#it's such a well-written script with so much love

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There���s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. You put on the best innocent face you can muster.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[creature-wizard]

Scams, Hoaxes, Conspiracy Theories, & Cults Everyone Should Know About

Jilly Juice: Jillian Mai Thi Epperly claimed drinking sixteen cups of her super salty cabbage concoction each day could regrow missing limbs and cure everything from cancer to homosexuality. In reality, overdosing on so much salt caused followers a host of health issues that Epperley dismissed as "healing symptoms."

Nonhuman Body Hoax: Jaime Maussan attempted to pass off mummified human remains as nonhuman beings to the Mexican government. (This isn't even Maussan's first hoax, by the way. He has a history.)

Love Has Won: Amy Carlson, a woman who'd walked out on her own children, started a New Age cult in which she presented herself as "Mother God," the creator of the universe. She claimed to be in contact with dead celebrities and alien beings, and taught a conspiratorial worldview. As her health declined, she attempted to treat herself with colloidal silver and alcohol, and her behavior became increasingly abusive. When she finally died, her followers sincerely believed she would return to life and kept her body in a sleeping bag. (She did not return to life.)

Seed Faith Offerings: Reverend Gene Ewing came up with the perfect get-rich-quick scheme to prey on desperate Christian believers: tell believers that if they "sowed seed" by giving money to him, God would bless them with even more money in the future. He made millions of dollars from these donations, while most of his followers never saw the miraculous returns they were promised.

William Walker Atkinson: In the early 20th century, William Walker Atkinson wrote around one hundred books, many of which he wrote under various pseudonyms. Some of these pseudonyms included alleged Hindu mystics. That's right - this guy was practicing literary brownface to sell his mystical ideas.

The LDS Church: In the 19th century, a man named Joseph Smith claimed that an angel had told him where to dig up a set of golden plates that were supposedly written by ancient Hebrews who'd come to North America. Smith even had eleven close associates who vouched for the plates' existence. Yet the script they were allegedly written in bore no relation to actual ancient scripts of the Near East, and the the names the locations in the books he "translated" were very obviously derived from placenames he would have been familiar with. (For example, Oneida/Onidah.) Oh, and actual archaeology and DNA studies have discredited pretty much everything from this guy's weird racist narrative.

Fake Cancer, Fake Cure: Wellness entrepreneur Belle Gibson claimed that she'd cured her brain cancer with natural remedies. Gibson never actually had cancer in the first place.

Medbeds: Back in 2020, QAnons and QAnon-adjacent people started circulating claims that a new form of healing technology was about to become available to the public within the next several months or so. Depending on who you asked, Donald Trump, Elon Musk, and even the Galactic Federation of Light were involved. The time of their supposed unveiling came and went, and what do you know, there are still no functioning medbeds used in actual medicine.

COVID Vaccine Zombies: Conspiracy theorists have been claiming the government practices high-tech mind control for ages now. One recent iteration of this is a conspiracy theory claiming that people who'd received COVID vaccinations would have malicious DNA code activated by 5G on October 4, 2023, turn into zombies, and riot. The time came and went, and no zombie outbreak happened.

Ms.Scribe: In the early 2000s, a Harry Potter fan known as "msscribe" or "Ms.Scribe" faked her own harassment through a number of sockpuppets, with the apparent goal of becoming friends with some Harry Potter fandom bigwigs. She manipulated the fandom for a few years until the deception was finally uncovered.

[the-blossica-fan]

Blossica and A Nightmare At Green Lake

An analysis made by THE Blossica fan

Why do I love Blossica? Why is it so important for A Nightmare At Green Lake? Would the story be the same without it?

In this long rant I call "Analysis", I will tell you my thoughts, the reasons and MY opinion on this ship and its importance to the entire event.

It can not be yours, and I'll gladly listen to your thoughts and reasons, but here's why it is so important and the story wouldn't be the same without it.

It has been edited, there might be some more changes if I see any inconsistencies.

Let's start by what most people call this ship, Childhood friends to lovers. I've seen a lot of people call it that, and while it's not wrong, it's also not right.

The better term Is "Childhood crush", as Blonney (Jennifer) is Jessica's childhood crush.

Must take into account that Blonney never knew of Jessica's existence, the OG Jessica was Blonney's imaginary friend, Changeling/Jessica just happened to hear it and thought it was Blonney giving her a name.

Why childhood crush? Well, it's pretty easy to know that Jessica's infatuation that persisted through the years is far more than just friendship. From things like reviving all the stories she told, retelling them and even exhausting them for everyone else.

It's also not a secret that she has probably been looking for someone to replace Blonney's space in her heart, which is why no one has ever seen as interesting in her eyes.

In Vertin's words "What happened to those people that accepted to stay with you? When you ran out of available games, they were no longer adored by you. I can stay longer than them, but with no exceptions. I'll become boring one day." These words are a hint to something.

No one can replace Blonney's place in Jessica's heart.

And, what about Blonney?

Blonney is definitely a lesbian, but this is no headcanon, in fact, I'd argue this is definitely canon. From design hints like those hair clips (this is Bluepoch, they pay heavy detail to their models, this is definitely not a coincidence), to even more hidden hints in her stories.

Since a child, Blonney has been writing in her diary stories, but you know what's interesting? Blonney describes the women as beautiful, like in the story about the dead bride.

A bride that looks for other happy brides? Mmm, doesn't it sound weird?

Blonney also describes Anne/Anna in extra detail, as if she had some sort of fixation with her. Let's remember that this description of characters is not only a script, but Blonney's own thoughts written on paper. When she criticizes herself, saying she'll pay for her doings one day, it feels crude and out of place because that is what she thinks about herself: That she'll pay for being a liar and mean (an arcanist and a lesbian)

The event itself also tells us enough for it to not be speculation, but absolutely straight up in your face.

Blonney's denial of her arcanist self (she punched Jason and yelled that she was not an arcanist, for those with internalized homophobia, this is a common reaction. Anger), the iconic couch scene and later on, her discussion with Jessica.

"How many times do I have to tell you how much I hate being called an arcanist", this is similar to a reaction I had before, denial and anger. In this case, and during the entire event, "arcanist" is used as an allegory.

For fuck's sake, Blonney was CUDDLING with Anne right BEFORE the iconic couch scene. Jessica/Anne is the one that made Blonney start to accept that side of herself, alongside with Tooth fairy's guidance; a professional lesbian.

"You seem to really like me. You would jump off a car to rescue me, you protect me, praise me. You would even be happy because I was happy." "Because I've never seen anyone as pretty as you are. You're special, you're different to the rest of us"

Oh God do you see that? This is flirting.

And while some might say Jessica doesn't know what romance and what liking romantically means, I'd argue otherwise.

Jessica does know what romance is

Let me tell you quickly. Jessica said in "The nightmare of green lake", she has met a couple of people who have different relationships with each other. She has even interacted with them, as in, she HAS talked to them. She has 6 people (excluding Michael, Jason and Freddy) in a cave, she knows some stuff.

When she says "I like you", she knows what she means. Her desperation to get Blonney to stay is not only because she doesn't want to be alone, but because she wants Blonney and ONLY Blonney to stay.

It's possible she's not sure she's in love, but she knows her feelings go far more deep than just a normal friendship. Plus, she has lived with Blonney's childhood stories, and those horror stories do have romance (The pathetic bride includes romance, Jessica is the one behind the pathetic bride, she knows). She's not oblivious nor stupid, she's just inexperienced. She knows she likes Blonney more than a common friend (based on how she treats others), and I think she would never like anyone that's not Blonney.

And what about their relationship?

People think they're master and pet, owner and pet, and I don't think they realize how deep that goes. Blonney is definitely in need of a person like Jessica, who fully supports her and her unique ideas. Jessica loves Blonney unconditionally, there's no reason to not think so. Their relationship is perfectly healthy, Jessica loves being adored and treated as a pet by Blonney, and Blonney is happy to see her happy.

That line of dialogue about a collar, despite how sexual it might be, is made out of innocence. They're not just master and pet, they're girlfriends and, don't we all have weird relationships with each other? They're happy, they're good for each other and are what the other needs.

So... What's their importance to the event? Are they really that important?

Yes.

The event wouldn't exist without that crush and romance. If Jessica didn't think romantically of Blonney, the event would be different, she wouldn't try hard enough to just keep Blonney and much less plan to get rid of everyone around Blonney so it's just the two of them.

If Blonney wasn't in denial of her homosexuality (and arcanum?), the event wouldn't be about accepting yourself as you are, it wouldn't be a story about coming out and the morals wouldn't be as impactful.

It would be a lackluster event.

Their relationship with each other is of heavy importance because it's that crush and denial that make up the entire story. The horror is just a side dish, the murderer and all of it, because this is not a horror story.

It's a love story

"I don't care whether my parents allow it or not!"

"I will quickly reveal this true look of mine, and everyone will look at me as if I've done something wrong"

Huh? Are we still talking about arcanists?

These lines are out of place for a 'friendship', or a discussion about staying or not. This is romantic, and especially in the homosexual way.

This true "look" of mine, doesn't it mean love? People do look at same-sex couples as if they've done something wrong, and while Jessica is talking about her changing abilities, we all knows this is about her crush on Blonney and how society would look at her wrongly.

Because, if she truly didn't know about her crush on Blonney which is the basic of all; everyone knows about crushes and romance, then how would she know people would look at her wrongly?

"I don't care whether my parents allow this or not"? Is a line said in ROMANCE. All romance stories with a 'secret romance' have this sort of line, whether straight or gay, this is a basic must-have in this sort of relationships.

She's not only talking about Jessica's changing abilities and arcanum, she's talking about her own blossoming love.

Especially when Jessica asks if Blonney liked her story, she's seeking approval and a hint Blonney will stay by her side, this is a confession. Which is why she gets so down when she gets a "yes, I like it very much". That's not a yes, it's a dismissal, a 'not so important' thing. This is a rejection of her feelings, even if on accident.

And, why does Vertin intervene? Why does she have the talk to Jessica about staying?

Because Vertin more than anyone knows what it's like to let go of a lover, she knows about not being able to confess in time and she knows that if she doesn't intervene, this will be like her and Schneider all over again. Regrets. She's being supportive, she's trying to do what she couldn't do. She's playing cupid.

A place where no one would judge Jessica for her looks, also known as the homosexual suitcase. We all know that no one in Reverse is straight, or at least, 99% aren't. We all know no one would bat an eye if a deer girl was kissing an 80's horror movie girl in the middle of the wilderness.

This is the perfect place for both, Blonney and Jessica, a place where they can be together while not being judged.

And what about Horropedia, Sonetto and Tooth Fairy? What part do they play in this Horror story?

Oh, they're very important as well. In fact, all of them are.

Horropedia, despite interrupting the girls RIGHT BEFORE KISSING, is the reason they're there. Without him, this would be a psychological horror story. And Blonney and him are the wlw and mlm hostility, they're so hating on each other but they do care. Sonetto has helped Blonney in silent ways, not only by helping her become more herself and supporting her fully, something she needed, but she's also an example of someone who's tied down. They've become good friends because they both used to be in similar situations mentally and emotionally.

But out of the two, Tooth Fairy is definitely the most important. She has gone through the same experiences as Blonney. Arcanist living in human society and a lesbian. She knows what Blonney is going through so she's helping, in her own way. She's the one who makes Blonney start to accept herself, to accept the fact that she is the only one Jessica wants and the one who understands her the most. Blonney softens because of both, Jessica and Tooth Fairy.

Tooth Fairy was the key to Blonney's acceptance, and it's because of her talk to Tooth Fairy that Blonney treats Anne better, that she's willing to share more of herself, that she's more physical. It's not a coincidence that after slowly accepting the fact she's an arcanist (lesbian) that she gets more flirty and physical with Anne/Jessica.

This entire event was a way to talk about coming out, and I've watched this event so many times I wrote this out of memory. It feels this way because it's INTENDED to be that way. It's real, it's crude. It's so direct because that's what it is.

A coming out story, a horror story

A love story

[recusant-s-sigil]

This video by SolidArf describes and chronicles the history of the fandom's interpretations, expectations, and realities of Scala ad Caelum, or Cable Town, as it was known before the name's official reveal. It's a touching narrative filled with various references to additional media such as the Sandman series, as well as a genuine appreciation for how much effort has gone into preserving the thoughts surrounding the town leading up to KHIII and ReMind's release, as well as a little bit of the possible future Scala holds in Missing-Link.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I wouldn't really agree that boys are just arm candy in magical girl shows and only there to look cute. Yeah, sure the girls' friendships are the focus, but the boys are usually very much involved in the plot and most shows do explore their feelings about the odd things that happen due to magical shenanigans even if they aren't in the know (It's why ML baffles me even more with how they screwed up Adren's arc when he's the deuteragonist, when all these boys are supporting cast and get well rounded arcs)

I'm not much of a winx fan, but the specialists were very much not arm candy. Did the girls talk about them being cute? Yes, it's what teenage girls do. Did the narrative suggest they were good looking? Yes, but that's standard for most love interests in any genre. But we still got scenes with them talking amongst themselves about how they themselves feel and they got a fair share of badass fight scenes even if they wield no magic. A large amount of episodes actually included the boys and girls working as a team solving a mystery or fighting a villain. The girls might deal the finishing blow but the boys were still integral to the plot.

I hope this doesn't come across as hate, it definitely wasn't my intention. I'm just a bit too passionate about the magical girl genre.

I do think you have a good point with ML having a problem choosing a genre or blending two genres successfully.

For the CCS fans, I will add though that Cardcaptor Sakura had both Tomoyo and Syaoran serve as sources of motivation for Sakura. And both Sakura and Syaoran collecting cards even if Sakura is the only one who could seal them and yet never made you question whether Syaoran was even necessary for the job the way ml does with Chat.

I wasn't trying to say that boys have no part to play in magical girl team shows or that they're always treated as having no lives beyond the girls, that's why I mentioned that the Winx Club boys - aka, the Specialists - have their own (mostly off screen) lives and occasionally show up help the girls:

the boys are usually off doing their own thing and only occasionally show up for a date or to give the girls a ride on their cool bikes or magical spaceship

Even then, this is certainly a simplification of the roles that they play in the story, but I kind of had to simplify their roles down to their base components for the original post's discussion as I was talking in broad strokes of how these stories are written.

In terms of those broad strokes, the Specialists are absolutely only there for shipping fodder. That's why each one is assigned to a girl from the start and why their main role in the narrative is supporting their assigned love interest or causing relationship-based drama for their assigned love interest. If it weren't for shipping, then the Specialists would not exist.

While the Specialists do have fleshed out characters and may even effect the plot, the execution of those elements is designed around the girls. A really obvious example of this is the character Timmy, who has character development as the boy's tech guy. Why is he into technology? Because he's the designated love interest for the fairy of Technology and we have to show why they're a good match. Along similar lines, the boys don't really get plots that are removed from the girls because this is the girl's show. Every episode features one or more of the Winx, but the boys are optional and often don't appear.

This is because, narratively speaking, the boys are just love interests and that brings us back to Miraculous' big problem. You can't have a show where Adrien is written like a Specialist while also being part of the Winx Club and where Alya is written like she's part of the Winx Club while technically being more of a Specialist in terms of power set and actual narrative role.

I'm was thinking back to my memories of various Winx Club plots to find one that really highlighted what I mean here and I remembered that one of the big dramas in season one was the reveal that Bloom's love interest - Sky - was in an arranged marriage and had just never told her. As it turns out, that's a great example of what I'm talking about re Adrien!

Is that plot line technically based around Sky and letting his life effect the plot? Sure, but the fallout of that reveal revolves around Bloom, not Sky. The story doesn't really care how Sky's feeling as the conflict progresses. Instead, it focuses on how it affects Bloom and her friends because of course it does! She's the main character. It would be really weird if that plot suddenly focused on her side character love interest and his friends during one of her darkest hours/biggest moments.

Think of that and then consider how the ending of season five is written. Notice any similarities? Sure, this is Adrien's family drama, but because he's just a Specialist, the focus isn't on him. It's on Winx Club member Marinette and Adrien only shows up at the end for a kiss. That is the problem. That is what I'm talking about when I say that Miraculous will randomly write him as if we're watching a magical girl team show where Adrien is just the love interest.

In fact, let's really dig into this example because it's a good one.

You can have a look at the transcript for the finale episode of Miraculous season five here and see for yourself that Adrien doesn't even show up on screen until the final scenes when the big drama is over. The Winx Club wiki also has episode transcripts, so I took a look to see what happened in Winx land during the arranged marriage reveal plot (I love that this is a thing. It's so useful for fact checking myself!) This is the script for the episode after Bloom learns the truth. Sky does not appear even though his lies and family drama are the fuel for this episode's events, which are a major part of the season's arc. Note how perfectly that matches Adrien's writing?

Similarly, Sky's dialogue in the reveal episode is all about Bloom. He's worried about her learning the truth and thinking less of him. To match that, here's Adrien's only real dialogue in the penultimate episode of season five (full transcript):

Adrien:(Covers his ears.) I cannot transform... (Looks at his ring and tries taking it off.) Plagg: What are you doing?! Adrien: I'm not in my right mind. I'm too angry — at myself for falling short of Marinette's love, at my father for sending me here in London, at this stupid app and these rings that use my image... it makes me sick! This nightmare is giving me the horrible feeling that, if I transform, I'll get akumatized and destroy everything with my Cataclysm — Marinette, Ladybug... (Takes off the ring and hands it to Plagg.)

Switching back to Winx. After Bloom learns the truth about Sky, bad things happen because she's depressed. This results in her and the Winx going off on a journey to learn the truth of who Bloom is. After the girls share this big plot moment and Bloom gets her mojo back, the boys show up to be their ride home and to give Bloom her romance moment where Sky wins her back by declaring that he broke off the arranged married because he loves her.

Sky notably doesn't get an arc about choosing between his arranged marriage and his true love. We don't even know that the marriage is broken off until he tells Bloom because that was never really a conflict as far as the narrative was concerned. Of course he's going to pick Bloom! He's her designated side character love interest! He only exists to be with her. We don't need to treat this as a serious thing for him. The arranged marriage plot was never about him anyway. It was about giving Bloom a reason to have a darkest hour moment that moves the plot forward. Similarly, Sky calling off the marriage is nowhere near as important as him telling Bloom that he's called off the marriage to be with her in a grand romantic gesture.

This perfectly mirrors Miraculous' season five ending where Adrien doesn't appear until after Marinette is done fighting her big girl power fight against his father. As far as the writing is concerned, that fight isn't about him. His connection to the villain only really matters in terms of how it affects Marinette's actions during the final battle. Then, when the battle is over, Adrien shows up to give Marinette her big romance moment because, while the plot may be driven by Adrien's family, he is not a Winx club member. He's just a Specialist. Or, in the words of the head writer:

[image text: She's Barbie, he's Ken. You don't like it. I get it. It won't change. Anything else?] (The full, even more damning context of this tweet can be found here.)

What else can I say other than, "I rest my case."

Oh, and also that I didn't take this as an attack. I just thought it was a good opportunity to really dig into the nuances of this and what I was talking about in that original post as I never know how obvious this stuff is if you don't closely study story telling. As this case study hopefully shows, if a show is about a group of girl friends using the power of friendship, then their love interests may have important roles, but the boys are never going to be more important than the girls and most of the boy's screen time will be focused on romance and how their existence effects the girls because it's ultimately the girls' world. Without them, the show wouldn't exist. Without the boys? Well, then we just wouldn't have a romance plot.

[shinigamichan]

as someone who has very little knowledge about chainsaw lollipop do u wanna take the time and talk to me about it gimme ur thoughts....

YESYEYSYYEYEYYEYS

it’s actually feminist masterpiece and I am /srs ok. like. yes it’s a barely 18 girl in a tiny skirt but like she’s cunt as hell. all the advertising appealed on purpose to incel creeps and focused on OMG BOOBS!!! ANF GORE!!!! and then when you start the game she’s immediately like “omg I’m soooo sexy .. haha I hate my body tho….. hey player I’m a total virginslut btw….” But ten min later she turns her boyfriend into a literal object and the entire rest of the game is about the objectification of women, being explained to incels through the lens of like. they make the boyfriend a decapitated head with no agency in his life who’s only defined by his relationships to women. ultimately emasculated. and the whole game is him losing his shit over lack of autonomy while all the women can’t possibly understand what he’s mad about because uhh clearly the big strong women will protect him. other men constantly villainize him and blame him for his own situation too. incels naturally all went online to go OMG NICK GOT SHAFTED THIS IS SP UNREALISTIC AND HNFAIR !!!!! and someone they all stayed too stupid to realize the most obvious metaphor for the patriarchy and misogyny ever made. and so the project to make gamers understand their own misogyny largely failed. but it’s ok bc I uunderstand

[phynali]

the ballot stuffer has been doing it for literally almost the last 24 hours straight :/ i swear it's almost too much, like strange old fashioned obsessive internet "hater" behavior. whatever. if you ever want to come help fraud for wincest itd be greatly appreciated <3 ive done like 200 votes it's hard to keep up with the anti-supernatural crazies

okay but hoooow does one do voter fraud, my friend? do i have to make a bunch of fresh tumblr accounts because i only have like 2 email address and as much as i want to win, I'm not making a million new emails for this purpose unlike the ballot box stuffer

[deerspherestudios]

Short Break and To Dos!

Hello all! 🍄🍄👻 I'm glad to see people enjoying Day 3 so far! I was so nervous about showing another side to Mychael in the update I thought people wouldn't like him as much but plenty have reacted positively! ❤️

I'll add a TLDR; above the read more, but if you don't mind my ramblings and want more details about everything, I'll write everything below! Light spoilers ahead!

I'll be taking a short break from MO development until 28th October to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Regarding the feedback on Day 3, I'm glad people aren't as averse to the new side of Mychael, in that he isn't always soft and sweet. I want people to fall in love with a person after all, not a yandere caricature, and that means that person can get upset, angry and sometimes irrational when we don't know what's going on in their head even towards the subject of their affections. While some (understandably!) were shocked about his reaction to the mushrooms, it'll be clear as to why (hopefully!)

Some of you have given incredibly accurate theories, and I'll take that as something I've done well in building up the mystery!!! I'm excited to share more in the next update, but for now!

