#i won’t actually scream that but GET HIM

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Sleepwalking

How I imagine the lads men handle a partner that sleepwalks. [requested by: anon & @nocturnaoasis]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

calmly watches you as you move around the house

knows not to wake you up ; tries to guide you back to bed without waking you

cleans up your messes behind you ; taking socks into the bathroom? he’s putting them away ; you left the fridge door open? don’t worry he's closing it ; opening the windows? he’s already on it

you tried to use a knife for something one time while you were asleep so now Zayne locks up any sharp utensils before bed

tells you in detail exactly what you did while you were sleepwalking

makes you whatever it was that you were trying to make while asleep “how did you know I wanted sliced fruit this morning?” “You took out all the fruit last night and stood in the kitchen saying ‘knives I need knives’ for ten minutes”

teases you sometimes ; he finds your antics cute

will hold anything you hand him

forbids you from eating foods that will trigger your sleepwalking close to bedtime ; you do it out of spite

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

the first thing he does is wake you up ; rookie mistake

won’t let you live down the fact that you made the funniest face when you were confused

baby proofs the house “why are all the outlets covered?!” “you can’t be trusted”

screamed bloody murder when he woke up one night and you were standing over him

you got outside once and he about had a heart attack

tries singing to you so you follow his voice ; it worked now this is how he gets you back in bed every time he catches you sleepwalking

asks if you’re awake and wholeheartedly believes you when you say yea even though you’re 1000% not awake

doesn’t mind when you indulge on foods that trigger your sleepwalking ; he knows he’ll keep you safe

if you ever say something unsettling he acts like it didnt scare him ; he’s scared af

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

wakes up when he feels you getting out of bed ; groggily follows you around at a distance to make sure you don’t hurt yourself

gently takes objects out of your hands

tries to block your paths in attempts to guide you back to bed

responds to your rambling as if you’re actually having a conversation

tuck you into bed and stays up for a while watching you sleep

wraps his arms around you so he can feel you get up

would follow you down the road if you decided to go for a walk outside

keeps his distance so you can get your bearings I you start to wake up “Hi starlight lets go to bed”

tries to get you to not eat foods that will trigger your sleepwalking, but one look of those puppy dog eyes and he’s folding

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

Sylus is probably the perfect man to sleepwalk with considering he sleeps during the day and you sleep at night.

advises you to not eat anything that will trigger it close to bed, but won’t stop you if you’re really craving it

he would already be up and about when he sees you walking to the bathroom with socks in hand ; he would use his evol to catch the socks when you try to drop them in the toilet

Meticulously guides you away from anything that you might walk into

knows better than to try and wake you up

finds your sleepwalking kind of amusing except when you stand over him and stare with dead eyes

first instinct is to guide you back to bed and he’d use his evol to do this and the second you become difficult he’d keep a close eye on you; has Mephisto follow you as well

Sylus has to hold the twins back from waking you up “She’s gonna get hurt!” “She’s fine” “What if she goes over the balcony?!” “She’s fine”

will always protect you and get you back in bed with no harm

from time to time will indulge in your sleep conversations “I only have five left” “but I need six sweetie” “I have five take it or leave it” ; he’s trying so hard not to die of laughter

the twins once left the kitchen a mess and tried to blame it on your sleepwalking ; he wasn't happy

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋

records the whole thing ; shows you the videos and teases you “look even in your sleep you try to reach the top shelf” “delete it” “luckily for you I caught every dish in time” “shut up”

compiles the videos together and even has favorites

it was all fun and games until you got outside one night and he about lost his damn mind

baby proofs the house every night ; locks up sharp utensils ; deadbolt on the front door

holds you tight every night so he can feel you get up

cleans up behind you when/if you take anything out

shifts furniture slightly if you run into it so your mental map doesn’t get you hurt ; uses his hands or body as a barrier to keep you from running into walls or hitting your head on anything

has considered waking you up, but will never do it

sometimes responds to your sleep rambling “Pears are better than apples” “I like apples better” “……NO!”

forbids you from eating anything that triggers your sleepwalking close to bedtime ; you still eat it anyway

[trashytracktales]

For VDay requests: Lando takes her to a nice dinner and she gets mad at him idk maybe he does something without realizing. And then they come back home and shes still pissed but he looks so good after he changes in his comfy clothes so they end up fucking on the couch or something but that's when she tells him why was she mad at him ❤🥀

Happy Valentine's Day guys xx

Torn on Valentine | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for this request, I actually had so much fun with it. Enjoy your reading and happy Valentine’s, my lovelies!!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

����summary ──── Lando notices immediately that his girlfriend is angry with him. However, he has no idea why. But whatever the reason might be, he is determined to remind her exactly why she can't stay mad for long. It's Valentine’s Day, after all.

🩷pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🩷rating ──── explicit

🩷category ──── F/M

🩷warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, descriptive language, swearing, unresolved tension, teasing, jealous!reader, mild dominance, begging, unprotected sex, slight angst-to-smut.

🩷word count ──── 4.4k (4.444 to be exact hehe)

🩷date ──── Feb. 14, 2025

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

VALENTINE’S DAY IS ruined.

Lando had gone all out to make sure that won’t happen, starting the morning by waking her up with muffins in bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering in the sheets as he pressed lazy little kisses to her neck.

They spent the day walking around the city, and shopping, wandering through little boutiques where he insisted on buying her anything and everything she had laid her eyes on.

And then, la pièce de résistance: a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant, the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A soft melody played from a piano in the corner, setting the perfect atmosphere. The food was great, the wine was good, and every detail screamed romance, from the flickering candle between them to the way Lando’s thumb traced tiny heart shapes on her hand as they talked, his eyes never leaving hers.

All in all, it had been perfect. Until he ruined it.

The moment was burned into her mind, replaying it over and over again, like a broken record. The waiter, a girl who had been a little too friendly with him all night, had leaned in when she refilled his wine at some point, brushing his shoulder with a touch that lingered for too long. And Lando, oblivious as ever, had winked at her.

Winked.

She knew her boyfriend. Knew he was clueless about these things, that his flirty nature wasn’t always intentional. But that didn’t make it sting any less. Because the waiter had noticed. She smirked at him, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and acted like his girlfriend wasn’t literally sitting on the other side of the table.

After that, she had gone silent.

The entire ride home, she stared out the window, with her arms crossed and lips pursed, and her knees facing the opposite way from him. Lando figured something was wrong ever since; he glanced at her between shifts, brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything, probably thinking she was just tired.

Then they got home, and she had barely looked at him as she changed into something more comfortable, still replaying the scene in her head.

Had he done it on purpose? Probably not. But did it matter?

That’s… debatable. It mattered to her.

Deprived by every emotion except irritation, she followed Lando setting up his last surprise of the day — a cozy movie marathon on the couch, complete with fuzzy blankets, sweets and drinks, and a bunch of her favorite Valentine’s-themed movies ready to run.

Now, their apartment is quiet except for the hum of the TV that neither of them is really watching. The tension between them is thick, lingering in the air like a storm that hasn’t broken. Yet.

She breathes heavily, sitting curled up on the opposite side of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, and arms crossed over her chest. Lando, on the other side, is content to let her be.

Until he isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we playing the guessing game again?” he finally asks, voice edged with concern. He knows that she needs time to process whatever’s bothering her at the moment, but his patience has limits, too.

She doesn’t look at him, just shrugs as she lies, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Lando puffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Right. That’s why you’ve been side-eyeing me like I insulted your entire family ever since we got back. It’s annoying, you know? If you have something to say…” his voice trails off, but he feels a wave of anger building inside, so he decides to let go before making it worse.

Her jaw tightens.

She doesn’t want to give in, mostly because she knows that the reason why she’s mad is, well, kind of absurd. But at the same time, she’s frustrated in a way that isn’t just about her boyfriend winking at other girls. The weight of the week has been pressing down on her shoulders, and she needs something — him — but she’s too stubborn to say it. Especially now. Still, her eyes keep flickering down, lingering on the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lazy way he’s sprawled out, legs spread wide.

He catches her looking, fighting a smile as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. “You wanna sit on it?”

Her head snaps toward him, face heating instantly at his question. “What?”

Lando shrugs, “You keep looking,” he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of pretending you don’t want to.”

She scoffs, but can’t deny it. She does want to. Desperately. But she’s mad at him. So, she says nothing. Just presses her lips together, turning her attention back to the screen like she isn’t thinking about climbing onto his lap and letting him pull her apart, little by little.

On the TV, the main characters are making out, sending her mind spinning relentlessly, fueling her sudden desire. Apparently, that’s enough for her to decide that she has to put an end to it, finally taking Lando’s advice and speak her mind. But he’s faster. His hands are reaching out for her, almost like they appeared out of nowhere, gripping her waist, effortlessly pulling her onto his lap.

A surprised gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t fight him, and doesn’t push him away. If anything, she melts just a little, legs instinctively settling on either side of his hips.

He looks up at her, fingers squeezing at her waist. “That’s better, hm?”

She glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Lando raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” he counters, sliding his hands down to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing tiny, teasing circles on her skin. “And you’re not exactly running away.”

She hates how smug he is. Hates how easily he sees through her act. Hates how good he looks right now.

But then his hands slide further up, fingertips ghosting over the curve of her ass, pressing her down against him just enough for her to feel him through the fabric of his sweats. And the feeling is… intense to say the least, since she’s only wearing an oversized t-shirt and her pajama shorts.

Lando watches her closely, aware of the effect he has on her. “Gonna tell me why you’re mad, or do I have to make you forget?”

She shouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But when he shifts beneath her, dragging her forward so deliciously slow, her resolve crumbles.

Her hands grip his shoulders, nails pressing in. “Shut up.”

“And?”

She closes her eyes, exasperated by his attitude, “Shut up and do something.”

Lando grins at her bluntness, fingers tightening on her hips as he rolls her against him again. “Ask nicely.”

She huffs annoyed, but so needy it aches. “Lando,” she warns in a low voice.

Lando shakes his head. “No, baby. You know how this works,” he reminds her, lips brushing against her neck as his hands keep guide her movements. “Use your words.”

She breathes lightly, head tipping back as the friction sends heat pooling low in her belly. “Please?”

“See, that’s a good start,” he chuckles, nipping at her jaw and dragging his tongue over the sting, “But I know you can do better.”

Her pride wars with her desperation, but it’s a losing battle. She needs more than that, and she knows he won’t give it to her until she breaks.

Next time she speaks, her voice is a whisper, breathy yet sweet, “I need you, please.”

He smirks as he watches her through his eyelashes, happy with the state he managed to put her in so easily. “There goes my girl.”

Lando can see the shift in her the second he finishes his sentence. It’s in the way frustration morphs into impatience, and how her breath hitches every time he grinds her against him but doesn’t give her what she really wants.

“I know you’re enjoying this, but there’s no reason for you to take your sweet ass time, you know that,” she mutters, her voice edged with irritation.

Lando shrugs. “And you know I like watching you squirm.”

She rolls her eyes, but her body betrays her — again and again. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, while her thighs tense around his waist. With a sharp exhale, she moves on her own now, hands sliding down between them, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. Lando follows her movements, amused, but doesn’t stop her as she pulls them down just enough to free him.

Her breath catches at the sight: he’s already hard, the head flushed deep red, leaking just slightly.

She glances back at him, brows raised, but Lando shrugs again, as if the reason is obvious. “You on my lap, begging? Kinda hard not to get… you know, hard.”

Her stomach clenches at his nonchalance, the way he acts like it’s inevitable. Like, of course he’d be this ready for her. Duh.

Lando exhales excited as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking just enough to make his hips twitch beneath her. His breath gets slightly unsteady after that, but his control remains.

“Getting bold now?” he asks, eyes locked on her as he pushes her shirt up just a little, tracing his fingers along the warm skin of her waist.

The girl doesn’t answer, just bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down and letting them catch on the curve of her thighs before she kicks them away. That’s when the teasing glint in Lando’s eyes fades, replaced with something darker. He swallows hard, hands settling firm on her hips as he drinks her in.

“So soft,” he mumbles under his breath, mostly to himself.

She feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being half-naked. It’s like he’s seeing everything, because he knows her so deeply. Like he’s about to ruin her in the best way possible.

And she’s going to let him.

Lando wraps his hand around hers and, together, they pump his cock slowly, his gaze always on her, watching the way her body responds to the sight of it. Then he runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of wetness there while he moves purposely, dragging the length of himself through her folds, groaning at how slick and warm she is.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, while she needs to hold on to him with both hands now. “You’re dripping.”

She whimpers as he does it again, sliding against her, teasing her clit with the thick head before pulling back, drawing out her frustration.

“Lando, don’t…” she whines, shifting against his chest, trying to get more of him.

Lando laughs, low and raspy, but his grip on her isn’t loosening one bit. “Patience, baby.”

“I need—”

“Yeah?” he cuts her off, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance this time, barely pushing in before pulling back out. “What? This what you need?”

Her stomach flips at the feeling, so raw, unable to spit out any words. Instead, she only manages to nod.

To show her that he appreciates her honesty, Lando guides her hips, dragging her along his length, pressing his swollen tip against her clit once more and holding her there. Without moving. She gasps, her whole body shuddering as the pressure sends sparks through her nerves.

Lando groans, feeling how she pulses against him, how her body aches for more. “Well, shit. That’s pretty,” he admits, watching her fall apart in his hands.

She lets a little cry out in protest, trying to push down, but he keeps her there, right on the edge of everything, everything.

“You gonna beg for it again?” he asks in a teasing voice.

She wants to fight him on it, but she can’t. Not when she’s this close to him, when every second of waiting feels like pure, unfiltered torture.

She shakes her head, her little cry turning into a throaty moan.

Lando gets ecstatic at the sound and the way her body shivers — so desperate, so utterly wrecked for him before he’s even inside her. For a split second, he considers giving in completely. But then he remembers she’s mad at him. Or at least, she was. And if she thinks she can get away with that attitude without consequence, she needs to understand that she’s sorely mistaken.

Instead of giving her what she wants, Lando kisses her. Hard. His lips crash into hers, swallowing the whimper of frustration that slips from her throat. He starts guiding her against him, harder now, making her ride the thick length of his cock without ever letting her sink onto it, the friction sweet but never enough. She tries to pull back, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let her. One hand tangles in her hair, holding her close, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

Until her patience snaps and, with a sharp gasp, she bites his lip, just hard enough to make him hiss, her nails digging into his scalp as she pulls at his curls. Lando moans, a low, needy sound that strikes her like lightning. The sting, the fight, the way she’s clawing for a type of control she won’t get — not yet — motivates him to keep teasing her.

Annoyed, she lets her hand slip between them, fingers wrapping around his cock, slick and throbbing, before she finally sinks down onto him. Because, sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to take matters into your own hands.

At that, both of them go silent.

Her body tightens around him instantly, the fullness of him stealing her breath, making her walls flutter as she adjusts to his length.

Lando’s forehead presses against hers, his lips parting with a violent inhale, his hands squeezing her hips.

“Jesus, baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked, “What buttons did I push?”

She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t move. Neither does he.

They just sit like that, their bodies locked together so perfectly it almost feels cruel to even blink. The fight, the frustration, the teasing… it all fades away in one moment, replaced by something more intense. Something profund.

When she shifts just slightly, Lando whines, feeling the way she clenches around him, and how perfectly they fit together. The thought makes him throb inside her, the heat of her making his pulse race.

She presses her forehead harder against his, her breath shaky. “Baby,” she whispers, “Shit, you feel so good.”

Lando opens his eyes, finding hers already on him.

For a second, he’s happy to simply look at her. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lips are swollen from his kisses, the way she’s barely holding herself together — everything about her is perfection. Then, he lifts her up, and the sudden rush of cool air against his cock makes him moan.

She shrieks at the emptiness, at the way her body aches to take him back. “Please, not now,” she pleads.

Before she can continue, he shoves himself back in, agonizingly slow, making her feel every inch of him as he stretches her again. As a result, her head falls forward, a desperate whimper breaking from her throat.

Lando keeps his eyes on her, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks, “Already falling apart, love? I’ve barely even started.”

She whines, arms wrapping around his neck, hips twitching like she wants more. Much more.

“This what you needed, yes?” Lando taunts, rolling his hips just enough to make her lose her mind. “You gonna stop being a brat now?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Lando smiles, dragging himself out just to push back in, watching her eyes flutter shut.

“No, no. Keep those pretty eyes open,” he instructs, nipping at her jaw, “Come on. I wanna watch you break for me.”

Because he is absolutely evil, Lando keeps it slow. Too slow.

Every roll of his hips is calculated, dragging himself out so she feel his cock slipping away, then pushing back in deep, filling her up so completely it makes her walls pulsate. She can’t do anything but take it, her senses overwhelmed by him — by the rough drag of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his breath against her lips, the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

Then his hands move, sliding up from her waist, fingers tracing over her ribs before finally cupping her breasts. It makes her gasp, her back arching into his touch as his thumbs sweep over her nipples, teasing a little, then rolling them between his fingers.

