in Michigan.

The next morning, hunger and boredom pushed him out of the house. He didn’t have a plan beyond grabbing coffee and then hitting the grocery store. He drove aimlessly through the familiar streets, his heart pulling in two directions — nostalgia and unease. Every corner, every turn, held memories of the life he’d left behind.

He parked outside a coffee shop he vaguely remembered from his college days. It was a cozy spot nestled between a record store and a florist. The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Luke stood in line, scanning the menu even though he already knew he’d get a black coffee and maybe a bagel. Habit, plain and simple. Once he ordered, he scanned the room for a table to sit at.

That’s when he saw you. At first, he wasn’t sure. The years had softened and matured parts of you, but there was no mistaking the way your hair fell or the way you were chewing on your lip as you stared at your laptop, the way you always did when you were deep in thought. The sight of you hit him like a puck to the chest — unexpected and jarring.

He hadn’t thought about what he would say if he ever saw you again. and yet, there you were, just a few feet away. For a moment, he considered slipping out unnoticed, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it came. Some invisible force propelled him forward, just like it always had when it came to you.

The two of you had been inseparable growing up. You knew each other better than anyone. Your bond had always been easy, natural. But it had never been simple.

Luke remembered the stolen glances, the way his chest tightened whenever you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, and the electric charge that sparked whenever your hands accidentally brushed. It was a relationship constantly teetering on the edge of friendship and something more — a delicate balance neither of you dared to upset.

He remembered the time when you were both sixteen, sitting on his front porch while the post-game party buzzed inside the house. Luke’s team had won in overtime, securing a state championship and the celebration had carried over to the Hughes’ home. Despite the noise behind him, all he could focus on was the way your cheeks flushed from the cold, the way your breath formed soft clouds in the crisp night air. He had been on the verge of telling you how he felt when the front door burst open and his brothers and their friends came bursting out, effectively breaking the moment.

Following that, Luke shoved his feelings down deep. You stayed close, intimate friends, remaining his one constant. Until you weren’t. He was at the University of Michigan, and you were at Boston University. At first, you two had tried. Long phone calls after late practices. Texts full of inside jokes and encouragement before exams. Plans to visit that always fell through because his schedule was relentless, and yours wasn’t much better.

Eventually, the calls got shorter. Then they stopped altogether. Luke remembered how, one night, he’d stared at his phone with your name highlighted on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. Michigan had just lost in the Frozen Four semifinals, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone else except for you. It was always you Luke spoke to after the bad games. But the weight of his exhaustion, the pressure of his family’s expectations, and the overwhelming chaos of his life had pressed down on him until he just put the phone down and rolled over in bed. He never called.

He told himself it was mutual, that life had just gotten in the way. But seeing you now, he wondered if he had been the one who let go first.

Then, as if you felt a pair of eyes on you, you looked up to find the familiar set of green eyes looking back at your own. Your eyes widened in recognition, and for a second, neither of you moved. It was like the air around you both had shifted, growing heavier with the weight of unspoken words and time lost.

“Luke?” you said, your voice a mix of surprise and something softer, something harder to place.

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey. It’s been a while.”

That was an understatement. It had been more than a while. It had been years. Years since late-night study hang-outs turned into whispered confessions, since your laughter echoed in his ears as you teased him about missing his fifth straight penalty shot during pond hockey. Years since he’d kissed you in the downstairs bathroom at Isaac Howards' house during a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Years since he left, and the texts and calls dwindled into nothing.

“Yeah, it has,” you said, shifting your coffee cup between your hands. Your voice was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place — bitterness? Sadness? Maybe both.

“Yeah. Too many.” He looked down at the table, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve—”

“Called?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He winced but nodded. “Yeah. I was an idiot. No excuses. I just… I don’t know. Things got crazy.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. A tiny screen’s the only place I see you know.”

Luke looked up, and the warmth in your smile soothed some of the guilt still gnawing at him.

“I guess I deserve that,” Luke admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to do with himself. “I’ve missed you, though. More than you probably believe.”

The tension lingered for a moment before your expression softened. Something about the way Luke's shoulders slumped, the weight he seemed to carry in his eyes, made you ease up. He wasn’t the confident kid you remembered, always ready with a joke or a smirk. He looked… tired. Like he’d been through the wringer and hadn’t quite come out the other side.

You gestured to the empty seat across from you. “What brings you back to Michigan? Shouldn’t you be playing right now?”

Luke hesitated momentarily but that same pull sent that thought out quickly and Luke sunk down into the chair. “Yeah, I should. But we’ve got a mid-season break and uh… I needed to get away for a bit.”

You nodded knowingly. “Rough season?” you asked, even though you knew all too well how the season was going. Despite the no contact and the years between you, you still found yourself watching his games, keeping an eye on the number forty-three that zipped around the ice.

“You could say that.” His eyes flickered down to his cup, fingers idly picking at the paper sleeve. “Just trying to figure some things out.”

You nodded slowly, studying him. It wasn’t like Luke to open up so easily, but the strain in his voice, the way he seemed smaller somehow, told you he needed this — needed someone to just listen. “How long are you in town for?”

“A week, maybe a little longer. Depends.” he shrugged, attempting a casual tone, but you caught the uncertainty beneath it.

“Well,” you said, your voice lightening, “since you’re here and since it’s been… well, too many years, do you want to grab dinner tonight? Catch up properly?”

His eyes widened slightly like the suggestion had caught him off guard. For a second, he looked like he might say no, but then his lips curved into a small, genuine smile — one that reminded you of the old Luke. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Dinner plans were settled, and a quick double-check that you still had each other's current numbers followed before parting ways temporarily. Luke had a small smile on his face as he walked out of the coffee shop, his coffee forgotten in his hand. You had been the last person he expected to see, but somehow, it felt like exactly what he needed.

The restaurant you’d picked was a cozy spot you’d discovered a little bit ago that had become one of your favourite places to eat out — nothing fancy, just good food and a relaxed atmosphere. When Luke arrived, the nervous energy radiating off him was palpable. It made him seem much more approachable than the polished player you thought he’d become.

“You clean up nice,” you teased as he slid into the booth across from you, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Thanks,” he said, laughing softly. “You too. Not that you didn’t already look nice earlier.”

“Smooth,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at the menu. “You always this good at compliments?”

“Only with you,” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The banter came easily, flowing like it used to in the days when late-night conversations over pizza were a regular occurrence. You found yourself slipping into old habits — teasing him about his inability to order anything outside of his comfort zone and laughing at his stories about Jack and Quinn.

Luke, for his part, couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t just how much you looked the same, though you did in so many ways. It was the way you carried yourself, the way you smiled and laughed like no time had passed at all. And yet, there was something different, too — a confidence that hadn’t been there before, a quiet strength he found himself drawn to even more than he had been back then.

But the laughter and lighthearted conversation couldn’t completely drown out the nagging thoughts in his mind. As you talked, Luke found himself thinking about how much he’d screwed up. He’d let the distance between you two widen, let life pull him in one direction while he let go of the thread that connected you both. He’d told himself it was just how life went — people grew apart. But now, sitting across from you, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been.

“You okay?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

Luke blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too long. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. How did he even begin to explain? That he regretted letting you slip away, that he’d been an idiot for not fighting harder to keep you in his life?

“Just… how crazy it is to run into you like this,” he said finally, skirting around the truth. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to catch up with you.”

You smiled, but there was something wistful in your eyes. “Yeah. Life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you.”

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but Luke’s mind lingered on his regret. Every laugh, every shared memory, every glance reminded him of what he’d lost — and what he didn’t want to lose again.

As the night wore on and the restaurant emptied out around you, neither of you seemed eager to leave. The conversation deepened, and the teasing gave way to more heartfelt exchanges. You talked about what you’d been up to in the years apart, the struggles and triumphs, the paths you’d taken that had led you back to Michigan.

When the server finally dropped off the check, Luke reached for it before you could. “I got this.”

You frowned. “Hey, it was supposed to be my treat. It was my idea to get dinner anyways.”

“And I’m saying I owe you one,” he countered, his expression soft but firm. “Please. Let me.”

You relented, watching as he handed his card to the server. “Fine. But next time, it’s on me.”

Luke froze for a moment, the words “next time” ringing in his ears. He looked up at you, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Next time, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, your tone light but your meaning clear. “Next time. You’re here for a few more days, right?”

Luke couldn’t bite back the smile that tugged on his lips. “Y-yeah. Next time.”

The next few days passed in a blur of shared moments. You carved out time from your busy schedule, meeting Luke for coffee, going on impromptu drives through your old favorite spots, and even hitting the gym together. He insisted he couldn’t slack on his training, and you, eager to spend more time with him, agreed to join.

At the gym, Luke was in his element, focused and disciplined, but there was an ease to his demeanor when you were around. He showed you proper form on certain exercises, his hands brushing yours occasionally as he adjusted your grip or stance. Each time, your heart skipped a beat, though you tried to hide it behind playful jabs about his “personal trainer” persona.

But amidst the laughter and lighthearted moments, you also fell back into the habit of sharing quieter, heavier conversations, confiding in one another once again. One evening, after a long day, the two of you sat on your couch, an old movie playing in the background as you nursed glasses of wine. Luke had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was weighing on him.

Luke, despite his mood significantly lifted as he spent time around you again, couldn’t shake the weight that followed him from New Jersey. The doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, even in moments of laughter and ease. Being with you was a welcome reprieve, a chance to remember a version of himself that wasn’t defined by statistics or expectations. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the voice that questioned if he’d ever truly get his groove back — if the player he once was was still in there, waiting to be found, or if he’d lost that spark for good.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked, breaking Luke from his incessant thoughts.

Even after being apart for a few years, you could still read Luke like a book. He got no better at hiding what was running through his mind as he got older. That, or you got better at reading people as you aged. Though you were always good at it.

“No, no… It’s a lot, don’t worry about it.” Luke answered, focusing back on the movie playing, though he had missed so much of the plot he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

“C’mon,” you said, sticking your foot out and nudging his thigh with your toe. “It’s me.”

It was you. You had always kept his secrets, even his deepest darkest ones, like when he confided in you about how he didn’t know if he wanted to pursue hockey, despite it being practically expected of him. You also always knew what to say, giving the best advice, like when you told him he was being irrational because hockey was all he thought of and what he had dreamed of since kindergarten.

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the deep red liquid in his glass. “It’s just… hard, you know? This season. Everything feels off. I keep messing up, and it’s like no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it. The comparisons to Jack and Quinn — they’re constant. And the worst part is, I feel like they’re right. Like I’m not good enough to be in the NHL.”

Luke’s voice cracked slightly as he continued, his grip tightening on the glass. “It’s like I’m not even me anymore. I’m just… Jack and Quinn’s younger brother. The one who hasn’t lived up to the hype. The one who’s just an extension of them.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so tired of it. Of being seen as this kid who only got here because of who he’s related to.”

You placed your glass on the coffee table, shifting to face him fully. “You’re tired of being known for who you know,” you said gently, watching as his eyes flickered toward yours, the weight of your words visibly landing.

Luke nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Exactly. I just want to be Luke. Not someone’s little brother. Not some placeholder. Just… me.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Then start there,” you said. “Stop letting other people’s opinions decide how you see yourself. You’re not Jack. You’re not Quinn. You’re Luke — the guy who’s passionate, hardworking, and ridiculously competitive.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve seen that side of you, even when you were a kid. You always wanted to carve your own path. And you’re doing that now, whether you feel it or not.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “It’s hard to believe that sometimes.”

“I get that,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “But Luke, your brothers didn’t get you to the NHL. You got you there. They’re part of your story, yeah, but they’re not the whole story. You’ve earned this. You belong here. And I know it feels like you’ve lost your way, but maybe this slump is just part of figuring out how to be the player you want to be.”

Luke looked at you for a long moment, his green eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and something softer — hope, maybe. “You really think I can turn it around?”

“Luke. You really think your entire NHL career is over after one bad season?” you said, snorting at your own words. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at his own over-dramatics. “I know you can turn it around… I have no doubt. But you need to start believing it yourself.”

A faint smile replaced his troubled expression, and he set his glass aside, leaning back against the couch. “You always know what to say.”

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “That’s because I’ve always believed in you, Luke. Even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

For the first time that evening, Luke let out a quiet laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” you said, meaning it more than you realized.

The rest of the night passed quietly, the two of you lost in conversation and shared memories. And as Luke left your place that evening, he felt lighter, the weight on his shoulders not entirely gone but more manageable.

The next day, the realization that it was Luke’s last night in Michigan crept into every shared moment. It added a bittersweet edge to the laughter and easy camaraderie that had blossomed between you over the past few days. You both avoided bringing it up during dinner, the unspoken knowledge settling between you like a silent companion.

After the meal, Luke suggested going for a walk. The winter air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly in the clear Michigan sky as you strolled down familiar streets, your breath visible in the cold. You pulled your coat tighter around you, glancing at Luke as he walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Thanks for spending so much time with me this week,” he said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

You smiled softly. “I wanted to. Besides, it’s been nice… like old times.”

Luke chuckled, though there was a wistfulness in it. “Yeah, it has. Better, even.”

The two of you fell silent again, the sound of your footsteps crunching on the snow-covered pavement filling the void. You turned onto a quieter street, where the houses were dark, their occupants already tucked away for the night. You glanced at Luke, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his mood having shifted from a moment ago.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax him out of his silence.

He stopped walking, turning to face you. His expression was serious, his brows knit as though wrestling with something he hadn’t planned to say. “I think I’ve been running from a lot of things,” he began, his voice low and steady, “but especially you.”

The words hung in the air between you, raw and unexpected. Luke took a step closer, his green eyes searching yours. “When we drifted apart, I told myself it was just the way things had to be. That the distance, my career — it was all just part of life. But I see now… I could’ve fought harder. I should’ve fought harder. For us.”

His admission made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions flooding through you. You had spent years wondering if he regretted letting you go, if he missed you as much as you missed him. And now, hearing the regret in his voice, it felt both validating and bittersweet.

“Luke…” You took a breath, steadying yourself. “It hurt, you know? Losing you. But I understood why you made the choices you did. Your career — it’s everything you’ve worked for, and I didn’t want to be the one holding you back.”

“I never thought of it that way,” he interjected quickly, his tone earnest. “You were never holding me back. If anything, you grounded me. You believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. And I’m sorry. For not saying that. For not fighting harder to keep you in my life.”

You nodded, emotions welling in your chest. “I won’t lie — it was hard. But I’ve always rooted for you, Luke. Even from afar, even quietly. Even if it meant letting you go.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. Luke’s gaze softened, and he nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he said softly.

“Enough with what you do and don’t deserve,” you said shaking your hand. “Cause you’re stuck with me anyways.”

The walk back to your car was quieter, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was filled with a sense of understanding, of unspoken words that no longer needed to be said.

The next morning, as you drove Luke to the airport, the mood was bittersweet. He promised to keep in touch this time, and for once, you believed he might actually follow through. When you hugged him goodbye, he lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if reluctant to let go.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you said, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“You too,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “And thank you. For… everything.”

After Luke returned to New Jersey, something shifted within him. The heaviness of expectation and self-doubt hadn’t completely vanished, but your words lingered in his mind like an anthem: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

For the first time in months, he started seeing his struggles not as failures but as opportunities to grow. Instead of obsessing over his brothers’ accomplishments or the weight of media scrutiny, he set smaller, personal goals. Maybe he wouldn’t assist on every goal scored in every game or win the Norris, but he could focus on winning his battles in the corners, improving his breakout passes, and becoming a reliable presence on the ice.

That renewed mindset brought subtle changes to his game. At first, it was just flashes — an extra step to break up a play, a crisp pass that led to a goal. His confidence grew with each small victory, and while the slump didn’t disappear overnight, it didn’t feel insurmountable anymore.