1. I'll be taking a short break from MO development to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

What I have planned for Day 4 of MO might be the biggest update so far, since one route will lead to a few official BAD ENDINGS as opposed to 'dead ends' like the current demo has. To those who really want to, you finally get to see Mychael at his worst. As usual, writing the script takes a few months with plenty of changes in between, and I don't wanna bulldoze ahead and rush the story when it's getting to the climax!

But before I jump into all of that I just wanna give myself a creative exercise and try exploring a different theme, style and setting with a fresh new character for the jam! Since I'm a sucker for the trope... yes, the new blorbo will also be a yandere, sorry, I'm predictable.💔 The jam ends on October 28th so development on MO will continue then!

The last time I wrote something remotely sci-fi was in high school, so this will be fun to try!

2. Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

What it says on the tin! If you've already played Day 3, rest assured there's no significant story changes. Just an updated credits list, three extra sprites for one route and a small fix in the code.

3. Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Plenty of people have sent such sweet and encouraging messages to my inbox on what they thought of the update and I cannot thank all of you enough for the support!! I can't wait to post them out to archive them on the blog and answer all your interesting theories and queries in my queue!

But for now I'm due for a short break from my socials and to catch up on my Patreon sketch requests haha. I also plan to release cut content from Day 3 for my Yearling and Deer patrons. Plus, I'll be working on some written prompts for extra lore so that's something to look forward to!

I'll be back soon! Take care, fireflies!! ❤️

[boomerang109]

so i’ve maybe been avoiding looking at wwda cause i lost my atla hyperfixation and convinced myself it was a terrible fic but i just reread it and to all the readers who have complimented it, i mean the writings bad, but like i see what you mean, there’s like a real vision here? and like i still have a bunch of chapters largely pre-written (but also not enough to post cause they’re missing huge chunks since i write non-chronologically lol) but my next chapter is literally just missing one scene until i can post so i’m hopefully going to give y’all a chapter soon. literally 10 months after last time when it had taken me 355 days. so like i’m making no promises of speed cause clearly i am not a reliable poster. but even without my hyperfixation, i still love the themes i was trying to write and like. i’m gonna try to use some of my free time on it?

[yeokii]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ   𝓐.DORE YOU ❨ 이희승 ❩

꒰ synopsis ꒱ all hopes were crushed when you realized there was no way to get close to your crush, choi beomgyu. your advances to get close to him never seemed to work. so, you decided to get closer to his best friend, heeseung, by joining the broadcasting club. but as scripts change, so do crushes, and you end up falling for his best friend instead.

▸ auditions are open . . . !

ㅤ❕MATCHMAKER ── crush's bsf ! heeseung x reader

fast forward  ⃕ [ genre ] : written, fluff, 90s/20th century girl au, slowburn

meet the members ! beomgyu, soobin, jungwon, karina, rei, sunghoon, lia, my ocs

warnings 𖧷 angst but also teeth rotting fluff, suggestive ─ kissing; making out, cursing, skinship, afab reader, mentions of parties and underage drinking, slowburn like actual slowburn u might fall asleep, heeseung has mommy and daddy issues (erm), mentions of injuries (nothing serious) heeseung is mean at first gn, heeseung typical cold kdrama ml, beomgyu fboy era real (01z on top what can I say) lmk if there's anything I missed!

ㅤhe's a real catch ▹ 23K (lol what.)

⌕ [ archives ] one result found . . . hi hi my heeseung long fic era is finally here !! also happy early birthday to my sewlmate @yenqa hope u like my silly little work books butt!!! I had the urge to write a hee fic after watching a time called you (but my inspo is mostly from 20th century girl) also yes I tried a diff type of writing so hopefully it doesn't come out as childish eurm and I did not mean to make it this long bye also ty yen yen for making my synopsis and for proof reading !! (love ya stinkabutt) alsooo the end won't be like the end?? like ill write some drabbles for this!! I just wanted to get this over with lmao anyways hope you enjoy !! reblogs and comments r very much appreciated ^^

The fall of nineteen-ninety-six marked a pivotal moment in your life. Ever since you came into the world, you never really could grasp the concept of love. You wrapped your head around the myths and tales your mother would read to you every night. You thought that every princess would have her own shining knight in armour. So after thirteen years of living, where was yours?

Your knight in shining armour, or knights in shining armour, existed within the pages of the comic books you read. You often wondered if they would magically pop out of your books and transport you into their world.

Similarly, you wondered whether any of the characters from your adored TV shows  would step out and bring you into their lives.

So, it wasn't a surprise when your jaw dropped to the ground as you saw the most beautiful man in your life (well, technically, boy). If the epitome of beauty was a fourteen-year-old boy, it would be Beomgyu.

But it wasn’t just his face that made your thirteen-year-old self swoon over him, it was also the way he acted. You loved the way he conversed, his smooth way of talking at a young age and the way he smiled at you every time he made jokes with his friends. You loved how his eyes lightened every time he’d pull a silly prank.

But the problem was, he never talked to you. You admired him from afar. You never actually had the guts to talk to him.

As if You were content with watching his funny actions from a distance. There were some moments when you pushed aside your nervousness and talked to him.

You remember having butterflies in your stomach the moment you first talked to him. There were times when you both were paired up as project partners for a biology assessment and at that moment, you swore you would have worshipped the floor that your biology teacher walked on due to her giving you an opportunity like this.

You knew this was an opportunity to make your move. And you did. You brought him small snacks with little notes on them. Gave him gifts regularly. Maybe even took lessons from your best friend on how to subtly flirt with him. You really thought you had him. Because whenever you used to play out these little acts, you saw the subtle smile on his face. You were so close. It’s like the universe laid it out for you. Gosh, how lucky you were!

Luck. The luck that you thought you had. If luck was a person, you would’ve tackled it to the ground already. Because the day you were about to confess to him was the day he announced his new girlfriend. 

His first girlfriend. You doubt you called it ‘love’ since the only thing she cared about was that he was popular and pretty. That’s it? All that girl could get from Beomgyu was his looks and his reputation. You could’ve scoffed at the sight.

Beomgyu was so much more than that. He was loyal, kind, and trustworthy. And she went for his looks. Even though she had him, you felt as if she was missing out on so much. You were partly sad due to them getting together and also due to Beomgyu getting used to his looks.

So, you were practically prancing when you heard the news of their breakup a month later. Did you care that Beomgyu was absolutely heartbroken? Well, yes, but you felt relieved that Beomgyu was finally unleashed from that mean troll's wrath.

And as he got older, he grew more handsome. And God did you love it. When you entered high school he was a completely different person. He had gotten more flirty and way more pretty. He was way out of your league. 

Out of the years you were in this crappy high school, you made absolutely no improvement in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. Beomgyu, who kept getting new flings every summer and tons of situationships seemed to discard your existence. One could only say ‘What the fuck?’

Your thoughts swirled, and you had a collection of emotions roaming around your head until your best friend jolted you back into reality with a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Are you even listening?” Seori’s voice cut through your thoughts, annoyed, since she had to explain what she was talking about in the first place.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you blinked, focusing your attention on your best friend.

She sighs, “I was saying that I think Doyoung is going to ask me out.” Seori pouts “Why does he not get that I don’t like him that way, jeez.”

Her ramble about her current boy toy washed out in the background. You were once back in your thoughts until you saw him heading into the cafeteria. Beomgyu entered the cafeteria, his smile widening at something his best friend said. 

Lee Heeseung, Beomgyu’s best friend. His ride or die. As long as you can remember, they were attached to the hip. They were basically the package deal. If Beomgyu was the life of the party, Heeseung would hold up his hair while he threw up in the host’s toilet. While Beomgyu was the exact depiction of a social butterfly, Heeseung remained aloof, keeping people at arm’s length. You could only wonder how he dealt with Beomgyu’s outbursting personality.

“Earth to Y/n!” Seori snapped her fingers in front of your face which once again, brought you back to reality.

“Sorry.” you sheepishly smiled looking at your best friend's annoyed face. Your friend followed the gaze you had fixed before looking over to her. And her eyes followed the trail of your alleged ‘man’–– Beomgyu.

“Him again.” a sigh erupted from Soeri, having enough of your rambling over your four-year-old crush.

“I’m sorry, alright!” you pouted, your back hunching over the disappointing development between you two which was nowhere to be found. “He’s just so cute, God!”

Your sigh was followed by your best friend. Not long after, your best friend’s fed-up expression converted into a rather eager one.

“I got it!” she exclaimed, her hand hitting your back while she practically screamed. You winced in pain as a few fellow students gave you judgemental stares.

“All you have to do is be close with his best friend, Lee Heeseung.” she slowly said, almost like a mastermind coming up with a villainous plan–well, you would consider your best friend to be some sort of evil criminal.

But this, this opened new angles in your head. It felt like the universe–or more like your best friend–laid it out for you again. Your once unsolvable puzzle showed a new direction, and the missing piece was all in front of you. 

Okay, maybe you felt bad that you were going to use Heeseung like that, even looking forward to it. But, you were really desperate. To the point where you would actually be eager to attend Sunday mass just to ask God for Beomgyu to like you back or even spare one glance at you. Well, what could you do? 

Out of excitement, you pulled Seori in for a hug with a squeal while giving her a kiss on the cheek which she in return, yelped. “Seori, you’re a genius!”

“Yes, I know.” she laughed a bit, escaping your tight grip on her before wiping the spot you kissed her hastily with her hands.

“I mean, how hard could it be?” 

You smiled and your gaze went up to the boy you loved for most of your life, then slowly to the equally handsome boy next to him.

Jackpot.

“God you’re such a pain to be friends with!” Beomgyu scoffed with a smirk underlying in his face, his hands in his pocket.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, you totally ignored that girl’s attempts to hit on you.” Beomgyu said, replaying the past moment that happened five minutes ago.

“Well, she was a nerd.” Heeseung shrugged, “Not exactly my type.” the boy said as they continued walking.

Beomgyu could only sneer at the hypocritic words coming out of his best friend’s mouth, “What do you think you are?”

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, taking great offence to the oh so harsh words said by Beomgyu, “Dude.”

Beomgyu in return, slightly chuckled at his ‘hurt’ face.

“Only kidding.” he said while they continued to walk to their next class, Beomgyu slightly bumping into Heeseung as a form of apology.

“You’re lucky I’m your best friend.” Beomgyu boasted. “Or you would be off with your little nerd antics.” he continued to tease the poor boy, loving the slight reactions his best friend gave.

“Honestly, what would you do without me?” he asked, giving a pat to Heeseung’s back which hurt too much for his liking.

They continued to stroll down the corridor, continuing the conversation with bits of banter here and there.

Beomgyu and Heeseung were basically peanut butter and jelly –– they just clicked. Every time you saw or thought about Beomgyu, his other part of him was always there. But they were practically the opposite of each other. You would stay up late at night during your daily night sessions of thinking about Beomgyu where you would wonder how in the world they became friends. 

Heeseung on one hand was the most isolated person you’ve ever seen. His only friend was Beomgyu. You would only see him have a handful of acquaintances with his daily visits in the broadcasting club he was in. 

Now Beomgyu was everything but isolative. He was the star of the school. Which meant he had a shit ton of friends. He was always the centre of attention. With his contagious laughter and a knack for mischief, he perfectly complemented Heeseung’s calm demeanour. 

Heeseung felt like he was saved when Beomgyu walked in his life. No longer was he the lonely boy who sat alone in the cafeteria because they thought he was a weirdo or whatever. No longer was he the last to be picked for basketball in recess. He finally had a friend.

It was a bond that was made by the silliest circumstances. Heeseung still remembered it like it was yesterday. The day Beomgyu became his knight in shining armour. Back when Heeseung was five or six, he was troubled by the local elementary bullies he had to face every day at school. So he felt even more frustrated when he found himself stuck in a situation where he met his bully outside of school, in a park. 

While almost being suffocated as he was being grabbed by the collar, a similar aged boy kicked his left buttock from the side so he would fall. It was a silly move, yes. A bit of screaming and newly learnt cuss words came out of the bully’s mouth and a few threats made Beomgyu scared out of his ass.

He was a pussy in the first place. He always was. So this took him a lot of courage because he had to point out the wrong and fight for justice, or so his favourite superhero at the time said. So naturally after putting on a tough facade, it quickly crumbled when the bully was about to throw a punch which made Beomgyu grab Heeseung’s hand and run. 

To this day, nothing really changed. Heeseung is still the same shy, quiet kid he was and Beomgyu was still a pussy who acts before he thinks. And together they were the perfect match for each other. 

You walked through the bustling hallways, barely managing to make it out alive with the sweaty teens packed inside, chattering away. As usual, it was always packed the minute the annoying school bell rang. You held onto the strawberry flavoured juice box you bought earlier as a gift for Heeseung so he knows that you come with good intentions –– kind of.

At the end of the corridor you made it to the broadcasting room. You felt a bit nervous, contemplating whether to do this or not. But you couldn’t back out now. This was your last shot at getting close to Beomgyu. Obviously you couldn’t.

You entered the meeting room with a nervous smile to see the faces of familiar people you saw in this school. The room looked cosy. There was obviously the recording studio across the room with a glass panel to see what was happening. A table in the middle, shelves with the older recordings of the morning announcements done by the seniors of the school, some bean bags here and there and a sofa at the end of the room. But what caught your eye the most was the little cork board hanging on one of the walls. It was decorated by a handful of polaroids of the broadcasting club.

At the corner of your eye, you saw one picture which relieved you a bit; a picture of Heeseung smiling as widely as he can. The picture brought a sense of happiness and removed the uneasy feeling you had in your stomach. He actually had feelings and wasn't a statue all the time.

Your thoughts were broken by the president of the club, Soobin. “Hi, you must be Y/n, yeah?” 

To your eye level, you could only see his chest, so you had to look up to the sun to see his face. Jeez, was he tall. “Hi, yes I am. I came to join the club.” You spoke up nervously.

“Great! Welcome to the club, we’re happy to have you here.” Soobin warmly smiled, looking back at his members, prompting them to welcome, which earnt a cheery ‘hello’ from everyone except for the boy sitting at the end of the table, secretly rolling his eyes which you clearly noticed.

You didn’t know why he was like this with you. What did you do wrong? Well, technically you were about to do something wrong, considering the entire reason you joined the club was to use Heeseung as your own little puppet to get close with Beomgyu.

You sat on the only seat available, which was next to Karina. She greeted you with a comforting smile. A few minutes into the meeting and you already like you belong here even though you didn’t know jackshit about broadcasting or the fact that you would be scared out of your mind to do the morning announcements.

But aside from that, you felt like you had a good time. Except one thing was bugging you. The most important thing you came for. Heeseung. He converted and engaged in the conversation but had kept a distance with you. You, who didn’t do anything to him at all. More than you were hurt, you were confused. Trying to remember what you had done in the past to upset Heeseung, but none came to mind.

Every time you had given out a suggestion, everyone agreed except for him. He kept quiet when you opened your mouth. The uneasy feeling was eating you away so you leaned over to Karina. 

“Is he always like this?” you asked her, your head discreetly pointing at Heeseung.

Karina followed your gaze and looked over to Heeseung, “Like what?” she looked over back to you, confused.

You hesitated for a second before spilling out the words, “Is he always this… cold?” 

Karina chuckled softly, “Yes, but he’s sweet. He’ll take some time to warm up to you.” She reassured you, putting her hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

This somewhat settled the uneasy feeling that roamed around your body. You engaged yourself back into the conversation the meeting currently had. And before you knew it, the meeting ended and the members bid Goodbye to each other, not forgetting about you. 

Heeseung was quick to leave the club, simply waving to the people present in the club, looking past you with no emotion on his face. You felt like banging your head on the wall. What the heck did you do for him to hate you already? One look at you and he already despised you. Shit, were you that ugly? You touched your face, thinking if you looked unpresentable, but that didn’t make sense. You looked fairly average and well there seemed to be nothing wrong with you.

Shit. 

Did he find out about your plan already? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Thousands of thoughts roamed around your head, each laced with panic. It couldn’t be. You hadn’t told anybody else about the plan you came up with. If he did find out, he had every right to be mad at you. You were basically using him as your puppet to get closer to Beomgyu. A slow wave of guilt was creeping over you. You cleared your throat and you bid the members that were getting ready to leave, not letting the guilt get to you. You followed Heeseung out the door and down the stairs.

You saw him walking down the stairs, his bag draped over his shoulder.

“Heeseung! Wait!” you said, rushing down the stairs. 

He turned around to see you rushing down to meet him, “Hi, um… I thought you might like this.” you said, nervously as you handed the juice box over to him.

He took it and his gaze faltered down the drink in his hand. The next thing he did was one you never expected. He scoffed. He actually scoffed. Was something funny? You didn’t get it because if there was something, you’d be the first one to laugh because you did not let any joke pass over your head. You were confused. Was he… laughing at you? 

You were the first to speak, “Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m not thirsty.” he said, looking at you. His gaze made your knees tremble. What the hell was his problem?

He handed you back the drink, but it was the least of your concerns. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday.” you said, your voice suddenly sounding dull, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

As you passed him you heard him mutter, “You shouldn’t”

“What?” you turned back. “I don’t get what I did?”

“I just… Why’d you even join?” he turned his body and looked at you.

“I felt like it. That shouldn’t be a problem to you.” you sternly said, not caring if it came off as ‘rude’ anymore.

“It would. You’d be bored after three months and leave.” you had the strongest urge to slap him in the face. You? Bored? Like hell you were going to be. Not when you can already foresee the future where he’s going to give you one hell of a nightmare. 

“And then Soobin would have to hand over whatever comprehensible duty he gave over to you and put that on our backs.” 

You were more so shocked by his choice of words rather than angry. And currently, you wanted to pour the juice box you had in your hand over his head.

“Well I won’t, So don’t hold your breath.” your nails pricked into the cardboard of the juice box you held, trying your hardest not to twitch your face or furrow your eyebrows.

He scoffed with a stupid smirk plastered on his face, shaking his head. Putting his hands into the pockets stitched to his trousers, he walked away from you. 

“You're just like the others.”

Heeseung walked away leaving you feeling annoyed as well as frustrated. He was a complete jerk! The reassuring words Karina said to you before was no use now. You were sure he didn’t act like this when he first met the broadcasting members. So why was it only to you? But you decided it’s not worth caring anymore. He was just another obstacle in your path to making Beomgyu like you back. So you put aside your hurt feelings and straightened your back with one thing in mind; you were going to make that bastard like you.

Which is what you exactly planned on doing, standing in front of the wooden door, outside the broadcasting room again once again. 

You swallowed the big knot that rested in your throat and opened the door. To your surprise you saw Heeseung sitting on of the chairs, headphones plastered in while his fingers flipped over the pages of a comic he was reading while bopping his head to the rhythm of whatever geeky music that played through his headphones.

Maybe he didn’t hear the door creaking open or maybe he wasn’t bothered to look at you, but either way you went and sat in front of him, clearing your throat to make him look up from the comic his eyes were glued to.

You didn’t know if it was the awkward tension in the room or you dreading to ‘apologise’ to the boy in front of you, but the moment his gaze fixated on you, your heart started beating twice as fast. Maybe it was how pretty his eyes looked with his bangs covering most part of it or how he resembled an innocent bambi–

“Can I help you?” He spoke up, interrupting your thoughts about him.

“I just wanted to apologise for yesterday, I wasn’t meaning to be on edge, but I was kinda nervous with meeting new people and you ofcourse! Not that I mean it in a bad way, I don’t think you’re bad or anything I was just–” 

And then you realised that you were rambling.

In front of Lee Heeseung.

“I was just nervous.” And with that, you ended your lengthy sentence in a mutter.

You waited for Heeseung to look at you, waiting for his response and all you got was a quick sigh before he hummed.

Sorry, were you boring him?

But you did not have time to react as the door busted open with the tall president walking in, followed by Karina, Rei and Jungwon.

“Sorry guys, Lia and Taehyun got caught up with stuco meetings, but Karina will catch them up on everything.” He said, as he looked over to Karina, gaining a quick nod from her.

Everyone sat around the table as Soobin took his bulky notebook from his humongous bag that looked like it was filled with rocks. Jeez does this guy have a lot going on.

The meeting started where everyone started conversing and immersing themselves into the topics that the agenda listed. You even made a few suggestions that made the tall president smile at your already hard working attitude.

Which made you smile.

Which made Heeseung scoff.

It wasn’t a loud one, but you could definitely hear it from miles away. And even after you apologised! It made no sense, whatsoever. 

You stopped focusing on the topic at hand and looked over to Heeseung, comfortably sitting on the chair with his legs spread and his arms crossed. Oh wow.

No. You couldn’t get carried away from his figure, or whatever his arms were doing to you right now. You were supposed to hate him, right? And right now, you were just kissing his ass, which is what you’re so good at — namely, your best friend pointing that out whenever you went to milk out marks of your biology paper from Mrs. Min.

Of course you didn’t mean any of the words that flew out of your mouth when you were doing your so-called apology. It wasn’t even your fault! He was the one acting like a jerk! Not you!

But deep under all this anger and your prejudice against him, you had the horrible feeling that he knew why you were here, sitting in an uncomfortable chair with the members of the broadcasting club. 

And the truth was, he did know. He knew all about your little antics. He’s not stupid. And he’s not oblivious to see those raging eyes under that sort of cute but fake smile! In all these years of you attending this school against your will, you never spared one look at Heeseung. Your eyes were always and only on Beomgyu. So now why are you trying to befriend him? The one who was always in Beomgyu’s shadow?

Because like everyone else, you liked Beomgyu and your gateway was Heeseung. And it doesn’t take much to put two and two together, because it was the perfect plan that was all laid out. 

“So everyone is onboard with having a bake sale for the game?” Soobin asked, just to double check with everyone.

He in turn received nods and yeses from the members and brought you back into reality, stopping you from thinking about Heeseung’s cold manners anymore. 

You quickly nodded your head as well, putting your lips into a line. 

“Karina, me, Jungwon and Rei can bake the goods, yeah?” He asked for the members’ approval in which they agreed.

“Then,” He looked down at his notebook and scribbled some writings over it and looked up again, “Heeseung and Y/n would be selling them.” Soobin looked at you and Heeseung. “Lia and Taehyun can pop into help from time to time if that’s alright.”

Did you hear that right?

Your name and … Heeseung!

You tried not to show how your eyes were practically gleaming as you eagerly nodded. Meanwhile, Heeseung was not having it. He sighed like he had just been drafted into war, but nevertheless nodded his head as well, just more slowly compared to yours.

But, this opened new opportunities for you and new doors and each of them ending with Beomgyu, your beloved. You just had to crack through Heeseung first.