“So sensitive, look at that,” says Lando, his voice thick with lust. “Are you shaking, baby?”

She is. Her thighs tremble where they straddle him, her whole body squeezing him with every slow thrust, every lazy swipe of his thumbs against her skin.

His gaze drops between them, and his breath stutters at the image. “Beautiful.”

She doesn’t understand at first, too lost in how slowly he fucks her, but then he guides her chin down, forcing her to look.

And oh, fuck.

She can see everything: the way her body stretches to take him in, the way she’s dripping down his entire length, making a mess on his lap, and the way her thighs are trembling on each side of him.

Lando’s heart starts beating faster, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “See how you’re fucking ruining me?”

She lets out a soft, broken moan, fingers playing absentmindedly with the curls at the back of his head, mostly to anchor herself in the moment.

“Lan…”

“I know, love,” his tongue flicks against her pulse point before he kisses her jaw. “Not so mad at me now, are you?”

Right now? No. She realizes she’s not. She can’t be. Not when he’s touching her like this, fucking into her with such lazy, devastating precision. Not when he’s whispering filth into her ear while looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Her hands move, framing his face, tilting it up so she can kiss him again. But this time, their kiss is different. It’s not angry, not desperate, but tender and loving. A kiss that makes Lando’s grip falter, that steals the breath from his lungs and sends him to a new world that’s only inhabited by them.

She whimpers hungrily against his lips, and that’s what breaks him, because he knows he broke her first.

A guttural moan rumbles from his chest as his fingers dig into her thighs. And then he snaps. “Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers next to her ear, thrusting into her harder. It takes her by surprise, the way he is holding her so tight like he’s trying to fuse them together. “Need you,” he adds.

The sudden change in pace fractures something in her brain to the point she can’t remember anything else except his name.

“It’s okay you’re mad,” Lando assures her. “You can be as mad as you want, yeah? All day, everyday,” he groans, voice wrecked. “I’m still gonna fuck you like this. Gonna give you exactly what you need. Whenever you need me, love.”

Her head falls back, a loud moan spilling from her lips as he loses himself in her, in the heat, the mess, and the way she clings to him.

“Always gonna take care of my girl,” he promises, sealing the words against her skin. “No matter what.”

She can feel his control slipping in the way his thrusts deepen, the rhythm faltering slightly as his breath becomes gradually uneven. He’s still trying to hold back, but she can tell he’s far from behaving. She feels his cock twitching so deliciously inside her, and the way his hands melt with her skin almost painfully on her hips. Every new sensation makes her dizzy, until it’s too much. The pressure building in her chest, the overwhelming feeling of him inside her, the way his hands start roaming over her skin, and his mouth leaving hot trails across her neck — all too much.

With a shaky breath, she collapses forward, her body unable to keep steady, falling against his chest as her hands slide weakly to his sides.

“I can’t,” she gasps, “Can’t hold myself up.”

Lando’s hands move immediately, his hold firm on her back, and voice filled with a deep urgency, “I got you, baby. You know I do.”

And then he flips them, his strength not-so-surprising as he rolls them onto the couch, her body now on her back with him above her. The new angle makes them both moan in unison, the sudden shift in depth making every movement feel sharper, more intense.

Lando’s hands find her thighs, pulling them apart so he can press deeper, pushing into her with a delicious force that makes her stomach tighten and her toes curl. The sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room — wet, sticky, perfect. Her hands reach up, gripping the back of the couch, her nails scratching at the fabric, trying to keep herself grounded as he fucks her harder.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando groans, his face flushed with sweat, his lips parted as he stares down at her, eyes wild with need. “You’re so fucking perfect, can’t get enough of you.”

She can feel him getting closer, the way his movements grow sloppier, more desperate, but there’s no slowing him down. He’s all in — in her, in the moment, and she can barely breathe under the weight of it all.

The sounds of their passion are unrestrained, loud, their breath ragged and frantic. It’s all they hear now: her moans, his grunts, the soft squeak of the couch beneath them. But as the tension starts to crack, she feels herself spiraling as closer to the edge as he is, and she finally feels the last remnants of her jealousy fade away.

She looks up at him, her vision blurry from the pleasure. “You… winked at the waiter.”

Lando freezes for just a moment, his thrusts shallow, and he looks down at her, confusion flickering in his eyes as he forces himself to regain control. “I did?” he breathes out wildly, his lips twitching with a laugh that’s barely contained.

She moans, biting her lip as she writhes under him, “Yes, when she came back with the wine,” she admits, her voice soft, barely a whisper. “It was so stupid, I wanted to throw it in your face.”

Lando finally laughs, a genuine chuckle, his face still flushed with pleasure. “Always so dramatic, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her lips before pulling back. “Wanted to be mad, but you’re too busy getting fucked to even care now, hm?”

She wants to argue, wants to tell him he’s being a cocky bastard, but the words get lost in the sound of her own moans as his rhythm picks up again, faster this time, his cock hitting places inside her that have her seeing stars.

“Oh,” she gasps, her voice full of the tension and the blinding pressure building in her chest, “I’m so... Fuck. I’m close.”

Lando doesn’t ease off. “I know, baby. I feel it.” He pushes her closer, his hands gripping her legs just right, his thrusts brutal and relentless. “Wanna come for me?”

She doesn’t have enough time to process his words. The wave hits her hard, crashing over her like an unstoppable force, and her body goes taut, every nerve lighting up as she cries out, her back arching off the couch as she cums around him.

And Lando isn’t far behind.

He slams into her once more, and then his head falls on her chest with a groan as he releases, the hot pulse of his cum filling her up just as her own orgasm shakes through her. Breathless, they stay like that, bodies joined, both of them tangled in the aftershocks of their release.

“Next time, don’t wink at other girls if you want to keep your eyes,” she finally says, feeling him softening inside her.

“Next time,” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath, “Don’t go non-verbal on me. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She smiles weakly, pressing her lips to his. “You never mean it like that, do you?”

The air between them thickens, leaving behind an almost palpable silence. Affected by her last affirmation, Lando’s hands find home on her skin, the touch light, slightly hesitant, like he’s afraid to disrupt the fragile calm that’s settled between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She traces her fingers through his curls, her body feeling like a flame now, flickering gently after being ignited. There’s a warmth spreading from her chest, outwards, a comfort that soothes the storm inside her. But still, her heart races, and the lingering heat from their connection seems to hum through her veins.

Lando shifts, moving to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her. She nestles into him, feeling the heat of his skin and the sweat against hers, the warmth of him grounding her.

“You okay?” she hears him again.

“Yeah... just needed a moment to catch my breath,” her voice is a soft murmur in his ears.

Lando smiles weakly, his lips curling with that familiar grin. He brushes a lock of hair from her face, fingers skimming her cheek like a whisper, and the gesture is enough to make her chest tighten.

“You’re everything I need, silly. Always.”

She knows that. And luckily, the storm inside her has subsided. “I’m sorry, too. For being stubborn,” she whispers, her voice full of a quiet vulnerability.

Lando chuckles, “Stubborn is an understatement.”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Don’t push it.”

His hands, once firm and assertive, now trace delicate patterns over her skin, mapping every curve, every inch of her as though trying to imprint her into his soul. There is no need for words now, not anymore.

As Lando presses another soft kiss to her lips, she remembers why they will always be able to overcome any childish misunderstanding.

“I love you,” she says, her voice steady.

He smiles, feeling a familiar warmth spreading in his chest. And, instead of saying it back, Lando tilts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a teasing smirk.

Then, he winks at her.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[inseobts]

Jealousy in the Switch

trafalgar law x fem!reader

you and sanji keep bickering so law swap your bodies but this just makes everything worse, especially for his feelings

tags: jealousy, body swap with sanji, annoying sanji

word count: 2.9k

masterlist || ko-fi

It all starts because you and Sanji won’t shut up.

Dressrosa is a warzone—Doflamingo is still alive, everything is on fire, and Law is this close to snapping.

And yet, instead of staying focused, you and Sanji are locked in a full-blown shouting match.

"Sanji, I’m not a damsel in distress!" you yell, hands on your hips.

"You're not running off into danger alone!" Sanji retorts, jabbing a finger at you.

"They need backup!"

"They need you to not get killed!"

Law’s headache triples.

"Both of you—shut up."

You don’t.

Sanji steps closer "You're being reckless—"

"I'm being helpful!"

"Room."

Your stomach drops.

"Shambles."

The world twists. Your vision blurs, your whole body feels wrong.

And then—

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

That’s your voice... but you didn’t say it.

You turn toward the sound, only to see… yourself.

Sanji—inside your body—is clutching his new arms, eyes wide.

Which means...

You whip your head down.

Black suit. Long legs. A cigarette in your mouth.

Oh... Oh no.

Law doesn’t even look up "Problem solved."

Sanji-you hyperventilates "Nononononono—WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROBLEM SOLVED?!"

"You were annoying me."

Sanji-you gasps and looks down at his *new* chest. His—your—eyes go huge.

And then — BOOM!

His nose explodes with blood.

Law stares.

You, inside Sanji’s body, shriek "WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING?!"

Sanji-you collapses on the ground, twitching "I—I—this body—it’s—" His eyes sparkle. He grabs your face with both hands, trembling.

"I’m… I’m beautiful."

Law watches in horror as Sanji—you melts into the pavement, swooning over himself.

"My skin is so soft…" He rubs your hands up and down your own arms, practically whimpering.

"STOP TOUCHING ME." You grab him by the collar—Sanji in your body—and shake him "GET A GRIP, COOK!"

Sanji-you beams "Oh, my dear, delicate hands! What a treasure you are—"

"I SWEAR TO GOD."

Law hates this.

Sanji-you sits up, dazed "My legs… so smooth. My waist—so elegant—" He grasps your sides, twirling like he’s been blessed by the heavens.

Law’s jaw clenches.

Sanji, in your body, is fawning over himself and Law wants to strangle him.

At first, it’s even a bit bearable.

Sanji spends most of his time adjusting your clothes, fixing your hair, checking his reflection. Every time he accidentally touches his own chest, not used to it he screams, nosebleeds, and collapses again.

Meanwhile, you—in Sanji’s body—are having the time of your life.

"Damn, I feel so strong..." you say, rolling out your new shoulders, punching the air and then eyeing a wall to punch.

Sanji-you gasps in horror "DON’T BREAK MY BODY! MY HANDS ARE TOO IMPORTANT! OKAY? USE THE LEGS IF YOU REALLY HAVE TO!!"

You grin, throwing a casual punch at a wall—it cracks.

Sanji-you shrieks "STOP THAT! YOU’LL RUIN ME!"

Law almost smirks. But then.

Then it gets worse.

Sanji—you starts flirting with literally anyone.

At first, it’s harmless prank he's doing at you. He compliments himself in reflective surfaces and swoons at his own voice.

But then—he starts hitting on people as you and Law watches his own personal hell unfold.

The breaking point comes when Sanji—you sidles up to Zoro, he knows your close to him, that he's your closest friend in the crew. Sanji can't miss on this opportunity.

Law watches as your body—possessed by Sanji—leans against Zoro’s shoulder.

Zoro barely glances at him "What do you want?"

Sanji-you twirls a lock of your hair "Oh, nothing~"

Law’s eye twitches.

Zoro frowns, clueless about the body swap "The hell’s wrong with you today?"

Sanji-you giggles. Actually giggles.

"Zoro~" Sanji—you practically purrs, pressing closer while eyeing you with a diabolic smirk "Have I ever told you how… handsome you are?"

Zoro freezes.

Law chokes.

You, in Sanji’s body, start wheezing.

Sanji-you bats his lashes "So rugged. So strong. Those arms…~"

Zoro looks deeply disturbed "Are you having a stroke?"

"Only a stroke of love."

Sanji—you trails a hand down Zoro’s arm, sighing dreamily.

Law feels something deep, primal, and violent ignite inside him.

Zoro yanks his arm away "You’re being too weird todey, stop it."

Sanji—you gasps, hand on his heart "Oh, Zoro, how cruel—!"

Law is going to kill him.

You, inside Sanji’s body, are losing it "PFFFT—Sanji, STOP—"

Zoro turns to you-Sanji with a confused frown "who?"

Sanji-you ignores you, still clutching his chest "Rejection… while I was in her body! My beauty is wasted on you!"

Law snaps.

"Room."

Sanji-you blinks "Wait, hold on—"

"Shambles."

Your stomach lurches and just like that, everything shifts back.

You stumble, in your real body again.

Sanji grabs looks at his hands, sobbing in relief "Oh, my beautiful hands, I missed you—!"

You stretch your arms "THANK GOD."

Zoro glares "I don't know what that was, but if you ever do it again, I’m killing you."

Sanji sniffles, clutching his own shoulders "That was the worst rejection of my life."

Law doesn’t say anything, because now, he has a problem.

A real problem.

The fact that switching you back means he just admitted he couldn’t handle it.

That watching Sanji in your body —flirt as you—made him want to rip someone’s throat out.

That he was jealous.

And now?

You and Sanji know.

The aftermath of the switch doesn’t settle as smoothly as Law might’ve hoped.

It’s awkward, and frustrating, and now, Law’s beginning to realize—he’s in way deeper than he ever thought.

You, back in your body, try to ignore the little fluttering discomfort in your chest. Maybe it’s just because you saw Sanji like that in your body. It was... weird. Unsettling.

Law stands a few feet away, arms crossed, his jaw still tense. He says nothing as the group begins to move on. You can feel his eyes occasionally drifting toward you. And maybe it’s your imagination, but his glare seems to sharpen whenever Sanji gets too close to you.

You glance at him.

The guy is still sulking.

"Quit glaring like that" you say, crossing your arms "You did it. I didn’t ask for this."

"Just focus on the mission." His voice is clipped, clearly irritable "And don't fl—"

Don’t flirt?

You cock an eyebrow at him "Don’t flirt with who? Sanji? Zoro?"

Law’s eyes flicker, but he doesn’t respond. He just keeps walking, gripping his sword hilt tightly.

But you catch the slight tension in his shoulders. You wonder if he’s feeling something.

Sanji, as usual, seems completely oblivious to how much Law is suffering. He’s back to his flirtatious self but now, it’s getting more out of hand.

"Y/N~" Sanji calls your name, almost sweetly, with that infuriating grin plastered on his face. He sidles up beside you, running a hand through your hair "I miss you, you know?"

You can see Law’s eye twitch, though he’s trying to hide it.

Sanji’s flirtation continues unabated. You’re almost certain it’s his way of messing with Law now—perhaps even pushing his buttons on purpose. He gives you a sideways look and adds "I think we should grab a drink tonight. You, me, and my own handsome body~"

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose "Why do you have to be like this now?!"

Sanji leans in, a few inches from you face "Well, darling, I saw how you kept looking at my body when you where in it, no?"

Your eye catches Law’s from the corner of your vision.

His expression is frozen—but the tightness in his jaw is unmistakable. His eyes flicker, but they never leave you. He watches intently, his gaze turning more stormy the more Sanji leans into you.

"You're just as bad as he is," you snap, shaking off Sanji’s arm "Seriously, cut it out."

Sanji smirks "Oh beliece me, I know what I'm doing, you should just play along and see" his eyes shift toward Law, noticing the tense energy in the air "Oh? What’s wrong, Trafalgar Law? You look like you're about to bite someone's head off."

"Focus." Law’s voice is icy, his words clipped. He doesn't even look at Sanji "We’re almost at the rendezvous point."

But it’s too late.

Sanji suddenly gets a brilliant idea. He winks and steps in front of you "You know, I think Captain Law might have a thing for you. Did you see the way he looked at you earlier? And the way he swapped us back to our bodies right when I...You were flirting with Mosshead?"

You feel your face flush, but you quickly mask it with a sassy smirk "Sanji, are you trying to start something, again?"

Sanji chuckles "Maybe. I think Captain Law's just a little too shy to admit his feelings. What do you think, Y/N?"

You are just about done with the teasing. Law, however, looks like he’s about to murder someone.

"I’m not shy" Law says, cutting into the conversation with a sharp tone. His eyes narrow, and the tension in his expression is enough to send a chill down your spine. You dare glance up at him.

His eyes lock onto yours for a moment, and then—he grinds his teeth. He quickly averts his gaze, clearly embarrassed by the situation but not wanting to admit it.

Sanji, however, is enjoying every second of this.

"See? I told you!" he says, practically singing in triumph "He’s just too cool to say it, but we all know it. Come on, Surgeon, why don’t you just admit it already? You’re jealous."

Jealous?

You can see Law’s irritation growing, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword with such force you think it might snap "Don’t talk about things you don’t understand."