Through it all, you and Luke became each other’s anchors. Despite the distance, your late-night conversations became a constant. You’d talk about everything — your classes, his games, old memories, and future dreams. Sometimes, the chats were lighthearted, filled with laughter as you teased him about his weird superstitions, like tying his left skate before his right. Other times, they were raw and vulnerable, as you vented about the pressures of school and fear of what came beyond graduation.

It wasn’t always easy. There were nights when his games ended late, or you were swamped with assignments, but both of you made the effort. The bond you shared was undeniable, and as the weeks passed, Luke found himself thinking about you more and more. The idea of a life without you felt incomplete — like something vital was missing.

One night, after a grueling loss to the Washington Capitals, Luke couldn’t shake the disappointment. He had played well, but the team had faltered, and the sting of another defeat hung heavy in the air. Sitting in his car outside the arena, he found himself dialing your number.

You answered on the second ring, your voice warm and familiar despite the late hour. “Hey, everything okay?”

Luke hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Not really. I’m getting better at handling the pressure, but…something still feels off.”

“Want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the dashboard. “I hate that I’m here and you’re there,” he admitted. His voice was raw, tinged with frustration. “I hate that I keep letting distance get in the way of us. It’s like, no matter how well I play or how much I try to focus on hockey, it doesn’t feel right. Not without you.”

His confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had felt the distance too, in quiet moments when you wished he were there to share a laugh or hold your hand. But hearing him say it made the ache more real.

“I miss you too,” you finally said, your voice quieter now, but steady. “More than I can put into words. But Luke…this, us — it’s worth fighting for. Even if it’s hard sometimes.”

Luke closed his eyes, letting the weight of your words sink in. He’d known it deep down, but hearing you say it gave him a renewed sense of clarity. “I know it is. I just… I don’t want this to feel like something I’m waiting for. I want it to feel like something we’re building.”

“And we are,” you reassured him. “Every late-night call, every text, every moment we make time for each other — it’s not just waiting, Luke. It’s us figuring it out together. And as much as I’d love for things to be easier, maybe this is how we know it’s real. Because even when it’s tough, we still choose each other.”

His chest tightened, not with sadness, but with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You always had this way of grounding him, of reminding him what mattered most. “How are you so good at this?” he asked with a soft laugh, the edges of his frustration beginning to melt away.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like I’m not completely screwing everything up,” he admitted.

“Because you’re not,” you replied firmly. “You’re trying, Luke. That’s more than enough. You’re enough.”

A few weeks later, as the regular season wound down and playoffs loomed, you found yourself on another late-night call with Luke. This time, he seemed lighter, more at ease, even as the intensity of the season ramped up. It was a stark contrast to the stressed, self-critical tone he’d had earlier in the year.

“You ready for the playoffs?” you asked, genuinely curious. The way he’d been playing lately, it seemed like he’d turned a corner, but you couldn’t help wondering how he was handling the weight of it all.

“Yeah,” he said simply, without hesitation.

His answer caught you off guard. “You’re not nervous?”

“Nope.” He chuckled, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. But nervous? Not really.”

You smiled to yourself, a wave of pride and relief washing over you. “That’s new.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he admitted. “I don’t know… I think I finally realized that worrying doesn’t help. I’ve spent so much time obsessing over being perfect, over trying to measure up to everyone else, that I forgot to just enjoy playing the game. And honestly, I’m tired of carrying all that pressure around. Hockey’s supposed to be fun.”

Hearing him say it so confidently, so matter-of-factly, made your heart swell. For months, you’d watched him wrestle with self-doubt, pushing himself to the brink in search of validation. Now, he sounded like someone who had finally made peace with himself — or at least started to.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you said softly. “It’s not easy to let go of that stuff.”

“It’s easier with you,” he replied, his voice tinged with warmth. “You’ve always been in my corner, even when I wasn’t in my own. That means everything.”

The playoffs arrived sooner than Luke anticipated, and with them, a surge of pressure that made it harder to focus on anything outside the rink. But Luke stepped onto the ice for Game 1 with a steadiness that surprised even him. The crowd roared, the energy was electric, and though the stakes were higher than ever, he didn’t let it overwhelm him. Instead, he focused on the little things — staying composed under pressure, trusting his instincts, and playing the way he knew he could. Game by game, he chipped away at his self-doubt, leaning into the mental resilience he’d been building all season.

The Devils clawed their way through the first two rounds, overcoming grueling battles and earning every victory. Luke’s performance was a reflection of his growth. While he wasn’t the flashiest player on the ice, he was reliable, steady, and clutch when it mattered most. He had a knack for breaking up key plays, making smart decisions under pressure, and even contributing a few timely assists and goals that had the crowd on their feet.

Through it all, you were there, albeit through a screen. You found a way to catch every game, even the ones that happened in between your exams, forgoing studying to watch Luke zip around the ice. Your support grounded him, a reminder that no matter how chaotic things got on the ice, he had someone who believed in him unconditionally.

By the time the conference finals arrived, the Devils were a team to be reckoned with. Facing off against the Carolina Hurricanes, the series was a war of attrition — fast-paced, physical, and emotionally draining. Luke felt the pressure mounting, but he refused to let it control him. Instead, he leaned into the same mantra that had carried him through his struggles earlier in the season: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

The series stretched to six games, with each one more intense than the last. Luke played some of his best hockey, blocking shots, setting up plays, and doing whatever it took to keep his team in the fight. But in the end, the Hurricanes proved too strong. In Game 6, with the Devils down by a goal late in the third period, Luke was on the ice for a final push. They came heartbreakingly close, but the buzzer sounded, and just like that, the run was over.

The locker room was heavy with silence afterward, the weight of the loss pressing down on everyone. Luke sat at his stall, still in his gear, staring at the floor. It hurt — of course it did. But this time, the pain wasn’t accompanied by the same crushing self-criticism he’d once felt after losses. Instead, he felt a deep sense of pride. They had made it this far, farther than many had expected, and he knew he’d left it all on the ice.

Later that night, he called you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Hey,” you replied, bracing yourself. You’d seen the loss and expected him to be devastated. “How are you holding up?”

He surprised you with a small chuckle. “Honestly? I’m okay. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks, but… I feel like I gave it everything I had. That’s all I can do, right?”

Pride swelled in your chest. This wasn’t the Luke you remembered from a year ago, who would’ve let the loss consume him. “I’m so proud of you,” you said sincerely. “For how you’ve handled all of this. You’ve grown so much, Luke.”

Your words stayed with him long after the call ended, echoing in his mind like a steady drumbeat. You’ve grown so much, Luke.

Your graduation day dawned bright and warm, the campus alive with energy as classmates, friends, and families gathered to celebrate. You felt a swirl of emotions — pride, excitement, and a faint wistfulness. While you were thrilled to be closing this chapter, part of you couldn’t ignore the ache of someone missing. You had tried to manage your expectations, knowing Luke's NHL schedule and how taxing the playoffs had been. But as you slipped on your cap and adjusted your gown, you couldn’t shake the quiet hope that maybe, somehow, he’d be there.

The ceremony itself was a blur of speeches, applause, and cheers. Crossing the stage, you accepted your diploma with a wide smile, the weight of your hard work finally lifted. Afterward, you joined the throng of graduates filtering toward the quad, where your family had promised to wait. Spotting them amidst the crowd, you waved, your heart swelling with love as you saw your mom, dad, and younger brother standing together. But then, your eyes caught on something — or someone — else.

Luke was standing behind them with a bouquet of fresh daisies, baby's breath, and soft pink roses tied with a satin ribbon. His boyish grin was unmistakable, and it softened the moment your eyes met. The disbelief must have been written all over your face because his grin widened as he gave you a small wave.

Your legs carried you forward without hesitation. First, you hugged your parents and brother, exchanging congratulations and laughter, but your gaze kept darting back to Luke. Finally, you stepped toward him, your voice catching as you said, “What…? You’re here?”

He held the bouquet out to you, a little sheepishly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. I had to be here.”

Your chest tightened with emotion as you accepted the flowers, their sweet fragrance mingling with the warmth of his presence. “Luke, I didn’t think—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, his eyes steady on yours. “And I’m sorry for making you think I wouldn’t come. But I wanted it to be a surprise. Your mom helped me with it, actually.”

You glanced over at your mother, who wore an undeniably large grin that stretched across her lips, her eyes practically sparkling with the kind of knowing satisfaction only a mother could have. She had always harbored a soft spot for Luke, often claiming he was the one boy you’d never quite forget. She firmly believed, with the quiet certainty that only years of maternal instinct could provide, that no matter how far life took you, he was the one you’d eventually find your way back to in the end.

Luke pulled your eyes back to his as he spoke again. “You’ve been there for me every step of the way, even when I didn’t deserve it. This is your moment, and I wanted to be part of it.”

Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away, laughing softly as you shook your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he teased, his smile making your heart ache in the best way. “But seriously, I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

You didn’t think, you just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you close without hesitation, his embrace grounding you in a way that only he could.

As you pulled back from the hug, you caught your mother’s subtle signal—a raised brow and a little nod toward Luke. She knew, of course. She always knew. With a quick glance at your dad and brother, you gave them a look that clearly said, I need a minute alone with him.

“Why don’t we grab some photos?” your mom suggested, steering your dad and brother toward a picturesque spot by the fountain. You mouthed a quick thank you before turning back to Luke.

“Want to take a walk?” you asked, motioning toward the quiet pathways that wove through the campus.

“Lead the way,” Luke replied, his hands slipping into the pockets of his suit pants.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of distant laughter and celebration filling the air. You made your way toward a shaded grove near the library, a place where you had spent countless hours studying. Today, it felt almost sacred, a fitting backdrop for this moment.

“I’m glad you came,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Luke replied, his voice earnest. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the way his jaw tensed like he was working up to something.

“Listen,” he began, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. His green eyes, usually bright and playful, were serious now, searching yours. “I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out how to say this without screwing it up, but here goes.” He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “You mean the world to me. You always have. And I know I didn’t always handle things right between us — I’ve made mistakes, I’ve let hockey, distance, and my own insecurities get in the way — but you’re the one person I can’t imagine my life without.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “I don’t want to keep pretending that what we have is just history or that I’m okay with being just friends. Because I’m not. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I don’t want to waste another second not saying it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The honesty in his eyes, the way his voice trembled just slightly—it was everything you had once hoped to hear from him and more.

“Luke,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he replied, his voice steady despite the vulnerability etched into his features. “Say you’ll let me show you that I can be the person you deserve. Say you’ll be with me.”

A smile broke across your face, and before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said, your voice catching on the emotion swelling in your chest. “Yes. I’ll be with you.”

Luke’s smile was a mixture of relief and joy, as though he had been holding his breath and could finally exhale. He took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, and for a moment, it felt like everything in the world had paused — just the two of you, finally on the same page.

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, and you felt the weight of the moment settle between you. Then, his gaze shifted upwards, and he chuckled softly. “Can’t kiss you with this thing on,” he teased softly.

Luke carefully slid the cap off your head, setting it aside on a nearby bench. The small gesture felt oddly intimate, like he was making room for something even more meaningful.

When his hands returned to your face, the warmth between you both felt undeniable. He leaned in, this time without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was tender at first, like he was savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours was more sure, more confident, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, realizing just how much better he was at it now than when he was 16.

When he finally pulled away, you both breathed deeply, as though trying to catch your bearings after such a powerful kiss. A small laugh escaped your lips, and you smirked, your heart racing. “You’ve definitely gotten better at that,” you said, your voice light with amusement.

Luke chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad you noticed,” he said, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “But I’m just getting started.”

You walked back toward your family, hand in hand with the boy who had always been a part of you. It was a moment to savor, but also one to look forward to—a future that felt just a little bit clearer, and a little bit brighter, because of him.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils

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the-offside-rule · 1 day ago

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Lando Norris (McLaren) - Sports Car

The sequel to Two Hands

Two Hands Part I, Part II

Y/n sat in the dimly lit studio, headphones snug over her ears, as the beat played for what felt like the hundredth time. She leaned back in her chair, mouthing along to the lyrics she'd scribbled down a few hours earlier, occasionally tweaking a word or two in her notebook. The explicit undertones of the song didn’t faze her; it was raw, honest, and unapologetic, just like she wanted it to be. She hit replay again and again, trying to perfect every detail.

The door to the studio creaked open, and Y/n barely looked up as her best friend, Tate, strolled in holding two iced coffees. "Still working on that song, huh?" Tate teased, plopping down on the couch and pulling her phone out. "Yup." Y/n replied without missing a beat, scribbling something down and playing the demo back for the umpteenth time.

Tate listened in silence for a moment, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. But the more she absorbed the lyrics, the more her jaw slowly dropped. By the time Y/n got to the second chorus, Tate was staring at her like she’d grown another head.

"Are we gonna just ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Tate finally said, setting her phone down. Y/n arched a brow, leaning back in her chair. "What?" Y/n asked. "What?" Tate echoed in the same tone, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "This song! Who is this about, and why are you suddenly… so worked up?" Y/n rolled her eyes, spinning her chair lazily to face her friend. "It’s nothing. Just… a song."

Tate snorted, crossing her arms. "Right. A song that happens to be very… explicit about what you want to do to someone. Come on, Y/n. We both know it's about Papaya." Y/n rolled her eyes at the code name they gave Lando. It wasn't practical or secretive in any way possible. It was so dumb. And yet, the mention of his code name, Y/n’s cheeks warmed, but she shrugged it off. "It’s not about anyone in particular. It's...I don't know. It's just setting the tone for the album, I guess." She said, avoiding Tate’s knowing gaze. "Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him anytime soon. We only ever run into each other at races."

Tate narrowed her eyes, sliding the iced coffee across the table to her. "Uh-huh. Sure. But, girl, you need to stop lying to yourself. If this song is even half as honest as your feelings, you’re clearly still thinking about him. Just tell him what you want, he’s not a mind reader." Y/n sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. "I’m not telling him anything, Tate. It’s never going to go anywhere. We’re both too busy, and I’m not about to complicate things."

Tate groaned, throwing her head back. "Fine, fine. But let me see what you’ve got so far." She grabbed the notebook from the desk before Y/n could protest. Her eyes widened as she read the first line aloud. "Hey, cute jeans, take mine off me?" She burst out laughing, nearly dropping the notebook. "Are you kidding me?" Y/n shrugged, smirking. "You told me to be honest, so… that’s the energy I’m bringing to this song."

Tate kept flipping through the pages, her laughter growing louder. "Pretty blue streetlights and my hazel eyes, and if it feels right, we could go again like 3 or 4 more times? Y/n, who are you?" Y/n winked, leaning back in her chair. "My favourite part is the next bit. "On the corner of my bed, or maybe on the beach, you could do it on your own, while you're looking at- oh my god!" Tate squealed, chuking the notebook onto the table. "Think he’ll pick up on the hints?" Tate stared at her, utterly dumbfounded, before bursting into another fit of laughter. "This is not a hint, this is an open invitation. But honestly? If this doesn’t get his attention, nothing will."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Max Fewtrell’s stream was buzzing with activity. Thousands of viewers flooded the chat, firing off questions for him and his guest, none other than Lando Norris. The two were sitting in Max’s gaming setup, laughing about something dumb when a specific question caught Max’s eye. "Oi, Lando." Max said, grinning mischievously as he leaned closer to his monitor. "Chat wants to know what you think about Tate and Y/n’s new song."

Lando blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "They has a new song?" Max turned to him, his brows shooting up. "Mate, where have you been? It’s everywhere. There’s a music video too." Lando leaned back in his chair, his interest piqued. "Oh, I didn’t know. I mean, I like their stuff so… yeah, put it on I guess." He said ruffling his curls. "Alright, chat." Max said, smirking as he pulled up the song. "Let’s see what all the hype is about."