It was one of those nights where you had nothing going on in your life. You called Seori, but she was busy getting ready for Yeonjun’s party which well — you were invited to go, but didn’t because you were too lazy to get up and get ready.

So you found yourself here, in the comic store your uncle owned, slurping on some instant noodles and reading the latest version of Fuller House. You weren’t going to lie, you liked it. You were just sitting on the owner's chair with your bowl filled with noodles on the table and other stuff which were related to the store such as records of the borrowed comics. You bopped your head to the song that the little radio beside you played— ‘Candy’ by H.O.T.

The door to the comic store opened as you heard the bell hanging on it ring. Surely you weren’t bothered to look since the scene you were reading was far too interesting and Ryder was far too handsome to take your eyes off him!

“Welcome, please feel free to look around and pick up any of the comics you like. If you’re looking for something specific, let me know.” Although it was supposed to sound enthusiastic, you put in your own twist making it sound like those automated recordings you hear on those phone calls.

You finally looked up to see who the man was when you were going to gobble a mouthful of the tasty ramen you had. You didn’t quite see the face of the mystery man that came to him as he was quick to look at the various comics displayed on the shelves in front of you, making his back face you. 

You saw him pick out a comic book with a cover that you couldn’t quite recognize even if you had registered over thousands of comics here. After squinting your eyes a bit, you realised he picked out ‘Demon Diary’. 

So he’s a nerd.

He turned sideways and to your surprise, it was the devil himself—Lee Heeseung.

“Heeseung?” You said, rather loud.

Due to your shock and his name being yelled in the store, he dropped the comic and looked at you, startled—even going as far as letting out a cuss word.

“Hey man, keep it PG13.” You giggled, seeing his shocked figure, in which he rolled his eyes. “My Uncle’s at the back.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, still shocked, because you were the last person he wanted to meet right now.

“Me? I work here.” You smirked, “What are you doing here?”

“I mean, I've never seen you rent books from here.” You added on.

“I was…just searching.”

“Right.” You said, smiling. 

Why is this nerd so awkward?

“You dropped the book, you know?” You said, looking at the fallen book on the ground.

“Right, sorry.” He muttered, rushing to keep the book back on the shelf which resulted in more books falling due to his clumsy demeanour. 

“Fuck.” Luckily, he caught them just in time and looked at you with the same cold glare he did earlier, but just a bit more awkward and maybe, embarrassed? 

And just like that he left, rushing out the door. 

He didn’t even say bye. 

How rude. 

From that day onwards, he felt more awkward around you. You just didn’t know why. Everytime it was your turn in the roster to announce the morning announcements in the broadcasting room, he had nothing but an emotionless expression and a thumbs up when recording it while you sat in the studio. The other days felt even weirder as you tried to talk to him, but he was quick to go in the other direction. Your head thinks that he avoided you out of embarrassment, but it still left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“He’s just so weird!” You said to your best friend while plopping onto your bed.

She was currently sitting on your vanity with a bunch of makeup brushes spread around the table and countless amounts of eyeshadow palettes opened. Apparently, she was practising to ‘enhance’ her looks to impress her new boytoy—Sunghoon.

One of the players on the football team alongside your Beomgyu.

Seori just hummed along to your rambles about Heeseung. Well she did care, but God how long can a person hear her best friends rant about the same guy for over an hour.

“And you know what he did?” You abruptly said, sitting up from your bed, “He just went! Without even apologising!”

“For what?” Seori asked, looking at you through the reflection in your vanity mirror with furrowed eyebrows.

“For his bitchy attitude.” You just had the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your head with the way Heeseung had been acting.

“Oh, only if I could punch him in the face.” You sighed.

“Just leave it Y/n. And I mean this whole thing. It took you what–so many months for your plan to talk to this Beomgyu boy and now what? All you’ve gotten is nowhere. Just move on, babe.” She said, while leaning into the mirror to apply her mascara. 

“Seori, Beomgyu is not just some boy. And actually, it’s taken me only weeks for this Heeseung plan. He’s just cold. That’s it. Karina said that he takes time to warm up to people so I think if I get past this stage I could really be friends with him.” You justified your plan, which Seori might call you a bit (a lot) delusional for.

“Alright, Y/n.” Seori sighed, “Whatever you say.” She turned around to look at you.

“I’m just saying, be careful.” Seori said, concern laced on her expressions, “Things don't always go the way you want it to. Just go with the flow.” She smiled.

“Wow, when did you take philosophy classes?” You said, having an amazed expression for sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes as she took out her eyeliner on the table, “Now, come here. You know you do my eyeliner the best.” She said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes playfully and stood up to go towards your best friend, taking the eyeliner from her hands and starting to carefully draw lines at the bottom of her eyelid.

Your best friend was practically the opposite of you. While she finds a new man every week, you’ve been hung over the same guy for the past four years. But having her here and listening to all your rants about him and his rude (but cute) best friend is something that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

As tomorrow was the big day for the game, you were determined to win Heeseung’s friendship as a way to Beomgyu’s heart.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the day you anticipated the most arrived. You looked at yourself in the vanity mirror and tightened your slicked back pigtails tired by hair ties with small bows on them. 

You were determined to somehow crack that little arrogant bastard—Mr. Lee Heeseung.

So you packed everything you needed and headed to the stadium which you found out was filled with hundreds of teenagers and teachers patrolling the stadium, looking like they had been tasked with finding the cure to cancer.

Oh was it a sight to see. You could smell the freshly watered grass and hear loud chatters of people conversing with each other—some even yelling. A sweet melody flowed into your eyes through the humongous speakers situated around the stadium. You were going to love today.

You quickly tried to find Seori and lo and behold, there she was, situated in between Sunghoon’s arms as Sunghoon whispered into Seori’s ear and her later laughing like it was the funniest thing that was ever said.

You ran up to them, waving Seori and Sunghoon as well—although you’ve never even spoken to him.

“Ah, my girl is here.” She squealed as she broke free from Sunghoon’s grasp and hugged you tightly.

You awkwardly hugged Seori back, trying to catch your breath from her tight grip while saying hello to Sunghoon who was smiling at the scene.

“You look adorable.” Seori mumbled to your ear, “So adorable that Beomgyu might fall for you the moment he sees you.”

You couldn't help but slap on a big smile after your best friend said that. “You think so?” You asked, touching one of your pigtails in which she nodded in return.

Sunghoon on the other hand was called out by Jake, his friend and teammate, “Babe—I mean, Seori, I have to go. Coach is asking for us to meet at the locker room.”

“Oh right.” Seori giggled as she quickly kissed Sunghoon on the cheek and waved him ‘Goodbye’ after saying that she’ll cheer him on.

Cuties.

Except that could be Beomgyu and you right now, but the universe apparently hated you.

“So, new boyfriend?” You wiggled your eyes at the blushing girl in front of you.

“No!” She exclaimed, “We just, I don’t know.” Seori mumbled.

“Well, if you want him; you need to date him, fast!” You warned Seori, “I just saw him with Wonyoung not long ago. And I don’t know, she looks like she really likes him.” You said.

“What?!” She yelled.

“Don’t worry,” You laughed at her furious, but cute expression, “With the way you kissed him he looks like he’s a goner.”

“Heeseung looks it too.”

“What?” You spaced out.

Why is his name being mentioned?

Suddenly all the emotion in your face drained away, like you couldn’t give two fucks about the boy that had it against you.

“He looked like he was two seconds away from a heart attack when he looked at you.”

“What? You saw him?” You questioned, looking around to find the rude boy.

“Yes, you know the bakesale is like the opposite of where we’re standing right?” She lowered her head asking for confirmation.

“Oh.”

Does he think I’m pretty?

But then you remember what Seori said. The bake sale.

“Oh shit, I have to go.” You abruptly said.

You and Seori parted ways after saying ‘Goodbye’ and you headed to the bakesale with a man standing behind the table of baked goodies.

Heeseung was preparing the goods as he aligned them perfectly, keeping the doughnuts next to the brownies and so on.

You soon caught on and went behind the table to do what he was doing.

“That’s new.” He mumbled.

You were shocked that he even talked to you.

But, hey. At Least he made your plan a bit easier.

“What is?” You asked in confusion.

“Your hair.” He said, not even sparing one look at you and keeping his focus on taking out the baked goods out of the trays next to him.

“Yeah, I tried something different today.” You smiled, thankful that he noticed your hairstyle.

“You look like a dork.” He simply said, as he went away taking the empty trays to wherever he was off to.

That bitch.

So he doesn’t think I’m cute?!

Your mouth was left open as you processed what he said. 

As if he looks good.

Well, he does.

But that’s not the point!

Your eyebrows furrowed as you let out a huff, leaving a pout on your face. You didn’t let his stupid comment affect your whole mood so you just continued with doing your tasks as his words went to the back of your head.

Heeseung and you continued to sell various types of cakes and other baked goods while you took a little bite from one of the chocolate doughnuts that was eyeing you the entire time. And you swore, you could see Heeseung subtly smiling at your cute actions from the corner of your eye. 

Soon after, the bakesale was long forgotten as everyone focused on the game and the star of the team, Choi Beomgyu. He skillfully passed the members of the opposing team with the ball tangled around his feet. The team needed one more goal to win the entire thing and time was not on their side.

Beomgyu had two minutes left on the clock to somehow magically kick the football into the goal. And just before you knew it, the crowd went crazy, screaming for their new champion—Choi Beomgyu.

He successfully saved the entire team by winning in the last moment and you adored the way his proud smile never left his handsome face even once. 

Heeseung beside you was cheering for his best friend when he won. You couldn’t help but smile at his excited expression which was a rare sight to see.  He soon ran to Beomgyu and hugged him as he praised the ace of the team. Soon chants of Beomgyu’s name echoed throughout the stadium.

Ah, were you proud of your future boyfriend. 

Maybe this was your chance. A chance to finally talk to him. Since no one was at the stall as they were all focused on the ace in the middle of the stadium that was sitting on someone's neck as people chanted his name, you thought to bring him a bottle of water. Maybe even compliment his football skills (even if you didn’t know shit about football).

You took an unopened water bottle from one of the boxes and when you looked at the stadium again, the crowd seemed to move. Fuck, you couldn’t lose him!

You started searching as people started to leave the stadium while some were idling around the benches taking pictures with their Fotoman cameras. The crowd was still very much alive, just the reason for it was missing. Could he have disappeared that fast?

You scanned the grounds one last time and at the corner of your eye, you saw a pathway which led to the boys’ locker room. Well, you had to do what you had to do.

So now, you were standing in the middle of the empty boys locker room with a little water bottle in your hand and the desperation pouring through your eyes to find the star of the day. 

But lo and behold, you found his trusty sidekick. And you wanted to laugh, because of the shriek he just let out which led you to think that this was a bit familiar to the situation you were in a few days ago. 

“What the hell are you doing in here? You perv!” He whispered, shouted and looked around and back at you with a glare shooting right at you.

“Hey! I’m not a perv! I was just looking for Beomgyu to give him some water–” But before you could finish your speech, Beomgyu and a group of guys were heard coming into the locker room which obviously you couldn't hear as you were too busy defending yourself.

“What! Hey! What are you doing?” You almost shouted as Heeseung pulled you into one of the showers and covered your mouth with his somewhat sweaty palms. 

And now, it was just you pressed against Heeseung's chest as his hand involuntarily found his way to your waist to create more space in this uncomfortably tiny shower that could clearly fit only one person.

“Who’s the perv now?” You whispered to yourself, looking away from him, but also internally freaking out that he was so close to you.

Maybe if you were some other girl like Minji from fourth period who could not stop rambling on about Heeseung or maybe the lunch lady that always looked at him with a smile and gave him extra chicken, you would be a puddle.

But you’re not, or so you think that way. Yet you couldn’t deny the quickened beats of your heart which you hoped that Heeseung couldn’t hear given that your chest was literally against his. 

You heard Beomgyu outside talking with some other players in his team about the match which made you smile. But you swore that you could see Heeseung rolling his eyes at your expression which honestly you couldn't care less, but to give him a quick punishment, you thought it would be fun to pinch his stomach where your hand was currently pressed against.

Seeing his shushed pained expression and his glare at you only made you smirk even more, but your little feud was quickly sent away as Beomgyu’s ongoing conversation got you distracted. 

“You should’ve seen the girls!” One of the football players said, “God, they were so hot! I almost missed a shot because of them!” He drooled.

Gross.

“Yeah, especially that Seori girl.” The other boy said.

Seori? As in my ‘Yoon Seori’? My best friend?

“Fuck, she was hot.” Beomgyu spoke up.

And at that instant, all the colour on your face drained away. You knew most boys always had a weird way of talking about girls, but you never expected your best friend’s name to be passed around like this, especially by your crush. Your pout only increased when you heard them talk even further and you felt a lump in your throat. This cannot be happening.

“Yeah, but isn’t she with Park Sunghoon? I saw them kissing and shit.” 

“Awh fuck me, I was going to ask her out.” Beomgyu half heartedly laughed at his missed chance.

So he knew who you were—given that you were always with Seori—and he was going to ask her out and not you.

Ouch.

You inhaled slowly, trying to not let your tears fall out as you forgot about the male that was beside you who was watching every expression that came out of your face. 

Heeseung didn’t know why, but he didn’t like seeing your face all sad and mushy. Every time he saw you, you were always giggly or mad at him or trying to put on a fake smile just to get closer to him. But he’s never seen this. And he did not like it, even though he didn’t know why. 

And without thinking, he pulled you closer to him.

Hugging you tight.

You were more shocked than sad as you looked at him. You let out a gasp as he held you tight against his chest and your heart skipped around four or five beats. He wasn’t looking at you though. In fact, he looked at anything else or than you, since all of a sudden, the soap that was lying on the soap dish looked very interesting. 

He looked very, very red––from the tip of his forehead to the bits of his neck that was covered by his t-shirt, he was red. His pointy ears that were peaking out were red, his cheeks were tinted with a rosy colour and you couldn’t miss out on how his adams apple bobbed as he took the biggest gulp ever!

But, why did you like it?

You shouldn’t.

You liked the man who was outside the shower.

Wait, is this his way of trying to comfort me?

That’s actually kinda swee—”Guys! Come outside! Coach wants to take photos!” One of the members that barged into the locker room yelled before all the soccer players scurried away and went outside the room and onto the stadium.

You could finally let out the breath you were holding in. But Heeseung already shoved you aside and threw himself outside the shower. 

You still couldn’t speak of what just happened, but Heeseung was quick to fill in the gap of silence.

“We sold enough stuff today, right?” He said, rubbing his pants against his jeans as he looked anywhere but you.

You blinked out of your dazed zone and looked at the nervous boy, “I think s—”

“Great! Okay, I’ll go and start cleaning up.” He said, as he interrupted you before leaving the room.

What just happened?

You should probably tell Seori.

She deserves to know, right?

“Y/n, what’s that big head of yours thinking?” Seori pouted as she put her arm around your shoulder.

Damn, she saw right through you.

You honestly didn’t know what you were thinking or who you were thinking of. When you paint a picture you see Beomgyu and his pretty locks of hair falling right in front of his eyes, his boyish smile and spark in his eyes

But

Next to him, you saw Heeseung.

Heeseung who has his forehead shown and his stupid locks which parted it, that stupid twinkle in his eyes which you wish you could gauge out and his slight smile forcibly lighting up that spark in you

Now you were stuck, stuck in between two of these boys. You definitely liked Beomgyu! Right? That’s what you keep repeating in your head, but the lines slowly blur as Heeseung’s name enters your head which makes you go into a spiral.

“Y/n?” 

“Hm?” You snap out of your thoughts and look at your best friend with the eyes that resembled a lost bambi. 

“You okay?” She asked, with genuine concern.

“Yeah, sorry.” You laughed it off, “I’m just tired from that soccer match.” 

“Right.” She dragged the word while looking at you suspiciously. 

“I’m fine Seori, I mean you would be too after selling around a hundred cupcakes.” You laughed, trying to change the topic.

But lo and behold, the universe was against you once again because as soon as you finished talking, you saw the boy that you were stuck in the showers with yesterday.

The pace of the students walking through the halls seemed to slow down. Everything else felt blurry except for him, the boy that hugged you tight yesterday. The usual hustle slowly faded into the background, leaving the world feeling slightly out of focus—at least to you. To your surprise, he looked even more handsome than he did yesterday. Wait, was he glowing?! Your mouth was agape as you intently fixed your gaze on him.

“Y/n! Snap out of it!” Your best friend brings your focus back to where you were.

“Huh?” 

Seori’s gaze followed on where your eyes were previously set on and it ended on Heeseung’s stoic face. A series of ‘oh’s left her mouth as she looked at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I knew you would move on!” She squealed, locking her arms with yours.

Did you?

“Seori, I think you’re mistaken. I was just–” 

“Don’t lie, Y/n. I know that stare when I see it.” She fixed a teasing smile on her face.

“Seori, there’s nothing going on.”

You couldn’t deny the fact that Her words hit you hard. Have you really moved on from Beomgyu? Just a few seconds ago, you were thinking about him.Yet, you couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling of Heeseung lingering above your thoughts laced with Beomgyu. 

“You can’t deny that you weren't just drooling for Heeseung. Not Beomgyu.” 

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. "I don't know, Seori. It's...complicated."

Her eyebrows furrowed as a sign for you to elaborate, but you debated on whether telling what happened on the day of the soccer match and what you heard from Beomgyu.

“It’s just really complicated.” Was all you could say, “Don’t worry about it!” You forced your lips into a tight smile which in turn Seori let out a sigh and continued walking as you both tried shaking off the conversation you just had. 

Was it really though? You just may find Heeseung a tiny bit attractive after he allegedly hugged you tight in the showers—although not knowing it was intentional, you still very much like Beomgyu who wanted to ask your best friend out! Not that complicated, right? Maybe you found Heeseung a bit cute and maybe not much of a jerk like he showed you to be, especially when he hugged you, revealing he was more than just a cold facade. But what you couldn’t seem to ignore was how your heart flipped seeing his features in the crowd as his bambi eyes shone while his heart shaped lips formed into a pout as he talked with the other students.

Nonetheless, a little touching here and there and a confused bundle of feelings wasn’t going to derail your plan. You were determined to get this to work no matter what. And plus you were very loyal to your man. You think so.

That night, a suffocating silence forcefully clung to the air as Heeseung sat on the dinner table with his parents, the atmosphere always carrying a sense of thick tension whenever his parents were around. He sat next to his brother while his parents were seated across him, boring their eyes onto him with a stern look. With the silence they gave him, Heeseung felt a tight knot into his stomach that felt like it would burst any minute. 

The only sound that could be heard was the spoons and forks clanking against the dinner plates while the fan’s motor could be heard throughout the room. Although the smell of home cooked japchae filled the room, Heeseung hardly touched his food as he just poked his food with his fork. His father broke the awkward silence first,

As the silence of the man sitting in front of him spoke volumes, he was first to break the silence, “Son, how did the maths test you had last week go?” Heeseung’s father inquired while staring at him.

“I got a seventy.” 

Heeseung knew he fucked up. The young boy couldn’t help but shrink under his father’s scrutinising gaze. His cheeks held a hot shade of red as he looked at all the food scattered on his plate. He knew that what was about to come was another lecture from his father’s mouth and small scoldings from his mother as well.

“Seventy? Heeseung what have I told you?” His father’s voice grew stern.

“Honestly, what the absolute hell are you doing with your life? Last time it was an eighty, and I let it slip because maybe you weren’t doing well. But now I think you’re just lazy,” His father scoffed, “Why can’t you be more like your brother? Look, all his scores are above ninety and that’s all I ask from you.” He said, pointing at the younger boy sitting beside Heeseung with his fork.

Heeseung didn’t even bother looking at his brother, knowing all he could return was a guilty and pitiful face. Honestly, why couldn’t he be more like him?

“Stop spending time with those useless cameras of yours and actually focus on your studies!” Heeseung flinched at the sudden rise of voice from his father which he hated to admit that it affected him.

“They’re not just cameras, Dad,” Heeseung mumbled, gulping the dry knot stuck in his throat.

“What was that? Yeah right, as if cameras are going to help you excel in your studies,” He scoffed once again. “Maybe it’s that Beomgyu boy that you hang out so much with. That boy is nothing but a negative influence on you.” He spat.

And that was the first time where he finally looked his father in the eye now as Heeseung finally looked up from his plate and shot back the same nasty glare his father gave him, “Don’t call him that.”

“I see, now he’s more important to you than your own family. So what if I call him that, then what?” He provoked Heeseung.

Heeseung knew if he acted up, the consequences would be worse. He looked at his mother for any sign of help, but all she did was stare into her plate in fear of getting scolded by Heeseung’s father as well. Not being able to handle the situation anymore, Heeseung stood up from the dining table and left the house, not caring about the shouts that came from his father’s mouth.

The only thing that came out of your mouth was quiet snores. You were sleeping again after promising your mother you just needed a five minute nap afterschool which resulted in six hours of sleep, resulting in the time being seven pm now.

The door abruptly opened showing your older brother shouting at you trying to wake you up, “Y/n! Come on! Get up!”

“What the hell! What do you want?” You asked in a groggy voice, your eyes still closed.

“Go buy me some ramen.” He simply said.

If you had the power right now to strangle your brother to death, his soul would be on the stairway to hell right now.

“Fuck off!” You said as you hid yourself under your comfortable sheets.

Your brother in turn grabbed the sheets leaving you cold, “Go right now.” He said while throwing you some notes of money.

“Or what?” You provoked him, your hands rubbing against your arms to keep you warm.

“I’m telling everyone that a certain someone came home from school, crying because they wet their pants in eighth grade.” Your brother said in a sing-songy voice and a cheeky smile.

Your eyes shot open and you looked like you could kill him in five different ways. Because not only was he blackmailing you right now…but it was also in fact true.

Before you could chase him, he ran out the door, closing it shut after yelling what flavour of ramen he wanted.

“Ugh!” You growled at your peaceful sleep being interrupted by your annoying brother and his tasks.

You thought it was now a good time to wash your face and get rid of the way your bed was calling your name and looked more attractive than ever. Rolling your eyes, you wore your favourite red and white striped sweater and grabbed the money from your bed and left the house, flipping your brother on the way out.

You stepped on onto the chilly streets of Seoul and walked through the concrete roads to the nearest seven-eleven you could find. The walk wasn’t that long yet you felt like the sleep was getting to you from the way you felt already exhausted by the five minute walk. 