"Oh, I think I understand perfectly" Sanji teases. He steps closer to you again, placing a hand on your shoulder and sending a look over his shoulder at Law "Maybe I can just take her out for a proper dinner then."

And that’s when you feel it—the crushing weight of Law’s jealousy.

He glares at Sanji’s hand on your shoulder like he wants to tear it off, and you notice his eyes seem to follow every single move Sanji makes around you. Every touch, every smile.

It makes you… uncomfortable?

Or maybe it’s just the fact that Law doesn’t hide his feelings well—at least, not this time.

"You’re annoying, Sanji," you mutter.

"I know," he replies smugly "But you like it." He leans in and whispers "Admit it. You like the attention."

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you "You really don’t quit, huh?"

You feel a presence behind you, and before you can turn around, Law steps in, looking like he’s ready to throw Sanji into the nearest wall.

But then, to your surprise, he doesn’t.

He just stares at Sanji with an intensity that makes you swallow nervously "I’m not jealous, Sanji. Just stay away from her."

Sanji smirks, crossing his arms, fully aware of what’s going on "Aww, I see, Surgeon. So you do care. How sweet."

You blink, still trying to wrap your mind around what just happened. Did Law just admit something without saying it out loud?

Law says nothing more, but his gaze locks onto yours again, sharper than ever. He clenches his fists, clearly at his breaking point.

"Focus on the mission" he orders again, and this time, his voice holds a faint edge of something almost like embarrassment mixed with irritation.

And as much as you want to ignore it, you can’t help but feel something shift. Maybe it’s because you did notice the tension between you and Law—something you didn’t want to admit. Or maybe it’s just the constant teasing from Sanji that’s making you realize that Law’s feelings are right there, in plain sight.

But neither of you say anything.

You both just walk on, with the strange weight of unsaid words hanging between you.

Sanji, on the other hand, sings quietly under his breath, clearly having the time of his life.

You can feel his frustration rolling off of him in waves, his movements stiff, his usual scowl even darker than normal. Meanwhile, Sanji is practically glowing with satisfaction, walking beside you with an insufferable grin.

Zoro, who has been watching in mild confusion, finally speaks up.

"The hell is wrong with you three?"

Sanji throws an arm over your shoulder, smirking "Nothing, nothing. Just enjoying the fresh air, right, Y/N-chwan?"

Law glares daggers at the cook’s hand.

You sigh, shrugging Sanji off before Law actually explodes "Let’s just get back already. I feel like I’ve lost a whole year of my life today."

Sanji grins but relents, walking ahead. Zoro eyes the two of you for another second before shrugging and following behind, but Law stays beside you.

You don’t say anything at first. Neither does he. But the tension between you is impossible to ignore.

Finally, you risk a glance at him "You okay?"

Law’s jaw tightens "I’m fine."

You hum, unconvinced "You sure? Because you look like you’re five seconds away from committing a murder."

Law exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose "I should have left you both like that."

You snort "Oh, please. You hated every second of it."

Law stiffens slightly but doesn’t respond.

A teasing thought crosses your mind before you can stop it.

"Wait…" You smirk, nudging him with your elbow "You weren’t jealous of Sanji in my body, were you?"

Law stops walking.

Your smirk falters slightly as he turns his head toward you, golden eyes locking onto yours with an unreadable intensity.

For a second, neither of you speak. The air between you suddenly feels heavier.

Then, finally, Law scoffs "You’re insufferable," he mutters, shaking his head as he continues walking.

But you don’t miss the way his ears turn just a little bit pink.

And for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little faster.

Sanji, who supassed you long enough, is waiting at the camp when you and Law arrive, arms crossed, smirk still in place.

"Oh? Took you two long enough" His grin widens as he scans the both of you "Did I miss anything interesting?"

Law ignores him completely, moving to the other side of the camp like he wants to be as far away from this conversation as possible.

You roll your eyes "Nothing you'd enjoy."

Sanji chuckles "Oh, I doubt that." Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans in slightly "But listen, Y/N… If Law keeps dragging his feet, you know I’m always here, right?"

You blink "Huh?"

Sanji winks.

Law, from across the camp, slams something down a little harder than necessary.

Sanji grins wider "Oh yeah. He’s done for."

And honestly? You’re starting to think he’s right.

The camp settles down for the night, but Law is still clearly brooding.

You pretend not to notice at first. It’s actually kind of funny, watching him sulk on the far end of the camp while Sanji keeps throwing you knowing looks.

Zoro, thankfully, stays out of it. He’s already asleep, arms crossed, snoring lightly by a tree.

Sanji, however, is not done.

"So, Y/N," he starts casually, way too loud on purpose "What kind of man do you like?"

Law, who had been sitting with his back turned, freezes.

You glare at Sanji "Really? All this time you were never interested in such things"

Sanji just grins "What? It’s an innocent question!" He leans in "Tall? Strong? A little broody, maybe? Medical expertise a plus?"

You kick him in the shin.

"Ow—!" Sanji staggers back, but he’s laughing.

Law stands up abruptly.

"We leave at sunrise" he announces, voice clipped. Then he turns sharply on his heel and walks off toward his tent.

Sanji whistles lowly "Oof. I think I struck a nerve."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair "I swear, Sanji, you are the worst."

But part of you wonders if Law’s reaction means exactly what Sanji thinks it does.

Later that night, when the fire has burned low and most of the camp is asleep, you hear footsteps behind you.

You glance up—and freeze.

Law is standing there, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

You sit up slightly "Couldn’t sleep?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, after a long pause, he sighs.

"You and Sanji..." he mutters "You enjoy making my life hell, don’t you?"

You smirk "It’s a bonus, yeah."

Law huffs, shaking his head. Then, after another pause, he says—so quietly you almost miss it—

"I didn’t like it."

Your breath catches slightly "...What?"

He looks away "The switch. I didn’t like it."

You blink. That’s… honestly a more direct confession than you expected "Well, yeah, I figured, but you did it yourself so—"

"Not because of the chaos," he cuts in, finally meeting your eyes "Because of him. Because of the way he—" Law exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair "I didn’t like seeing you and him. Like that."

Oh.

Oh.

Your heart skips a beat.

Law seems to realize what he’s admitting, because he quickly looks away again, shifting awkwardly "Forget it," he mutters "It’s late."

He turns to leave—but before he can take a step, you grab his wrist.

"Wait."

Law stiffens. Slowly, hesitantly, he turns back toward you.

You swallow, pulse racing, but you manage a small smile.

"You could’ve just said you were jealous, you know."

His face flames.

"I—I wasn’t—"

You tilt your head "No?"

Law glares at you, but it’s not as sharp as usual. If anything, he almost looks—flustered.

You squeeze his wrist gently before letting go "Next time, just say something," you murmur "Might save you a headache."

Law doesn’t move.

For a long moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable flickering in his golden eyes. Then, finally, he mutters under his breath—

"Idiot."

But the way his fingers linger near yours before he pulls away tells you everything you need to know.

And as he disappears into his tent, you realize—

Sanji was absolutely right.

[mmkclarkey]

We have a spare room- Part 4

When all goes wrong, moving in with three guys will help?

6 months. Half a year living with Chris, Arthur and George.

According to Chris, it was a cause for celebration, one that just insisted that you had to have a party. That’s why your weekly trip to B&M had turned into a 2 hour trip, all three of them picking out party cups and plastic shot glasses and literally anything you can find for a party.

“Whats the colour theme?” Arthur asks with a large smile on his face, looking like a child in a sweet shop, Chris following not too far behind with the trolley.

“We don’t have one, why the fuck would we have one?” George replies, laughing at Arthur’s excitement, while Arthur pulled a face at George, making his way towards him to slap the smiling man around the back of the head.

George winced and began to chase Arthur down the aisle, making you and Chris giggle while rolling your eyes.

“God can you two get any more childish?” You said quietly as they caught back up to you minutes later trying to avoid people around you knowing that you lived with these morons.

~

You finished up shopping, and after a fight with Chris over who was going to pay, him winning, you got back to the flat. Flopping down on the sofa had become a regular thing for all of you, normally trying to see who could do it first, and for once, someone other than you won.

Not that you were happy about it, but Arthur’s smile as his head hit the soft cushions was too priceless to be annoyed, even with George and Chris shouting profanities at the brunette sprawled on the sofa, legs hanging over the top, shoes still on.

~

A few hours later, you were lay on your bed after getting ready, lay carefully as not to flatten your curls at the back, or allow the short (too short) dress you were wearing to flash any of your roommates when they come into the room, which would not be the best idea if you were honest.

You hear a knock, faint on the door, making you question whether you actually heard it, but then it comes louder as you jump, saying a monotone “come in”.

Arthur comes in and dramatically flops down on your bed, making you giggle as you question why the man was in your room, not that it wasn’t a common occurrence, it’s just normally all of them together not just one roommate.

“I need your help” he chokes out, grabbing one of your pillows and screaming into it, making you chuckle, fully aware of the dramatics that came with your brunette roommate.

“Whats up? You seem cheery” you laugh sarcastically as he shoots you a glare, making it so that you fly your hands up in self defence, a shit-eating grin still on your face.

“There’s this girl yeah, and she’s coming to the party, because she got a random invite, but I might have a little crush on her, like on social media and stuff” he rambles out, looking as if he’s about to cry from whatever pickle he’d gotten himself into.

“Oh my god!” You laugh out, clapping your hands in excitement. “You are 100% taking your chance tonight I swear arthur!”

“I can’t, she won’t like me like that”

“You’re a stupidly oblivious man Arthur Hill, do you know that?”

“Fuck off”

~

The party was in full swing, people funnelling into the flat every 10 minutes or so, you greeted everyone as they came in, naturally gravitating towards the girls of the friend group, as Sabina, Chip’s fiancée reminded you of how good you look, and how half the guys there are staring.

You look across the room and spot arthur talking to a blonde girl, blushing harder than you have seen him do. Ever. The girl was smiling, laughing along with all his jokes, it was refreshing to see two people so completely enamoured by eachother; almost seeming as if there was no one else around them.

There was a clearing of a throat next to you as you turn your head to the side, George standing next to you looking at arthur and the girl. He spoke up after taking a sip of his beer.

“He looks like he’s in love”

“I know”

You both spoke at the same time.

“It’s cute” you spoke.

“It’s sickening” George laughed.

For a moment you looked at eachother, taking in your opposing views on the situation unfolding in front of you. And then you look back to arthur, letting out a little chuckle.

“You know, one day you’ll find a girl who will make you think love isn’t weird George, and that day will make every girl in the UK cry”

George looks at you, his expression unreadable as he lets out a little hum, walking away from you to go talk to Isaac, avoiding his eyes meeting yours as you shake the feeling off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- oh I’m so sorry for how long this took! I love you all I swear, and hope you like this one, might have a cheeky couple more coming tonight x (what do we think about hill and his mystery girl, hint: mystery girl is Caitlin, cos she’s amazing x)

Taglist- @loveheart-123 @ooostarwarsfandom501st @rougetv @le-le-lea @onlinesuzie @44-ilton @pretendyoucantseeme @theresglittleronthefloor @raekensluver @viagracex @neivivenaj @authortelevision @kneelforloki @m3l0vesu @deepestlovefromspace @hiatus-xix

[multiheadcanons]

THE GOOFIEST SONGS I ASSOCIATE WITH THE MERCS

scout: frankly all of the offense classes get the same song, but it’s the muppet cypher hosted by the stupendium and it’s seven minutes long with multiple artists so guess what it’s all different songs to me today. and they all get this cypher because all three of these dumbasses are muppets in human form. scout definitely gets rizzo’s verse because if nathan didn’t exist skull from jt music is my canon voice for scout. also, “you can leave it to me to put the rat in the race”? “any kind of fourth wall i will happily break”?? dude that’s scout! that IS scout!

soldier: the second dumbass human muppet. y’all know he’s actually sam eagle in human form, right? so sam eagle’s entire verse is indeed soldier. down to the blatant misinformation in the verse because he’s just fucking stupid. i can just hear soldier saying the entire verse word for word as a monologue. “a bunch of weirdos and nerdies”. i bet he does call his teammates nerds. i know he does. the second they show anything more than like, a moderate amount of excitement he’s like wow… what a major nerd. i live and work with major weirdos and nerds.

pyro: the third dumbass human muppet. definitely gonzo the great’s verse, and literally what made me think of this entire post. if only because of the killer lyric combo of “am i he? am i she? am i omnigender? check none of the above, love, i’m whatever” (which is literally just a smooth ass, dope ass lyric and so very real and relatable) and “nobody’s gonna be telling me what is and isn’t canon” because actually yes pyro is my little doodle doll that i doodle on and go “hehe. nice.” and some days pyro is a dragon and other days pyro is a capybara and on the holidays they’re a faerie but really what pyro is is whatever i want them to be on any given day at any given moment. and nobody’s gonna be telling me what is and isn’t canon. honestly the whole cypher eats definitely go give it a listen.

demoman: i just have a question— are your lips dry? i think about demo, and i think about a song, about drinks…. and nothing else. get your mind out of the gutter. can y’all tell i love the stupendium yet? the vending machine of love is definitely one of many masterpieces in stupe’s discography. and the whole vibe of the song is demo the man. eloquent, and elegant, and so effervescent; bubbly, fast paced, with killer lyrics and a smooth, satisfying delivery. and very queer. just like our favorite demolitions expert. slot your pennies in his vending machine of love. and i think demo, like onlycans, the app for soda lovers, is a true chameleon in the sense that there’s really no such thing as not getting along with demo. you will find something about him just irresistible to be around! he’s a chatty, fun loving guy, he’s funny, he’s flirty but not creepy with it (as long as he’s not absolutely plastered), you cannot help but love something about the guy.

heavy: double homicide by cupcakke is heavy weapons guy. sorry not sorry. shut the FUCK up and show me how y’all hold the spot. actual lyric in this actual song. it literally opens with “treat every [REDACTED] just like a sloppy joe; in cold words, bitch we only finna meet for bread” like first of all that’s misha. that IS misha. and the entire first half of the song being so forceful /pos, while not being nearly as fast as it will get in the second half of the song. “head shoulders knees and toes, i bet this bitch won’t leave with those” “itty itty bitty when you’re standing against me” like good god cupcakke wrote this and then said “wow you know who would like this, heavy weapons guy from critically acclaimed game team fortress two”, also it literally ENDS on “motherfucker need a doctor” which makes me scream because i think about the fact that if heavy is dominating an enemy medic, he doesn’t have domination lines against the medic; he’s only insulting the rest of the team for not protecting him. it reminds me of that lazypurple clip where he’s like “don’t rush heavy without a plan, that’s what he wants.”

engineer: he does what he does cause he’s a total fuckin cunt-ry boy. bo burnham has this song. i literally don’t know what it’s actual title is, but it’s that fucking country song? frankly i think engie would like bo burnham in general as a comedian, when i think of engie’s sense of humor i definitely think of bo burnham. dry, dark, poignant, fast enough that you’ll lose him if you don’t keep up. i also heavily associate entropy by awkwardmarina with him too. i think engie is, at his core and at his best, morally grey. self-sufficient, self-serving, and willing to do anything to get him where he needs to go. i think him shifting too far into “good” or “bad” does little justice for who dell conagher is in my mind and removes so much of any facet of his personality that he’s not dell: an insanely intelligent man, who comes from insanely intelligent family, with a lot of secrets he is the sole guard of at this time. and i think engie does feel like he is out of place most places from the sheer amount of information running through his mind at any given point. he’s simply not generic in a way that would make him a real, true functioning member of average society. but for the place he carved out for himself, he absolutely is a pillar and cornerstone of his community. the team would simply not be the same if he wasn’t there.

medic: YOU’RE EITHER WITH ME OR DOOMED! pharrell williams has actually released nothing but banger after banger for the despicable me soundtrack, and the good doctor does indeed get hug me from the third movie that i never watched. what i can tell you though, is that in no case of any one on one interaction with medic, is he ever the straight man. this man is an instigator, a shit starter, and a shit ender with the grin to match. because who else will stay in trouble with you? the doctor will run into open fire with you if he has a 75% confidence one of you will make it to the other side. and if it’s below, he’s willing to try to figure out what you both can do to better those odds. the best part about medic is that he is not a runner. god tier partner in crime. he will get arrested with you and call the team to post bail for both of you. he can be stuck to your hip if you want him to be. the world is his oyster, and for the low price of your soul it can be yours too.

sniper: i don’t know why, but tom cardy’s perception check is sniper to me. other than the fact that i do believe snipes is literally the most perceptive mercenary, like i don’t think anything has ever not been registered in snipes’ subconscious that he was witnessed even out of his peripherals, but i also think that there is an odd algorithm between snipes doing well on the field, and the rest of the team doing well on the field. and there’s a spot where one can argue both parties do “well”; but if the team is absolutely massacring on the field, sniper has missed nine of his ten shots. but! when the team is eating shit on the field; those happen to be the days sniper has gotten nine hours of sleep. also, snipes is probably lethal with some of the insults he’ll hurl on the field. if he doesn’t just straight up point at engie sometimes and yell “SHORT!”

spy: yet another banger from the despicable me soundtrack. i could go on at length about how double life has also cemented itself as one of pharrell william’s absolute masterpieces not just in the despicable me soundtrack, not just in animated movie soundtrack, but perhaps his entire discography. and i see the edit in my mind, seriously. i see the mid teens edit style spycentric MEP except it’s not romantic it’s the fact that his team doesn’t trust him as far as they can throw him. i can see the edit so clearly in my mind… i really think about the line “it doesn’t matter to you if you get heads or tails, you just don’t like to flip all the time.” because to me, that’s a very canonically spy sentiment! and it’s why i personally justify to myself why spy would even bother to sign onto a team of mercenaries, instead of continuing to be a lone wolf. he wants to have a group he can align himself with. he’s looking for a reciprocation of the support he knows he offers. but his team greatly distrusts him for it.