The track began, the sultry beat filling the room. On the screen, the music video played, showing Y/n moving effortlessly to the rhythm. Lando’s eyes were glued to the screen, his focus narrowing in on every word she sang and every move she made. "Hey, cute jeans, take mine off me." Y/n’s voice purred, her tone teasing yet commanding. Max burst out laughing, glancing at Lando. "This is… uh, quite forward, huh?" Lando, however, was silent, his gaze locked on the screen.

In the alley in the back

In the centre of this room,

With the windows rolled down,

Boy, don't make me choose

As the video continued, the lyrics grew bolder, the visuals more suggestive, and Lando couldn’t help the slight flush that crept up his neck.

Pretty blue streetlights and my hazel eyes,

And if it feels right, we could go again like 3 or 4 times.

Max snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. "Well, I mean, they know what they want." Lando let's out a soft chuckle at his remark.

On the corner of my bed,

Oh and maybe on the beach,

You can do it on your own,

While you're looking at me

Lando finally tore his gaze from the screen, a small, almost shy smile on his face. "Its a good song, actually." He smiles as the music seems to fade away for the time being. "You’ve met that one, right?" Max asked casually, still watching the video. Lando nodded. "Yeah, briefly. In Vegas."

"Vegas, huh? Sounds like a story there." Max wiggled his eyebrows knowing exactly what happened, but Lando just laughed it off, shaking his head. "Nah, nothing like that. She’s cool, though."

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/n and Tate were watching the stream from her apartment, Tate’s laptop propped up on the coffee table. At first, they’d been laughing at Max’s antics, but as Lando’s voice filled the room, the mood shifted. Tate frowned, glancing at Y/n. "Briefly? That’s all he’s going to say? What about everything else? The flirting, the sneaking ro his hotel room, the…" Y/n waved her off, her expression unreadable. "Doesn’t matter."

"It does, though." Tate pressed. "You’ve got to say something. You can’t just let this keep happening." Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You’re right. It’s time I did something about this." Tate’s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and disbelief on her face. "Wait, are you saying you’re finally going to tell him how you feel?" Y/n scoffed, looking almost repulsed by the idea. "God, no." Tate frowned. "Then what are you going to do?"

Y/n’s lips curled into a sly smile, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. "I have a better idea."

#lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris blurb #two hands #sports car #tate mcrae

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writingwithciara · 1 day ago

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across the hall; part 2 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 1.3k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes: just a follow-up to the first part in the series :)

it had been 3 weeks and quinn had truly kept to his word. he allowed y/n to drop abby off at his place whenever she needed to run to work, or whenever she just wanted to have a few hours alone. he helped her whenever he was able to.

and she was thankful for his presence in their lives. without him, she would've gone insane.

wile she wasn't at work, quinn stopped by to bring y/n and abby some things he thought they'd like. most of the time it was dinner and other times, it was a book for y/n or a toy for abby.

abby loved to see him, not only for the toys, but for his company. he was her favorite person. and that didn't upset y/n at all.

okay. maybe it did just a little bit. but she loved seeing her daughter happy.

one night, while quinn and abby were waiting for y/n to get home from work, abby looked up at quinn with a smile.

"my mommy says you're a hockey player."

"yeah. i am."

"i've never watched hockey before. what's it like?"

quinn let out a chuckle and tried his best to explain the game to her. by the end of his description, abby was hooked.

"i wanna go to a game now."

"maybe your mom can get a night off and i can get you guys tickets for one of my upcoming home games."

"could you do that?"

"i'd have to talk it over with your mother first. but i can try."

"yay." she smiled. "love you quinn."

"love you too, sweetheart." quinn smiled and turned his attention back to the movie they were watching.

less than an hour later, y/n walked through her door and set her bag on the table. she went and joined quinn on the couch. he made room for her and smiled.

"how was work?"

"exhausting, as usual." she took a deep breath and looked at him. "how was babysitting?"

"can you really call it babysitting if you don't pay me?" he chuckled.

"i'm going to pay you eventually. i just never have the time to get the money out for you."

"it's okay. honestly. i don't mind spending time with abby. she's the sweetest kid in the world." he glanced down at the little girl sitting to his right. "oh, i hope you don't mind, but i think i got her hooked on hockey."

"how did you do that?"

"she told me she'd never watched hockey before and then she asked me to describe the game to her. then she said she wanted to go to a game and i told her i'd get you guys tickets if you were okay with it."

"i have this weekend off. when's your next home game?"

"saturday evening." he smiled, really loving how perfectly their schedules lined up.

"perfect. i'd love to go to a game."

"great. guess i'll see you there." quinn stood up and y/n walked him to the door.

"good night, quinn." y/n smiled and shut the door.

by the time saturday evening rolled around, y/n and abby were excited to watch quinn play. he brought over 2 vancouver jerseys for the girls before he left that morning and y/n thanked him.

as they made their way to the amazing seats quinn had gotten for them, y/n couldn't help but be awestruck at the sight. the players were skating around for warm-ups and when quinn skated past their seats, abby jumped up and down. y/n picked her up and brought her over to the glass just as quinn came back around. he tossed his puck over the glass and offered them both a smile before skating away.

"who was that?"brock asked as quinn came over to him.

"my neighbor and her kid."

"that's y/n?" he looked over at the girl behind the glass. "hmm. i always pictured her with red hair for some reason." he shrugged and kept skating. "still gorgeous though."

"relax, dude. you have a girlfriend."

"true. but you don't. why don't you make a move?"

"it's not like that. i'm just her occasional babysitter when she's busy, which is a lot." quinn sighed. he agreed with brock in the fact that she was gorgeous but he had his eye on someone else. he didn't want his friend to know that though. "besides, she just got to town after moving across the country to get away from her past."

"how much do you really know about her?"

"i know enough. can we focus on warm-ups?"

"sure thing, dude." brock skated away and started practicing his shots.

back on the bench, y/n and abby were watching quinn skate around. y/n's eyes didn't stay glued to him though. her eyes began following the blond quinn was just talking to. the one with boeser on the back of his jersey. there was something that drew her to him, but in a way, she felt like she was betraying quinn. then she looked over and saw a girl with a boeser jersey standing a few feet away. she waved to quinn's friend and he stopped to have a quick chat with her.

quinn stopped by y/n and abby again. "i really hope you guys enjoy the game tonight. i'm gonna play extra hard for the two loveliest ladies in the arena."

"as long as we're cheering for you, we'll be having fun."

"glad to hear that." he smiled and skated to his spot on the ice to begin the game.

as the game began, y/n watched as quinn got the puck and took the first shot on the Kings goal. he missed but abby started clapping anyway. she didn't quite understand the game but she was enjoying it anyway.

halfway through the second period, the canucks got on the board with the first goal of the night. the goal was made by boeser and the girl he was talking to cheered with delight. she then turned to y/n and smiled.

"hi. i saw you talking to quinn earlier. are you his girlfriend?"

"no. i'm just his neighbor." she smiled.

"oh, so you're the one he's always talking about?" the girl raised an eyebrow before smiling and extending her hand. "i'm bella, brock's girlfriend. it's nice to finally meet you."

"i'm y/n." she shook bella's hand and smiled. "i'd love to say that i knew who you were but quinn hasn't mentioned a lot of his friends. sorry."

"that's okay. he's like that sometimes." she smiled and looked at abby. "oh my goodness. you must be abby."

"that's me." the girl in y/n's arms smiled at bella.

"quinn has shown us so much pictures of you and i must say, you're much more adorable in person."

"thank you." abby giggled. "quinn says i get it from my mommy."

"oh, does he now?" bella raised an eyebrow. "that's cute."

"you never told me he said that, abby."

"he says it every night he watches me."

"oh." it was y/n's turn to raise an eyebrow. she felt her cheeks heat up quickly so she refocused on the game. and just in time to see quinn score a goal.

"i'm really glad you and quinn met. it was beginning to feel like he would never meet someone who could crack his moody personality."

"he's not that moody. or at least he hasn't been since i've met him."

"that's what i mean. he used to be so moody but since you came to town, he's changed. he talks more, smiles more. and he even plays better." bella grinned and watched the puck exchange between quinn and brock. "whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

"okay." y/n liked talking to bella. it was nice to finally have a conversation with someone who wasn't a child or a coworker. it was like she was an actual friend.

later that night, y/n was walking back to her apartment when she stopped in the middle of the hall. she couldn't believe her eyes.

"what the hell are you doing here?"

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #qh43 #vancouver canucks

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animeowls · 1 day ago

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This is me with Parker vanhorn

The long wizard who is a dnd npc from a game with 7 people + the dm

But like 30+ peopep know about him as I won’t shut up about him

Important things

1. LONG. 9 + foot tall

2. Debatably human transmutation wizard

3. Bald but wears a blonde wig

4. Fuck ton of clones of him in the dnd verse the dm plays in, when asked to round to nearest mutiple of 50 the dm said 100 so there are at least 51 version of this mofo in the game , we have met across main game and one shots , three? Four ?

5. Evil

6. Wears a bird cadge on head

7. Has done all the crimes ever except the sex crimes and the vulgar crimes (no public unrination)

8. Was a prince until he went on a murder spree and now is on the run

9. Was in jail

10. Was in jail again but let out by a player character

11. That was my character and now she is his only freind

12. Not evil atm but can go evil and mad when certain trigger words /phrases are said

13. Might be mad all the time

14. Based on Faust guilty gear

15. Cast wish twice

16. Might have died of screeen if my character had not freed him from jail as he was due an execution courtesy of his sister the queen (for the murder he did)

17. Might be undead /an abomination . He died as a child but was brought back , possibly wrong

18. The local main deity hates him

19. Eats bugs

20. Frog tongue

21. Dresses like a fucked up dr man should

22. Medically qualified to do al medical things

23. Sold drugs to my character despite her only having sentience (read int above 3) for less than two weeks

24. gave a 3 int teifling lolth warlock - bear totem barbarian -paladin sentience via wish

25. Had brain damange inflicted upon him to make him forget to be evil

26. Kept casting spells sfyer wish and knocking himself out , getting healing from the aforementioned tiefling

27. While at 3 strength from wish and evil told the tiefling his plans and got chocked out by her to stop them

28. Nearly canabalised to hide evidence of his being out of prison and regained evil , only spared from death as I didn’t want my character to kill her first crush

Sure there is more but this is my hyperfixation man of which there is only art of him due to the dm being an artist and my paying money for art of him

Having a hyperfixation while being in a depressed episode is so fucking crazy. All Food tastes bad and I can’t bring myself to shower and reading for an assignment sounds like waterboarding but show me a good fic of Boo Boo Johnnykins and suddenly the world is sunny and for Boo Boo Johnnykins I won’t kill myself for another day

#parker vanhorn #Ira #Parker has legit kept me alive and from dojng stupid shit in the last three months #despite being #not real #personal

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atzloverr · 2 days ago

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Our unsaid truths - chapter 3

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

cw: fluff, slight angst, jealousy, kissing, slightly suggestive content

pairings: poly!ateez x reader, san x reader focused, atz x atz

”Ha! We win!” you cheered, throwing your hands in the air before giving Hongjoong a victorious high-five as you won for the second time. ”You’re no fair,” Wooyoung pouted, leaning into Yeosang’s shoulder.

 The living room was buzzing with laughter and conversation. Tonight was game night, and it was basically a tradition that you always joined them when they had it.

It had been a week since the ’incident’, and even though you felt that the dynamics weren’t the same, you still felt comfortable. You had been so worried that people would give you dirty looks, or worse, give Wooyoung dirty looks, but everyone seemed more or less fine with the situation.

Well, almost everyone.

While San wasn’t completely silent like he was on that slightly humiliating breakfast, he was still acting differently. You had brought it up with Seonghwa on the car ride to their place.

”Yunho told me that San might be jealous,” you informed. Seonghwa took his eye off the road for a second to look at you with one eyebrow raised. He soon let out an airy laugh. ”He’s like that, yeah.”

You bit your lip, worried about the situation. ”He’s not mad at you, or anyone for that matter,” Seonghwa informed, letting go of the steering wheel to place a comforting hand on your knee. ”He’s just a little pouty, and I think it’s because he’s into you as well.”

You smiled at the thought, placing your hand on top of Seonghwa’s. ”Yeah, I hope that’s it.”

You had spoken to Seonghwa over the phone in the previous week, explaining that you were willing to continually ”expand” your relationship with them, and he was more than happy to hear about it.

”Okay! New teams!” Hongjoong clapped his hands. ”San, Mingi and Jongho, you’ll make a team,” Hongjoong informed. ”And then, me, Seonghwa and Yeosang.”

You heard a loud gasp from Wooyoung as he realized what team he would be in. ”And lastly, Wooyoung, Yunho and Y/n.”

You switched seats until you found yourself squeezed in between Yunho and Wooyoung. ”We’re so lucky to have you on our team,” you said to Yunho, who gave you a proud smile. ”Excuse me? You guys are lucky to have me on your team!” Wooyoung stole your attention, making you and Yunho burst into laughter. ”What!? Have you seen me play this game? I’m a total beast!” Wooyoung said, crossing his arms dramatically.

”Alright, alright! We’ll start!” Mingi decided, rolling the dice and grabbing everyone’s attention. The game went on, and honestly, if it weren’t for Wooyoung, and the ridiculous amount of times that he had played this game, your team wouldn’t have been so successful.

”Place it there,” Wooyoung said into your ear, his lips almost brushing its shell, making you shiver. San’s eyes followed your every move as you moved the piece, his gaze darkening every time Wooyoung’s hand brushed yours.

”You’re really good at this,” Wooyoung almost purred into your ear, making your cheeks warm. Yunho watched him mercilessly flirt with you with a smirk on his face.

”Oh come on,” you heard San groan, making both your and Wooyoung’s head to snap in his direction. ”She’s only doing well because you’re basically spoon-feeding her instructions,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing the dice.

You were quiet for a second, not sure what to make of his words. Thankfully, Wooyoung saved you from the awkward silence that occurred. ”Awww, you jealous Sannie?” he said with a pouty face.

San leaned back in his chair as Jongho made the team’s move. ”I’m not jealous, I’m simply stating facts.”

”If you’re not jealous, then why do you look like you’re about to hit someone?” This time, it was Yunho who was testing San’s limits, leaning closer with a big grin.

”I just don’t like it when people cheat,” San said. You almost laughed at his face. He had no idea how cute he looked when he was angry and pouty. ”Look, it’s just a game, okay?” you said, turning to San.

He stared at you for a second, eyes widened, before sinking back in his chair again. ”Whatever…”

The game continued, and you felt your team coming closer and closer to victory. Mingi started yelling things about it being ”unfair” and how it ”wasn’t his fault that he was unlucky”, causing everyone to laugh.

When your team finally won, Wooyoung placed a big kiss on your cheek, before placing an even bigger one on Yunho’s lips. Wooyoung being very openly affectionate wasn’t new, but you couldn’t help but feel flustered when you saw everyone’s eyes on you as the man leaned close to you, or as he did now, kissed you without a second thought.

All of you helped to clean up all of the games, plus the empty cans and snacks that were spilled everywhere. You frowned when you saw San leaving without even saying goodnight, exchanging a knowing glance with Yunho. ”It’s okay,” he mouthed from across the room, making you shrug your shoulders.

”Congratulations on the win,” Seonghwa said while giving you a hug. It was late, and you were sure everyone was going to bed by now. ”I’m sleepy,” you yawned into your boyfriend’s shoulder before the two of you also went to bed.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You heard Seonghwa’s deep breaths as he slept soundly next to you. You could feel that your body was tired, your eyelids drooping and legs begging you to keep lying down, so why were you so restless?