You walked into the store getting whatever ramen your brother liked and an ice cream for yourself to reward you for the hard work that you did now.

As you licked onto the vanilla flavoured ice cream, you were on your way back home while the chill breeze ran through your legs. Fuck, I shouldn’t have worn shorts.

And now that you think about it, you were only here because of your stupid older brother. With the amount of laziness he had in him, you had a hard time finding accepting the fact that the couch potato that’s probably sleeping in your bed got into a good university and actually has a life.

Oh how you could strangle your brother right now for his lazy bum. Only if you could have one day with him, he’d be scrambled eggs by now. Oh only if you coul— 

“Ouch!” You winced as you suddenly trip onto the ground, bruising your knee. Luckily, your ice cream was still intact, though its liquid melted onto your skin, dripping down your hands.

“The Gods hate me today!” You whined as you looked at your ankle in pain, “My poor knee.”

You looked up to find a place to at least sit so the pain would go off. To your surprise you found a nearby park which you used to visit all the time when you were a kid. You crossed the street and entered the park lit with rusty street lights. 

Wait a minute…

As you walked into the park, you saw a male figure sitting on one of the swings while  his back was hunched. 

That hoodie looks too familiar…

And then it clicked. That hoodie was the one Beomgyu wore when he went on one of the class trips. As much as it was a rare sight to see him attending these class trips instead of skipping them, you vividly remember it because that was one of the few times where you actually talked to him. 

So you slowly went towards the figure, acting like you didn’t know who he was just so you could sit on the swing next to him with the excuse of having hurt your knee.

As you slowly approached the male figure, you could kind of make out his face shape and then you realised that it wasn't Beomgyu at all.

“Heeseung?” 

You saw him flinch at the surprising sound and his eyes shot wide open to look at you, “What the hell? You scared me, woman.” He said, trying to calm down.

Much to your surprise, another one of your failed attempts.

Heeseung looked at the ice cream in one hand that was already melted and the ramen that was in your plastic bag in the other. His gaze then slowly went towards your bleeding knee. 

But you didn’t take his observation to note as you huffed while throwing your already melted ice cream into one of the garbage cans nearby and sitting down on the swing next to him, placing your plastic bag with a ramen packet inside on the ground, wiping your ice cream coated hands onto your sweater.

“What the hell did you do to your knee?” He inquired, a rough tone escaping from his mouth.

“I fell down.” You mumbled as you unconsciously pouted.

“And you’re not going to do anything about it?” He asked, amazed by the fact that you’re not bothered at your literal bleeding knee. 

“I don’t want to walk all the way back to get a stupid band aid.” You sighed, looking down.

Heeseung felt uneasy by the sight of your state where you looked like you gave up. He let out a sigh and probably a curse to what you could hear and got up, “Wait here.” He said as he left the park.

Your eyes looked up at the boy who slowly disappeared into the dark, wondering where he went. But you didn’t care anyways. Maybe Seori was right, you could never be able to get close to Beomgyu. Even the Gods are against it. Your pout came out even more as you thought about it even more. 

As you looked through the park, your childhood memories fluttered open as you remembered the numerous amount of times you played Hide and Seek with Seori or the endless amount of ways you managed to trip on the grass and form a new bruise somewhere where your mother always made a fuss about.

You sighed and glanced at your bleeding knee. You winced at the burning sensation it gave you and the sight of fresh blood splattered on your knee making you cringe as you had a trickling urge to wipe it all off from your sweater, but you knew better than that. You wondered if Heeseung would stick to his words and actually come back 

Just as the thought of the young boy entered your mind, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching you. You looked up to see Heeseung returning, holding a small first aid kit in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. A wave of relief washed over you as you released the breath that you didn’t realise that you had been holding.

Without saying another word, he got down on one knee and opened the first aid kit. He took the small piece of soft cotton and started to clean your wound. Next, he took some antibacterial cream and applied it onto your fresh wound.

A hiss came out of your mouth as your leg jerked away from his touch. He looked up with a stoic expression on his face, “Stay still.” He commanded.

Your pout quickly went away as his hand came into contact with your leg as he tried to hold it for a better grip, his touch being surprisingly gentle. You gulped as you looked away from the sight. He was being too kind for your liking. You were surprised that he didn’t walk away the moment he saw you.

After patching your wound up with a bandaid, he got up, taking the water bottle that was on the ground, and you looked up at him, searching for an answer as to why he did something that was so out of character for him.

“A thank you would be nice,” He scoffed but the confused look made him sort of understand what you were thinking, “I just... hate seeing blood.”

He gave you the water bottle. “You should be more careful, dork.”

You hesitantly took the water bottle from his hand and mumbled a thank you for the water bottle and disinfecting your wound from your clumsy fall earlier while he returned to his empty seat on the swing set. 

It had been a few moments since you both went back to silence and a few gulps from the water bottle Heeseung gave you for you to finally break the silence, “So why are you here?”

You turned your head around to face Heeseung who kept staring at the scenery of the park, “Needed some fresh air.”

“Mm, sometimes I need some too, but I go to the Han River. It’s more peaceful there,” you said, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Yeah, well, do I look like I can go there now?” Heeseung said, his voice sounding snarky and sharper than you expected.

You smiled sheepishly, understanding the given circumstances, “Right, sorry.”

Heeseung sighed, he could see your smile from the corner of his eyes. He looked down to his hands resting on his lap, “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… lash out on you like that.” He mumbled.

“I get it I guess… I guess we all have those days.” You said, turning back to view the comforting landscape in front of you. “I used to be worse. I once smacked my brother across the face because he breathed too loud.”

A snort surprisingly came out of Heeseung’s mouth. “Are you implying that smacking you might help?”

“Well not me! Violence does not help, but if it’s on my brother… then I’d disagree.” You giggled, remembering the memory of your brother sobbing to your mother with a red strike across his face.

A soft smile found its way on Heseung’s face and this was probably the first and few times you actually saw him smile. The problem was, you didn’t know why, but you liked it. A lot. And you wanted to keep doing whatever you could to keep that smile on his face.

Gosh! Get a grip, Y/n!

You both fell into a somewhat comfortable silence before you decided to change the subject again. “When I was a kid, I used to come to this park all the time,” you began speaking, your eyes wandering around the familiar surroundings of your memories spent here. “Seori and I would play hide and seek, and I’d always manage to trip over something and end up with a new bruise. My mom would make such a fuss about it.”

Heeseung intently listened. He found it comforting that he could just sit there and here you talk without finding it annoying. This surprised him, what was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to hate you?

“Oh right there!” You pointed to one of the bushes, “I fell down on a bird’s nest there. I spent the entire ride home sobbing because I sat on some of the eggs and it.. broke.” You mumbled at the end, feeling embarrassed. “I couldn’t sleep that night so I went back the next day and made a birdhouse for that poor mama bird.” You said, a pout unconsciously showing up at your lips.

Even though you were currently going through your past memories and spilling your countless stories to Heeseung, all you could hear from him was silence. You started to wonder if you were talking too much, if maybe he wanted some peace and quiet. Just as you were about to apologise, your pager beeped loudly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at it and realised it was your brother. “Oh, shit. I need to get back,” you said, standing up and wincing at the pain in your knee. You picked up the plastic bag from the ground.

You looked back at Heeseung and awkwardly cleared your throat, wondering if you were on terms to bid each other Goodbye, but before you could form a sentence Heeseung beat you to it, “Open your eyes when you’re walking and don't fall again, dork.”

You playfully rolled your eyes realising he was back to his old Heeseung self and left the park, heading towards your home. As you limped back, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, you’d managed to make him feel a little better.

Heeseung watched you limp out of the park, a soft laugh escaping him at the sight of your awkward struggle. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you go. He felt a bit lighter, thanks to you, though he’d never admit that.

Waking up with a bruise was never a good way to start your morning. You took off the thick blanket that covered you. As you felt the dull ache on your knee, the unexpected meetup with Heeseung rushed back to your head when that was the reason why you tossed and turned at night, trying to get a wink of sleep. 

The thought of the boy never left your mind, wondering where you stood with Heeseung, hoping that yesterday may make Heeseung warm up to you, but a part of you wanted Heeseung  to keep you at arms distance for the fear of something you couldn’t quite grasp onto. 

But you settled on keeping Heeseung as a part of your plan and maybe even a friend after you start dating Beomgyu. Right?

Oh right, Beomgyu…

The chestnut haired boy raced back to your mind, strengthening your feelings for him. Though, you still didn’t know why the thought settled weirdly in your stomach. 

You brushed it off and started to get ready for school, you were determined that today would be the day that you get your pawn Heeseung to finally act according to your genius plan. 

After a quick shower and trying to make yourself decent for school, you headed out the door, slightly limping but still excited and a hundred percent sure that he would agree if you buttered up enough to him.

As hours passed, the day was going pretty well while you zoomed through the classes with ease. And now, you found yourself standing in that familiar spot, outside the broadcasting room, a few minutes before the usual meeting would start since you knew that Heeseung was always the first one to be there.

What a loser! 

A kinda cute one too maybe…

Wait! Fuck—

“Y/n?” A voice came from behind you, a familiar one.

“Hee–” You turned around to see the boy towering over you, the gap between you being very close.

You froze after seeing how close he was to you, “I-I was actually going to talk to you– you’re here?”

“Guess you beat me to it.” He said, taking his hand out of his pocket and turning the knob on the door resting next to you, his side view being very clear to you.

Shit.

He opened the door and you silently thanked yourself that you weren't leaning against it and quickly scooted to the side to give him some space to walk through the room. He took his seat at the very end of the room— his usual seat. You walked in slowly, closed the door behind you, and took a seat in the chair across from him.

“I was going to say–”

“Can I ask you something?” He spoke up.

His sudden question caught you off guard, “Ye–yeah go ahead.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his peculiar question, your head tilting to the side in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you trying to be friends with me?”

“Oh.” An odd silence formed between you two. “I just wanted to–”

“You never even looked at me before, so why join the broadcasting club, talk to me, try to get close to me? I just want to know why notice me now?”

You contemplated on saying that it had something to do with a boy named Beomgyu but you swallowed that response down your throat, knowing how’d his future response look like. Your sudden confidence at the beginning of your day faltered, making it shred into tiny little pieces. All you could do was open your mouth a bit and gulp nervously then look down at your hands resting on your lap.

Heeseung noticed your sudden nervous behaviour so all his thoughts came out into one statement, “You like him.”

Your eyes widened and looked straight at him. 

So he knew.

Heeseung only scoffed, the pieces of your plan finally laying out perfectly to him, “And you're trying to get close to me so you can what? Talk to him?” 

All you could do was look down and nod slightly. Was it that obvious?

Another scoff could be heard from Heeseung as he stood up from his chair, clearly not wanting to be near you.

You stood up, “Heeseung, wait!” He stopped in his tracks, yet his back was still facing you.

“I have liked Beomgyu before I could even process what the word like had really meant. And gosh, I tried everything in the book and heck everything I could do to even get close to him. Nothing worked! Please just— this is my last hope as silly as it sounds, but I’m really desperate here. Just help me out a bit, because I don't think I can sleep at night knowing I didn’t try. I swear i’ll even stop talking to you if he rejects me–”

“You talk a lot.” He finally turned around to face you, “But that little monologue of yours got you nowhere.”

You walked towards him, knowing this literally could be your one last shot at this plan. “Heeseung…”

But something struck you as if a bulb just lit up in your head.

Gotcha!

“You know, you’d really hate it if you found out what happened in 'Demon Diary' without reading it, right?” You said, sneakily coming up to him.

“Right..” He said hesitantly, not sure what trick you had up your sleeve.

“If you were to help me, then you’d have the pleasure of reading it without spoilers like Raenef being the next demon lo–” As you were about to finish, his hand came in contact with your mouth to shut you up.

Your eyes widened again and your heart rate fastened for nth time. He was so close to you, his hand feeling warm against your skin. Nothing was to be heard from the both of you until Heeseung realised how close you both were which made him gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He slowly lowered his hand and took it off your mouth, “I want volume one.”

“Deal.”

One thing you've known about Heeseung was that he loved working with cameras. From school events to casual hangouts, he always had his camera hanging around his neck, clicking a picture of anything that piqued his interest. 

So of course, he was assigned by the broadcasting club to take the pictures of students on this field trip to see the flowers at the Musimcheon Cherry Blossom Festival and sent the new girl—aka you—to assist him, which you happily obliged. 

On the way to the field while you were in the bus, you took out your essentials to hopefully butter him up; banana milk. It always does the trick when you want something, and to your luck it was his favourite drink too!

“Woah! Is that for me?” Seori who was seated next to you pouted, trying to take the banana milk out of your hand, but you were quick to swat her hand away.

“No! It’s for Heeseung.” You mumbled with a pout.

“Oh! I get it now.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you in a teasing manner not knowing you wanted to rip them out.

“Stop! It’s not like that,” You said with furrowed eyebrows trying to defend yourself, “It’s so I can kiss ass and get close with Beomgyu!”

“No way L/n Y/n just said that.” She said with a breathy laugh. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” You said, stretching your arms a bit with a smile on your face.

Seori rolled her eyes at your justification, “Oh by the way, you still with your boy toy?” You snickered while elbowing Seori.

“He’s not my boy toy! It’s just complicated.” She muttered, shyly.

“Hmm, isn’t that what you said for Jaeyun, Minhyun, Sojun and—”

“Oh my gosh stop! You’re making me look like a player!” She whined, hitting you on the side, “I’m actually serious about Sunghoon, I really like him.” 

“Woah!” You turned to the side. “That I never heard, I’m impressed he managed to wrap you around his finger like that.” You said, nodding your head, impressed by how in love she looked but you’d never say it out loud since you knew she’d drag you to the pits of hell.

Seori never really liked relationships—heck! you’re surprised that she’s been your best friend for this long. She usually has casual and lowkey situationships as you like to call it, but seeing her with Sunghoon actually gave you hope that you might experience her having her first real boyfriend instead of her running away from her potential love interests. 

“Yeah whatever.” She rolled her eyes at your comment. “At Least I’m not the girl that’s been crushing on a guy for three years and hasn't made a move yet!”

“Hey! I am making one! It’s just a really slow move.” You tried to defend yourself.

Hopefully that move does work if Heeseung actually abides by your plan. So when you arrived there, the first thing you did was to search for Heeseung. Luckily, it didn’t take that much time as you found him in the middle of the field setting up the essential equipment needed for capturing some moments on the trip. You headed towards him, calling out his name making his bambi eyes drift towards you.

As you were near him, you reached out to your school bag and took out the comic he had set his eyes on, “You need to return it on Monday.

He silently thanked you while he nodded while you were still rummaging in your bag, “Here.”

You handed out a tiny bottle of banana milk to him, “Jungwon said you liked it, so.”

Heeseung blinked in surprise before he pursed his lips. He took the milk into his hand and turned around to put the comic and the milk into his bag, hiding his smile at the cute gesture from you.

The boy cleared his throat and started adjusting the settings for the camera while you rested your hand against the stand, your chin leaning on top of it, pouting in search for Beomgyu.

Once your eyes finally set on him talking to his friends, your eyes became a lot more dreamy and your once faltered feelings bounced back, strong as ever. 

“No girlfriend, right?” You muttered, still looking at Beomgyu.

“No.”

“Then what type of girls?”

“I don’t know, maybe Sim Eunha?” Heeseung answered, now recording bits of students socialising.

“Oh, so like someone innocent?” You said, taking out a notebook from your bag to record his likes, “That’s alright.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Armageddon.”

“Oh?” You smiled while writing it down, “Mine too.”

“Future major in college?” 

“Theatre and film of journalism and broadcasting.”

“Oh,” You wrote down the words he said quickly, “So he wants to be famous because he’s handsome?” You mumbled.

“No,” Heeseung stated, “I just like working with cameras.”

Wait a minute.

You looked up from your small notebook and processed his words. Is he really talking about himself? Your head shot towards the taller boy next to you with furrowed eyebrows. 

“What?” You exclaimed, “This isn't about you! I’m asking about Beomgyu.” You said as you slightly hit his arm which made him wince a bit. “If I have to get close to him, I need to know what he likes…And besides, why would I ask what you like anyways.”

“Such a dork.” Heeseung scoffed as he looked at your sulky face, “Come here, Soobin sent us both on this trip. You should record as well!” 

You rolled your eyes at the sight of Heeseung setting up his camera on the stand for more stability. You reluctantly but quickly put your pencil and your little notebook in the small pocket of your bag. His eyes averted to you as a signal to come closer which you obliged to.

“Put your eye here,” He pointed at the camera, guiding you to the camera’s viewfinder. “This is the zoom in button and here’s zoom out.” He showed you the necessary buttons needed, “Don't zoom in too much.” He nagged quietly. 

Heeseung slowly guided your hand to the zoom in button and slid it down to the zoom out button. His way of teaching you around his camera felt gentle and soothing, like you could listen to him talk about his cameras all day. His gentle touch and the proximity between you two made your heart feel like it was in a marathon. 

“Hit record.” He instructed and so you did.

You zoomed in on a few places with students chattering and at the scenery of the field and as well as the sky. 

“Hm, you’re doing surprisingly well.” He said, quietly. Way to ruin the moment if there even was one.

You froze at how close you two were where you could hear his heartbeat. It felt so comforting for some reason. You could listen to his deep breaths next to you as he guided you to record some of the scenery. But this also set off many alarms in your head, screaming at you.

What are you doing!?

Your breathing felt unsteady and awfully loud to you, to the point where you thought Heeseung could hear you.

“Okay I got it.” You muttered, trying to dominate the space you two shared behind the camera, “You can go.” You said, nagging him to leave you alone. 

He slowly backed away from you, taken aback from your words and let out a sigh which went unnoticed by you. You continued with recording the landscape which brought a sense of calmness to you. You zoomed into Seori and Sunghoon chatting away, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the cheery boy in front of him. 

Cute, you thought. 

You slowly panned your camera to the blue skies above the fields and now to the chestnut haired boy. Beomgyu’s smile melted your heart as he talked to some of his friends which seemed really funny with the way he laughed. 

He was soon joined by the taller boy, Heeseung. You zoomed in on Beomgyu to get a close-up of him, momentarily forgetting about recording the scenery. Yet, strange enough your hands instinctively moved the camera over to capture the boy next to him. There was something about Heeseung that you couldn’t quite grasp onto. His doe-like eyes sparkled as he chatted with his friends. 

With his hair that always seemed to fall so carelessly over his forehead and the way he would sneer slightly as if he was amused whenever someone spoke up, you could never seem to keep your eyes directed elsewhere and you didn’t really know why. He had this charm about him that was impossible for you to not look twice— the way his lips moved to the glint in his eyes.

After a brief pause, he looked right at the camera, catching your gaze. It startled you, and you fumbled with the camera— readjusting the camera and propping it back to the field quickly. 

Way to make it so not obvious.

However what you didn’t catch was Heeseung looking at your clumsy self, trying to grab shots here and there. And what you didn't see was the smile that found its way to his face, because of you.

If you were Heeseung, where would you be right now? Currently, you were looking for wherever Heeseung would be. In the broadcasting room? Surprisingly, no. One of his classes? No. The cafeteria? No sight of the tall boy. Heck! Even the field where Beomgyu was practising? All you could find was the dashing boy moving through the field with ease and shooting a goal into the net.

The banana milk in your hand started to look real good after your countless laps making you thirsty, but no! You were saving that for Heeseung, if he even is alive today. Suddenly, like lightning struck your head, you realised that Heeseung was a huuuge nerd. 

You jogged to where your school library would be, which was a few metres away from the football field. You entered the facility to see Heeseung in all his glory sitting at one of the tables reading the big book of the Photographers Guide. 

Of Course he’d be here!

Nerd.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, looking like he absorbed every word and the sight made you smile unknowingly. Without thinking, you walked over and took a seat in front of him.

“Whatchu reading?” you asked, dragging your words a bit, leaning in.

Heeseung let out a small yell as he flinched at the sound of you speaking which made your smile grow even wider, “Jesus, woman! stop sneaking up on me like that.” You laughed, brushing it off with a small sorry.

“Why are you here anyways?” He questioned, “You don’t read.”

“Woah!” You raised your hands a bit at the somewhat correct accusation, “I do, sometimes.” You giggled. “I came to give you this.” You placed the banana milk you were holding on the table.

He raised his eyebrow at you, “In exchange for?”

“For nothing! Just a friendly gesture,” you said, but then a sly smile crept up your face. “Actually, I was thinking...maybe we could all hang out together? You, me, and Beomgyu.”

Well he knew it.

“Hell no,” He said, stuffing his nose back into the big book.

“Cmon!” You nagged, your hand reaching for his arm trying to convince him.

Heeseung looked you dead in the eye to say the word ‘no’ again to which you groaned at. 

But then, you noticed a familiar book peeking out of Heeseung’s shoulder bag that was resting on the table. It was volume one of Demon Diary.

“Aha!” Without thinking, you snatched it up.

Heeseung shot up looking at you with widened eyes,”Hey! Give it back.” He protested. 

“I agreed to give this to you if you were to help.” You said, dangling the book infront of him. “And you’re not, so i’ll give this if you—”

“Fine.” He snatched the book from your hand. 

You flashed him a big grin, “Great! I’ll see you at three o'clock at the bus stop tomorrow.”

Heeseung nodded reluctantly as if he was being held at gunpoint!  “Fine. But if this turns out to be a disaster, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fine,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “But it won't be.” 

As you left the library, the reality of your plan started to sink in, filling you with a nervous excitement. To think that tomorrow would be the day that you would actually hang out with Beomgyu in the flesh just brought hundreds of butterflies into your stomach. But a part of you wondered if this was the right direction you were going. But as your plan finally starts to take shape, you think to yourself if this is what you really want? You look back at Heeseung being engrossed in his little book. You wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was looking forward to it too.

But, why do you care? You were here for Beomgyu, right? You are doing this for Beomgyu, you tell yourself. But even as you tried to convince yourself, the nagging thought that was right behind you kept pouring thoughts that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than you first realised. 

The next day arrived in a blink. You were already waiting at the bus stop, dusting off the invisible specs over your dress. Your first real dress that you begged Seori to let you borrow. The baby blue chequered dress draped right above your knees and was held with two straps that rested on your shoulders which were tied into the shape of a bow. 

You looked over at your watch —2:55. You just hoped that Heeseung would show up after praying to the Gods that this plan would finally take off. 