[meaningtotellyou]

im gonna be no good during the tolerate it performance like YEEEEES BITCH TELL HIM!! GET HIMMMM

[permanentreverie]

YOOO MY DEPRESSION GOT REAL BAD THERE LMAOOOOO

[threnodians]

fun fact!!! the snow outside is only inches below my bedroom window and that tree right there has a ~5ft trunk normally 👁️👄👁️

[hana-bobo-finch]

I fucking hate miya I fucking hate miya I fucking hate miya I FUCKING HATE HER SO MUCH I HATE HER SO FUCKINH MUCH someone is gonna have to sedate me before I EXPLODE

[ocdhuacheng]

I’m shaking my cat actually just almost fell out a 3 story window I’m genuinely still feeling the fear from that I can’t believe that almost happened

[ssreeder]

how are we feeling about the new netflix adaptation of avatar??!!!!!!!!!!!! the zuko casting eats and swolzai is so cool to see actually translated well (although we will see how they treat the characters in this)

HEYYYYYYOOOOO!

The only thing I’m really looking forward to from the live action is being able to gossip about it with my mutuals. I don’t really have any other opinion, I mean… it looks cool! (Sokkas hair & zukos scar bother me but ehhhh what can I do?) But I’m an animation junky, I love my anime and my cartoons (bobs burgers beloved) so I don't particularly care for the “real people actors” taking over my cartoons but I’m totally chill about it honestly.

I will ABSOLUTELY be watching it and probably will form a more solid opinion after I actually watch the show.

[mollyrolls]

highlights from my notes app. 30/79 and i couldn’t even finish the last chapter

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ AKAASHI KEIJI

undone ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

she would do anything for her best friend. including, but not limited to, pretending to be his girlfriend, so he can get the attention of the girl of his dreams, as much as it hurts

PAIRING: akaashi x fem reader

STATUS: complete

TAGS/WARNING: unrequited love, fake dating, angst, pining, friends to lovers, university au, language, alcohol use, warnings may change

MDNI: will contain adult content (marked in chapter)

TAGLIST: complete this form to be added

PREVIEW: real

CHAPTER ONE: evidence

CHAPTER TWO: complications

CHAPTER THREE: close

CHAPTER FOUR: truths

CHAPTER FIVE: plans

CHAPTER SIX: act

-> SEQUEL

[st4rbwrry]

𝒞’𝑀𝐸𝑅𝐸, 𝐵𝑅𝒜𝒯.

aot headcannons + how they handle a brat ft. eren, armin, + onyankopon.

꒰ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ꒱ ꔫ . . . fem!reader, lowercase intended, nsfw twitter links, aggressive sex, choking, rough play, spanking, dacryphilia, punishment, bondage, oral [f + m.], squirting, praise, all of them are kinda mean but with reason, teasing, pet names dnt feel like listing, minors aren’t allowed! reblogs + comments are appreciated! ♡

EREN YEAGER

let’s just say eren likes to fuck you really hard when you piss him off. i’m talking putting you through the mattress. gotta make you feel his anger. the man will make you gag on his dick until your jaw aches, stating ‘since you like to run your fuckin’ mouth so much, make use of it’. he loves when your pretty lips glide along his dick, holding your head still as he hisses and groans, muttering ‘suck it, c’mon’ while he stuffs your throat with his heavy dick. when you use two hands to stroke him until he’s throwing his head back trying his best not to whimper. his moans get stuck in his throat when you suck him, eyes completely gone and his face shifting in pleasure. and for revenge for putting him in a position where he has to be mean to you in order for you to understand, he’d fuck you hard till you’re gushing all over him. licks his fat tongue up your neck as he moans in your ear and tells you ‘fuckin’ pretty, mama. takin’ that shit so good, girl.’ burying his dick deep into you it’s painfully good. he always loses his stress halfway through, kissing you like you mean the world to him, since you do. but, he’ll definitely make you beg for forgiveness, and beg to cum. ‘i can’t hear you, baby. say it. i wanna hear you. don’t go quiet now. you were talkin’ all that shit earlier so be a big girl and beg me to let you cum.’

ARMIN ARLERT

armin’s a tease at first. he likes to play with you before he fucks you really good, and i mean good. it’s enough for your legs to spasm and your pussy to squirt along his abdomen. he’s gentle when he starts, sucking on your neck, licking on your nipples as he rolls them under the pads of his thumbs. kissing your inner thighs and doing his best to avoid eating your pussy since you’re currently undeserving. your whines and trembles fuel him, and once he’s gotten a taste of you, slicking his thick tongue between your folds and releasing a guttural moan in your pussy, that’s when the demon comes to show. holding you down as you squirm and try to escape, using all of his upper body strength knowing you can’t fight him. armin will not hesitate to fuck you dumb. you’ve been a brat lately, knowing he hated when you sassed him. he’d always tell you ‘we’ll talk later’ and the talk is usually him fucking you straight. he likes to have you in every angle imaginable. loves to stare at your face as you scream his name, yank at the sheets, and even bite into his arm. he’ll grab your face and tell you to ‘watch me fuck you like the bad girl you are.’ kiss you sloppily as he drops his dick into you hard, every pound leaving you gasping for air. that blonde hair on his head covering his dangerous eyes, followed by weak whimpers and whines escaping his throat. ‘too pretty, love. keep suckin’ me deep. i can feel you cumming.’

ONYANKOPON

not the type to play games with you, at all. will cut any attitude you have extremely short. you seem to yap a lot, and he can live that. what he won’t deal with is a grown woman who throws temper tantrums like an adolescent. he’s usually understanding of most things, meaning he can sit you down and talk if needed. but some things just don’t get through that tiny skull of yours. now, now he has to push it into the bed to fuck some respect into you. he gets really deep to make you feel it all. won’t stop until you’re actually crying. he expects apologies, and they flow from your mouth airless. clearly, he won’t give up until he approves a real apology, not just one you spew just to let you cum. ‘told you stop talkin’ to me fuckin’ crazy. ima fuck the shit outta you’ he’ll groan, heat pooling in his stomach. he’s mad as fuck, and you feel the energy. struggling in the fabric he used to tie your wrists behind your back, whining into the pillow as he claps your ass back onto him. the rough baritone of his voice causing your head to spin. when his big hand wraps around your throat, he’ll pull your head to his chest as your back arches lower, swiveling his hips and fucking you quicker. ‘fuck yes, baby. tell daddy how sorry you are. right now.’ and you’ll tell him, because at this point you didn’t have a choice. his heavy hand lands numerous hits to your ass, biting his lip as you clench around his dick, drawing an orgasm from him sooner than yourself. then he’ll give your pussy some sloppy kisses after because he feels bad for making you so sore. <3

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

listen to the inspo song!!!

[fleurdov]

i ran out of tags room that’s how you know this is serious krkdkdkkdlx but i was thinking!

actually you know what rory is that girl!!

bc think about it this rich kids could of definitely just paid each other to lie and get her out expeditiously like they obviously have the resources for that and blackmail! it makes no sense to attack rory?? but i guess? she bothers yeji sooooo much they got this whole elaborate plan to pay off the houses, take her man, make her crash out by taking her friends, spy on her and all the other things i’m forgetting to mention not to mention during this plan seonghwa definitely gets something outta this, she’s still got guys to be at her beck and call, she’s maintaining good grades and her scholarship, two situationships (1 whole is a snake and the other is a rat and is in love with her but okay)and 2 heartbreaks,all while being in a house full of rats and then sneaking out to go into another house full of snakes praying on her downfall. and on top of that! the girls are still telling her she should be president! yea she is that girl! she’s not thriving and she’s definitely falling down fighting for her life but she’s like that girl to cause all that conversation nonetheless kfkcklclclx

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 16k exact. (part SEVEN of ???) good luck. ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }

september 23rd ~ monday ~ 11:20 a.m.

“I’ll take a shot of vodka, or something else, whatever you’ve got.”

Theo smiled, then shook his head, leaning over the counter toward you.

“You can get that later down the street,” he said. “Want me to surprise you if you aren’t gonna make a decision?”

Clasping your hand over your hoodie you shrugged. “Please.”

Getting to work, he sent the occasional glance over his shoulder. “You’re in a weird mood, what happened?” He wrapped his hand around a large sized cup and took it to the espresso machine. “What’s happened since Friday, I should say.”

A lot, you wanted to say. You’ve realized you’ve fallen in love with a boy who was your best friend, said boy has snuck onto your roof and confessed his love for you, you’re both set to ‘break up’ with people you aren’t even together with, and all the meanwhile the boys girl has started a lie that has now spread throughout the ITZ house.

Nothing has been said to Yunho or Tori as of yet, you were meeting Tori for lunch after your noon classes so you would tell her there. The video had to still be up on Chan's profile, those things lasted for twenty four hours. She was a liar, Mina was. Though you can’t piece together at the moment why she would lie about something like this. Chan is her brother, and he’s apparently been through many struggles in his lifetime.

Your father has been through many struggles in his lifetime, never once do you ever use his shit as an excuse for your behavior, nor would you ever use his shit as a way to warp people’s minds, their feelings. The beings in both houses knew little of your dad, aside from Yunho, Tori and unfortunately Wooyoung. You’re sure Mingi knew a little something, he’s dating Tori, but you don’t care what he knew. If he’s trustworthy enough to date Tori, he’s trustworthy to know who and what your father is.

Mina’s pretty, she’s smart, she comes from a good family. Why would she lie?

Pulling out your phone you open a thread of messages and type away.

[you]: we have to talk about something questionable

It took him three seconds to respond.

[youknow everythin]: This is how you answer my good morning text? What did you just wake up?

[you]: i’m at blend i have a class in thirty

[you]: i’m sorry i didn’t answer, i read it before i got in the shower

[youknow everythin]: Take me in the shower with you, duh

[you]: you are such a boy

[you]: any mina updates

[youknow everythin]: She’s hurting. I told you last night what she was saying, her brother and all that. I got the full run down. She was keeping a lot from me this summer.

You tried real hard to not let those words tug at your heart.

[youknow everythin]: You know what it made me think of? That psych thing or whatever it is, the invisible child thing? Where one childs needs are so great that the other kid kind of goes unnoticed? But… Not totally unnoticed, they’re just more self sufficient? I feel like that’s Mina. She just needs someone to see her.

That made your stomach feel weird.

And not because of his last sentence.

Because you understood.

You didn’t have any siblings, but you had to grow up pretty self-sufficient.

[you]: damn i didn’t think of it like that

[you]: makes me feel like a bitch for what i’m about to say

[youknow everythin]: Tell me

“You are so out of it,” Theo said, handing the beautifully decorated coffee over to you. With whipped cream on the top he swirled caramel around it. Looking up at him, he gave you a smile and stepped away from the counter to take care of another customer who had appeared beside you while you were focused on your screen. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

[you]: i think she’s lying about her brother

“The drama never ends,” you whispered, picking up the coffee to take a sip of it. It was equally sweet as it was caffeinated. “Oh my god,” you groaned after a swallow. Theo smirked over his shoulder. “I’ll text you the money,” you said, tapping away to open his messages, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, flipping the other person's coffee over to shake it. “Someone left you an allowance. I think you’re good for the rest of the semester to be honest.” He chuckled as your brows rose. “You have another friend down at ATZ, and I assume he’s told you all about me.”

“Soul,” you mumbled, and Theo shot you a look that did little to warm your heart. “Yeah, he, uh, he told me.”

Popping a lid on the small sized cup in his hand, he slid it over the counter to the person next to you and muttered, “Three eighty seven,” and took the cash as they handed it over. “I don’t want to tell you to stay away from him,” Theo said to you, giving the person their change, “He’s really not that bad of a guy.” Shifting back over to your side of the counter, he leaned over on his elbows and looked up at you. “He’s just been through some shit.”

Rolling your eyes, you sipped your drink and tried not to laugh. “Seems to be the theme of the day.” Theo flattened his lips into some sort of smile. “What was her name?”

He closed his eyes and released a breath. “Soojin.” When his eyes met yours he laughed at your pout. “Don’t, it’s okay. She was a year below me in school, they had another year of high school together, I was here, it wasn’t a big deal.”

With another sip, you tried to hide behind your straw when you asked, “When did it happen?”

Theo smirked, assessed his surroundings and the little people that were inside his cafe. “She was a senior, he was a sophomore, I was a freshman trying to get into the prestigious ATZ. I was upset when it happened of course, she and I were still dating, but, when you really look at it, what kind of senior in high school takes an interest in a sophomore…”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, your eyes going wide. Theo grinned.

“Yeah, so I ended that quick,” he nodded once, standing up to clean up behind his counter. “And, I made sure Shota was okay, even though he was all smug about it. He was sixteen, he had every right to think he was hot shit for sleeping with a senior, but brotha’ was a victim.”

Soul’s dark eyes that never seemed to have a thought behind them came to mind, and you were gutted. “Tae, oh my god,” you said and he shrugged, wiping down his machines. “He told me that you hate him for it.”

Theo huffed a laugh, then hung his head for a few seconds. “If that’s what he wants to believe, I’ll take it. I don’t hate him,” he turned to give you a look. “He’s impressionable. Don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s not… all there,” he came closer to you. “His parents are… were… kinda messed up. You can’t tell him I said any of this,” Theo pointed at you, his eyes going stern.

“Promise,” you whispered, holding up a hand.

Theo tapped his fingers on the counter, watching them for a moment. “He was in therapy for a while.”

“Weren’t we all?” you attempted to lighten the air, smiling, and he laughed.

“I guess at some point,” he breathed. “I mean, I was after my parents got divorced, so… No, but, Shota, he’s been into a lot of things kids shouldn’t get into. This ability for him to… attract… that kind of attention, like with Soojin, I don’t know, it’s…” 

“His eyes,” you whispered, and Theo never looked at you faster. Sheepishly smiling, you said, “He’s been following me around for a little bit now, Tae. He showed up to ITZ one night.” Theo’s eyes shot open wide. You nodded. “Yeah, he’s persistent. I can kinda see why he’d so easily coerce someone… Not saying that’s what he did, or has done, but… Yanno?”

Theo thought about it, then asked, “So, you were catchin’ a crush?”

“No,” you said, hushed and rushed. “I have way too much happening to have a crush on a freshman. That makes me Soojin, just many years later.” He smiled, popping his brows. “And, now that I know he’s your little brother? That’d be weird. You and I were dates at Date Night last winter, my allegiance is to you, Taeyang.”

“I’ll never forget Wooyoung's face when we got picked,” he said, and you both shared a smile. “He was pissed.”

Names were chosen at random between the sorority and the fraternity, pairs made for the night. Date Night, one of the more exciting events thrown between the houses, kicked off with a bang though neither house raised enough to put toward this current year. Still, it was fun, and you were paired with Theo who drank your required liquor when you couldn’t stomach anymore. The two of you danced, you laughed, you hung out with Tori and Yeosang, her randomly chosen date, and you partied until the next morning. 

The kicker… You were strapped together at the wrist. You physically could not leave your date alone, and if someone else wanted to talk to you, you had to talk to their date, too.

Vernon was paired with Isla.

Yuna and Jongho were matched up.

Ryujin and San.

Chaeryeong was paired with a senior, as well as Mingi, like you and Theo.

Hongjoong had a senior from ITZ on his wrist.

Seonghwa and Lia both had freshman recruits.

Yunho got lucky enough to have Mina follow him around.

And, Wooyoung had Yeji.

You could say that was the start of the downfall, that Yeji and Wooyung were paired up together, so who knows if that night they hooked up as well, but you’ve stopped letting the thought bother you.

“It was fun,” you gave him a small smile.

“It was.” He returned it. “Are you guys gonna do that again? I know that one’s like tradition, right?”