You looked at Seonghwa’s peaceful state, and admired his beautiful face. If only you could fall asleep that easily.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours (it surely wasn’t) you decided that you wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. No, you knew why you couldn’t sleep, you knew what you needed to do, what your mind ached for you to do.

You carefully got out of bed and put on a shirt, then slowly walked out of the room, avoiding the screechy floorboard to walk to the staircase.

 The house was extremely quiet, so you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous when you took the slow steps towards the room you had in mind.

You slowly opened the door, entering the completely dark room. You knew Yunho was a deep sleeper, so you knew he wouldn’t notice if you silently woke up his roommate to have a chat.

You walked up to the large bed, watching as San hugged a large pillow in his arms. You wished you could take a picture of his cute little face smushed into the pillow like this. You put your hand on his bare shoulder, rubbing slow circles to hopefully wake him up.

You heard small groans as he finally started to stir awake. ”Hm?” he looked up at you with confusion. ”Can we talk for a second?” you whispered, and San immediately nodded, following you out of his room.

”We can go to the living room and just sit down for a bit,” you proposed. He nodded before the two of you took of to the living room.

Although everyone else seemed to have a lighthearted response to it, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in your chest every time San showed those sings of jealousy. That’s why you were now going to sort things out with him, because you knew these feelings would never go away if you didn’t speak to him about it.

When you finally sat down on the couch, you realized how bare he was. He was only wearing his boxers, and although you had seen him like this before, you couldn’t help but look away.

”Look, is everything okay?” you asked, still avoiding his gaze. There was a pretty long pause before San replied. ”I’m fine, it’s just—” he trailed off, wiping his tired eyes. You saw the glint of frustration in his eyes. ”Just what?”

”I don’t like it when he flirts with you like that,” he said, voice getting quieter. You blinked. ”Wooyoung? You know he’s just… like that,” you asked. San’s lips pressed into a line as he sighed.

”Yeah well, it just— feels different,” San explained. You nodded, encouraging him to keep going. ”I’m sorry for being like this, I just… I just hate the way it makes me feel, when he’s like that with you,” he explained. You felt your heart ache from the intense feelings showing themselves in his tone.

”San, you don’t have to feel that way,” you said, taking his hand in yours. ”I—” you took a deep breath, thinking of how to word the feelings inside of you. ”I’ve thought about it and, I don’t just want this with Seonghwa and Wooyoung.”

San looked up, hope glimmering in his dark eyes. ”I like you, too,” you said, breaking eye contact with a shy smile. You swallowed when a silence followed your confession, as you were about to say something, San beat you to it.

”Really? Do you really mean that, Y/n?” he asked. You nodded shyly, and before you knew it, he was leaning in towards you. You felt your heartbeat quicken the closer he got. You could feel his breath against your face, that’s how close he was when he whispered: ”Can I?”

You didn’t even answer the question, instead, you crashed your lips against his. You let yourself give in to the desire you had been feeling way longer than you had admitted to anyone, even yourself.

San’s hand grabbed your hair, his kisses sloppy and full of raw passion. He slowly made his way on top of you, caging you in underneath him with his muscular arms. When he finally broke the kiss, you had to catch your breath for a second.

”Y/n I— You don’t know how long I’ve felt for you,” he started, his hand shakily caressing your face. ”What you mean to me— mean to us, it’s nothing I can express with mere words.”

You smiled. ”I didn’t expect you to be such a romantic, Sannie~” you drew out the nickname, making him bite his lip. ”Well, I am, and you’re going to have to live with it,” he said, before finally kissing you again.

And as the two of you got caught up in the moment, you failed to notice the tall male standing beneath the stairs. Seems like he might’ve not been such a deep sleeper as you expected.

Your hands roamed San’s bare chest, feeling his soft skin under your fingertips. Just as you were about to kiss his neck, you spotted a figure over his shoulder.

”Yunho!” you called out breathlessly, making San almost jump off of you. The two of you put distance between each other, looking down shamelessly as Yunho came closer with his arms crossed.

”Look what we have here,” he said with an amused smirk. ”So this is what having a ’talk’ means to you, huh Y/n?” he asked. You were about to defend yourself, but Yunho soon continued. ”I’ll have to make sure to schedule one for myself.”

Your mouth opened in shock at his bold words. ”Hate to ruin your moment but San, you know you have to get up early tomorrow,” Yunho said, scolding slightly. San pouted, walking up to him reluctantly.

You slowly followed after until the three of you were by the stairs again.

”One last kiss?” San asked, to which you replied with a small peck on his lips, not wanting to give him any more than that, knowing it would make the two of you too desperate and probably unable to fall asleep.

”You want one too, hyung?” San nudged Yunho in the side, making the taller man look at him with an angry expression. ”You’re not the one who can decide that,” Yunho said, but before he could continue, you raised your hands to hold his face.

Yunho’s eyes were wide. ”You want one too?” you asked again, making his ears turn red from embarrassment. Eventually, he nodded shyly, before your lips met him in a chaste kiss.

”Goodnight,” you heard the two say as they headed up to their room, and when you returned to Seonghwa’s, you doubted if you would even get any sleep from the amount of excitement brimming inside of you.

”Baby?” Seonghwa said, reaching for you as you returned to the bed. ”Where have you been?”

You sighed heavily with a big smile on your face. ”I’ll tell you everything tomorrow,” you kissed his forehead. ”Now, we should sleep.”

dm/comment if you want to join the taglist!!! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!💕

taglist: @wooyoungsbrat @dawn-iscozy @fairy-jojo @soso59love-blog @gigglensnort @mimikittysblog @maplelilly05 @pixie0627 @cotton-candycloudz @gugggu6gvai @cpg2020 @therealcuppicake @whyismingi @yizhou-time @vtyb23 @the-belching-toe

masterlist

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sungiescheotluv · 2 days ago

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mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more.

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes that has you breathless. “It’s another form of self-love, is my thinking. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, trying new things and ultimately, living a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried.

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel.

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad.

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance.

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.”

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad.

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone.

Ill with lust, as you’d joke.

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny.

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.”

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

#nct dream fic #jaemin x reader #nct jaemin #na jaemin #nct dream fics #na jaemin x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin x you #jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin x you #nct jaemin x reader #sungiescheotluv fics ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱

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crimsonnsstuff · 1 day ago

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Dark thanos x babysitter reader she came to babysit thanos ' little sister. 'Cause his parents believe he's not responsible enough to take care of his little sister. Reader tried to befriend thanos but after finding out he's an active drug addict after overhearing his parents convo. So she started to stay away from him. Doing everything possible to Stay out of his sight. When parents are overseas and reader has to work overnight. That's when the took his chance with her. She tells him off she has a bf but thanos doesn't care. Non Con pls <333

It’s not exactly as you requested, but I’m lazy! <3

You recently got a new babysitting job. You were babysitting Thanos’s little sister. Thanos was a grade above him, but you have never talked to him. You’ve heard other people talk about him, and how he’s a junkie, but you didn’t think that was true. Sure, he was a bit eccentric.

You knock on the door. To your surprise, Thanos opens the door. You haven’t really seen him before. He had a controller in his hands and a set of headphones on. He lifts one of the muffs up. “What?” “Oh, hi. I’m here for my babysitting job” you mutter. He opens the door, letting you in.

He plops down on the couch. “My parents will be out in a sec.” He groans before going back to his game. You nod and stand there awkwardly. Suddenly, his parents come out, suitcase in hands. “Oh, hi dear!” His mom exclaims. “Hi,” you say softly.

“Sorry, we are in a rush. Make sure yun-hee is in bed before 9. No food or drinks before 7” she says. You nod, “okay, sounds good!” You say smiling. They both rush out the door. You turn to Thanos.

“Where’s Yun-hee?” You ask. He lifts one muff off his ear. “Who knows, probably sleeping. All that little shit does is sleep.” He groans, putting the muffin back over his ear and going back to playing his video games. You sigh, sitting down on the couch next to him and scrolling on your phone.

The rest of the day you played with Yun-hee, having pretend tea parties, letting her braid your hair. You woke up in the middle of the night. You look over at the clock on the nightstand. It was 2am. You stand up. You were only wearing a pair of underwear and a T-shirt. You throw on a pair of shorts.

You quietly tip-toe out of the guest room. You walk into the kitchen, flicking the light on. There was Thanos, in nothing but grey sweatpants. You gulp. “What are you doing up?” He asks. “I’m thirsty. “Where are the cups?” “Top left cabinet.”

You open the cabinet, pulling out a glass. You put it under the tap, filling it up with water. You turn back to look at Thanos and see him putting something in his mouth. “What’s that?” You ask. He holds up a ziploc baggy with several different colored pills, shaking it. “That shits not good for you.” “Why do you care? You’re not my damn mom.”

You sigh and turn back, sipping out of your glass. You feel two cold hands on your waist. You flinch and turn around. “What the hell are you doing!?” You ask, bringing your hand up to slap him, but he catches it before you do. “Playin around.” He says.

He grabs your other hand, pinning them both in front of you with one hand. He brings his other hand up and squeezes your breast through your shirt. “Thanos..!” You whisper-yell. “I-I have a boyfriend!” He looks around the room. “I don’t see him anywhere.” He says, smirking.

Your heart drops. Was this really about to happen? Your eyes tear up. He grins and picks you up, setting you on the counter. “For me?” He says, looking down at your thin shorts. You sniffle. “Don’t cry yet.” He growls.

He pulls your shorts down, along with your panties. “You’re already wet. You like this.” He says, quirking a brow. “N-no, I don’t!” “Yes you do.” He says, plunging 2 fingers into your core, making you double over in pain and pleasure.

He starts to thrust that roughly. His fingers dig into your insides, making you whimper. You grip onto his arm, sobbing softly. He smirks and pulls his fingers out, reaching up and wiping them in your face.

He pulls you off the counter, spinning you around and bending you over it. He yanks his sweatpants down. He pumps his cock a few times. He taps it on your clit and you sniffle. He grunts as he slides into you, your pussy squeezing him so tight. You yelp and he slaps your ass. “Shut up, slut. You want this.” He growls.

You start to think about your boyfriend. What would he do if he saw you like this, bent over a counter while getting railed by this purple haired fuck. Thanos wasn’t even moving, but your legs were shaking from how deep he was. You grunt softly as you feel him tearing your pussy up.

He thrusts in and out roughly and you whimper. He grabs your hair and slams your face down into the counter. Your tears fall onto the marble counter, sobs falling past your lips. He grunts, throwing his head back. “You sound so pretty when you’re crying.” He growls, getting off on your sadness.

He grips your hips, pulling you back onto him in time with his thrusts, completely using you for his pleasure. You squirt on his cock and he snorts from how quick you came, but he doesn’t stop thrusting. “For someone who has a boyfriend, you sure love this.” He says.

You shake your head, unable to get words out. He pushes a hand down on your back, forcing you to arch it more. He slaps your ass, leaving a red handprint. “Fuck, this view..”

You leans down, chest pressing against your back. He pulls your hair, giving himself access to your neck. He bites down on it, making you yelp. He pulls back and lick a tear that was falling down your cheek. He leans back, pulling your hands behind you back and thrusting into you harder.

“Gonna ruin you for your boyfriend..” he grunts out, thrusting deeper and faster, stretching you to the limits. “Shit, shit, shit!” He murmers, cumming deep into your pussy. He keeps thrusting, fuckign his cum deeper into you.

He pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants. He pulls your panties and shorts back up. “Let that drip out and I’m gonna fuck your ass until you can’t walk.” He says, walking out of the kitchen.

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hwaslayer · 2 days ago

Text

the space between us three (jyh) | five.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 6.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, more progress between oc x yunho 🥰, everyone is playing cupid because they feel it in the airrrr lol, a lil tiny, casual family meet and greet, oc talks to yunho a bit about her parents, yunho is absolutely smitten but he's def still struggling with his own feelings and thoughts

yunho: what kind of coffee do you like?

you: that's random. lol but anything sweet? i usually go for coffee with extra cream and sugar. or a vanilla latte!

yunho: gotcha. lol

you: why? what about you?

yunho: i usually just stick to an iced americano.

you: mud water.

yunho: don't say that. ☹️

you: you know we're supposed to be meeting in like 3 mins right? lol

yunho: sorry, gonna be a few mins late? 😅 got a coffee order to take care of!

you: yunho!

You playfully roll your eyes and smile when Yunho doesn't respond on Slack afterwards. It had been a few weeks since you and Yunho began meeting on a weekly basis, all meetings considered productive yet easy-going and laid back. Some had turned to lunch meetings, killing two birds with one stone whenever you or Yunho had to reschedule. You had grown comfortable with Yunho quickly, and to your surprise, Yunho was reciprocating the same energy. You would talk about the most random things in between going through the to-do list of items you needed to check in about. You were slowly getting to know him, and him, you. You couldn't help but feel like your crush on him was growing by minute, though you tried to tell yourself to take it slow and not act too obvious about it since:

One, you didn't wanna look like a fool.

Two, you don't even know if he feels the same.

Three, what if he's not even thinking about dating in general?

Then, you'd look stupid.

You're not gonna lie, though; a part of you felt like he was also interested in exploring this idea. He was just taking his time, too. Probably checking off the boxes on his own list before saying or doing anything.

The Instagram likes were one thing.

Then, it was reacting to your stories. The likes, the messages. The subtle flirting in between the lines.

Yunho was over here in disbelief because he didn't think he'd be shaking off the dust on his instagram page just to keep up with you. He'd even post a few times on his story just to see if you'd do the same— which, you did.

Had him bothering his own daughter to make sure his posts were up to par.

⇢FLASHBACK

"Ace." Yunho calls for Seora as they sit at a café, indulging in drinks and pastries before getting their day started together.

"Huh?" She says, sipping on her iced peach tea.

"How do you add music to your Instagram story?" He furrows his brows.

"The music note at the top right corner .. ?" She lets out a breath. "Wait, hold on. Hand it over." Yunho cocks a brow up before handing his phone to his daughter. "Why are you posting this?"

"It's a nice picture, isn't it? The sun is hitting the drink and the pastry perfectly."

"It's good, but why don't we get some candids? I can take it."

"What, no—"

"Dad, please. It's impressive, but you need to put a little more umph. You've got a face, like jeez .. put it to use." She raises his phone. "Here, just sit and act natural."

"Seora, you don't have to."

"Sit and act natural!" She repeats. "Act like I'm not taking pictures." Yunho chuckles before shaking his head and acting as naturally as possible while sipping his drink. "Amazing." Seora aggressively clicks away before setting his phone back down. "Hm." She goes through the photos she took. "I'll post the best one and add a song to it, okay?"

"Go for it."

"Just so you know, since you are my dad, it'll be free of charge and you don't have to give me credit." He laughs.

"Noted." She pauses and squints at him, trying to read her father while resting her chin on the palm of her hand.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"No one! I can't just post?"

"All of a sudden." She continues to give him a look before resuming her work. "Your Instagram has been sitting in the historical section of the library for years."

"Hey, now. That's an exaggeration. What did I tell you about exaggerating?"

"Yeah huh. You didn't even know how to add music. That's how ancient it is to you." Seora laughs. "Dad, just admit it. It's fine. It won't make me love you any less."

"Are you done?" Yunho cocks his head to the side and playfully squints his eyes at her.

"Actually, yup! Just about." She slides over his phone. "Look at your story. In case you didn't know, you press your profile pic—"

"Ace, I know, okay."

"Sure about that?" She giggles, watching as her dad goes through his story— eyes widening in the process.

"Since when did you get good at taking photos?"

"Since ever, duh."

"Thanks, babygirl. Think you might've saved me there."

"You're welcome. Next time, there might be a service fee. Depending on the day."

"Service fee, huh?"

"Payment accepted are stickers, shopping dates and new Nikes."