The time stretched on. It took a few minutes to make your stomach start grumbling due to the nervousness that ran through your body, but everything was put aside when you saw Heeseung walking towards you clad in his white tee paired with cargo pants, his hands shoved in his pockets and a stoic expression covering his face. 

Next to him was a slightly shorter boy, but also the man of your dreams and the man that was actually in your dream last night as well. Imagining him so many times in front of you, this close felt overwhelming now that he was actually walking towards you. Not anyone else—you.

Heeseung and Beomgyu stopped in front of you and Beomgyu greeted you with a grin on his face, contrasting to the boy next to him, “Hi Y/n! It’s been a long time since we talked. Hope you won’t mind me tagging along.” He chuckled.

What? Tagging along?

What exactly did Heeseung tell him?

As Beomgyu walked further ahead of you two, you slowed down your pace to match Heeseung as you elbowed him and aggressively whispered, “What did you tell Beomgyu to get him to come?”

Heeseung glanced at you, with that still same stoic look on his face and shrugged. “He loves carnivals. I barely got to finish what I was saying before he was begging to tag along.” 

“Must be fate that we both loooove carnivals so much.” You said, giggling at the thought of you and Beomgyu sharing the same love for roller coasters and cotton candy, missing the roll in Heeseung’s eyes. 

The three of you finally got onto the bus, you going right after Beomgyu, excited for the trip to the carnival. As you neared one of the seats, the bus suddenly lurched forward, causing you to stumble and fall on your ass right in front of Beomgyu.

But lucky for you, Heeseung was right behind, you pressed against his chest. His hand quickly came into contact with your arm, his grip strong as ever. You looked over to see him just as shocked as you are, but the look in his eyes exuded a genuine concern. Before you could fully register what had just happened, he pushed you away from him while wearing that same stern look on his face.

“Thanks," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze as you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

Then he finally looked at you, “Sit.”

You quickly obeyed, sitting on one of the seats that was next to Beomgyu who quickly asked if you were okay after seeing you stumble. You replied saying you were fine and breathed out the breath that you didn't know you were holding in.

You looked at Beomgyu once again, who was blissfully unaware of the little moment you just had with Heeseung, if you could even call it that. You turned your head to look at Heeseung who was standing beside you, one hand gripping the rail above for support while his eyes were fixed onto the passing scenery outside the window. 

You could feel the warmth of him radiating beside you and it strangely brought comfort to you. Even if he wasn’t touching you anymore, even if he was looking ahead of you, eyes stuck to the scenery outside one of the windows. It made you feel an unfamiliar emotion which you never experienced. And you wondered why it only happened whenever you saw Heeseung.

Beomgyu on the other hand was mindlessly babbling about the different types of rides he wanted to go and how he hadn’t been to an amusement park in years. You nodded along to his words, trying to focus on his mindless chatter about the terrifying but exciting roller coasters they have, but your mind kept running back to how Heeseung’s hand felt on your arm, how you were pressed against his chest and that look that he had in his eyes.

That stupid look.

It only happened whenever he locked eyes with you. You honestly wondered if he had sprinkled something over his eyes to make him look at you like that. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. With recurring encounters revolving around both of you, you started to lean into that look, almost wanting him to look over you with his bambi like doe eyes. 

But, you were sure that would change today. You were going to stick with Beomgyu. The bus came to a stop at the amusement park, dropping you three off. The sight of the crowded park and the sound of excited chatter alone filled the air, clearing your previous thoughts. 

You could practically hear Beomgyu’s excitement. You found yourself smiling along at him, heading towards the park as he pointed to the different rides and the various games they had. And on your other side was the walking grey cloud who had a bored look on his face the entire time. Well usually that wouldn’t bother you, but something was pulling you to walk around and try every game with him. Not the other. 

Fuck, you couldn’t get distracted. 

“We should go on the rollercoaster!” Beomgyu pointed with a big grin plastered on his face.

You nodded along although Heeseung wasn’t having the same reaction, “You guys go ahead, I’ll just walk around.”

“C'mon! It’d be fun! Don’t be such a pussy!” Beomgyu exclaimed, coming near him, his hand dragging Heeseung’s as a motion to join.

“Yeah.. you should come.” You said this time, with a genuine smile, looking forward to seeing how this scaredy cat—due to his previous shrieks from you creeping up on him—would handle roller coasters.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, he was screaming the entire time on the rollercoaster, barely making it out alive and cursing Beomgyu for wanting a second round. You couldn't help but laugh at his state while he was panting for air, his hands on his knees after getting off the “wretched” ride as he liked to call it.

You three would go onto ride the carousel and eat a month’s supply of cotton candy. You couldn’t resist dragging Heeseung onto the Disco Bang ride, laughing as he was tossed around in the spinning machine. 

Your hands naturally found your way to Heeseung’s, dragging him to any of the games to your liking, him just obliging and tagging along. You made him play the claw machine game a dozen times for a hello kitty doll and he would, skillfully manoeuvring the handles to get the cute plushie. He didn’t know why, but he did it so he could see that the doll would perfectly fall into your arms. 

Beomgyu was far gone into the fun of the carnival, drunk on adrenaline which made him ride the rollercoaster again, twice. And at the end of the day, he had to meet the consequences of his previous decision, making his feet stumble on itself and his head dizzy. 

By the time you finished circling around the entire amusement park, the sun had already begun to set. The sky was painted in shades of orange fading into pink, the stars already visible. 

And there was one more ride that you didn’t check out. The biggest part of the plan. You saved the ferris wheel for the last so you could hop on into one of the tiny cabins and sit next to Beomgyu as you both watched the fireworks begin. 

A solid set plan right? 

“Let’s check out the Ferris wheel,” you suggested, pointing to the towering structure dazzled with colourful lights.

“Uh..sure!” Beomgyu hesitantly said while rubbing his tummy, his face a bit pale.

You smiled and got into line side by side with Beomgyu and Heeseung knew that was his cue to let you two have your “moment” as you like to call it. Heeseung joined the cue later so he could go alone, his tall figure a few metres away from you. Beomgyu was too worried about his stomach grumbling to wonder why Heeseung didn’t join you both. 

As you got to the cabin, Beomgyu laid his hand on your shoulder, “I think I’m gonna be sick…"

“Beomgyu, you good?” You asked, worry creeping into your voice as you glanced between him and Heeseung, who looked equally as concerned.

“Yeah, go ahead with Heeseung.” He said, quickly leaving the line to find the nearest bathroom so he could hurl his guts out. 

Fuck.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t supposed to go this way.

The line attendant had already called out to you two, so you had to hurry inside the tiny cabin with Heeseung. You swallowed the little bump in your throat, bummed that you didn’t get to sit with Beomgyu.

You got Heeseung instead.

You plopped onto the seat, Heeseung sitting in front of you. Your eyes visibly looked sad, and Heeseung had that familiar feeling rushing all over again. The last he felt this was at the locker, the same look shadowed your eyes again. 

But, he couldn’t say anything. He just had to sit there and look at your pretty face with a pout on your lips. 

Finally, as the cabins were about to start spinning in circles, he broke the silence, “You okay?”

You scrunched up the ends of your dress, nodding as you looked at the way the fabric bundled up in your hands. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, with a softer tone, “I’m sorry that Beomgyu couldn’t join you.”

“It's..fine.” You looked outside the window to embrace the calm scenery.

Heeseung just sighed and followed your gaze out the window, occasionally looking at you, that same look on your face.

“Do you think Beomgyu liked this?” You mindlessly asked, feeling disappointment was over you.

“Yeah, I think.” Heeseung quietly answered. “ He just got ahead of himself.”

“Today was supposed to be perfect, Beomgyu was supposed to actually like me today.” You confessed, your words tumbling over you as your disappointment grew. “I was supposed to watch the fireworks with him on the ferris wheel, but now he’s puking his guts out probably cursing me for planning this and I dragged you into this—-“

Hey, hey… you did good today.” Heeseung’s words rushed to comfort you, his heart aching as he heard your breathing quickening.

“He genuinely looked like he had fun with you and trust me I know how he looks when he has fun and this was one of the few times he actually smiled that much around anyone. If you ask me, I think he… likes you plenty.”

Heeseung didn’t know why, but he hated saying those last few words. The boy had to spend the entire day at the park looking at Beomgyu gleam over you with such sincerity in his eyes as you smiled with him, riding fucking automated horses that went around in a circle and to say that he likes you was the perfect cherry on top.

“Thank you, Seung.”

Seung.

That was the first time you ever called him by a nickname. It had always been "Heeseung," usually accompanied by some kind of teasing or nagging. So don’t blame his heart for skipping a beat when you sat there all pretty calling him a name which made his mind dizzy.

“The fireworks are starting.” You said, a soft smile rested on your face as you looked to the view outside your window which Heeseung shortly followed after.

And as if on cue, just as the ferris wheel stopped with you both on top, the first set of fireworks had exploded into the sky. It filled the dark night with colour while your eyes lingered over the lit patches of collie, mesmerised by its beauty. 

“It’s so pretty.” You muttered, your voice filled with awe.

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Why? He was too busy looking at you. It felt more worthwhile than watching a few fireworks light up the night sky. It was more worth it to see how your eyes lit up at the sight. How your eyes widened in shock of the scenery ahead of you.

You looked pretty.

“So pretty.” He muttered, almost in a whisper where only he and his gear could hear it.

Time seemed to stop. The only thing in motion was the continuous fireworks bursting and Heeseung didn’t want it to end. He realised then and there that he would burst up as many fireworks just to see that smile on your face. He realised that he’d do anything to see you happy.

That night, while he sat with you on top of the ferris wheel to watch the fireworks, Heeseung realised something deeper than he was ready to admit— yet something he couldn’t ignore, at least not anymore.

You don’t remember much about the end of yesterday. The fireworks felt like the only thing that was running in your mind. And Heeseung? You don’t seem to remember much about him in the ferris wheel—kept saying the fireworks were pretty or something? 

Nevertheless, you were a hundred percent sure that your plan yesterday had worked. Although there may have been a few minor setbacks (Beomgyu hurling his guts out), you were pretty confident that Beomgyu might see you as his future girlfriend.

That’s why you sprang out of bed, determined to commence phase two of your plan.

Movie date with Choi Beomgyu.

Featuring the infamous Lee Heeseung sitting two rows away from you both.

Considering that today was the last day of school, you knew it was your final chance to get closer to Beomgyu. As you walked down the hallway together with Seori, you had your mandatory debriefing with her about the events that happened last night, reminiscing every sweet moment with Beomgyu.

“Oh my gosh!” Seori squealed, “You two are so cute together!”

You nodded your head, feeling proud about it. “ You finally talked to a real boy! I thought this day would never come!” Seori dramatically exclaimed, making your eyes roll as she clung onto your arms in excitement.

And as if on cue, Beomgyu came into view, stepping out of a classroom. To your surprise, he actually looked at you and waved.

He actually waved!

Trying to stay composed, you waved back with a soft smile, watching as he walked away. Seori in turn looked the most excited she’s ever been, squeezing your arm hard.

“He so wants you!” She said, playfully.

You bit your lip, trying to contain that flutter in your chest. “Hopefully.” You replied in a mutter, still slightly dazed.

But deep inside you, that flutter didn’t have that same kick to it. It almost felt unfamiliar. As if it was fading away, slowly slipping through your fingers.You weren’t sure why, but the thought of Beomgyu liking you didn’t bring as much joy as it did before.

What fueled you to continue was the pure determination that coursed through your veins. With that resolve, you left to go meet your matchmaker, Heeseung.

Which is how you found yourself in front of the broadcasting room again, later that day. You opened the door to see Heeseung there fiddling with some of the equipment.

“Hey Seung.” He turned around to see you heading towards him, his eyes softening a bit at the sight of you.

“Hey.” He quietly said, going back to adjusting some equipment.

“Why the long face?” You pouted, taking a seat next to him.

Well he would look like he was struck by lightning if you called him “seung” though that pretty mouth of yours, ever so softly. If only you knew how his heart was running miles when you said it so softly, making him melt at the sound of his name coming from your lips. 

“Nothing.” He brushed it off.

“Hmm, you could tell me if something is bothering you.” You said, with sincerity. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked as you put your chin onto your hand, looking up at him with your doe eyes.

God, he was a goner.

“You’re fine, dork.” He finally smiled at you, ruffling your hair and going back to whatever he was working on.

You froze at the warmth in his gaze, but pushed the feeling aside. “Well in that case, do you wanna watch a movie with me?” You smiled, with hope in your eyes.

“You mean, me third-wheeling you and Beomgyu?” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, you are supposed to help me.” You huffed, making a point.

Heeseung glanced back at you once again seeing that pout on your face which made him sigh, “Fine, whatever.”

You squealed in excitement, hugging his arm as you were thrilled to hear his answer. 

The day passed on quickly, and before you knew it, it was already seven o’clock and you were already waiting for Heeseung and Beomgyu outside the familiar bus stop again.

But this time, Heeseung came with the absence of Beomgyu. You wondered if he was coming later than expected or…if he wasn’t coming at all. The thought alone made you gulp.

“Where’s Beomgyu?” You looked behind Heeseung, desperate to see if he even was behind the tall figure.

“He did not take that rollercoaster ride well, long story short; he fell sick.” Heeseung dropped the devastating news.

You huffed in annoyance, “Is he okay? I saw him at school today.” You asked, voicing your sincerity.

“Yeah, he is. He took half a day.” Heeseung said, shoving his hands in his pocket, “Just needs rest.”

If it only wasn’t for Beomgyu’s weak immunity, you’d both be smooching in Hawaii! (or watching the movie, you could work with either.)

“Well, what are we going to do now! I already paid.” You pouted, crossing your arms in frustration. 

Heeseung could only softly smile at your frustrated self. Just then, the bus arrived, and you looked at Heeseung, pursing your lips. 

You grabbed his hand before heading inside the bus, “What are you doing?” Heeseung asked with startled eyes.

“I’m not wasting my money.” You muttered, as you sat on one of the seats in the bus while Heeseung scoffed at your response.

You and Heeseung ended up at your local cinema, watching the re-release of fucking Top Gun, a choice made because you thought Beomgyu would like it. On the other hand, Heeseung was having the time of his life, completely immersed in the world of guns and whatnot. 

Pfft. Typical Nerd.

But you’d be lying if you didn’t think he was cute whenever he slightly flinched at the explosions on the screen. Not that cute though. Maybe… kinda… you weren’t sure!

You were just frustrated about not being seated next to Beomgyu. Instead it was just Heeseung sitting next to you. But a part of you didn’t mind, in fact it brought a small smile to your face. 

You shuffled in your seat trying to shake off the uneasy feeling you got in your stomach whenever you thought about Heeseung. 

Well you never felt like this in your whole seventeen years of living, and you sure didn’t feel like this with Beomgyu. It felt almost comforting with Heeseung. You both didn’t have to fill the silence every time, you could just feel at ease with each other’s presence. With Beomgyu, there were always butterflies roaming through your stomach, but with Heeseung you felt like you didn’t have to try to impress yourself, just you being there felt enough. 

And a part of you didn’t care that you were sitting next to Heeseung watching this God awful movie, occasionally grazing hands whenever both of you reached into the popcorn bucket. But thank God that the movie ended because you couldn’t take another second of guns and explosions.

You both made your way out of the theatre in silence, though you couldn’t stop thinking about comparing your all time love with Heeseung. You were so immersed that you didn’t even notice the uneven sidewalk to the nearing bus station until it was too late. Well you did stumble, but before you could hit the ground, Heeseung caught you just in time again.

God, you’ve got to stop falling!

“When will you open your eyes?” Heeseung remarked with sarcasm and he let go.

You didn’t register the stupid remark Heeseung had said, as the pain in your ankle started becoming impossible to ignore. You looked down to realise that you probably strained your ankle.

“Ouch.” You winched at the pain, as you rubbed your leg.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung crouched down to get a better look.

“I don’t know, I think I strained it.” Heeseung only sighed at your answer.

He shaked his head slightly, facing away from you as he was crouching so you could climb onto his back, “Come on, get on.”

“What? Heeseung, I can walk.” You said, though you definitely could not. But you weren’t getting on his back after your little thought session at the movies.

But your protests were a waste because before you knew it, you were on his back, holding onto his shoulders as he carried you.

“You’re lighter than I thought.” Heeseung teased, keeping his tone light.

You hit his back lightly as you retorted, “I’m not that light.” Though a small reluctantly found its way to your face.

Heeseung walked towards the bus station, while you rested your head on his shoulder, kicking your legs in a trace of rhythm while occasionally talking with Heeseung, though most of it was Heeseung humming along to whatever mindless thoughts you voiced. 

It almost felt like you knew him for most of your life. It felt so soothing with him, his little teases making you whine. His way of looking at you like you were the most fragile thing on earth. His way of making you smile whenever you felt sad. 

It felt like he was the one. 

But he isn’t.

Beomgyu is.

That’s what you kept telling yourself as Heeseung slowly crept up your heart. What you didn’t know was that Heeseung felt the same. Almost like two idiots in denial. Typical.

Once you got onto the train, you sat side by side in silence, the gentle ride on the bus with occasional bumps lulled you into a peaceful state. You pulled out your headphones and handed one to Heeseung, “Here.”

The soft melody of “스물다섯, 스물하나 “ by JAURIM flowed into your eyes, making this moment feel like a scene from a movie. Without realising, you leaned your head on his shoulder, the day’s events catching up to you. And before you knew it, you drifted off into a long sleep. 

Heeseung glanced down at you, a small smile played on his lips as he watched. He couldn't help but think how adorable you looked even if you were doing almost as nothing as sleeping against him. The wind from the open window made a few strands of hair fall onto your face, he gently grazed your face, tucking them behind your ear. 

And the moment you shifted closer to him in your sleep, he knew he was done for.

Time passed quickly. It was already December. As the end of the school year approached, with graduation just around the corner, the broadcasting club decided to put in their two cents in the yearbook signing party. And Soobin thought a photo booth would be the perfect inclusion for it, so students could take a picture with their friends one last time. 

And naturally, you and Heeseung were assigned to watch over the photobooth while the other members were assigned to different parts of the party such as the memory lane. You were manning the table with Heeseung while Seori and Sunghoon came over to your stand.

“Seori! You came!” You squealed at the sight of your best friend hand in hand with Sunghoon. “Hi Sunghoon.”

He waved at you with a smile, “We wanted to get a few pictures before it gets too crowded. Plus I had to drag him here.” Seori said, giving you the needed money.

“Yeah, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He teased Seori, gently ruffling her hair as she whined. 

Seori slightly nudged Sunghoon before fixing her hair for the pictures. You and Heeseung could only chuckle at their playful banter. 

“Right away, lovebirds.” You snickered with Heeseung at the sight of the two while Seori glared at you, mouthing ‘says you’ while eyeing Heeseung as well.

Uncalled for…

Seori pulled in Sunghoon in the booth, Sunghoon taking the initiative to pull her onto his lap as she giggled. They shared cute and goofy pictures with Seori giving Sunghoon a kiss on the cheek at the end. 

“They’re cute.” You mumbled to Heeseung.

“I guess.” Heeseung smiled with you, glancing at you occasionally.

After Seori and Sunghoon left, time went faster as the crowd started to fill up the Gym. The line for the photo booth became longer. Seori decided to join your table for a while to cure her boredom while Sunghoon played with his friends in the court. Just in time, Beomgyu showed up, revealing who was next in line.

And before you knew it, you were squished in the photo booth with Beomgyu on one end and Heeseung at the other, Seori taking up the remaining space at the far end. “Move over!” Beomgyu giggled while pushing you more against Heeseung. Instinctively, Heeseung wrapped his arm around you, his hand brushing against your waist as he pulled you in. 

A mix of nervousness and excitement rushed over you, as the same familiar warmth settled in your stomach. It wasn’t because of the tight space but because of how close Heeseung was to you. The warmth of his hand against your waist sent shivers down your spine.

The camera's flash went off a few times, capturing the moments with you four. Beomgyu had put on whatever goofy face he could come up with and Seori had her signature peace sign up while a small smile rested on Heeseung’s face. 

As the evening wore on, the crowd started to disappear. Students gathered their belongings, bidding each other goodbye. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over you, feeling emotional that this could be the last time you’d be talking with these students. Karina, Jungwon, and Rei had bid you goodbye as they left after taking down the memory lane they had set up. 

Taehyun and Lia had come in later as they were busy with student body council stuff, but wished you and Heeseung both a quick goodbye before they left as well. And before you knew it, it was only you and Heeseung with a few other students roaming around the Gym. You glanced at Heeseung who was organising the leftover photostrips, carefully putting them into one of the brown boxes beside him. 

A small smile played on your lips, “You wanna take some pictures? Just us two.” 

Heeseung looked up at you with his bambi eyes, a smile on his face. “Sure.” He agreed.

The two of you slipped inside the photo booth, and all of a sudden the air felt different. The atmosphere hung something heavy, waiting to be acknowledged. You sat fairly close together, trying to settle in. 

Heeseung started the timer and sat back down with a smile. You barely had time to think before the first flash went off catching you off guard. This made you laugh, along with Heeseung. The other flashes were followed by playful poses, you placing a peace sign behind Heeseung’s head and Heeseung pinching your cheeks.

Before the last flash went off, you felt a shift in the atmosphere. That feeling started becoming impossible to ignore. Heeseung turned to look at you just as you turned towards you. Your eyes met. Suddenly everything around you was a blur. It was just Heeseung in focus. The boy who months ago got on your nerves. The silent chatter outside became white noise for you. 

Heeseung’s gaze softened, your eyes never left him. The final flash went off going unnoticed. Before you even processed what was going on, he leaned in. HIs lips gently brushing against yours, your eyes instinctively closing. 

It felt soft, careful, yet why did your heart feel like it was going to leap out of your chest. His hands grazed your cheek pulling you closer as you reciprocated the kiss, earning him to pull even closer. It felt so raw yet so gentle. The kiss lasted a few seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. You were so far gone. You don’t seem to remember anything. 

When you finally pulled away, you both looked at each other, out of breath as you were stunned in silence.

Just then, you heard someone’s voice from outside. “Heeseung?” It was Soobin, his voice laced in urgency. 

Heeseung blinked out of his daze, pulling himself outside the photobooth after opening the curtain that divided the photobooth from the outside. “I–I’m here!” He called out, his voice shaken up. 