“Tori has it on the schedule,” you said. “She’s stuck it sometime in October now, I think around Halloween? It might land on her birthday, I’m not so sure.”

“Well,” he stood up straight, having leaned over the counter again, and slapped his hands on the vinyl. “If you get paired with Shota, keep an eye on him.”

“Think I might do that regardless now, Tae,” you said, lifting your drink a bit to signal your exit. “Thanks again.”

Theo smirked and watched you leave the cafe. “Thank my brother.”

september 23rd ~ monday ~ 1:47 p.m.

[youknow everythin]: Rory there’s nothing there though, we can’t just assume, can we?

“It was here yesterday!”

Sitting forward, you laid your phone on the table beside your plate and groaned in frustration. Tori, cross legged with her waves over her shoulders, watched you with a raised brow.

“He deleted it, he had to have deleted it,” you whispered, refreshing Chan's profile three times before giving Tori a look of dismay. “When we were at the library, he posted it.”

“It’s been a day, it’s not going to be there anymore,” she said, picking up her fork. “I want to believe you, though.”

Eyes bugging out of your head, you attempted to refresh the page again. “You don’t believe me? How?” When you met her eyes again the taste in your mouth went sour. “Tori, I’m not lying to you, I swear to God, she is lying to us.”

“What person would lie about their brother like that?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you shouted, and many heads turned your way. The two of you were at a small table toward the front of the sushi restaurant you stormed out of over a week ago. “Yunho thinks she’s got that invisible child thing. You know, where they pry for attention, or something.”

Tori, sipping her water, rolled her eyes. “Listen, I want to believe you, Ror, but now that you’ve got this thing with Yunho, it looks like you’re trying to make her the bad guy.”

Right, she was still miffed about the whole situation.

“I know what it looks like, okay?” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m not trying to… Win the boy, or whatever it is you think I’m doing. I have the boy. It’s not about that.”

Tori sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “You do, do you?” You nodded and she pursed her lips. “Then, what is it about? If she is lying like you say she is, what’s the point of calling her out for it? Just let it go, all shit comes out eventually.”

She was right.

Letting her go back to her sushi, you swiped back to your messages.

[youknow everythin]: She has been giving me specific updates, Rory

[youknow everythin]: I don’t think she’s lying

september 24th ~ tuesday ~ 2:44 p.m.

In four days you and your sisters would be walking through the doors of ATZ with your recruits. The two houses would come together for dinner, an introduction of sorts, a welcome to the life type of night. There have been freshmen in and out of the house since yesterday morning, touring the property, meeting the board, sucking up to Yeji who spoke to them all with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

Standing in the foyer now, your new dark blue ITZ t-shirt on and tucked into the waist of your jeans, two girls walking through the door in sundresses caught your eye. Wide eyed and excited, they gasped to themselves as they gaped up at the ceiling, the two of them arm in arm, linked together. It reminded you of you and Tori. They joined the few girls already walking the first floor, taking in the photos on the wall, reading every description, every story that lived on the white paint.

Ryujin, in the same t-shirt, stood beside you. Nudging her side, you gestured toward the girls.

“Those are the two I met at ATZ,” you whispered. Ryujin scanned the group, then found them and squinted. “They’re freshmen, and I think they come as a pair. Can’t buy them separately.”

“Like you and Tor,” Ryujin mumbled, and you smiled. “My gaydar is going off looking at the shorter one, I can probably make some magic happen.” Fluffing her shaggy hair, she adjusted her shirt to be a bit more frumpy, letting it hang over the waist of her wide legged jeans. She was gone in seconds, flashing a sideways smile to both girls who shook Ryujin’s hand with caution. Sure enough, the shorter one let her eyes slip up and down the seniors frame, but that could mean anything. Ryujin was walking sex appeal, if you swung that way you’d be sneaking out of her room every morning instead of an ATZ bedroom.

Taking a quiet moment for yourself, not being bothered by freshman looking to kiss ass, you pulled out your phone and checked your messages.

[youknow everythin]: How's it going over there? These freshman are ridiculous

Smiling, you worked your fingers on the keys.

[you]: at least you don’t have to listen to a trillion female empowerment stories

[you]: think every girl in this house right now has told the same story

[you]: i think i love it though, they all have something to prove, it’s admirable

[youknow everythin]: Does it remind you of your recruitment? 

[you]: totally, i was coming from a single father who lived paycheck to paycheck, i had to be obnoxious and prove myself. i’m seeing a lot of yeji’s and chaeryeong’s in this crowd. money money money

[youknow everythin]: Same over here, lots of guys flashing their bank accounts. And why is everyone a business major?

[you]: hey, don’t diss

[youknow everythin]: Not what I meant <3 <3 <3

[youknow everythin]: Have you talked to Seonghwa about anything yet? I assume not because he’s been nice to me all day

[you]: no, we should just wait a little bit. shit isn’t hitting the fan right now, we’ll be better off later. you haven’t said anything to mina yet?

[youknow everythin]: Not with this brother thing happening. Plus, she's VP so she’s got a lot on her plate at the moment.

Glancing up at her now, the Vice President, it was written on her t-shirt that she tucked into her denim skirt. Jeans were the dress code for this day, but apparently any denim was acceptable. She was smiling ear to ear while she spoke to a group of girls that gazed up at her with starry eyes. Admitting to yourself that it was impressive she was Vice President already, a sophomore, it didn’t make the feeling in your gut lessen.

Something was off.

It made you wonder if she heard your conversation with Tori the other day.

[you]: understood. keeping shit undercover

[youknow everythin]: It’s been hard to keep Mingi quiet. He’s so nosey. He wants to talk about us all the time.

[you]: us

[youknow everythin]: Us

[youknow everythin]: <3

“Great turn out today, don’t you think?”

Chills ran down your spine. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you turned over your shoulder and plastered a smile onto your face.

“So great,” you said. “I was just thinking about how there are so many like minded girls in here that have something to prove.”

Yeji pierced you with her fox-like gaze, attempting to look through you, into you. In all of the past weeks you’ve never had to be one on one with her, you’ve only had to deal with her in meetings. Her ombre hair curled perfectly laid over her shoulders, tucked behind one ear, showed off the diamonds she was wearing in her lobes. In her t-shirt and skinny jeans, she topped off the fit with strappy black heels and thin silver and gold bracelets on her wrists.

“Like minded?” Yeji asked, letting her eyes leave you for only a second to take in the group. “Explain.”

Swallowing, your mouth had gone dry, you nodded. “Their grades are fantastic, first of all, which you know to me is the most important of all.” Yeji narrowed her eyes. “But, the stories they’re telling us, what they’ve gone through to get here, some being told they’ll never make it to this school, that they’ll never get far… And, they’re here.” She bobbed her head, and smiled once you said, “It makes me think of Mina.”

“Does it?” she questioned, taking a peek at her second speaking with the girls.

“It does,” you whispered. “Everything with her family, yanno? She’s here, at Nasara, and she did that for herself. It’s incredible. I mean, even Isla, she wanted to do something for herself and she’s-”

“Leaving us in a day or two,” Yeji muttered, and your heart stopped. Taking in the shock on your face, she nodded, her stone cold expression never changing. “Don’t worry, she’s not being kicked out. Her brother has been in contact with us. He’s going to come get her, she needs his help. I’ll be sharing the news with Ryujin tonight, so if you could do me a solid and not tell anybody?”

Looking for the senior, the unsuspecting girl laughing it up with the two girls you met at the party, the walls seemed to tighten around you a smidge. She had no idea she was losing her roommate of the last three years. The two met on this day, Ryujin a sophomore, Isla a freshman. They clicked, they understood one another, they became best friends. Ryujin has done so much for Isla within the last year, and now she’d have to go through her most important year alone.

“She’s withdrawing?” you asked Yeji.

“She’s done,” the president nodded. “Withdrawn from classes, from the sorority, from Nasara entirely.”

“Where will she go?”

“With DK,” Yeji shrugged. “We don’t have the ability to help her here. She needs her family. That’s important, you know that, right? Family?” The look she gave you before she scampered away to greet some more freshmen wandering into the house was unreadable. 

february 14th ~ thursday ~ last semester ~ 11:21 p.m.

The ball hit the edge of the cup and bounced onto the floor, a choir of groans echoing throughout the crowded living room. Bumping into Tori, your pong partner, you grabbed onto her arm and voiced your own disappointment. Across the table, the two boys you were playing simply laughed.

“Leave us alone!” Tori shouted playfully. “She’s not good at this, okay, we know this!”

Blushing, you laughed aloud, too drunk to care that she had half roasted you while trying to defend you. “I suck!”

“You do, is that the best you’ve got?” Yunho grilled, wearing a devious smirk on his lips. Poking his tongue out the corner when you looked at him, he raised his brows and motioned toward himself with his fingers. 

Mingi elbowed him, smiling at his girl from across the table doused in beer and liquor. The room was dark, people in the crowd around you were using their flashlights on their phones to light up the table for you four. You were both down to the last three ups on either side.

“She doesn’t seem so bad, you guys are tied.” A voice that wrapped around your heart made you smile. Turning around you bump into Wooyoung who wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his chest. Bringing his lips to your ear he said, “Stand up straight, keep your elbows to yourself and throw without thinking too hard.”

Pulling away from him, he kept a hand on your back, he smiled at you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. Following his instructions, standing up straight, you made eye contact with Yunho who now wore a scowl. Music flooded your ears, peoples shouts from everywhere in the house threatened to pull your liquor fueled brain elsewhere. Wooyoung took his hand around your waist and gave you a squeeze.

“Breathe,” he said, and you listened. “Look at the cup… Good.” You turned your chin to look at him and he laughed, using his other hand to maneuver your focus back to the table. “Look at the cup, baby, you can do this, prove them wrong, I know you can.”

“Don’t think someone’s allowed to touch the player while they throw,” Yunho called out, and Mingi laughed. Tori shut him up with a glare. 

Wooyoung curled his lip. “Shut up.” Moving behind you, putting both hands on your waist, he cradled his chin into your neck. “Throw it. Show them.” His lips ghosted your skin and you longed to drop the ball and spin around in his arms, but the way Yunho was glaring at you made you want to throw the ball at his head instead of the red cups waiting for you.

“Any day now,” Yunho complained, tipping his chin backward.

“Ro, shut this guy up,” Wooyoung said loud enough for him to hear. Smiling, feeling his hands press into your waist, you pulled your hand back and released the ball. It went into a cup and swirled around in circles, and the three of you on your end of the table cheered for half a second.

Yunho dipped his fingers inside and flicked it out, both him and Mingi laughing together. The crowd was impartial, no one knew who to be happy for.

“Are you kidding me?” Wooyoung spat, pulling you away from the table, planting his hands on the edge. Yunho raised a brow, a shiteating smirk on his lips.

“That’s the game,” he said.

“You’re a piece of shit, just let her have it,” Wooyoung said, throwing a hand toward the cups left in front of the boy many inches taller than him. “It’s one cup.”

Yunho glanced down, then scoffed. “Yeah, it’s one cup,” he parroted, and Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “She’ll get it again, though she’s missed the last ten shots.”

Tori circled the table and ended up somewhere around Mingi, her boyfriend craning his neck down to press kisses to her cheek. Waiting behind Wooyoung, not knowing what the hell was going to happen, you turned around and found San making his way through the crowd. Raising your hands in the air, you shouted for him.

“Sannie!”

His face lit up. “Ror!” Elbowing past bodies, he found your side and groaned. “Oh no,” he slung himself over your back when you turned around to face the table. “What happened? Why’s he mad?”

Pointing at Yunho, your best friend giving you two ounces of attention, scrunching his nose at San, you said, “He was talkin’ shit, I threw the ball like Wooyoung said, I made it in, but Yo knocked it out.”

San shook his head. “No, you’re kidding, shit move, Yunho!” He looked back at you and San at the sound of his name. “You always play girls like that?” 

Wooyoung smiled at San and held up a hand. “Hang on.” Pointing at Yunho, he said, “Own up to it. Or, you give me the balls, and if I make it in the other two cups, the girls win and you both forfeit for the night. I’m tired of seeing you both standing over here.”

Yunho and Mingi shared a look. From beneath his arm Tori said, “You don’t have to be a jerk, Wooyoung.”

Giving your roommate a look, he quirked a brow. “You wanna take their side over your own sisters? Damn, Tori, that says a lot about you doesn’t it?” San snickered behind you, his hands tangling over your chest. Wooyoung turned back to Yunho. “Balls,” he wiggled his fingers, and the boy obeyed, rolling them across the table. Clutching them both, Wooyoung rolled them in his hands and smirked. “I make it in those two, the ones she didn’t touch, they win. You’re done.”

Yunho crossed his arms and tilted his head back, the smug look in his face doing something to you. “Do it,” he scoffed. “If you don’t make it you have to leave for the rest of the night, how about that?”

Wooyoung threw both balls, one right after the other. They landed in both cups, the ones you didn’t touch, with a splash. The room lost their minds. Yunho and Mingi dropped their arms in shock.

Wrapping an arm around you, acquiring you from San, Wooyoung flashed them a sweet smile. “I was planning on leaving anyway.” And he whisked you out of the living room, leaving the boys dumbfounded behind you.

Barreling through people, both of you laughing, you babbling on about how crazy of a shot that was, you were seconds away from telling him he got lucky when he pressed you against the wall in the hallway, just short of the stairs. 

Almost nose to nose, he placed a hand on the wallpaper and the other to your cheek, dragging his thumb over your skin. He wore a smile, his lips closed hiding his perfect teeth. His hair hung over his forehead, the waves having been pushed side to side all night.

“Did you like the way he was talking to you?” he asked, letting his fingers dance into your hair, pushing it gently off your shoulders that were bare in Tori’s strapless top you borrowed.

Blinking, getting lost in the depths of almond eyes, you took a breath. “Who, Yunho?” Wooyoung nodded, the smallest gesture. “Not really, but it’s Yunho, he never really means what he says. He could talk all the shit in the world and then seconds later his mood changed.”

“It wasn’t cool, Ro,” he said, his hand taking to your shoulder, not dropping any further. “I didn’t like it.” His lips formed a pout. “He was talking about my girl.” Your cheeks warmed, and he smiled, flashing you his perfect teeth. His beauty was indescribable, you couldn’t put words to it. So unique, so undeniably gorgeous. He was a wanted man, and he was here in your arms.

“Your girl,” you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips. “Since when am I your girl?”

Laughing to himself, he brought both of his hands over your neck, his hands taking to your chin, tilting you upward. His grip was gentle, everything about how he dealt with you was gentle. “I want you to be my girl,” he whispered. “But you get hung up on jackasses, just pay attention to me, Ro, these other guys don’t matter.”

Blinking a few times, you muttered, “Wooyo, I’m drunk.” Exhaling heavily, you wiggled in his grip and he let you go. “I pay attention to you, what’re you talking about?”

Having taken a step backward, his hands were to himself. “You do,” he said. “I just mean… Nevermind.”

This time you came closer to him, sliding your arms around his neck, pulling him in. He walked backward so he could lean against the wall. Taking his arms around your back, he gazed down at you, studying you, taking in every little piece of you.

“We can talk when you’re not drunk,” he whispered, dipping his chin down to brush his nose against your own. Whispering your agreement, he smiled, then tilted his chin and pressed his lips to yours. In mere seconds your hands were in his hair, holding onto him like he’d soon run away. You yearned to melt into him, to stay here forever with his lips on yours, taking your time as if it was the first time you’ve found yourself here.

He treated each kiss like it was fragile, like if he moved too fast the moment would end. Soft lips pulling you under, his tongue meeting yours to deepen it further. There was no rush, no hurriedness about it. By now one would figure you’d be pulled upstairs and stripped to nothing, but, not with Wooyoung. Not now.

Neither of you crossed that line. Neither of you wanted to, not yet. Though many, many make outs, like this one, have ended with sweaty skin and the need to change your pants, both of you, the drive to go further always pulled you both back. Wooyoung had always been quicker to stop it, to stop you if your hand fell to the button of his pants, or if you seemed to fall into some sort of conditioned way of moving about him. 

At first it was strange, him wanting to take his time, but for a couple months now you’ve both been reeling in the build up, in the excitement of what’s to come, the two of you unspokenly going about this thing like it were your first time ever.

“Aurora,” Wooyoung whispered, touching his forehead to yours. Looking up at him through your lashes you smiled. “So beautiful,” he kept his voice low, just for you. “Promise me,” he said, and you lowered your brows. “Promise me you’ll stay away from them.”

“Away from who?”

“Don’t let them pull you into their games,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s how this shit works, this life. They won’t stop until they win.” His hands slipped into your hair, pushing it away. Pausing, he studied you once more and kissed you. “They’ll snuff out anything standing in their way.”

september 25th ~ wednesday ~ 7:15 p.m.