"We'll talk."

"Great." Seora smiles just as Yunho ruffles her hair.

⇢END

It's the tiny chase. The pre-chase before the actual chase. Surveying the waters before going out to sea.

Yunho likes that part, and so do you.

You smile a bit to yourself thinking about the tiny moments, typing away and taking care of other items on your list until Yunho's figure appears in the hallway. He's talking to someone across the way, two cups of coffee in his hand. He laughs and bids his farewell before walking into the conference room.

"I'm only 7 minutes late."

"Only?" You snort as he puts your cup of coffee down. "Yunho, you didn't have to." You slightly pout and he smiles.

"Did you have coffee already?"

"No.."

"Then, yeah." Yunho chuckles. "Vanilla latte."

"Thank you." You smile at him before taking a sip. It does hit the spot, and you're not sure if it tastes extra good today because Yunho's the one that brought it. "Hey, is this from the coffee shop on the corner of the hospital wing?" You recognize the name as you've made the trek over a few times if you were truly craving their coffee.

"Mhm."

"They give stickers out with every purchase. Did they give you one?"

"Yeah." He digs into his pocket and slides you a cute cartoon drawing of a capybara holding a cup of coffee. You squeal as you take it into your hands, looking up at him with the cutest look he's ever seen.

"It's different every time! Can I take this off of your hands?"

"Go for it." He chuckles. "Glad you like it. I would've probably tossed it."

"I'll give it a good home." You tuck it into your pencil case.

"I know you will." Cute, is what he's trying to say.

"So, how is your morning so far?"

"Kinda hectic. Seora and I stayed up a little too late watching our show. She got up a few minutes later than usual and she was tired. Woops."

"Yunho." He laughs.

"What? We just get too into it without realizing."

"That's cute."

"Anyway, finally shuffled her out the door, then she realized she forgot a folder she needed for class so we had to turn back and .. yeah."

"Eventful morning."

"To say the least." He chuckles. "What about you?"

"Hm, it's been pretty quiet on my end. But, it is Monday so I'm anticipating the chaos as the week goes on."

"I feel that. Did you have a good weekend at least? You looked like you had fun at the vintage pop-up." Yunho types away on his laptop, the never-ending notification sounds of Slack going off.

"I did! Sian and I grabbed a few gems."

"The mirror pic was cute." You giggle.

"Thanks. How was yours?"

"Good. Seora and I did a little staycation downtown."

"Aw. Do you guys always do that?"

"The staycation kinda thing? Not really. But, we always spend time together doing different things. She wanted to hit a couple of spots down there so I figured we could just make a stay out of it. I think we'll camp next."

"That's so cute." You chuckle. "Glad you enjoyed yourself." He smiles.

"Yeah." He's doing that thing again. His eyes linger on you for a second and you aren't really sure how to respond or react. You break first, shifting your attention to the notes on your laptop before clearing the small tension in the air.

"So, how are things going with the team?"

"Good. I think we're ready to schedule a bigger meeting sooner than later to showcase what we've built so far. The majority is finished and they can just let us know what tweaks they want before we finalize and deploy."

"Oh, really? That's amazing, Yunho!"

"Don't thank me, I barely lifted a finger. It was the clinical informatics team."

"Shut up." You laugh. "You helped push it through with your guidance, regardless." You take a few notes. "How about the network and everything in the peds unit?"

"Should be good to go, too."

"Okay. I'll send out a poll later to the wider group to find a good time for us to meet."

"Sounds good, boss lady." You chuckle to yourself as you set your own reminders before meeting his eyes again. "How's everything else going on your end?"

"Hm, good. We're just waiting on a few approvals regarding patient transfers and all these other clinical roadblocks."

"Keeping you busy, I see."

"Kinda, yeah. But, I like it."

"That's all that matters." He gives you a toothless smile.

"Is there anything else I should include in the meeting agenda for the wider group?"

"I think that's it. It'll be key for them to see the build and watch us play around with it. It'll probably take up most of the meeting."

"Should we aim for an hour?"

"Are you gonna stay for the hour?" You cock a brow up.

"What if I leave?"

"30 mins then." You snort.

"Kidding. I have to, silly."

"1 hour's good then."

"Why does it matter if I'm there or not?"

"I like having you around? You .. have a calming presence. It makes me feel comfortable." You giggle.

"Uh huh."

"Swear. These people can be ruthless."

"I'm sure. I don't doubt that. I'll be there, I have to be. And you'll all do fine, I'm sure they'll be really pleased about the progress no matter what." You sip on your coffee. "Anything else? Going once, going twice?"

"Mm, yeah. Actually. Not to pivot or anything, but they're having food trucks at the hospital courtyard later for lunch. Wanna come?"

"What time?"

"I think they'll start around 11:30am, but we'll probably head down closer to lunch or a bit after."

"Cool. Let me know when you guys are there? I'll try to drag Noeul with me. I'm sure Sian will be there."

"I'll slack you." You shake your head, immediately feeling bold enough to slack him your number.

"My number. So you don't have to Slack me. I don't always check it." He smiles and calls the number before hanging up.

"That's me." He smirks. "Coulda just asked, you know?"

"You're full of it." He laughs as you both stand, gathering your things to head out of the room. "Guess I'll see you for lunch?"

"Mhm. I'm sticking around on this floor to take care of something else. I'll text you where we're at later." He presses the elevator button for you, watching as you safely get inside.

"Sounds good." He gives you a nod of acknowledgement just as the doors slide and close in on you.

Lunch comes quicker than you can even grasp, the sudden wave of emails and little, never-ending tasks taking up your morning hours. It isn't until Noeul pops into your space that it triggers you to check the time again.

11:58am.

"Um, what are you doing?" She knits her brows at you, watching as you furiously type away. "I was waiting for you to come, but you never came."

"Sorry, time literally flew by with all this stuff coming up. But, I'm almost done."

"Okay, let me go pee then. I rushed over thinking you might have left without me."

"What, no?" You laugh just as she scurries off to the bathroom, giving you time to type up the last bits of your email before sending it off and crossing it off on your to-do list.

yunho: we're out here! coming soon?

you: mhm, just waiting for noeul!

yunho: we'll stick around the fountain until you ladies come!

you: [likes message]

"Ready?" Noeul has her wallet in hand, a big smile on her face as she approaches your cubicle once more.

"Are you ready?" You chuckle as you stand and push your chair in.

"Definitely. Starving." She sighs. "So, Yunho invited you, hm? Literally can't get enough of you—"

"Stop it right now. Don't go there." You press the elevator button. "We're just cool. He's chill. It doesn't have to be anything." You give her a look.

"Doesn't have to be anything when he could have just left it at your weekly Monday morning meetings. But, no." She smirks and turns to you as you head inside the elevator. "We got lunch dates and now, food truck dates."

"Okay, you know the lunch meetings were because either of us had to reschedule. And this food truck thing happened on a whim."

"Why are you trying so hard to deny all of it? Girl, it's right in front of your face. The man wants you and I know you do, too." She gently nudges you. "Atta girl." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you scroll senselessly on your phone just to distract yourself.

"Anyway." You let out a breath.

"Uh huh." She giggles.

"Sian's there. Any idea what you're craving?"

"You know, I've been craving a good pad thai." You nod.

"That's sounds right now, actually. With some vietnamese coffee."

"Hope they have a truck for it." The both of you swiftly exit the elevator and start making your trek down the path to the main hospital. There are a bunch of trucks parked around and near the courtyard area, with expectedly a ton of people in attendance from both hospitals. You spot the fountain in the middle, tippy-toeing to see if you can catch a glimpse of Yunho from where you're at.

"Oh, you're here!" Sian says, already with a to-go container in hand. "Where's your guy at?" Noeul laughs loudly.

"Shut up!" You glare at her. "They're by the fountain." You start heading towards the fountain with the two in tow.

"There's so many trucks, I'm overwhelmed."

"All so good, though!" Sian starts talking about what she bought and the other trucks she managed to pass by. When you finally approach the fountain, you find Yunho, Taehyun, Jihoon and a couple of their other team members hanging around— laughing and joking in their usual fashion. His eyes immediately land on you, and his lips turn upward into a big smile. He waves, Taehyun, Jihoon and the others turning your way to greet you with smiles or their own waves.

"Aw, she's here." Taehyun pokes fun at Yunho. "His ears are turning red." Jihoon laughs.

"Never seen that before. Must be a good thing." Yunho squints his eyes at them before you and the girls finally approach the group.

"Hey!" You greet them, along with Noeul and Sian.

"Glad you made it through the sea of people."

"Yeah, there's definitely a lot of people around." You chuckle.

"Hungry? Wanna go find something to eat?" You nod, letting Yunho lead the way. Before you even realize it, You and Yunho end up walking away from the group unintentionally— everyone splitting ways to grab food of their liking without coming up with a plan to meet somewhere in the middle afterwards.

Unless, this was their plan all along.

You can't even spot any of them in the surrounding crowd.

"Anything you're craving?"

"Me and Noeul were just talking about this." You chuckle. "We've been thinking about good pad thai."

"Mm." Yunho hums. "I think they have a truck over there for it. Line is kinda long though, if you're okay with that."

"It's fine. I have time." You look up at him. "What're you gonna eat?"

"Whatever you're eating?" He laughs. "I'm not gonna leave you alone in this line."

"Yunho. I'll be good, you can go find something you like."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm good with whatever. Besides, their garlic noodles sound good." You giggle.

"Okay then! If you say so." You pout a bit and he lets out a tiny laugh.

"How have the past few hours been?"

"The usual. A few emails did wash in and keep me busy. Had two quick check-in meetings over Zoom, too." He nods. "What about you and the team?"

"Yeah, it got kinda chaotic for a second. Lots of things were breaking at once, but we've got a handle on it. Systems are recovering." He checks his phone to make sure nothing else urgent has popped up.

"You guys are always running around."

"We are. Between both hospitals. Gives me a good workout to be running around like crazy." You laugh. "How's your brother doing, by the way? He seems cool. It was nice to see you guys together that one weekend."

"Cool? Please." You playfully roll your eyes. "But, he's good. Living life as he usually does." You chuckle. "We'll probably be back in the next weekend or so. Be prepared to get sick of us. Or, me. I guess."

"Nah, never." Yunho laughs. "I'm glad you'll be around more often. I'm sure your parents are happy about it."

⇢FLASHBACK

"Your favorite child is here—" You smack Wonwoo upside the head as you two head in through the gate of your parents' house. You and Wonwoo decided to spend the night as an attempt to genuinely give them more time and be around them. "Ah-ow." He squints and looks at you.

"I don't recall you helping pick out their new couch last week."

"Oh, because the one weekend I'm away and can't come, you automatically think you're the favorite? Get a grip." You roll your eyes and gently push him to the side before entering the house.

Yunho's car isn't in sight next door.

The both of you greet your parents loudly before going to your old, respective rooms and dropping off your things. Your parents waste no time shuffling you two back out of the house, dragging you along on their usual routine— Costco, other grocery stores and a bit of shopping at the mall. Wonwoo and your father start geeking out over golf clubs, fishing and coffee, while you and your mom are too busy shopping for makeup, bags, perfumes and skincare.

It's nice to see your family like this.

Calm, peaceful and enjoying each other without any side commentary and remarks.

Your family decides to grab a pretty early dinner at the food court— you and your brother opting for some rice bowls, while your mom and dad share some cold noodles. You and Wonwoo start updating your parents about where things are at work, with your mom happily praising Yunho when you mention how often you have to meet with him to push things forward on the IT side. Wonwoo talks a bit about how work has been keeping him busy and how him and the boys are planning more trips in the future. Luckily, your parents don't say much about how you both have been spending your downtime— the two of them too busy fighting over the kind of boba drink they wanna share before leaving the mall.

When you get back, you and Wonwoo clean up and get settled, already feeling hungry again after the small, early dinner you had.

"Hey." You lean against Wonwoo's door frame as he stands from shuffling through his duffle bag.

"Yeah?"

"Kinda want a snack. Ice cream. Something we can take and sit by the pit in the backyard."

"Convenience store trip?" You nod, already dressed in your oversized crewneck and sweats. Wonwoo throws on his hoodie over his shirt, sporting his basketball shorts and slippers. You let your parents know you're trekking down to the store, your dad calling out for you to bring back bottles of soju just as you head out the door.

You let out a breath when the crisp night air touches your skin; breath visible in the cold. As you exit through the gate, you notice Yunho's car is parked now, and you suddenly wonder what he's up to.

"It's a little nostalgic making this walk and sleeping in my room again." Wonwoo cuts in.

"Yeah, I know. I kinda miss those times. When we'd get home from school or head down to the convenience store with our friends before walking deeper into town."

"The simple days."

"Tell me about it." You chuckle, head pointed down as you continue the quiet walk with your brother. The door to the convenience store dings when it swings open, causing you to turn your attention back upwards.

You stop, and Wonwoo knits his brows at you when he sees you've stopped moving forward.

"Oh— Yunho." You pause in your steps when you see Yunho and his daughter come out of the same convenience store. A small smile tugs on the corner of your lips when you get a good look at how much she looks like her dad. She's got height to her, too. Makes sense she's an athlete. She's got dark brown hair, long. Eyes are brown, lashes are long. Her eyes and her nose are exactly her father's. She's dressed in a cute puffer jacket and flare leggings, Ugg slippers. Her dad is in a thick Essentials grey hoodie, jeans and brown Nikes.

"Y/N, hey." He smiles. "Nice to see you."

"Grabbing ice cream after dinner?" You look at the ice cream in their hands.

"Before, actually." He shyly says before chuckling. "Haven't gotten to making dinner yet, we just got home not too long ago."

"Touché. All good. Can't go wrong with that, sometimes." You laugh a bit before turning to Wonwoo. "This is Wonwoo, my younger brother."

"Hey." Wonwoo does a curt bow, which Yunho reciprocates. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too. This is my daughter, Seora."

"Hi." She smiles toothlessly as she sways from side to side, hand in a pocket while the other holds her ice cream cone.

"Hi Seora." You look at her with a soft smile while Wonwoo waves.

"They're Auntie Love and Uncle Po's kids."

"Cool. It's nice to finally put a face to it. Your parents talk about you alot. Like a lot! But we never see you around." She says.

"We just get busy, is all. But, you'll be seeing more of us from now on." Seora nods.

"Are you guys picking up some ice cream, too?"

"Yeah, and other snacks. Drinks for my dad." You chuckle.

"We're about to hang out in the backyard with our parents if you wanna join. Sure they wouldn't mind." Wonwoo adds with a shrug.

"Thanks, that's really nice of you guys. Don't wanna intrude, though. You should definitely take this time with your parents." Yunho responds.

"Well, I'm sure one of us will be knocking at your door with food tonight."

"I can look forward to that." Yunho laughs. "Anyway, we'll get going. Thanks again, and enjoy your goodies." His eyes land on you, and you can't help but feel the heat instantly rise to the surface of your cheeks. He doesn't break contact for awhile, which doesn't make it any easier for you. It isn't until Seora and Wonwoo start walking off that he finally breaks and gives you a tiny smile before following his daughter home.

"Aye." Wonwoo says when you reappear next to him again. "He seems nice. Is that the guy you were talking about? Mom and dad's neighbor that you work with?"

"Yeah, we're working together for the new department. It's also the same guy I almost spilled my coffee on."

"Damn. No wonder you were crying about it." He laughs. "I saw you two."

"Saw .. what?" Wonwoo clicks his teeth and gives you a look.

"Just looking at each other. That's what. Don't play dumb." He grabs the soju bottles for your dad and slips it into the basket.

"Oh. Jeez, that wasn't anything."

"Uh huh. Cause I stare people down on a daily basis the same way you two do."