“Can you help me carry these boxes to the storage room? Miss Lee wants them gone by now.” He huffed, handing one of the boxes to Heeseung.

Heeseung glanced back at you, sitting in the photo booth still shaken up by that stunt Heeseung pulled. He only gulped and looked back at Soobin. “Yeah sure.” Though he didn’t have another choice as Soobin already shoved the box in his face.

“Thanks dude.” Soobin smiled and headed out the Gym with Heeseung. Heeseung looked back at you one last time before exiting the Gym, the kiss replaying in his head over and over again. 

You sat there for a moment, still not being able to process what just happened. Your heart was pounding like crazy, almost trying to jump out of your chest. The vibrations of your heart beat reached your chest, followed by your uneven breathing. Yet despite all of this chaos, you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours. 

You still feel the presence of him next to you. Slowly, a small smile crept onto your kiss.  After you collected yourself, you finally stepped out of the photobooth. Your heart was still racing as you pulled at the photo strip hanging from the slot. As you looked at the photostrip, the last shot catched your attention, making you snicker to yourself.

You probably look like a crazy woman right now.

The one before the last shot caught your attention–the one right before the kiss. There was something with the way he looked at you, something you had noticed before, but didn’t care for. And now that you realised what it meant, you couldn’t look away. 

And it was then, standing outside the photobooth alone got you to realise just how much you liked this moment. You liked that kiss. You liked Heeseung. The thought alone hit you like a ton of bricks. All this time, you’d been so focused on Beomgyu yet It was Heeseung all along, standing right infront you yet you were so blind. 

The once crush on Beomgyu that had felt so secure was torn by in seconds through that kiss. All that you knew was crushed by the boy you thought was stuck up and a geek. 

Heeseung didn’t know what to do. He was in a state of confusion. Why did he kiss you? He knows you like Beomgyu. And why did you kiss him back? You like Beomgyu. Heeseung thought of himself as so fucking stupid. Why did he leave you like that? He wanted to hug you so badly and pour everything that he was holding in. He didn’t know what to do with these overwhelming amount of emotions. And all of these emotions were ones he felt for you. Not anyone else.

The days that followed the kiss were a blur, he’d been stuck in his bed, ignoring every call that Beomgyu made or any other friend of his. All he could do was sigh and rethink that day at the photobooth. 

He couldn’t face Beomgyu right now knowing it was your heart that belonged to him and he sure couldn’t look at you, after knowing you liked someone else. The realisation pierced him, leaving a nasty sting. 

On the other hand, you cursed the timing for making you and Heeseung kiss right at the end of the school year. You sulked, knowing you couldn’t see Heeseung after this, having to wait a month to see him in person. So you could only take the landline and call him.

What was strange is that he didn’t pick.

Again and again.

Was he…ignoring you?

As more days passed, his absence left a hole in you. It hurt like a bitch. Seori visited occasionally only to meet your dull self. You were grateful you had your best friend by your side who comforted you everytime you slipped out a sob. Your heart winced at each time the call would go to voicemail. You knew you couldn’t take it anymore so you called your last hope.

Choi Beomgyu.

“Hey, can we talk? In person.” You said, keeping it short.

Moments later, you met him at the local park, the sight bringing memories of where you and Heeseung talked. Fuck. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Beomgyu asked, taking a seat on the bench which you followed shortly after.

“Has…Heeseung been ignoring you?” You asked, your voice filled with hesitation.

Beomgyu let out a long sigh and leaned back, looking up at the night sky. “I don’t know why, he’s never been like this.”

So he has.

“I even went to his house, but his mom just said he’s going through some kind of phase. I don’t get it dude. It’s all so confusing,” Beomgyu mindlessly ranted, “Did he ignore you too? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“He did.” You answered, “And I think it’s all my fault.”

Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you now. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you began,  “Beomgyu, I like you. Or at least I liked you. “ You mentally winced at the sight of his eyes widening. “But now, I think I like Heeseung. Like a lot. And… we kissed in the photo booth that day, but after that, he just ran off.”

“Like the coward he is.” Beomgyu scoffed, clearly annoyed at his best friend’s loser-ish behaviour.

“And now, he probably still thinks I have feelings for you. I wanna tell him that I like him, he just won’t pick up.” You sulked, trying not to let the tears that formed in your eye fall.

“Hey, hey.” Beomgyu rubbed his hand against your back to comfort you,”He probably feels guilty about this, that’s probably why he’s shutting everyone out. I’m really sorry this happened, but…I think all we could do for now is to wait for him until he’s ready. He’s probably overwhelmed by everything.” He sighed.

“I know Beomgyu, I just want to talk to him so bad. I want to clear everything up. I just want to see him.” You said, your voice shaky. 

“Hey, if it’s hurting you this much… I’ll try and talk to him. I’ll try to get through to him.” Beomgyu said, his voice gentle 

You sniffed, wiping a stray tear. “Thank you.”

“If it makes you stop crying.” He said with a smile. 

You went back home with a comforted heart which was still hurting a bit. If you could only see Heeseung, everything would be cured. You’d give him the biggest hug and tell him everything you’ve been holding on to.

As you looked at the landline hanging on the wall, you leaned against the cold wall of your hallway. You picked the phone, dialling the familiar number once again.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Each ring felt like an eternity. You gripped the phone even tighter, desperate that he’d pick up. A lump appeared in your throat as the tears that were once gone came back and rested against your eyes, threatening to fall out. 

“Please pick up…Please.” You voiced out in a whisper.

It went to voicemail.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. You let go of the telephone you had been holding. The ears that had been stinging your eyes finally fell out as you let out a sob. You just hoped he didn’t hate you and you hoped that he’d pick up your calls tomorrow.

It had been days since Heeseung and you talked. Ever since that kiss, he hasn’t talked to you or Beomgyu. But what could he do? He didn’t seem to know. Christmas Eve had arrived, a time usually filled with warmth, joy, yet he just couldn’t shake that dreaded feeling off him.

The slowly softly landed on the concrete outside the house, the night displaying the bright stars. He trudged out the house carrying a garbage bag to dispose of it. 

Meanwhile, Beomgyu stood outside his house, padded up in his winter coat, his breath made visible in the air. He watched Heeseung’s dull self make a boring chore even more boring. He had been waiting a while for Heeseung to come out the house, and to his luck, Heeseung’s timing couldn’t be more perfect. 

Though Heeseung didn’t see him at first since his mind was scattered somewhere else, Beomgyu knew just what to do. He crouched down to grab a handful of snow and made a makeshift snowball or war weapon as Beomgyu would like to call it.

Before Heeseung could even turn back, a snowball suddenly smacked him in his back. Startled, Heeseung turned around quickly as his eyes landed on the mischievous boy. 

He groaned, “Seriously?” He brushed the snow off his jacket, sighing at the annoying act.

Beomgyu only smiled, crouching down once again to throw another. This time, it went straight to his arm and Heeseung could only sigh at his childish acts.

“What do you want?” Heeseung asked, feeling annoyed.

“Came to talk.” Beomgyu said, stepping closer. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” 

Heeseung raised his eyes at the insult, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Beomgyu gazed at the boy, “You like Y/n.”

His heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name, “I mean I get it, She’s pretty.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed straight at him, a shot of jealousy hit him, “Dude.”

Beomgyu smiled at his reaction, “So you do like her.” He laughed.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. I fucked up.” He sighed.

The older boy shook his head, “You don’t know her. I mean have you talked to her?”

“I just don’t want to.” Heeseung said, a shaky voice emitted through his throat. “I’m…scared of what she’s going to say.”

Beomgyu sighed at his friend’s foolishness but he didn’t want to be the one to break the news of you liking him back, “You never know until you try. You should talk to her.”

Beomgyu's words had left Heeseung cluttered with thoughts. He should really talk to you. Yet he still was running away from the idea of having to do anything with you. For all he could know, he might’ve really fucked up your friendship and he jus did not want to face that. 

Heeseung started at the ground, his voice soft as a whisper, “I’m sorry I ignored you. It was stupid of me to do that.” 

Beomgyu put his hand around him as a warm, understanding gesture. “You are. But you’re my best friend. You can talk to me, you know?”

The taller boy only nodded at his words, “You know, Jay is having a christmas party now.” He said after a moment. “You should come.” 

Heeseung glanced at the boy, hesitation ran through his face but he could only nod before Boemgyu grinned at him, taking him away from his house as he headed towards Jay’s.

The cold didn’t seem to be biting anymore for Heeseung. He finally felt the relief and the comfort of christmas. The warmth of the christmas lights finally rushed towards him as he finally put on a smile to be reconciled with his best friend.

Now all he had to do was talk to you.

The warm air buzzed with sweaty teenagers and booze in every corner. There were a few garlands thrown around here and there, but that was just for the name of calling this a christmas party, though Jay just wanted to talk to girls. You were squished against some sophomores with Seori, trying to get past the drunk teenagers and head to the kitchen for some water.

“Hey, did you see Sunghoon?” Seori asked, looking around.

“No, you should probably ask Jay. I see him at the entrance.” You suggested, while taking two water bottles out the fridge. “Here.” You passed on to your best friend.

“Okay, don’t get lost or get into trouble! No drugs!” She shouted as she dived back into the pile of drunk teenagers. 

After a while, you went back into the living room, already regretting coming back into the crowd. Suddenly, a voice rang through your ears making you turn your head. 

“Hi Y/n! Didn’t know you came!” Beomgyu exclaimed, hugging you with one hand while his other was occupied with a beer.

“Yeah, Seori kinda forced me to come.” You said, with a hearty laugh. “Is he… here?” You asked, with hope.

Beomgyu smiled as he grinned, “He’s at the back. You should talk to him.” He nudged you.

You smiled, thanking him as you left to see Heeseung. The thought of seeing him brought that warm feeling back in you. Something you missed feeling. At that moment, you realised how much of a void he left in you when he went M.I.A. 

He was standing there, looking slightly out of place. His bambi eyes still managed to shine through the dark setting. You took in a deep breath and went up to him.

“Heeseung. Hi.” 

Heeseung’s heartbeat quickened. He gulped looking over you. “Hey, Y/n.”

“How are you?” You said, trying to engage in small talk knowing you wanted more than to hug him and clear everything up.

“I’m well. Finally got out of the house.” He slowly spoke, taking a sip out of his red cup. “How bout you?” 

“I’m okay…” To be honest, you weren’t. You had spent so much time thinking about Heeseung and your feelings and how that whole moment at the photobooth felt. Just the thought of him and your countless failed attempts at calling him never left your mind.

“You never picked up.” You curtly said. “I was…waiting for you.”

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I never meant to ignore you.” He said, coming closer to you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’d never.” You smiled sincerely, looking up at him. 

He smiled at that. “Merry Christmas Y/n.” The boy said softly, a small smile played on his lips.

You giggled as you came closer. “Merry Christmas Seung.” 

The tension between you both wore away. It felt normal again. It felt like the same old you and the same old Heeseung. And you liked how it was right now. 

But just as you were about to say something more, Jake spoke up. “Yo, you guys are standing under the mistletoe.” He yelled as he pointed at the sprig of mistletoe above you both. 

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” The chants echoed throughout the room, and all you could look at was how flushed Heeseung looked. You needed to let him know that you liked him now. You weren’t able to let out the words before so you took a step closer to him. 

You could see how red his ears were to which you smiled at. Cute. As you looked at him for consent through your doe eyes, he took the cue to hook his hands around your waist, filling the gap between you two. You instinctively put your arms around his necks, bringing his face closer to you. 

Just as Heeseung leaned in closer, with his breath feeling warm against your skin. Jay suddenly barged through the crowd, his voice loud enough to cut through the speaker’s music. You just caught him and just like that he slipped through your fingers. 

“Shit, Y/n!” 

You turned around startled, unconsciously pushing Heeseung away. “What’s wrong?”

“Seori’s crying.” Jay said, in a quieter voice. 

Your heart immediately sank, the moment you both had immediately fading away.  

“Fuck, is she okay?” You asked, voicing your concern. 

“Man, is this kiss gonna happen?” Jake said, tired of waiting. 

“Shut the fuck up, man!” You yelled before following Jay with Heeseung. 

Echoes of boos could be heard through the room, but you didn’t care about that. The only thing in your mind was Seori. You just hoped nothing intense happened.

You were left to see a distressed Seori, bawling while Beomgyu patted her back. “Seori, what’s wrong?” You asked, in a gentle manner, wiping the tears off her face.

“Sunghoon—kissed Junhee!” Seori hiccuped.

You immediately hugged her, her sniffles now becoming muffled. “I thought—we had something!” 

The tears soaked through your shirt as you as she let out uncontrollable sobs. You have never seen her like this in all of your seventeen years of living. It honestly broke your heart to see her in this state and realising how much that douchebag meant to her after countlessly brushing off the times you’ve teased her about being wrapped around his finger.

It fucking sucked to see your best friend being torn into bits all because she liked a boy. You were too much into comforting Soeri that you completely forgot about your surroundings—even Heeseung.

“Let’s go home, okay?” You spoke in a gentle manner, squeezing her tight as you spoke to which she only nodded.

You headed out the door, thanking Beomgyu and Jay. Heeseung mindlessly followed you two, a soft look on his face.

As you led Seori out the party and onto the porch, her sobs got quieter as she hiccuped occasionally. The air fresh from December hit your face, the windy atmosphere almost feeling harsher towards you. 

You finally let her out of your grip to let her collect herself and cool off a bit. You friend to Heeseung who was already looking at you with the light from the street lamps shining through his eyes.

“I’m..sorry we didn’t get to talk.” You mumbled, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Don’t apologise. You did the right thing.” He reassured you with a soft smile, rubbing your arm as a gesture of comfort which made you smile back.

“We can always talk later, dork.” 

You missed him calling you that. You missed everything he did.

“Merry Christmas, Seung.” You said, tiptoeing to kiss him on the cheek. 

His eyes sprightly widened at that. He honestly couldn’t believe his eyes. A pretty girl just kissed him—correction; the prettiest girl in the world just kissed him. He felt like he won the lottery and the price was you. 

“Merry Christmas Y/n. Get home safe.” He said, as you walked away from him, hand in hand with Seori who was deep in her thoughts.

You waved towards him, your attention on him now converting to Seori who was beside you as you both headed to her house.

Heeseung touched the sticky mark that your lipgloss left on his cheek. The warmth of your small kiss still lingered on his cheek. As you disappeared from his sight, he knew he had to pour his heart and soul to the girl who had stolen his heart.

You always thought of spending a new year’s eve party at someone’s house, drinking booze and dancing with people left and right. But you realised, this year felt different. You leaned against the cold window of your bedroom, it was slightly drizzling outside. The sound of your tv turned on for the new year’s parade complimented the white noise you could hear from outside your room. 

It felt almost lonely, you turned around looking at the scenery of the night, the stars resting against the night sky. You had already beeped Seori through your pager but she has yet to call you, leaving you wondering what she was up to now.

Suddenly, a small thud against the window jolted you from your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to see the commotion outside. As you peered out the window, you saw four familiar figures standing outside your house, one of them wiggling a bag of soju bottles and snacks. 

Ofcourse, they’d show up unannounced. 

You rolled your eyes at the sight of Seori, Beomgyu and Heeseung showing up in front of your door, to your surprise. You quickly went downstairs to let them inside and showed them to your bedroom. 

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, as you sat down on the cold floor where you were once seated.

“Saving your ass from a boring new year, duh!” Seori said, placing the bottles on the floor as she took a seat next to you.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this.” You said, though your eyes went up to Heeseung, like he was the only person who was in the room. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of that glow that he gave.

“Ey, it was more an excuse just to get black out drunk.” Beomgyu nudged your rib cage after sitting down next to you as Heeseung sat in front of you, not a ward out of his mouth.

As the night progressed, you four got comfortable and you later found out how much of a good pair Seori mixed with Beomgyu was. Though, you didn’t expect them to actually stick to their words and get wasted. Laughter echoed from them every five minutes and long before you knew it, Seori started blabbering mindless words while Beomgyu giggled at the smallest thing. 

“Beomgyu, what do you know about love?” Seori said, as she spread her legs, lying on the floor.

“Love?” Beomgyu giggled, “That’s funny.”

“Hey, have you ever been in love?” Seori mumbled to him.

“With soju, yeah.” He joked, earning a light hit from Seori.

“You kids still have to experience the heartbreak to know what love is.” Seori scoffed, her hands on her stomach as she looked at the ceiling. It was clear she was referencing what happened to her a few days ago.

Heeseung had now gotten closer, sitting right next to you. You both hadn’t talked about what happened that night, leaving unspoken words in the air. Though you both had eased in the awkwardness and got to talking a lot, not minding the two drunkards. 

“She’s so funny when she’s drunk.” You laughed at her state.

“Beomgyu’s worse.” Heeseung added in. 

“They make a good match.” You said, sighing at their foolishness. Heeseung smiling along with you.

A few hours, closer to midnight. Seori and Beomgyu were passed out, only leaving you two up to witness going into the new millennium. 

“It’s almost midnight.” You pointed out, as crowds started to appear at the sighting for the fireworks, you intently watched it through the small tv you had in your room. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, his voice low and soft. 

“Hey listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.” He said, making you go back to the night of Christmas Eve, the thought leaving a fresh mark in your mind.

You turned to look at Heeseung who was already staring at you with his bambi eyes. 

“I think this is long overdue,” He sighed. “But I just wanted to tell you that I like you, a lot. More than just a friend. You’re really pretty and you’re such a dork, it makes me go crazy.” He slightly chuckled, making you smile at his silly speech. 

“I mean every single word I say. I don’t think I can start the new year by not telling you how you make me go crazy.” He softly said.

You had no words.

You realised you couldn't make up a small speech like his. It felt like too much to say. You had been pushing away your feelings for him, because you were too into Beomgyu’s handsome face. But after him opening your eyes wide, you realised the pretty boy sitting next to you was all you could ask for your new year’s wish. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly agape. 

You just wanted to kiss him.

So why not?

You leaned in, ever so slightly. You kissed him. The world outside seemed to slowly fade away. The countdown on the tv and the gentle snores from Seori and Beomgyu served as background noise. You could practically hear your heartbeat along with Heeseung’s. You could feel the slight taste of soju as his warm lips pressed against yours, his hand slowly reached its way to the back of your neck to pull you in closer. It felt like his lips against yours was the only thing that mattered.

3! 2! 1!

The fireworks started.

The kiss started in 1999 and ended in 2000, the clock struck twelve as the new year came in. You pulled away, exhaling that breath you didn't know you held in. You couldn’t help but giggle softly, as he finally cracked a smile.

“I like you too, alot.” You looked at him, he rested his forehead against yours. “Guess I fell for the wrong best friend.”

“I guess I fell for a dork.” He joked, earning a slight tap on his chest by your hand. “At least, that dork is mine, I hope.”

“I’d love to be yours, dork.” 

Heeseung smiled at that, pecking you quickly. “Happy new year, dork.”

“Happy new year, Seung.” You replied, emotions filling you full.

He found his way to your lips again, kissing you with a tighter grip, and in that moment, you finally caught him—you weren’t letting the boy go anywhere. The boy who intimidated you at first, who called you a dork and now his, who cleaned your wounds and gave you piggyback rides. The boy who was your first love, now leaving him to adore you.

❨ READ MORE ❩ ៸៸ loading tapes . . .

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎prod yeokii ! do not copy, repost, translate any of my works

[edwinspaynes]

I was angry. I'm still angry. But sadness and exhaustion have overtaken that anger, and I have A LOT to say about this.

Dead Boy Detectives is a very special show to me. It occupies a ridiculously large place in my heart, and it's brought me joy in a way that only a few pieces of media ever have. When I watched it for the first time, Edwin Payne had my heart within minutes. By the end of episode one, Charles Rowland did, too.

It meant a lot to me, seeing such wonderful and nuanced queer characters brought to life in the type of paranormal story I have always loved. In these past months, Edwin and Charles have felt like real friends to me, and to never see them again without a satisfying conclusion to their story is something I have not truly processed. Same for Niko and Crystal and The Cat King - they should be back. But I haven't fully processed it yet, that they're not coming back, and yet I am still aggreived.

@netflix is, at this point, so fucking gagged on capitalism's dick that they're not even pretending to care about art anymore. Dead Boy Detectives is genuinely masterfully made on just about every level. The actors did a phenomenal job and I will be following all their careers heavily. Steve, Beth, and the writing team crafted an incredible tale. The sets, the lighting, the props, the effects were all on point. This was a well-constructed program, and you could tell that everyone involved with the project gave it their all because they cared so deeply.

(Also my heart breaks for the whole cast, but it's hardcore hurting for George since this was not only his first screen role but one he clearly thought he would be keeping as of two weeks ago. He seemed so secure. I hate this for him.)

In addition to being a good show, DBDA had good reception. It's got a 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, was on the Top 10 for several weeks, got 4.7 million views within week one, and was getting daily articles posted on various review sites with NOTHING but praise. The fandom is incredibly active. We trend on Tumblr like five times a week and on Twitter regularly as well.

THE. SCRIPT. FOR. SEASON. 2. WAS. WRITTEN.

What the fuck happened?

Idiot executives at @netflix, choking on the dick of capitalism, probably just thought that they wouldn't get new subscribers for a second season of an existing show that didn't rake in Bridgerton-level cash. That's how they work - people who are interested in it are already subscribers, so who the fuck cares about them? Better to make some other shit, hope new people subscribe, and maybe that'll be a Bridgerton-level hit.

But also, Netflix has fun little trends to look into. And, when you look at the lineup of shows Netflix has canceled, they are overwhelmingly queer. The homophobia of @netflix and their operatives is clearly boundless, and it hits here really badly because this show was clearly made with a queer audience in mind. It was one of the most authentic pieces of queer media I have ever experienced, if not THE most authentic pieces of queer media that I have ever experienced.

It's fucking ridiculous that Netflix canceled a show that they commissioned a completed script of months ago. It sucks that they decided that their existing subscribers, their queer subscribers, did not matter.

Edwin and Charles are ours now. Well, of course, they're George's and Jayden's respectively, but the characters are no longer Netflix's to use and throw out. They're ours now, our fandom's, and we all love them so much.

And we deserved to see more of them, and we deserved to see their love story play out onscreen, but I for one am not going anywhere. Let's give Edwin and Charles - and the rest of the gang - millions of versions of the stories and endings that Netflix deprived them of.

[wannabehockeygf]

greedy - quinn hughes

“He said ‘I’m just curious, is this for real or just an act?’