[you]: hey, hope its okay tae gave me your number… you didnt have to do this, but thank you. i’ll blame you for the caffeine addiction next semester

[soul]: come to atz to thank me in person

[you]: too much to do, sorry friend. i’ll see you on saturday, right?? you used your brain instead of your wallet, yeah?

[soul]: yeah…… something like that.

[you]: good. keep it up.

[you]: do me a solid?

[soul]: anything for you

[you]: tell yunho to answer his phone if you can find him, he’s supposed to meet me somewhere and i think he’s drowning in books right now

[you]: hope those boys arent giving you too much of a hard time

[soul]: not at all :)

He was fifteen minutes late. That’s extremely unlike him. Yunho was a cluster fuck, but he was a punctual cluster fuck. 

The two of you were finally meeting at Blend. You had secured a booth in the farthest corner, not that the place was buzzing with life anyway. Away from the windows, away from the door. You weren’t looking to create any problems. All of your board members were busy situating girls to rooms anyways, all of the details needing to be mapped out by Friday morning when all of the new recruits would arrive.

Tori let you in on the secret, there were maybe ten at max that made it through all the way. There were only a couple set aside for now, needing a couple more details set in stone before they could move forward. 

Not needed around the house, actually trying to stay out of everybody's way, you were able to corral Yunho to agree to come out this evening. Unfortunately it looks like homework may win again, however. You wanted to unpack this month with him, unpack what had happened on the roof, discuss Mina when you both weren’t delirious and half asleep.

Sending him the second ‘where are you’ text, you locked your phone and tossed it to the table as the door to Blend swung open. Heart hoping it was Yunho waltzing inside with a hilarious apology, you’re surprised to see Seonghwa, in all black of course. He had his hair pulled back in a tie, hanging low on his neck. It took him three seconds to find you, his eyes scanning the room as if he smelled you the second he walked in. 

“Ror,” he said, his voice and his smile giving you some sort of comfort.

“Hey,” you said quietly, toying with the straw in your cup. Seonghwa gave the smallest wave, if you could call it that, to Theo, then he changed his course and came over to you, leaving the barista dumbfounded as his eyes followed him over to you. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa half laughed, sliding into the booth across from you, leaving his legs dangling out the side, his feet touching the floor. He slid his hand across the table and brushed his fingers over yours. “I’ve been feeling a little off, think I wanted something warm to drink.”

Raising a finger, letting him slip one beneath yours, you tilted your head. “Feeling sick?”

He shifted in his seat, swinging his legs underneath the table, his knees bumping into yours. His height was unreal. “No, not sick,” he muttered. “Just… off.”

Hooking your finger onto his, you pouted. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Nodding toward the counter where Theo worked behind it without a sound, Seonghwa glanced over there. “Get a drink,” you smiled. “It’s on me.”

Blinking once, he moved his eyes to you, then he released a laugh. “Now that I can’t do.”

“Why not?” you asked, watching him lace his fingers within yours.

“Because,” he whispered, his lashes fluttering as he spoke.

Leaning over the table, you lowered your voice and flipped your brows. “You helped me, now let me help you.”

Seonghwa mainted face. “Did I?” His voice was a whisper. Eyes sharp, the sudden vulnerability swallowed you. A lot has happened since you slept with him. 

At least it felt like a lot.

“I mean, yeah,” you said with a small shrug. Clenching his jaw he glanced at your hands.

“Then you won’t be upset if I tell you he went to see Mina tonight?”

You yanked your hand back, tucking it into your lap with the other. Nausea filled your gut, you could get sick in front of him right here.

“She’s been having a hard time, I've heard, they talk everyday.”

Gulping away the lump in your throat you dropped your eyes to the table and sucked in a shaky breath.

He told you he’d be here.

He promised you that you would talk, about everything.

He hasn’t said that word since he snuck onto your roof.

“Ror?” Seonghwa tapped one of his fingers on the table, pulling you from your thoughts that didn’t circle as much as you thought they would. It was simple. “You okay?”

Rolling your shoulders back, sitting up straight, you sighed and smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Seonghwa tried to smile, but his lips could only crinkle as the corners lifted.

“You sure?” he whispered.

The space between your lungs tightened. “No,” you breathed, lifting your hand back onto the table, touching your finger tip to his. Seonghwa looked down at them for half a second. “I thought…”

He bit the bullet and folded his hand within yours again. “Tell me.”

The rub of his thumb over the back of your hand soothed the hurt. “Just thought I really had him this time.”

His brows lowered ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

Tightening your grip on his hand, his thumb stopped moving. “Hwa, you can’t get mad,” you whispered, poking out your bottom lip a bit, praying your shining eyes would persuade him enough.

“Why would I be mad?” he questioned, his voice going deep.

“Because,” you said, and he narrowed his eyes. “Tori told me you do this… thing. Well, really, Mingi told her.” Seonghwa blew air out his lips and let his eyes close for a second. “I’m serious. You gave me a crazy ass hickey, Hwa. Apparently that means I belong to you.” Ignoring how his eyes darkened, you smiled when he did.

“A man can’t just do it ‘cause he likes it?” he snickered, shaking his head. Shrugging your shoulders, his thumb resumed its dance over your skin. “Ror, you don’t belong to me. Did I love our night together, fuck yes, you know how to ride a dick.”

“Hwa!” you giggled, glancing around the cafe, taking a peek at Theo making a drink behind the counter for a customer not present. He didn’t hear him.

“You're cute when your cheeks go all pink,” he mumbled, bringing your attention back to him. “When did you guys happen? At the next one?”

“Jesus, Seonghwa, I’m not an animal.”

“I am,” he smirked, getting the exact reaction out of you he was hoping.

Calming your smile, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head vigorously. “Stop,” you laughed, “I think it was like a week after, or something. You picked me up and brought me to the party where it all… went to shit, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No, it’s not your fault, come on.” Wiggling your hand in his you forced his eyes to yours and you smiled what you could. “I should’ve listened to you.”

Seonghwa took a breath and adjusted himself in his seat. “I mean,” he smirked, “Technicaly you did, I said fuck him.”

Laughing with him, you groaned. “Bad idea. Bad idea.”

“It was?” he asked, leaning forward. “I thought you really liked him.”

“Unfortunately I think I do,” you said. “But, at the same time, and I said this to Tori… I don’t know what that feels like.” Seonghwa zoned in his focus and slowly nodded. “I’m… attracted and all that, but I don’t know what it feels like to… be in love with somebody.”

“Love, sheesh,” he muttered. “Who uses that word anymore?”

“Yunho,” you whispered, giving him a sheepish look, one he raised his brows at. “Yeah,” you sighed. “Don’t spill that to anybody. I trust you.”

Seonghwa smiled. “I know you do, that’s why you let me-“

“Stop,” you cut him off with a wide smile, your tone singing a song. Laying your other hand on top of his, you took a deep breath. “We’re not gonna talk about that, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with a bow of his head.

The door to Blend opened, not nearly as confident as when Seonghwa came in. Turning a bit to peek at who it was, your nerves shook themselves awake.

He didn’t see you until he was at the counter, grabbing onto the small white cup that Theo slid over to him.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa said loud enough to get the boy to turn. He wore a leather jacket, one hand shoved inside a pocket, and dark blue denim jeans. The shirt on the inside was black.

Kicking your foot into his shin, you shot Seonghwa a glare. Wooyoung turned, confused as hell, but once he processed it was the two of you, you swore he rolled his eyes.

“Since when did you come here?” Seonghwa asked, sharing an equally confused look with his brother.

Wooyoung sipped his drink and lifted the cup in answer. “I’m here every Wednesday night. Last semester I was here every Tuesday night.”

“And the semester before that?” you questioned, slightly teasing him. He moved his eyes over to you and you felt the earth shake beneath you. Both of you were sober, facing one another for the first time since the end of last year.

“I was here every Monday night.” His gaze hardened.

“Why?” Seonghwa twisted his brows, looking the boy up and down. Wooyoung took two steps closer to the table.

“‘Cause,” he started, lowering his chin, balancing his cup in his hand against his bottom lip.

“Chai tea,” you mumbled, and both Seonghwa and Wooyoung looked at you. The boy across from you raised an eyebrow. “And Blend has the honey your mom uses at home.” Glancing at Wooyoung, he watched you. Subtle shock lived in his face, but he wouldn’t show it.

“You remember that?” he asked quietly.

Nodding with a shrug, you said, “Yeah, you told me about it when she called you to yell at you about your psych grade last year.” Seonghwa, in awe, released your hand. Wooyoung took notice.

“Why these specific days though?” Seonghwa shook his head.

You spoke before either of them could. “It means his hardest classes are today…”

It took you a couple seconds to work up the courage to look at Wooyoung again, but you did, and you found him thinking, his brows pointed and his eyes somewhat soft. Parting his lips as if to speak, he bit down on his bottom one instead and turned to walk out the door, telling Theo, “Thanks, Tae, I sent the money.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes were on you, hot. The moment the door was closed and Wooyoung was gone, he started to laugh.

“Don’t start,” you whispered, looking up at him.

“How can I not?” He shook his hair and sat backward. “That was entirely too adorable, Ror. Remembering his order? Remembering why he came here? You’re a real lover girl, aren’t you?”

Averting your eyes to the table, you pushed your drink aside, feeling too sick to drink anymore. “I just remember,” you shrugged. “It’s important to me. Remembering. Especially things like that.” You looked at him. “If you care about somebody, you tend to remember those things.”

At the word care he scrunched his nose.

Your phone buzzed on the table, both of you glancing at the screen that lit up with Tori’s name. Beneath her message was one from Yunho. Picking it up, you opened his first.

[youknow everythin]: Oh my god, I forgot. Rory. I’m so sorry, holy shit.

You flickered your eyes up at Seonghwa momentarily.

“What happened?” he asked.

He went to see Mina tonight.

“Nothing,” you whispered, focusing back on your screen.

[honey sweetie light of my life (no she didn’t make this her own name in your phone)]: get to the house NOW

[honey sweetie light of my life (no she didn’t make this her own name in your phone)]: ryujin losing her shit hurry hurry i cant get her to stop yelling at yeji

[honey sweetie light of my life (no she didn’t make this her own name in your phone)]: isla is gone, no one knows when she left, her stuff is gone

“Seonghwa, I gotta go,” you mumbled, barely giving him another look, leaving him at the table. Not a word was spoken elsewise. He let you go.

It took ten minutes to walk back to ITZ. Placing a hand over your racing heart, you barreled up the stairs and paused. Through the door, through the walls, Ryujins voice echoed into the outside. It sounded like things were being thrown, there were voices on voices and bangs on bangs.

Pushing the door open you’re greeted by a shoe falling to the floor in front of you from the second floor. Shutting the door with your back, you snapped your neck up and found the back of Yeji, standing against the railing with her arms folded over her chest. The shouting was coming from up there, Ryujin.

“YOU NEVER SAID SHIT YEJI! She’s GONE, where the FUCK did she GO!?”

Bending to pick her shoe up, finding many more littered about the floor, a hand grabbed your wrist and stood you up. Tori, eyes wide and brows high, shook her head and gestured toward the upstairs. “Don’t bother, she launches them back down. Yeji’s dodged almost every sneaker she owns, if we bring them back we’re only supplying her ammo.” She pulled you toward the stairs, out of the way of unidentified flying objects.

“What the hell is happening?” you asked, keeping your voice low. Ryujin still screamed, every profanity possible. Turning to Tori, she cringed. She had been crying, her eyes were glassy. Glancing upstairs, the other girls were either in their doorways or on the other side of the staircase, out of the way of Ryujin’s rage.

“Isla’s gone,” Tori whispered, the tears welling up in her eyes. “All of her things are gone, all of her belongings, her furniture, it’s gone. There isn’t a trace of her in that room. Ryujin came home from class and lost her shit.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you muttered. “No one’s tried to stop her?”

Tori gave you a look. “That’s her best friend, Ror. If this happened to you, and I suddenly disappeared, wouldn’t you freak the fuck out?”

Your heart sank. “Suddenly? What do you mean suddenly?”

She shrugged, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “No one knew, she didn’t tell anybody.”

“Who?” you whispered. Tori gave you another look, her brows meeting in the middle of her forehead. 

“Isla,” she sighed. “She didn’t say anything, she just… left. Quietly, too, no one knows how she did it.”

Gritting your teeth you took a breath and turned your attention to the senior on the second floor telling Yeji exactly what she thinks about her, and the president was unmoving. Still, not frozen, but still, Yeji watched her. Watched her scream, watched her sob, watched her throw whatever she could at her, and she didn’t say a word.

Now you could be sick. Now you could fall to the floor, your knees weak. Grabbing onto Tori, your best friend wrapped a hand around your back, laying her chin on top of your head, sniffling. 

Yeji knew how she did it. Yeji knew how she left. She knew when she left.

And so did you.

september 28th ~ saturday ~ 6:00 p.m.

Twenty five boys stood on the front steps of the ATZ house. Most of them wore smiles, and neatly buttoned shirts and pants, their hair styled to perfection, standing tall as you and your sisters approached the porch. Whispers moved through their group, the boys excited, and hungry. They had outdone you. ITZ was only bringing ten more girls.

Nineteen of you. There would’ve been more, but those girls you met at the party, and some others, didn’t make it past the cut. Turned down, Yeji signed five letters telling them they weren’t eligible for advancement into the sorority. You weren’t even able to protest without exposing to Yeji what you’d done, having attended the party, and met them in the kitchen when you were plastered. As much as you’d love to have those girls here with you, have them add a little more muscle to your sisterhood, this past month has been too much. You couldn’t risk anything at this point.

Tori, beside you in a little white dress, she slid her arm beneath one of yours and smiled. Her boyfriend was on the porch, standing in front with the original nine of ATZ. He’d already spotted her, the way he teetered back and forth on his feet shifting his weight while he waited patiently for her to find him entirely too adorable. They hadn’t seen one another in a few days, none of you have been here for a few days, both houses have been too busy preparing for this moment, and thankfully so.

Yunho stood next to Mingi, his shirt buttoned in totality, unlike his best friend who left the to one undone. The corners of his lips were turned up. A smile of sorts, but he seemed nervous. His eyes gave him away. The text he sent you Wednesday night, before rushing home to calm Ryujin- which you did- you never answered. He’s sent you a message everyday since, only two, you didn’t get one today, but it didn’t matter.

He forgot to meet you, or he was lying like his stupid girlfriend and he went out with her instead, comforting her and her allegedly real situation. For days she’s moped around the house, taking longer to talk on the phone, hanging around Yeji more than she’s ever had. She’s even taken Tori from you on a few occasions, and your roommate would come back in twenty minutes with some sort of update, telling you that Mina wasn’t feeling any better about the situation.

If she was telling the truth, she had every right to be upset. You understood that more than anybody. You’d go days without hearing from your dad sometimes, it was scary, even if you knew they were coming back. Some days it felt like they never were. Since he’s been back from his work trip in Contramano you’ve heard from him twice. A text when he returned, and then the shortest video call so he could see your smiling face.

Some days you wished you could tell him everything, that he’d be the kind of dad who would listen, and understand. Maybe he’d even give you some advice, tell you how to handle the shitshow you were swept inside of, but no. He’s taught you how to wear false emotion on your face and gave you the skill of juggling multiple situationships at once. Like you, your father didn’t know what love was. You like to think he gave you the best he could, that whenever he told you he loved you, that you were his everything, that he was telling the truth.

Maybe that was enough. The two of you trying your best to be the best people you could be for one another, knowing that at the end of the day it was just you and him. He didn’t want anything to happen to you, and though you longed for him to be detained maybe just one more time so he’d change his life, you didn’t want anything to happen to him either. He did try his hardest to be the best dad, and you could admit you gave him too much shit, but he couldn’t blame you for that. Your father has been through hell and back, a hell that he’s somewhat protected you from, a hell that he’s been learning from. Almost.

Old habits die hard.

Hongjoong stepped down from the porch with his head held high, extending a hand toward Yeji who stood at the front of your group. Smiling, his confidence exuding him, he took her hand and shook it, bowing his head as he did. Yeji returned his smile, matching his energy, and smiled. They exchanged a few words between themselves, the presidents moving with poise and juxtaposition. Hongjoong in a dark suit, his jacket buttoned with no shirt beneath it, and Yeji in a baby blue dress, her hair curled and her skin covered properly. Two halves of a whole, their knowing eyes reading one another with a careful tenacity. No one could deny their power, their own energy almost too much for themselves.

Up on the porch on the other side of the stairs stood Seonghwa, a being most of the girls behind you whispered about. A being that could have any girl in this group. All he’d have to do is point to one, and he’d have them crawling up the stairs. But, his eyes were on you, gentle and soft. When you met them he smiled. Trying to return it, your eyes fell to Vernon standing in front of him.