"Wonwoo." You roll your eyes. "We barely know each other."

"And? Doesn't mean you won't, especially having to work so closely with him." He throws some of his favorite snacks into the basket, along with your favorite chips.

"Well, you know what, whatever happens, happens. Either way, I'm good. You know this."

"I feel that."

"Besides, I know Yunho is worried about his daughter more than anything. Wouldn't that be kinda weird to step into their life and disrupt their whole flow?" You head towards the ice cream. "I can imagine mom having a lot of shit to say about it."

"Dude, mom and dad love him and his daughter. He wouldn't have to do a damn thing to impress them." You laugh.

"Wishful thinking." You shake your head. "Anyway, let's not get ahead of ourselves." You look at him with both your favorite ice cream in hand. "Ready?"

"Yup." You and Wonwoo head to the counter, allowing your brother to [happily] pay for the snacks and drinks. He carries the bag in one hand while you both joke around in your usual sibling fashion until you head your mom's voice echoing in the street.

"My kids! They finally make an appearance! You met them, right? Seora, you've met my kids?! They finally took time to see us—" You watch as Yunho and Seora turn towards you, tupperwares already sitting in Yunho's hands.

"Mom, jeez. You're the loudest thing in this street." Your brother teases, making you laugh. "Airing out our business to the whole damn neighborhood."

⇢END

"I guess so. Even then, our parents will still find ways to rub it in our faces." You let out a small breath, pushing upwards as the line moves.

"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Call me nosey if you want." You cock a brow up as you meet his eyes again.

"Try me."

"Do you and your parents get along well?"

"I guess so. For the most part. We're just like any other family who fights every now and then. Why do you ask?"

"I— I just heard it in your voice that first Monday meeting we had. It just seemed a little deeper, is all. Wanted to see if you were okay."

"Wow, you remember that far back?"

"Well, to be fair, it wasn't that far back. But, yeah. I don't know. I picked up on the shift." You look down at your feet.

"It's really nothing deep. We just argue like any kids do with their parents. They set a lot of their expectations and wishes on us, even if it's not what me and Wonwoo want right now. Or, I guess to put it plainly, they've been putting a lot of pressure on us."

"Which is?"

"Well, you know. The usual settling down and having a family of our own. We have each other, but they still worry that no one else will help take care of us or support us in the long run."

"I know it can get frustrating, but I'm sure the underlying message is that they just wanna see you both happy and taken care of."

"Right, but we're happy with where we're at. We aren't are rushing, but they keep acting like time is running out."

"Hm." He hums again." I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I think we've gotten used to it, and we're both just trying to remember the more positive side of it like you mentioned."

"They care about you two deeply, that's all it is. Nothing about you two doing anything wrong."

"Yeah. I know." You give him a subtle toothless smile before shifting your attention to the front. You finally get to place your order, with Yunho suddenly jumping in right before you get a chance to whip out your card. He relays his order and taps his card against the reader to pay for both meals, walking away with a shit-eating smirk on his face as you follow him in disbelief. "Yunho!"

"What?" He laughs.

"Why'd you do that! You already got me coffee! Let me send you some money."

"No, I wanted to." You pout.

"Are you sure? I mean, the food was kinda pricey, I wanna send—"

"Y/N." He looks at you. "I promise it's fine. I wanted to, so let me, yeah?"

"Okay. Fine. But, I'll get you next time."

"Sure." You whine a bit to protest. The food is whipped up quick, with you and Yunho only waiting another 5 minutes until it's being handed over in a thick plastic bag. You spot your friends and his team members huddled at a table, waving you over to join them while they eat. You plop down next to Sian and Noeul, who have already started eating— to your surprise, Noeul opted for something different than what she was originally craving. The group is engaging in lively conversation, the boys asking a lot about how the pediatrics unit usually is or picking Noeul's brain with HR cases [sparing any sensitive details].

Its nice that you, Sian and Noeul are blending in easily.

Conversation comes easy, even when Yunho is looking at you the way he is from across the table.

In the next 45-mins, both Sian and Noeul run off to a meeting, with a few of Yunho's team members heading back up to tend to service tickets. Taehyun and Jihoon are the last few to bid their farewells before they're leaving you and Yunho alone.

"Let me walk you back."

"You don't have to."

"Y/N, what can I do? I can't pay for you, I can't buy you coffee, I can't walk you. God forbid." You laugh at his teasing and playfully push him aside.

"I just don't want you to do extra work when you'll probably have a shit ton of work to get back to."

"No biggie. I can handle it." You nod. "Did you enjoy your food?"

"Oh my god, yeah. It was so good. How about you?"

"Yeah, it was good. Anything else on your plate for today?"

"We shall see." You look down at the ground. Yunho is literally battling with himself right now, trying to figure out if he should keep asking you to lunch or if he should take the leap and ask if you wanna hang out outside of work hours. You don't break the silence for a good while either; it makes Yunho wonder if you were thinking about similar things, too. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Just kinda spaced out. Maybe the food coma is hitting me." You giggle, stopping at the side entrance of the pediatric hospital.

"Try to take it easy then, okay?" You look up at him and the sun hits you perfectly from where you're standing. You're having to shield your eyes and squint at him, and Yunho thinks it's adorable. He steps to the side to help block the sun rays, making you giggle even more at the use of his tall figure. "I guess I'll see you later?" You smile. "Thank you for walking me, Yunho. I feel kinda bad you have to trek back."

"Ah, can get my steps in." He shifts his weight and rocks back and forth on his feet while looking at you. "Lunch again tomorrow?"

"Sure, yeah."

"I'll text you." He smiles, watching as you nod and wave— shuffling over to the elevator. You give him one last goodbye before the elevator doors swallow you whole, leaving Yunho to his lonely trek back to his headquarters.

Should he have asked?

Would he lose anything by asking?

Is he being too much?

Do you even like him like that? What if it's just your personality to be that kind and sweet?

What if you're like that to everyone and he isn't any—

"Hey." His head turns upwards to see Ara coming out of the hospital.

"Oh, hey."

"Coming back from lunch?"

"Yeah." She nods quietly.

"I see you've been hanging out." Yunho furrows his brows at Ara. She nods towards the pediatrics hospital and he follows her gaze before returning his attention to her.

"Oh. We're working together on the new unit and she's the bridge from the pediatric end. We just meet weekly about updates." She nods slowly, silently.

"Over lunch, too?" Yunho tilts his head to the side. "You seem like you get along well with her."

"Yeah." Yunho pauses a bit. "We're chill."

"That was fast."

"Ara." He calls her name with slight disappointment in his tone. One, he's a little appalled she'd jump to conclusions so quickly. But two, most importantly, he understands why she would be frustrated but who was he to force feelings? He simply didn't feel the same way she did and he's genuinely sorry about it. He tried to bring her down gently and he still stands by what he said— he doesn't think he'd be ready to take on a super serious relationship right away if anything were to evolve.

He'd need to take his time and build his trust, his comfort.

And he just couldn't see that with her.

"All good!" She laughs it off. "Glad you're happy." She nods before brushing him off completely. "Anyway, I gotta run to eat before I do my rounds. See you around!" She flies right on by without giving Yunho any more time. He sighs heavily to himself, mumbling a low 'shit' as he turns on his heel.

"What was that about?" Seonghwa has his hands dug into his pockets as he points his lips behind Yunho.

"A whole misunderstanding."

"That, or she's just hurt." Seonghwa chuckles a bit. "Was it the whole lunch thing? Lunches, I guess. Lunches, meetings, coffee dates, whatever." Seonghwa corrects himself.

"Sure, yeah. Guess you could say that."

"She'll be okay."

"Where the hell were you, anyway? I tried texting you but you didn't respond."

"I went to go see Yoori." Yunho slowly nods.

"Ah. Got it." Seonghwa chuckles and shakes his head.

"Then I got caught up with some people in the lobby. How was the food truck event?"

"Good, they actually had some really good trucks posted there today."

"Damn. It's okay. Next time."

"Yeah, I'm sure your time with Yoori was eventful, anyway."

"Fuck off. Y/N came?" It's no secret that Yunho had already mentioned you to Seonghwa and Mingi at this point. Not only because you two were meeting frequently, but because he started to open up to his bestfriends about how comfortable you made him feel and how he had been interested in possibly exploring things further. They know what Yunho is like when he genuinely has feelings for someone and is deeply interested, and this is it. The constant messaging, down to meet up during the work day without question, dusting off the Instagram page to catch each other's attention— it feels like forever since they've seen Yunho gush over someone the way he had been doing with you.

They're glad, though.

They hope this takes off properly.

They hope it all works out well.

"Sure did."

"How was that?"

"Good." Yunho smiles a bit to himself.

"When am I gonna meet her?"

"Well you could've if you weren't so busy tending to your needs." Seonghwa clicks his teeth.

"She looked cute."

"She is cute."

"Okay, maybe you do move on fast." He jokes.

"Correction." Yunho looks at him. "I put myself out there and gave it a shot with Ara just like all you assholes told me to and it didn't work out. Sorry." He shrugs. "I don't know what you want me to say." Seonghwa laughs.

"I'm just teasing. I know, I know. And that's fair. I can't blame you." There's a small silence before Seonghwa breaks the air again. "Well, it seems like you and Y/N are getting along more and more every day. It's nice to see."

"Yeah, we are. It's nice having her around and working with her on all these things."

"When are you gonna ask her out?"

"That's a good question." Yunho kicks at the ground below his feet before shrugging. "Am I?"

"Yeah? Absolutely."

"I don't know. I'm kinda shy to after the whole Ara thing."

"Well again, to be fair, that was you testing the waters. This is slightly different since you both are genuinely interested in each other."

"I dunno if she is."

"Quit that shit, okay? If she wasn't, she wouldn't be wasting time on your ass." Yunho sighs.

"I should've asked her while she was with me earlier."

"You can always text her if you can't wait."

"I don't wanna be lame, though."

"You're not! It's all in the beginning stages, you're not gonna have everything down perfectly no matter how hard you try."

"I guess so. I'll think about it tonight."

"Don't lose out on it." Yunho licks his lips, interrupted by the notifications blaring through his phone. He sees a few urgent issues coming up, causing him to rub at the back of his neck before groaning and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

"Anyway, gotta run. Got some shit to take care of. I'll talk to you later."

"Don't text or call me unless you have good news to share."

"Fuck you." Yunho mouths out before doing a light jog towards the old hospital to take care of business with Taehyun.

"I mean it!" Seonghwa says loudly before walking towards the café for more coffee.

As the day goes on, both you and Yunho end up getting swamped with tasks here and there— the both of you leaving work a little later than your end times. You swing by the store to grab a few more groceries needed for dinner, while Yunho gets home and quickly showers to prep dinner for him and Seora. Although you had been busy, you had been wondering what Yunho was up to and vice versa.

Yunho, especially.

He manages to whip up some spaghetti, having a good, hearty conversation with his daughter about how school and practice went today. Yunho listens attentively when she complains about her teacher assigning a report due at the end of the week, listens attentively when she talks about a new play their coach pulled out during practice. He listens attentively to all the little quirks and details of her day, exchanging his own when she asks how work was and if he enjoyed the food trucks that came by.

Even throughout all of that, a part of him is still stuck on you.

You.

Torn and getting pulled in all different directions.

Bedtime comes and .. he still hasn't decided. All this internal back and forth is starting to make Yunho feel frustrated because of Ara, because of Eunha— because he thinks he just can't get past losing someone else, or not finding someone who could be a fit for him, his daughter.

He's scared.

He's scared he'll never get to experience that ever again, and if he does, it'll probably just get taken away from him.

Again.

That's why he hesitates. He's not sure if he has it in him, but at the same time, he knows he has to get past this. He has to try, and he has to stop assuming they'll all end badly in one way or another.

"Fuck." He mumbles to himself as he slightly sits back up, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

Should he wait? It's getting late.

He watches the minutes pass him by before he pulls up your number and begins to type away, thinking of some kinda excuse to pull himself outta this shit before it's too late.

But, he can't help it. He wants to text you.

Fuck it.

yunho: hey! sorry for the late text. hope i'm not bothering you.

Your eyes dart to your phone sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter while you continue to massage your night cream into your face, slowing your motions and smiling to yourself when you see who has finally put your number to use outside of work hours. You massage the remaining cream down to your neck before picking up your phone to respond.

you: hey you! you're not a bother. ☺️

yunho: oh, you're awake?!

you: i don't sleep that early! haha.

yunho: idk you said you fall asleep at like 8pm. lol

you: i said sometimes i'm in bed by 8pm but i don't fall asleep until later! i just get lazy and don't wanna do anything at the end of the day. lol

yunho: okay fine, fair enough! i'll let it pass.

you: please, hahaha

yunho: soooo .. this is kinda lame and i should've done it earlier but i was shy about it 😭

yunho: but, by any chance, do you wanna grab dinner and kick it at the end of the week? no pressure or anything.

you: not lame! lol. i'd love to, yunho. ☺️ sounds fun!

yunho: really? 😀 cooooool. let me plan and think of a few things we could do.

you: sounds good w/ me!

yunho: i'll let you get to bed. see you tomorrow?

you: mhm, mhm! goodnight. 😌

yunho: goodnight y/n, sweet dreams.

You bite onto your bottom lip as you giggle to yourself and grab your lip mask before happily waddling to bed. You let out a squeal against your pillow, instantly texting Sian and Noeul about what just transpired.

The end of the week couldn't come any quicker.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus

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ippipo · 2 days ago

Text

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #lnds #lads x reader #x reader #fanfic #lads caleb #lads fanfic #lads fluff

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lemonsdietcoke · 11 hours ago

Text

Get Gone - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 3 of my mini series love ridden

Warnings: physical abuse, DV, implied NONCON, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and intense depictions of psychological distress. Reader discretion is advised.

Summary: “How many times do I have to say To get away, get gone?” A late-night confrontation unearths buried truths, forcing you to confront the cost of her own survival. loosely inspired by Get Gone-Fiona Apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: yall I’m sorry this took so long, I have work & school during the week and low-key got lazy lol but it’s finally here!!! Lmk if yall fw it. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!! <3

…………………….

The room feels smaller now, the air pressing down on you like it’s alive, like it’s conspiring with him. Every second ticks by painfully, loud and sharp in your ears. You swear you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“If you walk out that door,” Su-bong says again, his voice low, deliberate, “you’ll never see me again.”

There’s no anger in his tone, no malice. Just a quiet certainty that chills you to your core. It should feel like a relief—like a clean break. But instead, it feels like a threat wrapped in a promise.

Your hands tighten around your phone. Ji-hye’s name still flashes on the screen like a lifeline you’re too afraid to grab.

“Why would you say that?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s the truth,” he says, tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watches you. “I don’t want to play games anymore, Y/N. I can’t do this halfway. Either you stay, and we figure this out together, or you leave… and that’s it.”

The simplicity of his words makes them hit harder. They slice through you like glass, leaving behind wounds you can’t see but can feel.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

His lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. “Don’t I?”

You feel like the floor is shifting beneath you, like the ground you’ve been standing on has suddenly turned to quicksand. “You’re just saying that to scare me,” you accuse.

“Am I?” His voice is calm, measured, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. “You think I don’t mean it, but deep down, you know I do. You know I’ve always meant it when it comes to you.”

“Stop,” you say, your voice cracking.

“Why?” he presses, taking a slow step toward you. He’s close now, too close, his presence overwhelming. “Because you don’t want to hear it? Because you don’t want to admit that it scares you?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you shoot back, even though your heart is hammering in your chest.

“No,” he says softly, almost thoughtfully. “You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of what happens if you leave. You’re scared because you don’t know who you are without me.”