Can’t tell if you love or hate me,

Never met someone like that.”

summary: when you’re a bartender in a popular local club, the captain of the canucks who’s also one of your regulars takes a liking to you

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 9.3k. i’m so sorry.

warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation.

notes:

- this is soooo different for me! have never written about a hughes brother before even though they’re super popular here.

- missing vancouver hockey. sorry leafs nation.

- also this is probably some of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written!

- not proof read

- the eye colour thing again… sorry if they’re green.

***

Friday nights at The Roxy Cabaret were like trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans after Thanksgiving dinner—uncomfortable, chaotic, and leaving you questioning your life choices. Honestly, it felt like the entire population of Vancouver had made a pact to invade this dingy club all at once. Not that you were complaining, though—well, maybe a little. It wasn’t like you had a choice; the rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Sure, you worked there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hold a deep, burning, soul-crushing hatred for the place, right? Well, okay, maybe "hatred" was a bit strong. You did occasionally wander in on your nights off, blend into the crowd, and pretend you were just another twenty-three-year-old who didn’t have to worry about the bartender recognizing you. Because let’s face it, you needed a break from serving vodka sodas to tipsy twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school glory days.

What really got under your skin, though, was the crowd that showed up when you were on the clock. And by "crowd," you meant the entire Vancouver Canucks roster, who seemed to think The Roxy was their personal post-victory playground. It wasn’t that you disliked hockey—you were indifferent to it, like you were to a distant relative’s Facebook posts. If it was on, fine, you’d watch. But you weren’t exactly lining up to buy season tickets.

Most of the guys were fine—great even. Some of them were downright charming, the kind of guys you wouldn’t mind chatting with when things slowed down. Plus, they tipped like they were trying to make it rain dollar bills in a music video, which you appreciated. But then there was Quinn Hughes.

Oh, Quinn. Captain Smug himself. He had a way of getting under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

"Another round, please, Princess," Quinn drawls, tapping his fingers on the bar like he owns the place.

You grit your teeth, mentally counting to ten as you shake up a cocktail. "Can you get Brock to order it? He isn’t an egotistical asshole."

Quinn just laughs, that infuriating smirk of his widening even though he looks like he could use a nap. "Aw, come on, Princess, don’t be like that. You know you love me."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. Instead, you stick to your customer service script. "That’s not my name," you say, yanking out shot glasses like they owe you money.

"I know," Quinn says, brushing a strand of hair out of his face like he’s in some cheesy romance movie. "But you act like a princess, so it suits you."

Oh great, now your jaw’s tightening. Fabulous. You grab the tequila bottle with a little more force than necessary. "What do you want from me, Quinn?" you ask, trying not to let your annoyance seep too much into your voice.

He leans in closer, his smirk practically reaching his ears. "How about a smile, Princess? Is that too much to ask?"

You force the kind of smile you reserve for customer service nightmares, tight-lipped and entirely devoid of warmth. "Is that good? Can you go now?"

Quinn chuckles, taking the tray of drinks from you like he’s doing you a favor. "Always so feisty. But I like it. Keeps things interesting."

"Fuck off, Quinn," you mutter, wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone scrubbing a crime scene. "I’m not here to entertain your ego."

He leans in even closer—so close you can practically count the flecks of mischief in his eyes. "But you do entertain me. Every time you brush me off, it just makes me want you more."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Just because you’re some big-shot athlete doesn’t mean you can treat women however you want."

Quinn’s gaze slowly trails up from your lips, where it’s been lingering far too long, to meet your eyes. "Ah, come on, you know I always take good care of you."

And damn it, he’s right. Quinn is probably your biggest tipper out of the entire team. And while you like the money, you hate seeing his stupid messy brown hair and annoyingly pretty blue eyes at your bar every time they win.

"Sure you do," you say, swiping someone else’s card through the machine, mentally willing him to disappear into the sea of other customers.

You watch Quinn walk away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he’s parting the Red Sea. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so damn annoying can also be so… well, hot. There, you admitted it. The guy is hot. Like, "should come with a warning label" hot. But that doesn’t mean you’re about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you think that. No way. Not in this lifetime, or the next, or even if you were reincarnated as a particularly enthusiastic poodle.

Quinn Hughes is the human equivalent of a pop-up ad—persistent, unwanted, and impossible to get rid of without a lot of cursing. Every time you brush him off, he just comes back stronger, like he’s powered by your irritation. And maybe that’s what’s so maddening about him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he enjoys every second of it.

The problem is, you’re starting to wonder if you enjoy it too.

Nope. Not going there. You are not going to be one of those girls who gets all flustered over a guy just because he’s got a good smile and a credit card that could probably buy out half the bar. You’re stronger than that. You’re resilient. You’re… currently mixing a drink with far more focus than necessary because all you can think about is what it would be like to grab him by the collar of that too-tight shirt and kiss that stupid smirk right off his face.

You’re shaking your head at the absurdity of it all as you pour the next round of shots, hands moving on autopilot. It’s bad enough that Quinn Hughes has invaded your workspace like some kind of hockey-playing parasite, but now he’s wormed his way into your thoughts too.

“Get a grip,” you mutter under your breath, lining up the glasses like they’re little soldiers marching to their doom. Because really, that’s what this is—a battle of wills. A tug-of-war where the prize is your sanity, and you’re losing.

A couple of your regulars wave you over, and you force your focus back to them, slapping on that customer service smile that’s become second nature by now. They’re nice guys, the kind who tip decently and don’t try to flirt with you in that obnoxious, entitled way that some customers do. They’re also blissfully ignorant of the 5’10, 180 pound storm cloud currently hovering over your head, which is exactly how you like it.

But just as you’re starting to enjoy a break from the chaos, you catch sight of him again. He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, talking to Brock, who seems completely unfazed by the fact that Quinn has probably just sent your blood pressure through the roof.

You steal a glance at Quinn, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. The guy’s just standing there, doing absolutely nothing, and yet he has this stupid effect on you. Like he’s some kind of gravitational force, pulling you in against your will.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the drink in front of you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Your brain has already gone down that treacherous path, imagining what it would be like if you gave in just once.

But that’s a dangerous game, and you know it. Because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Hell, he’ll probably take the whole damn kilometer. And then where would you be?

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight, not ever.

You’re not sure when exactly it started—the whole Quinn Hughes thing, that is. Maybe it was the first time he sauntered up to the bar, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t. Or maybe it was the time he tipped you a hundred bucks just for bringing him a water, like he was trying to buy your affection. Which, spoiler alert, didn’t work. Or so you’ve been telling yourself.

But you can’t deny it any longer: Quinn Hughes is a problem. A major, five-alarm, get-the-fire-extinguisher kind of problem. Because somewhere along the line, your irritation with him has twisted into something… different. Something dangerous. Something that makes you wonder what it would be like to grab him by that annoyingly perfect jawline and just—

“Hey, Princess, you gonna make me another drink or just stand there daydreaming?”

And there it is. That voice, like smooth whiskey poured over gravel, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Of course it’s him. Because Quinn Hughes has a sixth sense for when you’re starting to get a grip on your sanity, and he’s hell-bent on ruining it.

You set down the bottle of vodka you’ve been holding, turning to face him with what you hope is a look of mild disinterest. “Back so soon? Didn’t think you could tear yourself away from your adoring fans.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does. After all, what’s a Friday night without irritating the bartender who’s secretly trying to figure out what color your eyes really are because the lighting in here sucks? Not that you’d ever admit to that. “I just couldn’t stay away from you, Princess. You know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Again, not my name.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. “I know. But I like it. It suits you.”

“What, because I won’t roll over and worship the ground you walk on?” you shoot back, crossing your arms. You know you’re playing with fire, but there’s something addictive about sparring with him. Like a game of chicken, except you’re both too stubborn to swerve.

Quinn’s grin widens, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Damn him. “Exactly. I like a girl with a backbone.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. Because for some reason, all you can think about is the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only person in this crowded, chaotic club that matters.

So that’s why you decide to go for it.

“You ever had hate sex, Hughes?”

You can almost see the gears in Quinn’s head grind to a halt at your question. The usual smug smirk falters for a split second, and it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all night. You’ve finally done it—left Quinn Hughes speechless. But the victory is short-lived because, as always, he recovers faster than you can blink.

“Hate sex?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, making you question all of your life choices up to this point. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you suddenly realize you’re standing way too close. “Princess, if that’s your idea of a pick-up line, I’ve got to say, I’m intrigued.”

And there it is, that damn smirk back in full force. He’s trying to throw you off, but you refuse to back down. You’ve already started this ridiculous game, so there’s no turning back now.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you reply, your tone as steady as you can make it. “Ever had hate sex?”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine—not that you’d ever admit it. “I don’t know. Guess we’d have to define ‘hate sex’ first.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But damn it, you’re committed now. “I’m pretty sure it’s when you can’t stand someone, but you still want to rip their clothes off.”

Quinn’s eyes darken just a fraction, and you can feel the tension between you both ratchet up to an unbearable level. It’s like the entire club fades away, leaving just the two of you locked in this absurd, heated standoff.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “You want to rip my clothes off, Princess?”

You clench your jaw, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. This is Quinn Hughes, the guy who drives you up the wall every single time he walks into this bar. There’s no way in hell you’re about to let him get the upper hand.

So, you do the only thing that seems appropriate. You lean in, so close that your lips are almost brushing his ear, and whisper, “Maybe I just want to shut you up for five minutes.”

“You think you could handle it?” His voice is a low rumble now, and there’s something about the way he says it that’s got your stomach doing somersaults. “Because if we’re going there, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Oh, for the love of— You’re pretty sure your face is betraying you right now, showing just how much his words have affected you, but you can’t let him know that.

Quinn is still watching you, eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a challenge there, a dare hanging in the air between you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Too close. Close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, and those damn blue eyes that seem to see right through your carefully constructed defenses.

For a moment, you consider backing down, playing it off as a joke. But then Quinn would win, and that’s simply not an option. So, you double down, leaning in just a little bit closer, your breath brushing against his skin.

"Handle it? Quinn, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to." Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is doing its best impression of a drum solo. This is insane. You’re flirting with Quinn Hughes. Quinn Hughes, the guy who spends his Friday nights at your bar making your life just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. The guy who seems to take an unholy amount of pleasure in riling you up. The guy who—God help you—makes your pulse race every time he so much as glances in your direction.

Quinn’s lips curve into a slow smile, and you can’t help but notice how annoyingly perfect his teeth are. Of course they are. Everything about him is infuriatingly perfect, from his tousled hair to his broad shoulders that you really shouldn’t be noticing right now. "You’ve got a mouth on you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine that you desperately try to suppress.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as you stare into Quinn’s infuriatingly perfect face. Seriously, who gave him the right to look this good, especially when he’s being such a smug asshole? You remind yourself that you don’t like him. You don’t. Except maybe you do, a little bit. Okay, a lot. But that’s beside the point.

Quinn’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire—one wrong move, and you’re going to get burned. But damn it, you’re not backing down. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can swoop in and… do what, exactly? You’re not even sure anymore. And that’s the most dangerous part.

“Someone’s gotta put you in your place, Hughes,” you manage to say, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. You’re aiming for sassy, but it’s hard to pull off when your heart is practically doing backflips in your chest.

His smile widens, and you want to slap it right off his face, but also—God help you—maybe kiss it off too. “Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Oh, he’s good. He’s really good. And damn it, you walked right into his trap, didn’t you? Because now you’ve got to follow through, or else he’s going to lord this over you for the rest of eternity.

But before you can figure out a clever retort, Quinn’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the crowded bar. When he looks back at you, there’s something new in his eyes—something that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is a little too crowded for what I have in mind.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He’s not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting, is he? Because if he is, you’re in way over your head. And yet… there’s a tiny, traitorous part of you that’s intrigued. More than intrigued. You want to know what he has in mind, even though every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to abort mission and run for the hills.

You tilt your head, trying to play it cool even as your heart races. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Hughes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Somewhere private,” he murmurs, “Where we can… talk.”

“Talk,” you repeat, your tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Oh, you do. You’ve got a lot of ideas, most of them involving doing things to Quinn Hughes that would definitely not fall under the category of “talking.” But you can’t just give in, can you? That would be too easy, and Quinn would never let you live it down.

But then again… maybe it’s time to stop overthinking things. Maybe it’s time to let go, just this once, and see where this crazy, ridiculous, probably-terrible idea takes you.

“Fine,” you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds. “Let’s go.”

Quinn’s eyes light up with something that looks a lot like victory, but you’re not about to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely, anyway.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, his voice a low purr that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

You roll your eyes—because of course you do—but there’s no denying the excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but one thing’s for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With one last glance at the bar, you turn on your heel and start making your way through the crowd, Quinn hot on your heels. You can feel the tension between you both, crackling like static electricity, and it’s taking everything in you not to turn around and grab him by that stupidly perfect jawline right then and there.

You slip through a side door that leads to a narrow hallway, the noise from the bar muffled by the heavy walls. The air is cooler here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that dance along the worn carpet. You can feel Quinn’s presence behind you, close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Where are we going?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach flip.

“Storage closet,” you say, not even sure where the idea came from, but it’s out now, and there’s no taking it back. You know the staff keeps some of the extra supplies in a small room down the hall, and it’s as good a place as any to… well, whatever this is.

Quinn’s chuckle is dark and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine. “Kinky,” he murmurs, but you can hear the approval in his tone.

You reach the door and push it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves full of bottles and boxes. It’s cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is space to think about what you’re doing, because if you stop to think, you might just lose your nerve.

Quinn steps in behind you, closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoes in the quiet space, amplifying the tension that’s been simmering between you both all night.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges and barely restrained desire. And then, like a rubber band snapping, the tension breaks.

You’re not even sure who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly you’re pressed up against the shelves, Quinn’s body crowding into yours, his hands bracing on either side of your head as his lips crash onto yours

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every bit as intense and heated as the tension that’s been simmering between you from the moment you met. His lips crash against yours with a force that sends your head spinning, and for a moment, all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

This is no sweet, romantic moment. This is raw, unfiltered desire, born from all the frustration and irritation that’s been building between you two for so long. It’s everything you never thought you’d want, and yet here you are, giving in to it completely.

Quinn’s hands are on you now, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe you can’t either. All you know is that this is happening, and there’s no stopping it.

“Damn it, Hughes,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to inject some venom into your words, but it comes out more like a plea. You can feel his smirk, the arrogant bastard. He knows he’s got you, and it only makes you want to kiss him harder.

Or punch him.

Maybe both.

“Problem?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair disheveled from your hands, and he looks annoyingly good like this. All messy and untamed, like you’ve undone him somehow, when you know it’s the other way around.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop looking at you like that, like you’re some puzzle he’s close to solving. But you’re too breathless, too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. So instead, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him back down to you, your lips crashing together again in a bruising kiss.

He groans into your mouth, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers skimming the heated skin of your back. You shiver at the contact, hating how good it feels, hating that he knows it too. You can feel his smugness in every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

And yet, you don’t stop him.

Because you’re just as guilty.

You’ve been wanting this—wanting him—even though you’ve been denying it, pushing it away, convincing yourself that you despise him. But the truth is, that hatred has always been laced with something else. Something darker, more dangerous. Something you’re only now beginning to understand.

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter against his lips, your voice tinged with frustration as you nip at his lower lip. You want to hurt him, just a little, to remind yourself that you’re still in control, that this isn’t just him getting what he wants. But when he groans in response, his hands tightening their grip on your hips, you realize that maybe you’re not as in control as you thought.

“You say that like you don’t love it,” he replies, his voice husky as he trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. Your breath hitches when he finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that makes your knees go weak. He’s too good at this. Too good at getting under your skin.

You don’t want to enjoy this. You really don’t. But your body isn’t exactly cooperating, and the traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach isn’t something you can ignore. It’s maddening how much you want this, even as every logical part of your brain screams that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

But logic be damned, because the way Quinn’s lips are moving against your skin is making it very hard to care about consequences.

“You’re such a smug bastard,” you mutter, trying to inject some bite into your words, but they come out breathy, almost like a sigh. Ugh. Could you be any more pathetic?

Quinn chuckles against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked that about me,” he murmurs, his voice thick. His hands slide up under your shirt, fingers skimming over your ribs, making you gasp. “Or at least, you like it enough to let me do this.”

He’s right, and that just pisses you off even more. You do like it—hate it, love it, whatever it is, you’re feeling it with every nerve in your body. You can feel his smirk against your skin, and it only fuels the fire inside you.

You yank at his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can meet his eyes, which are dark and stormy with desire. “Don’t get cocky, Hughes,” you warn, even though you know it’s a losing battle. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But we both know you’re full of shit.”

“Full of shit?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to keep your wits about you even as his hands roam over your body. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s all talk and no—”

Quinn’s lips are on yours again before you can finish the sentence, cutting off your words with a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than the last one. It’s like he’s determined to prove you wrong, to make you eat your words, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s succeeding.

But you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

You push back against him, shoving at his chest just enough to create some distance, even though your body is screaming at you to do the opposite. His eyes flash with surprise, and you smirk up at him, a little breathless but still in the game.

“Easy there, Hughes,” you murmur, your voice laced with false bravado. “I didn’t say you could take control.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly smug smile that makes you want to both slap him and drag him closer. “Oh? I must have missed the memo where you were the one calling the shots.”

You grit your teeth, not entirely sure whether you want to punch him or kiss him again. Maybe both, but that would just be giving him the upper hand. Instead, you decide to hit him where it hurts—his ego.

“Please,” you scoff, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “You’ve been in my palm since the moment we met. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He lets out a low, amused chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re fantasizing about me at night?”

Your stomach flips at his words, but you refuse to let him see the effect he’s having on you. Instead, you tilt your head, letting your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, “In your dreams, Hughes.”

But as much as you’re trying to play it cool, you can’t deny the electric tension between you both. It’s like the air is crackling with it, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. All you can focus on is Quinn—his hands, his lips, his damn voice that keeps pulling you deeper into this mess.

His hand slides down your side, settling on your hip, and your breath catches when he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together in the cramped space. You can feel every inch of him, the solid warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you don’t either.

Quinn’s lips are back on yours, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate. Like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time, driving you absolutely crazy with how good it feels. You’re so wrapped up in it, in him, that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working on rolling up your shirt until it’s halfway up.

You pull back, just enough to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives you a look that’s all innocence, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands keep moving, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Comfortable?” you repeat, your voice coming out a little higher than you intended as his hands roam over your bare skin. “You think this is making me comfortable?”

Quinn leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “No, but it’s making you hot, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitches, and damn him, he’s right. He’s so infuriatingly right. But you’re not about to admit that. Instead, you try to muster up some semblance of defiance, even though you can feel your resolve crumbling with every touch, every heated look he throws your way.

“You wish,” you manage to say, but the words lack the venom you were aiming for. Instead, they come out breathy, almost like a plea, and you hate how much that turns you on.

Quinn grins, and it’s a wicked, knowing grin that makes your stomach twist in the most deliciously infuriating way. “I don’t have to wish,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before you can respond—before you can even think of a comeback—he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your head spin. You’re drowning in him, in the heat, the intensity of it all, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re going to lose yourself completely.

But then Quinn’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up onto the shelves, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You grab onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it hard to remember why this is such a bad idea.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to fall apart at the seams. But your voice betrays you, coming out shaky, uncertain, and Quinn hears it. Of course he does.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your shorts, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches, the way your body arches toward him, desperate for more. Damn it, you shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him—but there’s no denying it now.

“You can stop this anytime you want,” Quinn whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Just say the word.”

But you don’t say anything. Because you can’t. You don’t want to stop, not when his hands are on you, not when his lips are trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to let go, to give in to this insane, reckless desire.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with everything you’ve got, trying to show him that you’re not backing down, that you’re just as in this as he is. Maybe more.

Quinn groans against your lips, and you can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands tighten their grip on your thighs. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him, the way you can make him unravel with just a kiss, a touch.

But then his hands are slipping under your shorts, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s happening, it’s really happening, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re ready for this. If you can handle what comes next.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to lose it completely. But he’s not listening, or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t care, because his hands are still moving, still exploring, and you’re melting under his touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your stomach flip. It’s dark, intense, full of heat—and, damn it, he’s giving you that smug smile again, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless, a contrast to the arrogant tilt of his lips. “You good?”

Good? Is that a joke? You’re anything but good right now. Your heart is racing, your mind is spinning, and your body—well, your body is betraying you in every way possible, pressing closer to him, silently begging for more.

“I fucking hate you,” you manage to choke out, though the words feel flimsy, a pathetic attempt at maintaining some semblance of control. Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and you know he doesn’t believe you for a second. But instead of calling you out on it, he leans in, his lips brushing against your jawline as he murmurs, “Then why are you so fucking wet?” He punctuates the words by brushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your underwear.

Your brain short-circuits at his words. Like, did he really just—? You’re torn between the urge to slap that smug look off his face and the overwhelming desire to pull him closer, consequences be damned. The nerve of this guy, thinking he can just—

But then his fingers move, and every coherent thought you had goes flying out the window. A gasp escapes your lips, and you curse yourself for giving him the satisfaction, but, damn it, how are you supposed to keep your wits about you when his hands are doing that?

Quinn’s watching you, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more primal. “What’s the matter?” he teases, his voice a low rumble.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster up some sort of retort, but all that comes out is a breathy, “Shut up,” which only makes his smirk widen. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so badly, but every time you think you’re about to regain control, he does something that completely derails you.

Like now, for instance, when his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and your hips jerk forward entirely of their own accord. Quinn’s chuckle is low and throaty, and you feel the vibrations of it against your neck as he nips at your skin, leaving a trail of barely-there bites that make your pulse race.

“Shutting up doesn’t seem like your style,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. “But I think I can find a way to keep you quiet.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean because his hand finally dips lower, and suddenly, you’re not sure whether you want to moan or curse him out. Your body makes the decision for you, your head falling back against the shelf as a breathless moan escapes your lips, and you feel Quinn’s grin widen against your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking—” Your words get caught in your throat as he moves his fingers just right, and the sound that comes out of you is more of a whimper than anything else. It’s humiliating, really, how easily he’s reducing you to this—a writhing, desperate mess—and the bastard knows it.

“Sensitive, are we?” Quinn’s voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a huskiness to it now, a slight hitch in his breath that tells you he’s just as affected by this as you are, even if he’s better at hiding it. “That’s cute.”