Brows low, his eyes were sharp, on alert, scanning your group from left to right, and back again. He tilted slightly side to side to get a glimpse of some of the girls hiding behind others. He was looking for something. Someone. When he met your eyes he questioned you with a raise of his brows, the action so small it’d go unnoticed by someone out of the know. Shaking your head, pulling your lips into a frown, you could feel the hurt that cracked his usual stoic expression in half.

Quickly composing himself, he glanced away, focusing on Hongjoong who turned back to his house, but then he narrowed his glare and shot it toward Yeji. Beside him, Wooyoung put a hand on his arm and whispered something to him. The boys spoke back and forth for a second while Hongjoong introduced himself to your sisters and new recruits, Wooyoung taking a peek at you every now and again while Vernon whispered to him.

Yeji introduced herself to the boys on the porch, the majority of the newbies visibly drooling over her. Some took their time with each face, marking their prey before it even stepped through their door. Soul was up there, leaning over the railing to the left of Seonghwa, his two freshman friends with him. The cocky one, Jongseob with his eyes set on Tori, and the shy one, Intak, who wore a smirk, eyes set on a girl somewhere behind you. 

Soul had his eyes on you. Smiling at him, his smirk deepend and he stood up straight, ripping his eyes from you to look at your president.

Both houses recited their mission statements for one another, whipping you into shape quickly, pulling your attention off the boys, and then, you were in the house. 

Dinner for the most part went smooth, to plan, as it should have. The boys let you and your sisters into the house first, their greetings respectful and kind, likely the doing of Hongjoong and Seonghwa. It was how they all moved through dinner as well, respectful and kind, treating the nineteen of you like important guests in their home, serving you, proving themselves. Soul had been the one to bring you a drink, something without alcohol in it.

That was for later.

This was all an act.

The recruits with you expressed their shock, their surprise that the frat house wasn’t a mess, not dirty in the slightest, and you wanted to let them in on a secret, but figured they’d see it soon enough. As soon as the clock struck ten the house flipped over.

For the majority of dinner Yunho kept to himself, hanging around Yeosang who gave you nothing more than a smile, though he hugged Tori. The first of many questionable things to happen within the hours before the party started.

Yunho didn’t say hello, he was actively trying to keep his eyes off of you. Finding something else to occupy him if the two of you got too close, usually another boy or a plate to clean up or a drink to fill.

Seonghwa checked in with you, noticing how Yunho avoided any interaction with you. In front of a group of his freshmen following him around, Soul included, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. Soul made sure to touch your shoulder, giving you a shake before they walked away.

Vernon hovered in a corner focused on his phone for most of the dinner, his nails finding themselves between his teeth as he tried to listen to people speak, the higher ups giving tours and sharing makeshift speeches with anyone who’d listen. He couldn’t even entertain the ATZ freshmen when they’d ask him about baseball, he was totally disconnected, and he hadn’t been able to get you alone to ask you what had happened, at least not yet.

Tori and Mingi hung onto one another with class, answering the freshmen’s questions of ‘Are you together?’ with smiles and happy nods. Mina found herself beside them often, Mingi now involved in the comfort Mina project.

Wooyoung hung around the outskirts of the dinner, like he would at any of his parties this semester it seemed. A complete change from how he’d act in the past, outgoing, loud, the center of attention. It didn’t click with you until you heard your friends speak about not being able to find him when they’d come here, that he’d hide. Hide, or just know how to not be seen. Even on social media he’s gone quiet, only the occasional post going up to his story, nothing big, not since that first party when he got you in trouble.

Hongjoong walked around with Jongho, the two of them seemingly becoming partners in crime this semester more so than Hongjoong and Seonghwa. The pair were almost comical, the muscle behind the beauty, like a bodyguard, stopping anybody if they got too close to his president. The sophomore did find himself with Yuna at some point, her chocolate brown curls melting his hardened exterior in seconds. Sharing a job, Yuna would often argue, since last year, that they spoke mainly about work, but the eyes never lie. There was something there.

San, well, he was San. A polite dinner party would not stop him from waltzing around the house without a care, taking after his president, wearing no shirt beneath his suit jacket that he unbuttoned as the night drew on and on. Shamelessly flirting with anybody who’d entertain him, not even knowing he was flirting, he accidentally collected a following, boys and girls alike who some would fall victim to later on.

Somehow you collected your own following. A few of the ITZ recruits found it comfortable at your side, asking you questions about the house, about the boys whenever one would pass by you and shoot you a wink. Ryujin accompanied you, lingering close by with a scowl on her face, and rightfully so. She didn’t want to come tonight, but contractually she had too. Avoiding Vernon for now, she unspokenly clung to you.

When the clock did strike ten, however, everybody changed. The entire house flipped over, and it happened fast.

Red cups littered the place within the hour of the party starting. The lights were shut off, the music had been turned up to a volume one had to shout over, and boys jackets and girls sweaters were draped over any furniture in the vicinity. Pong tables were going in the back of the living room, shouts coming from there, Mingi and Tori’s included. Both you and Ryujin didn’t know what to do, sipping your first drinks of the night, gathering some of the girl's belongings that had been strewn about, you weren’t sure whether to chaperone or drink away your sorrows.

As the first hour progressed, Ryujin decided on the latter. Flopping onto a couch amongst the brothers and sisters chattering away, dancing around the living room, she requested a full cup from an ATZ recruit and he obliged. At least you’d know where to find her, but now this meant you were on your own.

september 28th ~ saturday ~ 11:23 p.m.

“How is Yeji okay with any of this?” Vernon said, walking with you toward the living room, dodging drunk recruits wandering to the kitchen latched to one another's arms. Glancing over your shoulder at the boy and the girl laughing, you sighed.

“It’s tradition,” you suggested, giving him a shrug. “But, it’s funny though, right? She can ban us, but then allow everybody to run free tonight. It’s a tease to these new girls, they’re gonna be so disappointed.”

Taking up a spot on the vacant stairs the two of you sat side by side, Vernon sipping from his cup, his first and only of the night. You were on your second, taking your time, not wanting to be delirious for the whirlwind that already was this night.

“You know,” Vernon started, looking over into the archway of the living room. 

San was on the back of the couch, shirtless, with his tongue down an ITZ recruits throat. You believed she was a sophomore so you didn’t feel the need to run in there and put an end to the way her hands ran over his muscled chest without a care. Even if she was, you weren’t Yeji. The fun would commence, but you’d still keep a watchful eye over your sisters, old and new.

Vernon shook his head. “I don’t even remember what I was gonna say,” he turned to you, “I thought this night was gonna go one way, but it’s gone the exact opposite since you guys got here.” 

Twisting your cup around in your hands, you took a breath. “I know,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” he mumbled, knocking back what was left in his cup. “I just don’t know why she wouldn’t tell me she was leaving.”

Thinking about that night and Ryujins freak out, you circle back to the day before, when Yeji told you that Isla was withdrawing from Nasara and leaving with her brother. It was supposed to make sense, it should make sense, but for some reason, like the rest of the vague bullshit that occurred around here, it didn’t.

“She didn’t tell you anything at all?” you asked, and he shook his head, his brown curls dancing on his forehead.

“Nothing,” he nearly whispered. “I mean, I get it, she doesn’t owe me anything, we only hooked up once and she leaned on me for help, even though I genuinely wanted to help her…”

Letting him vent, you smiled once it was over. “She was still your friend, Vernon. That stuff hurts, and her not telling you that she was leaving should hurt.” He bobbed his head, letting it hang. “When did you guys… If you don’t mind me asking? I didn’t know you guys were like that.”

“Me either,” he admitted with a huff. “She, uh, showed up at my practice Monday night, and you know my coach keeps me late because of the scouting and wants to make sure I’m ready before I go up to triple A. She stayed and watched me hit, watched me work first base, bullying me the entire time- though she has no right ‘cause her brother is a pitcher and I am not, but whatever,” you both laughed, “It was really late, she helped me get my stuff together, followed me into the locker room which she’s done before, but… Something about this time she just… She got me.”

“I’m going to ask you something, please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?” you said, and he nodded. “Was she sober?”

“Completely,” he spoke fast. “Trust me, Ror. Wouldn’t have let her undress me if she wasn’t.”

“You two were really out there living every high schoolers fantasy,” you said with a giggle. “Sex in the locker rooms after baseball practice.”

He shared in your laugh for only a second. “Yeah, and now she’s gone.”

“You can always track her down,” you offered, bumping him with your elbow. “Instagram? Text? She’s with her brother, work your baseball magic and get her.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows lowering over his big brown eyes. “She’s with her brother?” A tiny spark of nerves ignited in your chest. “How do you know that, you’ve heard from her?”

“No, she hasn’t talked to any of us.”

His tone was slowly turning sharp. “Then how do you know she’s with her brother?”

“Yeji,” you whispered, unable to lie to his pretty face. “No, Vernon, wait!”

Leaping from the stairs, Vernon dropped his cup to the ground and barreled into the living room, ignoring your shouts for him to come back. Following him, jumping onto your feet, a hand landed on your shoulder before you could cross under the archway.

“Let me go,” you spat, turning around in haste. “Oh,” you sighed, and the spark of nerves turned into a flame. “What do you want?”

Yunho parted his lips as you tugged your shoulder from his grip. “Can I talk to you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, and he scrunched up his face. “Go talk to Mina.” Spinning around to follow after Vernon, Yunho yanked you back again. “Let me go, Yo!” Facing him, he tried to put both hands on your shoulders but you swatted him away.

“Rory, can I just-”

“She said to let her go.”

Shooting a glare over your shoulder, Yunho dropped his hands to his sides and said, “You think you really have room to speak here?” Backing up from between them, you glanced at Wooyoung who glanced at you at the same time before piercing Yunho with his glare.

“A girl just told you to take your hands off of her twice, Yunho,” he said. “You think Hongjoong would be pleased to hear that?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you Wooyoung, you really think he’ll listen to you?”

Wooyoung smiled. “Regardless of what my supposed reputation says about me, what all these people will say about me, never once have I ever been involved in a situation like the one you’re presuming I’ve been.” Yunho clenched his jaw. He caught a glimpse of you, but you were locked in on the boy speaking. “Maybe I’ve done some shitty things, but I know basic respect and consent.”

“Wooyoung, it was only this once,” you muttered, and he looked at you, his eyes swallowing you whole.

“It doesn’t matter, Ro,” he said, his tone calm as he spoke to you. “This is how it starts.” Gesturing behind him with his head, telling you to move along, you listened, and heard Yunho protest as you wandered off into the living room.

“Aurora! Aurora!” San shouted at you from the couch he was on, the sophomore in his lap now, waving for you to join them. There were bodies around them, everyone talking over everyone, taking shots they’d pour with any of the multiple bottles of liquor on the table in the center of the furniture, offering you one as you stepped over their bare legs and sweaty bodies.

“How the fuck did this turn into this so fast?” you breathed, taking the cup from an ATZ recruit, flopping onto the sofa beside San who slung an arm around you. Pressing the cup to your lips you gulped down the, you think, vodka, with a cringe.

“You’re not drunk enough,” San said, grabbing the sophomore by the waist, lifting her with him as he reached for the bottle on the table. She yelped and giggled, grabbing onto him in some way to stay on his front. In the extremely dim light you could make out her pretty face and the several purple marks on her neck from San already. “Why are you not drunk enough? There’s no rules tonight, Ror. Look at what’s happening.”

“I’ve seen what’s happening, Sannie, half of our recruits are being corrupted by yours,” you smirked and he laughed, pouring straight vodka into the cup you held out for him. “You’ve taught them well.”

“I haven’t taught them a thing,” he said, giving you a look. “They came that way. It’s not our fault every single one of you is fuckable.” Twisting the cap on the bottle he tossed it to the other side of the couch and settled his hands on his girl's hips, digging his fingers into her curves. “You know, your girls aren’t totally innocent, they know what they’re doing. They want it too.”

Sipping the liquor, you licked your lips and leaned into him, your noses centimeters apart. His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes darting down to watch your tongue. “It’s not our fault every single one of you is fuckable.” With parted lips, he sighed.

“Wanna join us?” he whispered, poking his tongue out to wet his lips. Honestly weighing the possibilities, the liquor doing nothing to keep you logical, it was possible. “Holy fuck, Aurora,” he muttered. San had an unnatural ability to figure you out, to figure anyone out. It’s how he always got what he wanted, most of the time. That and his physical appearance alone.

“Find me after I finish another drink,” you whispered, and he started to smile. Reading your mind, he met you in the middle and kissed you, your tongues moving in between it all. You’ve kissed him before, once on a dare, and then again on your own. It was all purely platonic, a fact he knew as well.

Ryujin, still planted on the couch across from the other with a girl on her lap now, she watched the three of you.

“Wait, are you serious?” he asked, calling after you as you parted from him and rose from the couch.

Sipping from the cup, you shrugged and said, “Don’t know yet, just come find.” Winking at the girl on his lap smiling at you, you spun around and continued your venture through the house, almost tripping over feet and shoes thrown about, giving them their moment back. If tonight went to shit, if you ended up with nobody, which you were somewhat hoping for now that you were on drink number three, you could possibly want to end up with San. For nothing more than just pure fun.

Tonight was a night for that, for fun. Legal, allowed to be having, type of fun.

Approaching the archway into the second half of the living room, you almost froze. Yeji was coming toward you, her eyes on watch, patrolling the property. As you passed one another her smile grew, and it was anything but comforting like your president's smile should be. It was menacing, the liquor twisting it into something to be afraid of.

“There she is, Ror!”

That was Soul’s voice. Escaping from Yeji you turned to follow the freshmans call, finding him holed up in a corner with a few others, his friends included.

“Come here,” he said, waving you forward with his hand not holding a can. Wandering toward him slightly sideways, he laughed and shook his head, holding open an arm for you to tumble into. “Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” you said, sipping your drink. Soul gave a look to Jongseob to his left and smiled.

“What are you drinking, babe?” he asked, taking the cup from you easily, tipping his chin back to take a sip. “Jesus,” he groaned. “Straight?”

“No, gay,” you said, narrowing your eyes and the boys around you laughed. Soul smirked, pressing you into his chest for a few seconds. “Here’s your fuel.” Handing the cup back to you, he watched you take a bigger sip this time around. “Where are you on your way to? Seonghwa?” Two of the boys snickered, Jongseob and Intak. Turning in Souls arms you gave a look to Jongseob, but then took your time with Intak, watching him clam up beneath your interrogation. 

He wore a suit tonight like the rest of the boys, his hair styled neatly on top of his head. His white button up beneath the black jacket was slightly disheveled, a few buttons undone from the top, not like it was hours ago. Holding a drink, he sipped it and blinked feverishly, his cheeks flushing as you pushed yourself out of Souls arms and wobbled over to him.

“Intak, catch her,” Jongseob muttered, and the boy listened, holding open his arms. Latching onto him, you smiled up at his brown eyes. 

“Is this the chick you were telling us about?” An unknown voice said from behind you. One of the boys they were standing here with. Twisting in Intaks arms, pressing your back to his front, giggling at how he tensed, you found the stranger's face and audibly sighed, expressing your contentment with his appearance. Curly ginger hair shamelessly let his eyes roam about your body.

“Who are you?” you asked. “I’ve never seen you before.”

The boy looked into your eyes and smiled, his even more charming than Jongseobs. “Jiung,” he said, and the name flowed off his tongue with grace. His suit was tailored perfectly to his form, showing off exactly what you’d get beneath it.

“Damn,” you breathed, laying your head onto Intak’s chest. “Why are you all hot?”

The boys broke out in laughter, making you smile. Intak slid an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

“Yeah, this is the chick you were telling me about,” Jiung said to Soul.

Looking at him, you asked, “What’s that mean?”

Soul faced you, put a hand on your cheek and pinched your skin. “Don’t worry about it.” Sharing a look with his friend that you pushed your ass against, he raised a brow. “Remember what you said about Intak?”

“I do,” you said. “How could I forget, Soul, he’s so cute.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, with a smirk, “So are you.” Soul’s smile was satisfied. Looking at Jongseob you said, “And so are you, and you.” You added a glance to Jiung as well.

“Aurora, where’s your friend?” Jongseob asked, ignoring your compliment. “The tall one, brown hair, big eyes… Boyfriend.”

Your brows shot up. “Tori?” you snickered, putting your hand over Intaks, sliding it higher on your torso. Soul and Jiung watched it move, both shocked and disappointed you stopped before it reached your chest.

“Yeah, Tori,” Seob’s eyes flashed with something dark.

“Me?” Her voice was heard before she was seen, and in a flash she was glaring around at the boys and snatching onto your wrist, pulling you off of Intak. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re just talking,” Soul said, tucking his hands behind his back. Intak shoved a hand into his pocket quickly. Tori looked him up and down and scoffed.

“You guys are disgusting,” she sneered. “Welcome to ATZ, you fit right in.” Her eyes found Jongseob last, and when he winked at her her entire body reacted, shivering as she held onto you. “I can have Mingi over here in seconds.”