Your stomach twists violently. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice softens, but that only makes it worse. “You don’t want to leave, Y/N. You’re just trying to convince yourself that you do. But we both know the truth. You’ve always been afraid of being alone.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” His words are quiet, but they land with the force of a wrecking ball. “You stayed with me for two years, even when you knew you should’ve left. You forgave me for things most people wouldn’t. And why? Because you didn’t want to be alone. Because you don’t know how to be alone.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to do this,” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “You don’t get to make this about me. You’re the one who—”

“I’m not making this about you,” he interrupts, his tone sharpening. “I’m just telling you the truth. You don’t want to hear it, fine. But don’t act like I’m the bad guy for saying it.”

You let out a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you struggle to hold yourself together. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

He scoffs, the sound low and bitter. “I know everything about you, Y/N. I know how you think, how you feel. I know you better than anyone, including Ji-hye.”

The mention of her name sends a jolt through you, sharp and electric.

“that’s who you’ve been talking to, right?” he asks, his voice dropping into something quieter, more dangerous. “Ji-hye?”

Your throat tightens. “She’s my friend. Of course I’ve been talking to her.”

“About me?” His question is calm, but there’s something venomous just beneath the surface.

“She’s my best friend,” you say, lifting your chin even though your hands are shaking. “I tell her everything.”

His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought what we had was private. I guess I was wrong.”

“Private?” you repeat, your voice rising. “You’ve been calling me nonstop for weeks, leaving voicemails threatening to kill yourself, and now you want to talk about privacy?”

“That’s different,” he snaps, his control slipping for the first time.

“Is it?” you shoot back, your voice cracking. “Because it feels a hell of a lot like you’re just mad that I told someone the truth about you.”

He steps closer, and you instinctively take a step back. “You’re the one dragging her into this,” he says, his voice low but cutting. “You’re the one making this worse.”

“She’s worried about me!” you shout, your emotions spilling over, raw and unfiltered. “She’s worried because she knows what you’re like!”

His expression darkens, his gaze boring into yours. “She doesn’t know you like I do. She doesn’t know what you’re like when you’re falling apart. When you’re scared. When you don’t know what you want.”

“I know what I want!” you yell, your voice breaking. “I want to leave!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Then go,” he says, his tone soft but razor-sharp. “But don’t come back. Because if you walk out that door, Y/N…” He pauses, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “I promise you’ll never see me again.”

Your chest tightens, panic clawing at your insides. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m done,” he says simply. “I’m done chasing you, done begging you to talk to me, done waiting for you to figure out what you want.”

You stare at him, your mind racing, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen, Ji-hye’s name flashing like a lifeline.

“She’s outside,” you say, your voice trembling. “She’s waiting for me.”

He doesn’t react at first. And then—

“Of course she is.” His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “You always need someone to save you, don’t you?”

The words hit you like a slap, the sting radiating through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Go ahead,” he says, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door. “Run to her. But don’t pretend you’re doing this for you. We both know you don’t have the guts to face this on your own.”

Your legs feel like lead, your heart pounding as you take a shaky step toward the door.

And as you reach for the handle, his voice cuts through the silence one last time.

“When you realize I’m right,” he says softly, “don’t bother coming back.”

You don’t look at him as you open the door.

But you feel his eyes on you the whole way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car door shuts behind you with a heavy, final thud.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your own ragged breathing, loud and uneven in the stillness of the cabin. The air inside feels thick, stagnant. You reach for your seatbelt with trembling hands, but the buckle slips from your fingers twice before you manage to click it into place.

Ji-hye doesn’t start the car. She doesn’t even move.

Her knuckles are wrapped tight around the steering wheel, her nails biting into the leather. The dim glow of the dashboard casts her face in sharp relief — her set jaw, the hard line of her mouth, the slight tremble in her lips she’s fighting to keep still.

Her eyes flicker toward you, then away, like she can’t bear to look too long. “You okay?” she asks, her voice low, strained. The question sounds more like an accusation than concern.

You nod — a jerky, unconvincing motion that does nothing to quiet the storm inside you. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

Her fingers tighten on the wheel, the tendons standing out in sharp relief. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just…” You press your hands to your lap, flattening them against the fabric of your dress to keep them from shaking. “I just want to go home.”

She exhales sharply, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. But she doesn’t start the car.

“What happened, Y/N?” Her voice is still low, but there’s an edge to it now — a tremor beneath the surface, like she’s holding herself back from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking the truth out of you.

“Nothing happened,” you say too quickly, too defensively.

Ji-hye’s head snaps toward you, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t bullshit me.”

You flinch at the sharpness in her tone, the anger laced through it, though you know it’s not directed at you.

“I…” You shake your head, your breath hitching. “I don’t know.”

Her jaw tightens. She turns back to the steering wheel, but her fingers twitch against it, like she’s holding herself back from punching something. “What the fuck does that mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t remember!” The words explode out of you before you can stop them, loud and jagged and filled with panic. Your chest heaves, and your eyes sting as the tears start to well up again. “I don’t fucking remember, Ji-hye! I blacked out, okay? I don’t know what happened!”

She goes still, completely still, her hands frozen on the wheel. Slowly, she turns to look at you again. “You don’t remember anything?”

Your breath hitches, and you shake your head.

Her gaze sharpens, her eyes scanning your face like she’s searching for the pieces of a puzzle you can’t see. “But you woke up there,” she says finally, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “At his place.”

You nod, and the weight of the admission makes your chest tighten, makes the shame press down harder.

Ji-hye leans back in her seat, dragging a hand through her hair. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath.

Her reaction makes your stomach churn. “I—” Your voice cracks, and you have to swallow hard before you can speak again. “I don’t know if anything happened.”

Her head snaps toward you again, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now, hot and relentless. You clutch at your dress, twisting the fabric in your fists as the words come tumbling out. “I don’t remember getting there. I don’t remember going to bed. But when I woke up—” Your voice falters, your breath hitching painfully. “There were bruises, Ji-hye. On my thighs. And my underwear was—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

The silence in the car is suffocating.

Ji-hye doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and when you finally glance at her, her expression makes your chest tighten even more. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and her eyes are dark, her gaze fixed on the dashboard like she’s barely holding herself together.

“You think he—” She can’t even finish the question.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, the words barely audible. “I don’t know, Ji-hye. But what if he didn’t? What if I’m just overthinking it? What if I’m—”

“Stop.” Her voice cuts through your rambling, sharp and commanding. She turns to you fully now, her gaze locking onto yours. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“But—”

“There is no ‘but,’” she snaps, her voice rising. “You were drunk, Y/N. If he did anything — anything — that you didn’t consent to, it’s not your fault. Do you understand me?”

You can’t answer. Your throat is too tight, your chest heaving as you fight to keep yourself together.

Ji-hye exhales sharply, dragging her hands through her hair again. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, her voice trembling now. “That fucking piece of shit.”

Her words make your stomach twist, the nausea bubbling up again. “What if I—”

“You didn’t do anything,” she cuts you off again, her voice softening but no less firm. “Do you hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one—” She stops herself, her voice breaking on the last word. She clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable.

Finally, Ji-hye starts the car, but she doesn’t drive. The engine hums beneath you, the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

“What do I do?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Ji-hye’s hands tighten on the wheel. She stares straight ahead, her gaze burning with quiet fury. “You don’t go back to him,” she says, her voice steady now. “Not ever. I don’t care what it takes, Y/N. He doesn’t get to be a part of your life anymore.”

You swallow hard, her words cutting through the fog in your mind like a lifeline.

“We’ll figure it out,” Ji-hye says, her voice softening. She reaches over, her hand resting on yours. Her grip is warm and steady, grounding you. “I promise. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

The weight of her words sinks into you, anchoring you to the moment. You don’t know what comes next. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to put the pieces of last night together.

But for now, you let her words steady you. For now, you let yourself believe her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air smells like caramelized sugar and charred meat. Smoke curls from food stalls, the sizzle of grilling pork belly mingling with the faintly sweet aroma of tteokbokki simmering in spicy sauce. Somewhere in the distance, someone’s laughing, the sound light and bright, cutting through the low hum of the crowd.

Ji-hye’s arm loops through yours, her grip warm and grounding as she steers you through the maze of vendors. It’s loud here, chaotic in the way only street markets can be, but you’ve missed it—this pulsing rhythm of life, the neon lights reflecting off puddles of rainwater on the pavement, the voices overlapping as vendors shout over one another to hawk their food.

“Y/N,” Ji-hye says, tilting her head toward a stall where skewers of fish cake glisten in the warm glow of a heat lamp. “You want one?”

You start to shake your head, but the look on her face stops you. She’s been trying so hard to pull you out of your own head, to make you laugh, to make you eat.

“Sure,” you say. Your voice feels foreign, stiff and distant, but Ji-hye beams anyway.

She orders two skewers, handing one to you before taking a bite of her own. “This is the best part about winter,” she says, her words muffled around a mouthful of food. “I swear I could eat eomuk every single day.”

You take a bite, the broth-soaked fish cake warm and savory on your tongue. It’s good—comforting, even—but it doesn’t reach the hollow ache in your chest.

Ji-hye is still talking, something about the new club opening next weekend, but her voice fades into the background as your gaze snags on something across the street.

Purple hair.

Your breath catches in your throat, the skewer trembling slightly in your hand. It’s not him—it’s a girl, her hair cropped short and spiked, her face unfamiliar—but your body doesn’t know the difference.

Your heart is racing, the world around you narrowing to a pinpoint. The noise of the market fades, replaced by the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

“Y/N?” Ji-hye’s voice cuts through the haze, her hand on your arm.

You blink, your chest heaving as you drag your gaze away from the girl. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Her brow furrows, concern etched into every line of her face.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a shaky smile. “I just—thought I saw someone I knew.”

Her lips press together, like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she squeezes your arm and changes the subject, dragging you to the next stall.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. You smile when Ji-hye laughs, nod when she talks, but your mind is elsewhere. Your skin feels too tight, your senses stretched thin. Every shout from a vendor, every gust of cigarette smoke, every glimpse of purple in the crowd sends your heart skittering in your chest.

When you finally part ways with Ji-hye, your cheeks ache from forcing smiles, and your stomach churns with the weight of pretending.

The walk home is quiet. The market’s noise fades into the background as you leave it behind, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog.

Your apartment building looms ahead, its shadow stretching long and dark across the street.

You reach the door, your fingers trembling slightly as you punch in the code. The lock beeps, the door clicking open, and you step inside, the familiar scent of your apartment wrapping around you like a blanket.

Safe.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them by the door. The silence is heavy, pressing, but it’s better than the noise. Better than the chaos.

You make your way to the bathroom, the tiles cold under your bare feet. The fluorescent light flickers to life, casting your reflection in sharp relief.

You look… tired.

But not the same kind of tired you were before. It’s different now—less hollow, less fragile. Still frayed around the edges, but stitched together enough to pass.

You wash your face, the cool water shocking against your skin. Your movements are slow, methodical, each step of your routine grounding you just a little more.

The week since you left Su-bong’s apartment has been a blur.

You’ve thrown yourself into small, safe routines: going to work, meeting Ji-hye for meals, scrolling aimlessly through your phone until sleep overtakes you. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to drown out the questions.

For the first time in years, you feel like you’re breathing again. Slowly. Unevenly. But breathing.

Ji-hye says you look better. Healthier.

You believe her, mostly. Even though you still jump at sudden noises. Even though crowds make your chest feel tight. Even though you sometimes find yourself scanning unfamiliar faces for someone who isn’t there.

The clock reads 12:03 AM when you finally collapse onto the couch, a mug of tea cooling in your hands.

You’ve only just started to relax when the knock comes.

At first, you think you imagined it.

You weren’t expecting anyone this late.

Then it comes again. Louder this time.

You freeze.

Another knock.

“Y/N.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him.

No. No, this isn’t possible. He doesn’t even know where you live.

You moved after the breakup. You didn’t tell anyone except Ji-hye.

So how the fuck does he know?

Your chest tightens, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you stare at the door.

Another knock.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.”

His voice is slurred, thick with alcohol or something stronger.

“I just want to talk. Please.”

Your fingers dig into the couch cushion, your nails scraping against the fabric.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, the words cracking in his throat. “I shouldn’t have said those things. You know I didn’t mean them.”

The lump in your throat grows heavier, your stomach twisting violently.

“Don’t ignore me.” His tone shifts, harder now. “I can see the lights are on.”

Your pulse roars in your ears. You grab your phone from the coffee table, your hands trembling as you scroll to Ji-hye’s name.

The knocking stops, but his voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers freeze.

“Just open the door, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a lead blanket.

“I need to see you.”

No.

“You’re not being fair, you know that? After everything we’ve been through…”

You press the phone to your chest, your other hand gripping the armrest so tightly your knuckles ache.

“Do you really want me to cause a scene?” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but the threat is clear beneath it. “Your neighbors don’t need to hear this, do they?”

The knot in your chest tightens, fear and anger twisting together into something sharp and unbearable.

“Come on,” he says again, his voice breaking slightly. “Please. I just… I just need to talk to you.”

The silence stretches, your own breathing ragged in the quiet.

Then, a softer knock.

“I’ll leave if you just talk to me,” he says. “I swear.”

You close your eyes, your stomach churning violently.

You don’t want to open the door.

You don’t want to see him.

But you know Su-bong.

You know how loud he can get when he doesn’t get his way.

And it’s late. Your neighbors are probably asleep.

You take a shaky breath, your body trembling as you rise to your feet.

The floor feels unsteady beneath you as you make your way to the door, every step heavier than the last.

Your fingers tremble as you unlock the deadbolt, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.

You open the door just a crack, your body blocking the gap.

And there he is.

His hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled and half-untucked. His eyes are bloodshot, his pupils blown wide. The faint smell of alcohol wafts off him, mixing with the cloying scent of his cheap cologne.

But it’s his expression that makes your stomach drop.

The desperation in his eyes.

The anger lurking just beneath it.

“Y/N.”

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, soft and broken.

You grip the doorframe, your nails digging into the wood. “What do you want, Su-bong?”

“I want to talk.” He shifts his weight, his hands twitching at his sides. “That’s all. Just… just talk to me.”

The second you crack the door an inch more, you regret it.

It’s instinctive, the way you step back as he pushes forward, brushing past you into the apartment like it’s his. Like there aren’t layers of pain, distance, and boundaries between you now.

“Su-bong, wait—”

“I’m not waiting,” he says, his voice low, a slur of alcohol softening the edges. “Not after you’ve been ignoring me for a week.”

He’s already halfway to the couch. The door is still open, the cold night air seeping in as you stand frozen, your fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe like it might ground you.

He turns back to glance at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of your apartment. “You’re going to leave it open?”

You blink, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, reluctantly, you close the door.

The sound of the lock clicking into place feels like a nail in your coffin.

When you turn back, he’s sitting on your couch, slouched like he’s settling in for a long stay. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands clasped together loosely, but there’s nothing casual about the way his gaze locks onto you.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” His voice carries a hint of something sharp, but his eyes stay soft, almost sad. “I didn’t even know where to find you, Y/N. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

You stay near the door, keeping as much distance as you can, your pulse roaring in your ears. “How did you even—”

“How did I find you?” He cuts you off, leaning back into the couch like he owns it, like it’s still the one you used to share. “I have my ways.”

Your stomach churns. The vagueness in his tone makes your skin crawl. “What do you want, Su-bong?”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “What do I want? I want to know why you blocked me.”

His words hit like a slap, the audacity of them stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His gaze sharpens, the softness in his eyes hardening. “You didn’t even let me explain, Y/N. You just—what? Cut me out? Pretend I don’t exist?”

“I had to,” you say, your voice trembling. “You wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Because I needed you!” The words burst out of him, loud and raw, echoing in the quiet apartment. “I didn’t know where else to go! I didn’t know what else to do!”