“Do it,” Jongseob challenged, and Tori’s eyes shot open wide.

“Leave me alone, Seob,” she said, her tone packing a punch. “Come on,” she said to you. “How are you messed up already, who’s making you drinks?”

Watching her while the two of you walked toward the back of the living room, rather, while Tori supported your body weight as she walked toward the other room, she didn’t seem all that drunk. She could hold her drinks better than you could, that was a fact, but at this point in the night she’d be a giggling mess under Mingi’s arm.

“Are you drinking?” you asked.

“Of course I am,” she said. “I’m just not drinking fast,” she glanced down at you. “I didn’t think you wanted to get drunk tonight.” Moving around the crowd around the tables focused on the dual games going on, Mingi towering over the crowd around one end, Tori maneuvered you onto one of the leather couches pushed against a wall. A couple of other girls sat close by.

“Not drunk,” you mumbled, and Tori sat next to you with a laugh.

“Okay, then what are you?” Her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Horny now,” you said, laughing and she slapped a hand to her mouth, holding back her own laugh. “Have you seen all of these boys?”

“I have,” she said. “Jongseob has been flirting with me all night, and unfortunately he’s really good at it. I’m seconds away from telling Mingi to stand in front of me for the rest of the night.”

“Where have you been? In here?” you asked, taking a bigger gulp from your cup, almost finishing the liquor in it. Tori nodded, her eyes scanning the room.

“Me and Mina were playing over here not too long ago,” she said and your stomach sunk. “She’s still upset, I’m trying to keep it fun for her tonight.”

The light feeling your drunkenness was giving you fell flat, like you just crashed through several floors of a building. “She’s a liar.”

Groaning, Tori tipped her chin back. “Don’t start with this, Ror.”

“No,” you said, a little louder. “I think I will start with this, ‘cause it’s all… screwy, Tor.”

“How?” Your best friend pressed her lips together and put her hands in her lap.

Holding up a finger, you said, “First of all, I saw that video, her brother is at home.”

“Okay?” Tori shrugged. “Maybe he was missing that morning, and then he came back home. She can still be upset.”

“For this long, though?” you questioned, twisting on the couch to face her entirely. “Get over it already, man, it’s been a week. I once didn’t hear from my dad for a month, you think I let that hang over me once he came back? No!”

Tori tilted her head, sliding a hand over your leg. Not picking up on her attempt to comfort you, you continued.

“And, not for nothing, but it really seems like she’s milking the whole thing. Her brother had problems, we know this, don’t we all have problems?”

Tori glanced up behind you, behind the end of the couch and sat up straight. “Ror, hang on, Ror.” Grabbing onto a hand she held out to you, you shook your head. “No! She’s, like, using it for attention. Who in their right, conscience mind would use their own brother for their own personal gain? He has problems, Tor, and she’s using them to her advantage. My god, she’s already Vice President, what, does she want to take Yeji’s job? No one wants Yeji’s job. Either way, she’s lying!”

“Aurora,” Tori whispered, her eyes wide. “Stop talking.”

“Everyone wants to shut me up,” you grumbled, messily slipping out of her grip. “Can’t do anything, or anyone in this place without being burned at the stake for it.” Standing to your feet you turned to walk out of the room, but froze in place. 

Her eyes were as wide as Tori’s, but not as full of shock. Instead they were pointed, and angry.

“You think I’m lying?” Mina spoke through her teeth.

Downing the rest of the contents in your cup, you dropped it to the floor and started to smile. “I don’t think you’re lying, I know you’re lying.”

“Aurora,” she said. “You think I would do that?” Nodding without a care, you crossed your arms. “Why?” Breathless, she spared Tori a glance who stood up behind you.

“Because,” you started, then laughed when Yunho conveniently appeared behind her. “Of course,” you threw a hand toward him, “Thanks for showing up.” Looking at Mina you pointed at Yunho. “That’s why.” 

Mina looked at him, her brows screwing up on her forehead. “What!?” She whipped her head back to you, her bob swinging beneath her chin. “You think I would lie for Yunho? He has nothing to do with this.” The boy's eyes shot open, catching on.

“Not for him, Mina, to have him,” you said, speaking slowly, chopping up your words like she was a child. “You need his attention so bad that you’ll lie to keep it, ‘cause you have some sixth sense that tells you that he’s been-” “Aurora!” Tori shouted, taking your wrist, tugging you backward.

Mina grit her teeth. “You’ve been jealous since last year, Aurora.” She threw a hand behind her to touch Yunho’s chest. “He would tell me all about it.” 

You met his eyes, his worried, anxious gaze.

“The complaints, ugh,” Mina rolled her eyes, looking up at him. “Don’t deny it, Yo. Remember in the summer?” She looked at you, her glare hot. “You wouldn’t leave him alone, Ror, it was pretty desperate.” 

You felt like you’d been kicked in the gut. Yunho couldn’t say a word, he could only watch his world burn in front of him.

“I’d have left him alone if he told me he was with you,” you spat, testing your limits in Tori’s grasp, attempting to lunge forward. “Your boyfriend didn’t tell me a thing.” Mina shared a look with him.

“Aurora, don’t you dare say anything you’re gonna regret,” Tori whispered to you. Some people had their heads turned toward you and Mina’s shouting, watching the scene take place. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You know he complained about you too, Mina,” you said, cocking your head to the side. Grinning, you laughed aloud. “Is she why you always needed two rounds, Yo?” Something flashed across her face, but you couldn’t read what. Yunho, though, looked like he’d been shot. “He’s been fucking me since May, Mina,” you curled your lip. Her face went unchanged. Gasps were heard around you. Lunging in Tori’s hold again, you laughed. “He kisses you but he’s inside of me.”

Tori attempted to walk away with you, but your feet dug into the floor. This was entirely too much fun, better than joining San and his latest conquest into his bedroom. She spoke to someone behind you, but your ears were ringing, you could hear your blood pumping.

“Just wait till you get him like that,” you said. “If you ever get over yourself and let a boy touch you.” Stumbling over your feet you headed toward the archway with Tori. “Ask him to get on top, you’ll love the face he makes!”

september 28th ~ saturday ~ 1:10 a.m.

[hbic]: She confessed. Straight up. Word for word.

[seonghwa]: What the fuck, now what? If she outed herself, no sense in us doing it all over again.

[hbic]: Yeji is expecting it from us. I’ll tell her what happened. Will let you know what we’re doing.

september 28th ~ saturday ~ 1:13 a.m.

“Stay here.” Tori’s tone was stern, her hands firm on your shoulders as she propped you in the corner of the empty kitchen. Everybody danced about the living room, or the hallway, even the upstairs. There wasn’t much for them here except for a quiet space. “You’re insane, Ror, insane.” She hurried from the corner, your voice stopping her for a few seconds.

“Where are you going?” you asked, peeking at her from around the fridge. Her hair flipped over her shoulder, her eyes ablaze.

“To clean up your mess.”

Laughing as she walked away toward Mingi waiting in the doorway glaring at you, you attempted to run through what had just happened, what you threw in Mina’s face, what you had done to you and Yunho’s relationship, and you couldn’t comprehend it. You couldn’t figure out why you did it, why you said what you said, but it felt really good to say it to her face. To finally be rid of a secret that was becoming too heavy to carry. Last you heard, he was with her anyway. He could comfort her if she was upset, if she was hurt. Though, she didn’t show much of that.

She didn’t show much of anything.

Sliding down to the tiled floor, your smile dropped, and you took in the quiet. A sound so loud, even with the bumping of the music across the house. Alone with the room spinning, you took a shaky breath and felt the familiar lump in your throat.

“Why am I gonna cry?” you mumbled to yourself, attempting to blink away the tears welling up in your eyes.

Don’t cry, you thought. She deserved it.

You suppose Yunho deserved it, too. This whole time, bouncing back and forth between the two of you, even if he made the whole thing out to be him not so interested in Mina, and very much interested in you. Your closest friend of almost three years now, playing you like a fool. Confused, because it didn’t seem like he wanted to be playing you, you’re reminded of what you thought of when Mina was telling you about how good Yunho was that first week back.

Yes, him.

Yes, Yunho.

You should’ve taken your own advice.

Tears fell steadily now, staining your cheeks, falling onto the sundress you wore. You could’ve stopped it, you had all the power in the world to put an end to you and Yunho, but something kept you going, and you’re not sure if it was him or if it was your own fucked up perception of love. He spoke empty words, and you took it like he was giving you the stars from the sky. Depth didn’t exist. He didn’t remember. He never remembered.

You took his crumbs and were content with starving. For what?

“Ro?”

Lifting your head, going dizzy, you tried to wipe your cheeks but it was no use, the tears were replaced in seconds. Blinking, you found Wooyoung making his way through the kitchen, a certain hurriedness in his walk.

“You’re gonna make this worse,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

He paused in front of you, squatting down. “Ro, I don’t want to make it worse, I want to help.” His voice mimicked the way he was just walking, quick and rushed, all while trying to stay calm.

“Why do you want to help me?” Opening your eyes, he wore that face he’d give you months ago.

“Because you’re really drunk,” he said carefully. Reaching out a hand, two of his fingers touched the hem of your dress and tugged it over your legs where your knees were pulled into your chest. “You don’t have to like me, you can hate me all you want right now, but please, just trust me. Let’s go outside.”

Sliding your legs out straight, your feet touched his ankles. Sighing, you shook your head and let out a cry. “It’s because of you.” Wooyoung raised a brow. “You did this.”

He held back his smile. “I got you trashed and on the floor of the kitchen?”

Holding back your own smile, you sniffled and whined. “It started with you, all of this, you’re why it’s a mess, you’re why this is happening. I was trying to get over you, and I made a mess.”

Glancing away for a second, Wooyoung held out a hand and released a breath. “Okay, let me make it up to you then, please. Come outside with me.”

“Why?” Giving him a look, he returned it.

“Because,” he said, looking toward the entrance of the kitchen. “There’s people who aren’t nice in this house.”

“And you are nice?”

Wooyoung sighed, shaking his outstretched hand he wanted you to take. “I’m trying to be nice.”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Nice for what?”

He took a breath and looked you dead in the eyes. “Because you may have gotten over me, but I am not over you.”

He may as well have sucker punched you in the chest. You couldn’t feel your body. You were drunk, but you were not expecting those words to come out of him.

“I don’t believe you,” you whispered, and he cringed.

“I don’t expect you too, not after what you’ve been through,” he muttered, shaking his hand for the last time. “Not after what they’ve put you through.”

What?

“I told you, Ro,” he said, his voice tiny. “These people will snuff out anything standing in their way of what they want. They will get what they want, that’s why we need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Finally taking his hand, he sighed in relief and helped you to your feet, but it was too late.

“Oh, good,” Yeji said, turning into the kitchen with Mina and the rest of the board, from both houses, behind her. Even Tori. Even Yunho, and Mingi. “You’ve got her, good work, Wooyoung.”

He shook his head and moved in front of you. “No, I didn’t get her, I didn’t find her. We’re leaving.” 

Hongjoong, with his hands folded in front of him, laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Aurora,” Yeji took the attention back. Peeking at her from over Wooyoung's shoulder, you stepped to his side and tightened your grip on his hand. Tori’s tear filled eyes glanced at them, then let out a quiet cry. “Something has been brought to my attention.”

Taking in the other girls, Yuna was in shock, her hands planted to her chest. Chaeryeong and Mina though, they were smiling. Tori clamped a hand over her mouth and looked at Mingi for help. Her boyfriend could only shake his head. In disappointment? In disapproval? You weren’t sure.

“What has?” you asked, hoping to play dumb, but these girls were smarter than that. Yeji was smarter than that.

Towering in the archway, Seonghwa hung his head low, piercing you with his gaze. Jongho stood behind Hongjoong as usual, wearing some form of shock like Yuna. Then Yunho, jaw tight, eyes glassy, he couldn’t look at you.

“Not only have you broken a brand new rule that’s been set into place, you’ve also broken the trust of several members of both houses,” she took a few steps into the kitchen. “Not only that, but it’s been going on for a while. Since we’ve been back, is that right Mina?” She glanced over her shoulder and the sleek brown bob gave her a nod.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, throat tightening. Grabbing onto Wooyoung's arms with your other hand, you pressed your fingers into his skin. A few recruits wandered up behind the board members, curious. “I promise, I didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t matter, unfortunately,” Yeji said, a ghost of a smile haunting her lips. “There are consequences.” She shifted her eyes over to Wooyoung and batted her lashes. “Wooyoung, you’re not needed any longer, you can leave.”

Your heart burst into pieces. Tears thickened, you let go of him, but he didn’t let go of you. Looking at you, Wooyoung gulped, then shook his head.

“No,” he said, and Yeji’s demeanor faltered.

“Wooyoung,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. He shot her a look and fully laced his fingers with yours.

Shaking his head again, he said, “No.” Taking a few steps forward with you, he said, “Let us through. We’re leaving.” Jongho stepped around Hongjoong, coming closer to the two of you. Wooyoung looked up at him and snickered. “Come on, man, let us through. I don’t feel like making a mess of anyone's kitchen tonight.”

“Wooyoung,” Yeji snapped. “Let her go, and leave the room.”

He half listened to her. Taking his hands off of you, he clenched his jaw and walked up to her. Entirely vulnerable before all of them, you wrapped your arms around yourself and dug your nails into your skin.

“Good job,” Yeji smiled at him. She lifted a hand to touch the bottom of his chin. “Your work here is done.”

Smacking her hand away before it could touch him, Chaeryeong gasped and Mina narrowed her eyes as Wooyoung opened his mouth. “It is, Yeji. My work here is done. I’m done playing your game. I’m done being a puppet.”

“Wooyoung,” Yeji whispered, her fists clenching at her sides. “Watch it, you know what’s going to happen.”

Looking back at you, Wooyoung shrugged. “I think it’s pretty worth it.”

“You don’t even know if she’ll want you,” Yeji said, her voice never breaking. “You’ll lose all of this,” she gestured to everyone behind her. “You could make it out of this with nothing, or, you could walk out of here with us on your side. You take your pick.”

He smiled at her. Looking at his brothers, he nodded. Hongjoong stared him down, his eyes flickering to Yeji for a few seconds. When Wooyoung turned to come back to your side, you let him take your hand. He was wearing that face again. That I care about you face.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong almost shouted.

“You have several other pawns to play with,” Wooyoung snapped at him. Then he looked at you. He made sure you were looking at him when he nodded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you couldn’t feel your knees. “I want you to believe me, but I understand if you don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Last semester,” he started, and the nausea must’ve been apparent on your face because he slid a hand over your cheek as tears fell. “What you thought happened? What you think we did? Me and Yeji?” You took a shaky breath and he brushed away tears beneath your lashes. “It didn’t happen. It never happened.”

The boys in the archway whispered to one another, turning into a circle while Yeji, Chaeryeong and Mina watched them, waiting for something.

“What?” you gasped, eyes shooting open wide.

Wooyoung nodded. “It wasn’t real. It was made up, it was a lie. I never slept with her, she made it seem like we did.” Making sure you kept your eyes on him, he squeezed your hand. “Aurora, I was hurting. You were clearly in love with him, and I was watching it happen. I wanted to give you… everything. I’ve never felt like this about somebody, ever, and I barely even had you.”

There weren’t any words you could piece together to give him any sort of answer. Beside yourself, you could only coach yourself to take deep breaths.

“I fell into their game, and it was easy to do, you know what everybody thinks of me,” he said, and that hurt your heart more than it should. “I don’t understand how I’m sluttier than San, but that’s besides the point.”

“What’s the point?” you whispered.

Wooyoung took a breath. “You were supposed to be the president, Ro.” Your legs almost gave out. Moving his arms to your waist, he held onto you. “She paid them off. They wanted you. The others wanted you. When the houses came together to decide who’d move up, who’d get the spot, your name was on the list.” He gestured his head toward the archway. “They still have the fucking papers, I’ve seen them.”

“Tori,” you whispered, and Wooyoung listened. “Tori knew? Yuna?” You both lifted your heads to look their way. Chaeryeong, Mina and Yeji joined the group of boys. Tori and Yuna were against the wall, holding onto each other. They didn’t know. Your best friend pleaded with you with her eyes to believe her. Mingi moved from the group, his own eyes wide, joining his girlfriend who pushed him away.

“Ro, they wanted to get you out,” Wooyoung whispered. “I’ve been watching all of this happen since last semester. I know that makes me not a great person right now, I could’ve told you, but there was a lot at stake. A lot that I’m not afraid to risk right now, because this is ridiculous.”

“What is it? What’s going to happen?”

“He’s done, Aurora,” Hongjoong said, loud enough to cut into the bubble you and Wooyoung were creating around yourselves. “He’s out. No more ATZ for Wooyoung.”

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”