Your throat tightens, your chest heaving as you fight to keep your composure. “That’s not my problem anymore, Su-bong.”

He flinches, just slightly, but the hurt in his eyes is quickly replaced by something sharper. “You really think you can just shut me out like that? Like I don’t matter?”

“I never said you don’t matter,” you whisper. “I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?” he demands, standing suddenly. The movement makes you instinctively take a step back, your fingers brushing against the wall behind you.

“This.” You gesture between the two of you, your voice cracking. “You calling me nonstop. Showing up here. Saying things you can’t take back. I couldn’t—” Your voice falters, breaking on the words. “I couldn’t keep letting you drag me down with you.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Drag you down?” he repeats, his tone quiet but venomous.

You press yourself harder against the wall, your palms flat against the cool surface. “You know what I mean.”

He takes a slow step toward you, and your stomach twists violently. “No,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t think I do.”

“Su-bong, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just leave.”

He stops, just a few feet away from you now. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Your breath hitches, your chest tightening painfully. “Get what?”

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “You’re scared,” he says finally, his tone softening. “You’re scared because you don’t know what you’re doing without me.”

The words land like a punch to the gut. “That’s not true,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Yes, it is.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. “You’ve always been scared of being alone, Y/N. That’s why you stayed with me for so long, even when you knew you shouldn’t.”

Your nails dig into the wall behind you, the sharp pain grounding you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice softens, but it only makes the words hit harder. “You blocked me because you couldn’t handle it. Not because you’re over me. Not because you’re moving on. But because you’re scared of facing me.”

Your vision blurs with tears, your chest heaving. “That’s not true.”

“It’s not?” His voice drops to a whisper, his eyes searching yours. “If it’s not true, why’d you let me in?”

The question cuts deeper than you want to admit.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why I let you in.”

His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile, something that makes your stomach twist. “I do,” he says softly.

“What do you mean?”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull back.

“You let me in,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, “because you still love me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s not—”

“You do,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “And that’s okay. I’m not mad about it. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand lingers on your arm, and you feel like you’re drowning, like the walls are closing in on you.

“Su-bong, please,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face now. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says, his voice soft and coaxing. “Just… let me stay. Just for a little while.”

You shake your head, your breath hitching. “I don’t want you here.”

“Yes, you do,” he says quietly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to say it, but I know you do.”

The weight of his hand on your face is unbearable.

And in that moment, you realize—

You’re trapped.

His hand lingers on your cheek, warm and steady, but the weight of it feels crushing. Your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurring as his thumb brushes gently over your skin. It’s too much — the closeness, the intimacy he’s trying to pull you back into.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t.

“You don’t have to fight this,” Su-bong says softly, his voice slurring at the edges. “I’m not your enemy, Y/N.”

The words twist in your chest, sharp and suffocating. You push his hand away, your fingers trembling as you take a step back.

“You need to leave.” Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge of panic creeping into it.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he watches you, his gaze heavy and unreadable. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice low and raw. “Why are you pushing me away when you know—”

“Know what?” you snap, cutting him off. “What the fuck do I know, Su-bong? Because right now, I don’t know anything.”

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” you continue, your voice rising, breaking under the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know why you can’t just leave me alone. And I don’t know what the fuck happened that night.”

The room goes still.

For a moment, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

Your chest tightens, your stomach twisting violently. “Don’t do that,” you say, your voice cracking. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

He shakes his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“Stop lying!” The words burst out of you, loud and jagged, echoing in the suffocating silence. Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, as you take a shaky step forward. “Stop fucking lying to me, Su-bong!”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Your voice breaks, the weight of your anger and fear crashing over you all at once. “You’ve been lying this whole fucking time, haven’t you? About everything.”

His gaze flickers, something dark and frantic flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Tell me what happened that night,” you demand, your voice trembling but unrelenting. “Tell me what you did.”

He flinches, just slightly, but it’s enough.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. “I woke up in your bed, Su-bong. I had bruises on my thighs. My underwear was backward.” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight of the words. “And I don’t remember anything.”

His face goes pale, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he quickly looks away.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Fucking say something.”

He drags a hand through his hair, his movements jerky and unsteady. “I didn’t—” He stops, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might shatter. “I didn’t mean for it to—”

Your stomach drops. “For it to what?”

His gaze snaps back to you, wild and panicked. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?” His voice rises, cracking at the edges. “You were just—”

He stops himself again, his words hanging in the air like a noose tightening around your throat.

“I was just what?” you demand, your voice trembling. “Say it, Su-bong. Finish your fucking sentence.”

He doesn’t.

He looks at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as if he’s searching for the right words. But none come.

And that’s worse than anything he could have said.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. Your mind spins, piecing together fragments of the truth you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Did you…” The words catch in your throat, your stomach churning violently. “Did you touch me?”

“No,” he says quickly, too quickly.

You flinch, the sharpness of his denial cutting through you like a blade. “Then why can’t you just tell me what happened?”

His hands shake at his sides, his knuckles white as he clenches them into fists. “Because it doesn’t fucking matter, Y/N!”

The words hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“It doesn’t matter?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not what you think, okay? I didn’t—” He stops himself again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

The room tilts, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

“That far?” you whisper, your chest tightening painfully. “What the fuck does that mean, Su-bong?”

He doesn’t answer.

The silence is deafening, your pulse roaring in your ears as you stare at him, waiting, hoping for something—anything—that makes sense.

But all you get is the look on his face.

The guilt.

The shame.

The fear.

And you know.

You know.

Your legs give out, and you sink to the floor, your back pressing against the wall as your breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft now, pleading. He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “Don’t come near me.”

“Please,” he says, his tone desperate. “Just let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” you say, your voice cracking. “You did it, didn’t you?”

His silence is all the confirmation you need.

You press your hands to your face, your tears spilling over, hot and relentless.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I swear, I didn’t—”

“Get out.”

The words are quiet but firm, cutting through the suffocating tension like a knife.

“Y/N, please—”

“Just fucking go!” you scream, your voice raw and jagged, echoing through the apartment.

He doesn’t.

“Get the fuck out!” you scream again, your voice raw and jagged, slicing through the suffocating tension.

But Su-bong doesn’t move.

Instead, he stares at you, his chest heaving, his face twisting into something you can’t quite recognize. Something darker. “I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low, dangerous.

Your stomach twists violently. “You need to leave, Su-bong. Now.”

“Why?” he snaps, his voice rising. “So you can sit here and hate me? So you can keep twisting this into something it’s not?”

“Something it’s not?” Your voice cracks, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “You just admitted it! You just fucking said—”

“I said I didn’t mean for it to go that far!” he shouts, cutting you off. His face is flushed now, his eyes wild, the faint slur in his voice sharper. “That’s not the same thing!”

“It’s exactly the same thing!” you scream back, the words ripping out of you like a knife. “You knew I was drunk! You knew I couldn’t—”

“You didn’t say no,” he interrupts, his voice low and venomous.

The room falls silent.

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

And then, quietly, trembling—

“That never stopped you before.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Su-bong’s face twists, something dark and ugly flashing across it. His jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” you say, your voice shaking but firm. “You’ve always pushed, always taken. And I—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I let you, because I loved you. Because I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you!” he shouts, his voice breaking. He takes a step closer, his movements unsteady, uncoordinated. “I’ve always fucking loved you!”

“Love?” you laugh bitterly, the sound harsh and cutting. “This isn’t love, Su-bong. This is control. This is you trying to fucking own me.”

“I don’t want to own you!” he yells, his voice cracking. “I just—” He stops, dragging a hand through his hair, his movements erratic. “I just want you to stay. I just want us to be okay again.”

“There is no ‘us,’” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “Not anymore.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. He staggers back slightly, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

And that’s when it happens.

He lunges forward, grabbing your wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you flinch. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Y/N. Don’t fucking do this.”

“Let me go.” Your voice is sharp, but your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Not until you listen to me!” he shouts, his grip tightening slightly.

“Let me go!” you scream, jerking your arm back. The force of it sends you both stumbling, and for a moment, everything is chaos.

Your hand connects with his chest—an instinctive push to get him away from you. He stumbles again, his back hitting the edge of the couch.

And then he snaps.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall beside him. The sound is loud, jarring, the plaster cracking under the force. “Why the fuck do you always have to make everything so goddamn hard?”

Tears stream down your face, hot and relentless, as you back away from him. “Get out,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Su-bong.”

“I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “Not until you stop lying to yourself. Not until you admit you still love me.”

You laugh. Bitter. Sharp. The sound scrapes its way out of your throat, raw and venomous.

“Love you?” you say, the words trembling on the edge of rage. “I fucking hate you.”

The air in the room shifts.

His expression changes — a flicker of something unrecognizable crossing his face before it hardens into something darker. He steps toward you, his chest heaving, his fists still clenching at his sides.

“What did you just say?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet.

“You heard me,” you snap, your voice rising, shaking. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate what you’ve done to me, what you’ve made me. I fucking hate you, Su-bong.”

For a second, you think he’s going to hit you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he reaches for the mug sitting on the table beside him.

“You hate me?” he says, his voice shaking with barely-contained rage. “After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve put up with?”

The mug is in his hand now, his knuckles white as he grips it.

“You could barely last a week without me,” he spits, his voice rising. “You think you’re so fucking strong now? You’re nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing.”

And then he throws it.

It happens so fast, you barely have time to react.

The mug shatters against the wall behind you, fragments raining down around your feet. You flinch, your heart slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Are you fucking insane?” you scream, your voice cracking.

“You’re the one who made me like this!” he yells, his voice raw, ragged. He takes a step toward you, and you instinctively step back, your shoulders hitting the wall behind you.

“Get out,” you say, your voice trembling. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Su-bong.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yes, you are!” you scream, your voice breaking. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore! You don’t get to keep fucking breaking me and acting like it’s my fault!”

“I never broke you!” he yells, his voice rising to a roar. “You were already broken, Y/N! You’ve been broken since the day I met you!”

The words hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

“Go ahead,” he snaps, his voice venomous. “Blame me for everything. That’s all you’ve ever been good at.”

“Blame you?” you shout, your chest heaving with rage. “You ruined my life, Su-bong! You fucking destroyed me, and you don’t even care!”

“I cared more than anyone else ever did!” he shouts back, his voice cracking. “No one else gave a shit about you, Y/N! No one else stayed!”

“I wish you hadn’t!” you scream, your voice breaking. “I wish I’d never met you!”

The room goes silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a guillotine.

He stares at you, his chest heaving, his hands shaking at his sides.

“Say it again,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

The air in the room shifts, heavy and suffocating.

His chest heaves with every labored breath, his fists trembling at his sides. And then he moves.

It’s a blur—the way he closes the distance between you, the way his hand shoots out and tangles in your hair. Pain flares at your scalp, sharp and instant, as he yanks you closer with a force that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Su-bong!” you cry, your hands flying up to claw at his wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

“No,” he snarls, his face inches from yours, his voice cracking with rage and desperation. “No, you’re hurting me, Y/N! You’re hurting me!”

His words are guttural, raw, as though they’ve been ripped from the deepest, ugliest part of him. His grip tightens, pulling harder, and you stumble, your knees buckling as you try to twist away.

“Let me go!” you scream, panic lacing every word. Your nails dig into his arm, leaving crescent-shaped marks against his skin, but it only seems to fuel him further.

“You don’t get to do this to me!” he yells, dragging you closer until you can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the wildness in his eyes swallowing you whole. “You don’t get to walk away like none of it mattered!”

“I didn’t—” Your voice cracks, tears spilling over, hot and relentless. “I didn’t do anything to you!”

“Liar,” he spits, his grip jerking you violently. “You’ve done everything, Y/N. You’ve ruined me, and you don’t even fucking care.”

Your heart pounds, a frantic, desperate rhythm that drowns out everything else. “Please,” you choke out, your voice trembling. “Please stop.”

But there’s no stopping him.

You twist sharply, pulling against his hold with every ounce of strength you have. He lets out a snarl of frustration as you manage to free yourself, stumbling back against the wall. For a moment, you think it’s over, that maybe he’s come to his senses.

But then his gaze drops to the lamp on the side table.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t hesitate.

The lamp is in his hand before you can react, his fingers curling around its base like it’s an extension of his rage.

“You want me to stop?” he spits, his voice rising. “Fine. I’ll fucking stop.”

And then he throws it.

The lamp sails through the air, and for a split second, time seems to slow. You see it coming, but there’s no time to move. It smashes into your shoulder with a sickening thud, the force of it sending you sprawling to the floor.

Pain blooms instantly, sharp and white-hot, radiating from your shoulder down to your fingertips. You cry out, clutching the spot where it hit, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Does it hurt?” he taunts, his voice dripping with venom. “Good. Maybe now you’ll fucking listen to me.”

Your vision blurs with tears, the pain and fear twisting together into something unbearable. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, your voice breaking.

“What’s wrong with me?” he snaps, his voice cracking. “You, Y/N. You’re what’s wrong with me. You made me like this!”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

His laughter is low and bitter, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “You drove me to this. You, with your lies, your fucking games—”

“I didn’t play any games!” you shout, your chest heaving. “I just wanted to get away from you!”

“You don’t get to run!” he roars, his face twisting into something unrecognizable. “Not after everything I’ve done for you! Not after—”

He stops abruptly, his gaze flickering to you, then to your throat.

And before you can move, before you can scream, he’s on you.

His hands wrap around your neck, his grip cold and unrelenting.

At first, it doesn’t feel real—the pressure, the way your breath catches in your throat, the way his face looms above you, wild and furious. But then the reality slams into you all at once, and the panic sets in.

You claw at his hands, your nails scraping against his skin as you gasp for air. The world narrows to the sound of your strangled breaths, the pounding of your pulse in your ears, the fire spreading through your lungs as you fight to inhale.

“Why do you always make me do this?” he growls, his voice shaking with anger. “Why do you always push me, Y/N? Why?”

Your vision blurs, black spots creeping in at the edges.

He’s saying something else, his voice a low, guttural snarl, but you can’t make out the words. All you can focus on is the pressure, the way it feels like your throat is collapsing under his grip.

And then—

A loud, sharp knock cuts through the haze.

“Police! Open the door!”

The sound barely registers at first, muffled and distant, like it’s coming from another world.

But it’s enough.

The knocking grows louder, more insistent. Voices shout from the other side, commanding, urgent.

“Police! We’re coming in!”

Su-bong’s grip falters, just slightly, as the realization dawns on him.

His gaze snaps to the door, then back to you.

“You called the fucking cops?” he snarls, his grip tightening again, his face contorting with rage. “You think they can save you? You think anyone can fucking save you from me?”

The sound of the door bursting open cuts him off.

In an instant, the room is flooded with voices—sharp, commanding, barking orders that you can’t quite process.

“Get off her!”

“Hands up!”

Su-bong freezes, his hands still around your throat, his body trembling with barely-contained fury.

“Let her go now!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The tension in the room is suffocating, the weight of his anger pressing down on you like a vice.

And then, finally, he lets go.

You collapse to the floor, gasping for air, your body trembling violently as you clutch your throat.

The officers swarm him, grabbing his arms and pulling him away from you. He struggles against their hold, shouting obscenities, his voice wild and broken.

“She fucking lied!” he screams, his voice cracking. “She lied about everything!”

You don’t respond. You can’t.

All you can do is lie there, your chest heaving, your vision blurred with tears, as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

The officers’ voices blur together, a cacophony of sound that you can’t quite make out. One of them kneels beside you, their hand on your shoulder, their voice soft and steady.

“Miss, are you okay?”

You don’t answer.

Your gaze drifts to Su-bong as they drag him toward the door, his screams echoing in the apartment.

And for the first time in years, you feel something you haven’t felt in so long—

Relief.

You know what’s good for you.

You’ve done what you could for him.

And he was finally gone.

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