“Cute?” you manage to gasp, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance, even as your body betrays you by arching into his touch. “I’ll show you—” Your words trail off into a moan as he circles his fingers just right, and suddenly, the only thing you want to show him is how quickly you can come undone if he keeps this up.

You're about to fire back with something scathing, something that’ll put Quinn in his place, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp as his fingers work a little faster, a little rougher, hitting that spot that has your entire body going slack against the shelves. God, if anyone walked in right now, they'd have one hell of a show.

"Something you wanted to say?" Quinn’s voice is thick with that damn arrogance, but there's a slight edge to it now, like he's barely holding it together himself. Good, you think. If you’re going down, you’re taking him with you.

"Y-you're…" You try to form a sentence, anything to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words get tangled in your throat as Quinn’s other hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot and demanding. "You're such a…"

He smirks, his lips hovering just over yours, so close you can feel the heat of his breath. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm dying to know."

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter, but your voice lacks any real bite, especially when his fingers dip lower, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Quinn…"

He pauses, his lips still pressed to your jaw, and for a moment, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s going to stop, give you a chance to catch your breath, to regain some semblance of control. But then he moves again, his fingers slipping past your last shred of dignity, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a curse.

"That’s what I thought," Quinn whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you couldn't keep that tough act up forever."

"Screw you," you hiss, but your words are cut off by another sharp gasp as Quinn’s thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh, God…"

"Already there," he murmurs, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He presses a kiss there, soft and maddeningly slow, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and you can see the barely-contained hunger in them. It sends a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through you.

"Quinn, I swear, I’m gonna—" you gasp as his fingers continue their relentless assault, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Or maybe I'll just—"

"Just what?" he presses, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to finish the sentence. "Come all over my fingers? Because that’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it?"

There’s a part of you—the sensible, rational part—that’s still trying to cling to some semblance of control, some dignity. But that part is losing, rapidly being overpowered by the heat pooling in your stomach and the way Quinn’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the entire world.

For a moment, you consider making some sort of last-ditch effort to regain control, to pull away and regain your breath. But then Quinn’s thumb brushes over that spot again, and all thoughts of self-control go out the window. Instead, a moan slips past your lips—loud and unrestrained, filling the tiny storage closet with a sound that’s undeniably needy.

Quinn’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction, and damn it, he’s enjoying this way too much. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna come for me, yeah? Or do you want my cock instead?”

Your brain is short-circuiting, struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. The idea of him inside you, combined with the way he’s touching you, is almost too much to bear. You’re on the verge of losing it, and every part of you is screaming for release.

Finally, you manage a breathless, “Fuck it,” and let your hands wander lower, fumbling with his belt, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. You don’t care about the consequences, the logical part of your brain completely overridden by the burning need coursing through you.

“I swear, if we ever make it out of this closet,” you gasp, your fingers struggling with the stubborn belt buckle, “I’m going to have a hard time looking you in the eye.”

Quinn chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But right now, I think your focus should be on something else.”

You manage to loosen his belt, your hands shaking with anticipation. The urgency of the moment makes every touch and every breath more intense. “And what would that be?” you retort, trying to keep some semblance of your usual sarcasm. It’s hard, though, when his fingers are still doing deliciously wicked things to you.

Quinn’s fingers trace teasing circles, making your breath hitch and your body squirm against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. “Maybe on getting me out of these pants before I lose my patience.”

“Geez, Hughes, such a gentleman,” you manage, your voice breathless as you finally get his pants undone. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s only adding to the feverish heat between you.

You push his pants down just enough, and as you finally free his hard length, you’re met with the unmistakable evidence of his own need. The sight makes you gasp, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Quinn groans into your mouth when you reach inside his jeans, his hips jerking forward as if seeking more contact, more friction. You’re both teetering on the edge now, the line between control and complete surrender blurred beyond recognition. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and you’re not sure if you want to keep pushing him or if you just want to let go and fall into the abyss together.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Quinn breathes against your lips, his voice rough with need, and there’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where you think you see something more in his eyes. Something deeper than just desire, something that sends a jolt of fear straight to your heart. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you closer, and whatever that look was, it’s gone, replaced by the raw, primal hunger that’s been simmering between you from the start.

You shudder as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough force to make you gasp. You can feel him, hot and hard against your palm, and it’s taking everything in you not to just give in, to let him take what you both so clearly want. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to let him have the upper hand, that wants to make him beg, make him come undone for you.

“Say please,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Quinn freezes, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed him too far, that he’s going to pull back and leave you hanging on the edge of oblivion. But then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Please?” he echoes, his tone dripping with arrogance, as if the very idea of him begging is laughable. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you stroke him slowly, deliberately teasing, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches, his bravado faltering ever so slightly. “No?” you murmur, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip, your voice low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

Quinn’s eyes darken, and for a split second, you think you’ve got him—that you’ve managed to gain the upper hand. But then he’s moving, faster than you can react, pinning your wrists behind your back with one hand while the other yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way that sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You want to play games?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Fine. But I don’t play fair.”

Before you can respond, before you can even think to respond, he’s pressing into you, his body solid and unyielding, and all coherent thought flies out of your head as he finally, finally gives you what you’ve both been craving.

The world tilts on its axis as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you’re not sure if the sound that escapes your lips is a moan or a sob or something in between. All you know is that you’re completely, utterly lost in him—in the way he’s filling you, stretching you, driving you to the brink of madness with every rough, relentless movement.

Quinn’s breath is ragged against your ear, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You’re so close, so fucking close, and it’s taking everything in you not to just let go, to give in to the blinding pleasure that’s consuming you from the inside out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Quinn groans, his voice strained, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable in the way he says it, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. “I’ve been imagining this from the first moment I walked in here.”

Your hands are still pinned behind your back, your body arched against the shelves, completely at Quinn’s mercy. And damn it, he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the brink, how to make you lose every ounce of control you thought you had. His movements are powerful, purposeful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, until you’re teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“Quinn—” You gasp out his name, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through you like a living thing. His grip on your wrists tightens, the roughness of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, and there’s something possessive, almost desperate, in his voice that makes your heart race even faster. “You’re fucking mine.”

And you’re so damn close, so close to falling apart entirely. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to give in, to let him have all the control. So, you tighten around him, just enough to pull a sharp, choked-off groan from his throat, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as his rhythm falters, just for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re—” Quinn’s voice is hoarse, strained, as if he’s holding onto the last shreds of his control by a thread, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you’re the one doing this to him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe out, trying to sound cocky despite the tremble in your voice. “Maybe you should—”

But you don’t get to finish the thought, because Quinn shifts his angle just slightly, and suddenly, he’s hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, that has your back arching off the shelves and a cry escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the triumph. He’s found your weakness, and he’s going to exploit it for all it’s worth. “Right there, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out again as he starts to focus all his attention on that one spot, his movements growing more precise, more deliberate. He’s relentless, driving you closer and closer to the brink, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, to lose the tenuous grip you have on your composure.

“Quinn, I—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, don’t even know if you can say anything at all with the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

Quinn’s chuckle against your ear is low and dark, the sound a tantalizing contrast to the rough, punishing way he’s moving inside you. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it over the sound of you moaning my name.”

The arrogance in his voice is infuriating, but it’s also the last thing on your mind right now. Every thrust he gives you is like a jolt to your system, making it harder to stay focused, harder to cling to whatever shreds of control you have left. Your head is spinning, and you’re almost grateful for the way his body is pressed against yours, anchoring you in a whirlwind of pleasure.

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your body betrays you by arching into him. “You’re insufferable,” you manage to gasp out, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual bravado. “And you’re really bad at this whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice is a low purr, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep telling me how much you hate me. It makes this so much better.”

You roll your eyes, even as a moan escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re such a jerk,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky and breathless, betraying just how much he’s affecting you.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the brush of his lips against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “That’s not what your body’s telling me, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to you. But it’s a losing battle, and you both know it. Especially when he starts moving faster, his pace relentless as he drives into you with a force that has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the shelves as you struggle to stay upright. “You’re—” Your words are cut off by a sharp cry as he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you again that has your vision going white around the edges.

You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to process the fact that you’re completely, utterly exposed in a storage closet with a man who has made a sport out of driving you insane. All you can do is feel—every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath against your ear is pushing you closer to the edge, closer to losing the last of your control.

“God, you’re so… fucking… cocky,” you manage to choke out between gasps, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mm-mhm,” Quinn’s voice is a low growl, his words vibrating against your neck as his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. “And you’re just an annoying brat who brushes me off every time I say something nice. But I figured it out, you just wanted me to rail all that attitude out of you.”

You try to respond, to counter his taunts with some biting retort, but all that comes out is a breathless moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more urgent. “Fuck, Quinn,” you gasp, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your control. “You’re—”

He interrupts you with a sharp, possessive growl. “I’m what? Don’t hold back now. Tell me how good it feels.”

Your head is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and frustration. “You’re a complete—” Another moan escapes you as Quinn hits that spot inside you again, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “A complete… asshole,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

“And you love it,” Quinn’s voice is a triumphant whisper against your ear. “You love every second of this. Don’t you?”

You can’t even respond, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point where you’re just barely able to hold onto the edge of sanity. All you can do is nod, your body arching into him, your hands still pinned behind your back, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so close,” Quinn murmurs, his voice low and rough. “So fucking close. I can feel it. And I’m going to make sure you get there. I promise.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you feel yourself starting to unravel, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. Quinn’s movements are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, until you’re on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into oblivion.

“Quinn, I—” You try to speak, but the words are lost in a cry as he thrusts into you with a force that has your vision going white around the edges.

Quinn’s grip on your hips tightens, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Come for me,” he growls, his breath hot and urgent. “Let go. Give it to me.”

And with those words, you shatter, your body convulsing with a pleasure so intense that it’s almost painful. You cry out his name, your voice echoing through the storage closet as you come apart, your entire world dissolving into a blur of sensation and release.

Quinn follows close behind, his movements growing erratic as he drives into you with one final, powerful thrust. You can feel his release inside you, hot and thick, and it sends a shiver through your entire body. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged and heavy, and you can feel the tension in his body as he finally, finally finds his own release.

The two of you are left panting in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together in the confined space of the storage closet. Quinn’s breath is hot against your ear, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “That was… intense.”

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice still trembling. “That’s one way to put it. Now, get off of me. I have to get back to work.”

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[kodaiki]

┊.˚🏹 ༘┊͙ 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 ; ↳ as one of the leading stars of "jujutsu kaisen," yuuji itadori shines brightly in the spotlight, captivating hearts all over; it's only obvious that he'd capture yours as well. so, in a time of utter hopelessness, believing you'd never get a chance with him without help, you turn to the person you never thought you would: his older brother.

pairing: fem!reader x sukuna tags: smau/partially written; acquaintances to lovers!au, actor!sukuna, model!reader, matchmaker!sukuna, friend!yuuji, jjk is a live-action show in this au, grumpy x sunshine dynamic, sukuna is yuuji's older brother, he’s dark and brooding, age gap (sukuna is 29 and reader is 23), fluff/angst/humor length: 1/?? note: omg next au mlist dropped,,, v much hype lol; bc yuuji and sukuna are related, itadori is his last name too! there may be spoilers so beware! dedicated to @ilvrs bc i love her 😌😌 taglist details: will open at the conclusion of SCRIPTED HEARTS! pls don’t ask until i announce it’s open!

[disclaimer: the way the reader is portrayed is just for the reason of style/posing! this is not what the reader looks like (she should look like however you’d like her to!) just wanted to clarify!!]

COMING SOON . . .

©kodaiki 2024 all rights reserved aka pretty please do not repost my work on other platforms or translate them (つ﹏<。)

[neil-gaiman]

Mr. Gaiman sir!

Okay, that's enough formality. I have a question.

So recently, I discovered that nightmare in silver is a disliked episode of Doctor Who (I loved it, the dynamic of the doctor and cyberplanner? Love it).

Well, I have to ask, how much of it was changed without your saying if at all? And, do you ever feel regret for how the Cybermen became more robotic than cyborg?

Regardless, I absolutely adore the two episodes you've written for the show (the doctors wife is without flaw and no one can tell me otherwise)

I'm still fond of the original script for Nightmare in Silver.

The Cybermen I wanted to write would have been much more like the ones in Wheel in Space, which were the Cybermen that scared me, but what the show wanted were higher tech, upgradable Cybermen.

It was originally written for Beryl Montague, when she was going to be that season's companion... (She became the short-lived Victorian governess who became Clara.)

and it ended differently too...

[bkd-b3ans]

You try to repair a watch, Boothill is being annoying as usual, you end up discovering his neurolink perfectly mimics human emotions.

-> Ship: Boothill X Mechanic!Reader (or just tech savvy idk the term really)

-> Rating: Safe for All

-> TL;DR: Boothill visits you after closing hours, nearly ruins a 5 million watch repair commission, stares for a bit too long while you work and overheats for a bit, ends up learning you live above your own workshop and you learn he gets flustered easy.

-> Extra notes: No idea where I will go with these, I just love writing stuff. Next one is going to be more about touching / feeling, but until then, you too can experience casual chatter. I do not proof read, whatever is written is in accordance to Ellios script, go meow at him. Take this "2nd" part as pure world-building.

-> Word count: 2k~ ish

-> First part: here

Thank you for reading and bearing with my awful English. If you have any prompts I would be more than happy to hear them.

"Pardner? Yoohooo~" Boothill was waving his arm like a manic from the front of the counter, trying to catch your attention, but you were too engrossed in your work, tinkering away with some expensive watch you were paid to fix, the tiny gears and springs neatly organized in your table in tiny boxes with labels, while you were hunched over the table, looking through a magnifying glass and listening to music, tongue almost sticking out like some cartoon character while you were trying to place the gear in its place carefully using some precise tweezers.

For all you cared, your shop was closed for the day, so why would anyone in their right mind, or that knows how to read a sign, would even bother you? Of course you didn't take into account a Galaxy Ranger that had a passion for annoying you at random times.

"Psst, hey, over 'ere..." he sighed, "Fudge this". Impatient as ever, Boothill just helped himself with one of the expensive motor oil cans in the counter and stepped around it, taking off his hat and placing it on your head.

The whole motion made you jump out of your skin, dropping the tweezers together with the very important, one of a kind gear, that you could barely notice while it was on your table, let alone on your floor, rolling off into the void like all of the pens you've lost throughout the years.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING WORK OF MY AEONS-" you took off the hat annoyed, hand still shaking from the scare and heart running laps in your chest. Shoving the hat into Boothills chest, you couldn't help but be angry at the man, sighing.

"Damn sugar-cube, didn't know ye were this jumpy. Ye should be more aware of yer surroundings you know?"

"What the hell does that mean. MY SHOP IS CLOSED BOOTHILL, CAN'T YOU READ??"

"Well, not your language no, it's all a bunch of jumbles and lines"

You looked confused for a moment before realizing that neither of you were from the same planet. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, trying to get rid of your furrow.

"Just, shut up and help me look for that gear. AND PUT THE DAMN CAN DOWN"

He raised his arms in defeat, putting down the can of motor oil and looking around your workbench while you were painfully looking for the gear with your magnifying glasses.

"Lotta' shiny pieces you have on the table. Are these really more important than your good old buddy, Boothill?"

"Unless you're willing to give me 5 million, then yes"

Boothill choked

"5 million?? For some beautiful watch?"

"What can I say, some people have more than they know what to do with. Now stop yapping and get on your knees, I can't see shit."

"Is that an invitation, darling?"

"... BOOTHILL!"

"Aye aye, don't get your feathers ruffled like this darling, just sit there and be pretty"

----------------

You couldn't help but be annoyed still, slumped in your chair, fiddling with your pen, while Boothill was looking around. How long has it been already, maybe a few minutes? Hours? Days??? Your work couldn't wait that much, and each ticking second felt agonizing. You were so close too, getting interrupted was the last thing you needed right now. You always had plans, a schedule, deadlines, you couldn't afford the unpredictability that is Boothill sometimes.

You almost got too lost in your thoughts before you heard a sudden thud, metal against wood, and a proud exclamation.

"Here it is sugar-cube, your pretty little thing... Cogwheel whatever. Now can you stop looking like someone spat in your food or do I need to repair this watch myself to make you happy?"

You could swear sometimes he was like a dog, a big doberman. For as scary as he could look sometimes, you couldn't help but be unable to push him away. All you could do was just let out an amused scoff, taking the gear piece in the palm of your hand, and gently placing it in it's box.

"No, no, you've done enough damage already. Why are you here even?"

"Just wanted to pay my best buddy a visit? What, a man can't do that no more?"

"No fixing your body? No maintenance work? Really nothing? Just a visit? Odd, thought you were a busy man"

"Oh I sure am sugar-cube, but sometimes even I need to sit down and relax."

"... In my workshop"

"In yer workshop, yes."

You sighed

"Fine, fine, stay for as long as you need, but don't touch anything that is in this-" you motion around your workbench "general area"

He tipped his hat in acknowledgment

"Aye aye, I'll stay put, fudge me, you can be very serious sometimes."

"5 million"

"Right yes, that's understandable."

You went back to work, trying to finish placing the last pieces inside that damned watch, headphones back on your ears. Boothill was simply slumped on the couch you kept around the waiting area, that barely saw any use to begin with. He was just looking around, bored out of his mind, the silence really starting to get to him. On occasion he's throw you glances, looking like a kicked puppy only to be met by your back either way. Yet he couldn't help but notice the few tics you had, tapping your foot, humming to yourself from time to time, arranging your hair by shaking your head around, and just how damn beautiful you looked in that dim warm light.

By no means we're you prettied up and groomed, after all, working with machinery all day will just lead to one always being covered by oil or sutt, clothes messy, the tools around your belt loud and heavy, but to him, it was part of the charm. The passion you had for what you did, the care you treated everything with, even his own body when it needed repairs. Sure, you two may butt heads more often than goats, but you were the reason he kept making his trips back to your workshop for any needs. He trusted you, felt comfort in your presence.

He could feel his insides start to heat up, his mind trailing off. Sure, he couldn't blush for the love of him, after all blood stopped flowing through his body long, long ago, but his body still reacted from time to time to strong emotions, and now it was no different. It felt, uncomfortable almost, a strange emptiness in his metal gut. Maybe it was the bullets he snacked in like some chips, or maybe it was more than that. He just simply pulled his hat over his eyes to focus and calm down.

-------------------

Finally, after so many hours, you were finally done, the watch ticking gleefully, almost as if happy with it's new look. You sighed in relief, finally placing down your headphones and slumping in your chair, pulling your glasses up.

"Finally... I swear they are trying to drive me insane with all these new 'trinkets' that have way too many small pieces for their own good. How you holding up, Boots?"

"Fine as ever sugar, bored out of my mind, but rested"

"Yeah, I can see that, you've already made a dent in my couch"

"Hey, I helped ya find that gear for free, can't I get some more respect"

"And who's fault was it that I dropped it?" You said, raising your eyebrow.

"Aye aye, sorry 'bout that."

There was a moment of pause

"Say, partner, you've messed around inside my body for a while now. Do you know if there's any functions that might mimic proper human emotions?"

"Human emotions? Hmmm"

You thought for a moment, trying to remember if you've seen any kind of code that might do that.

"I don't think I've seen anything like that, but I've also never like, actually paid attention. There may be some functions that mimic that, after all, you might need them to think and work properly. Why?"

"Ah, nothing important, was just wondering."

"I can always check if you want. Of course, for a price"

He couldn't help but scoff, amused "You were never free eh?"

"Someone has to eat"

"Sure, sure. I mean why not, might as well get this mystery solved, since I'm here and have nothing better to do."

"Then come with me"

You both went inside your garage, Boothill already used to all the steps, laying down on the weird table chair as he put it while you connected the cables to the back of his neck, opening the hologram screens.

"Let's see..." you rubbed your chin, pacing around while moving around screens, trying to find anything remotely similar to what Boothill mentioned, but it was rather hard. Every line kept changing dictating different functions every moment.

"Hmm...."

"Anything the matter?"

"No, I just realized why I might have never seen that kind of function. Your neurolink is adapting to everything you do, so it's changing constantly. I think the only way to spot anything us to trigger whatever made you so curious about your 'emotions'"

"Trigger em? And how the fork do you plan on doing that?"

You thought for a moment, moving next to Boothill, dragging the screens along with you. You didn't really give a warning as you poked his chest with a screwdriver, noticing some changes.

"What in the beautiful sky are you doing?"

"There it is" you just pointed at the screen at the suddenly changing lines.

"Your body reacts to your mental state. Right now you are confused"

"I sure as warm lake I am, you're poking me around with a screwdriver."

"What else would have you wanted me to do? Touch you with my own hands?"

He was about to say something, but you grabbed one of the screens, squinting at it.

"Getting flustered, Boots?" You could almost feel your own smug smile forming on your face.

"Flustered? Please, you'd think I'd get 'flustered' from just a check-up?"

"Bashful... Interesting"

"Hey! Stop saying things and answer me, sweetheart"

"And annoyed. Yeah, you do seem to have those functions, and they're damn advanced to mimic human emotions. Guess you aren't just metal after all. You still have the ability to feel. It's interesting how this changes..."

You got too focused on the lines of code, not paying attention to how you started leaning against the table, your hand extremely close to Boothills, fingers almost touching. Sure, you were just staring at the lines changing, but Boothill was staring at your hand, annoyed almost that he couldn't just grab it, only to be confused over why he was annoyed. You just chuckled to yourself and pushed the screen away, unplugging the cables.

"Well, mystery solved, your neurolink functions exactly like a brain and it sends the proper signals, so your body will be affected by your emotions."

"Great-" he rolled his eyes, standing up and scratching the back of his head "You need a new table, this one is forking uncomfortable."

"I don't take feedback"

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say darling." he just hopped off the table, adjusting his hat.

"H-"

"1k credits"

"Damn, let me finish at least. Fine, you know the drill"

"Nah, I'll let it slide this time. Getting to check your internals can be fun sometimes" you patted his back

"I'll go home, unless you want to guard my shop, you should leave too."

"You don't just live in your workshop??"

"...what...?"

"You know, like, I've always only seen you here, where is your home even."

"Oh... Oh! I guess you can say that? My home is upstairs, I bought the whole building when I opened so everything on the ground floor is the shop, upstairs is my place."

"Ok that makes sense... Can I-"

"No"

"Fine fine, I'll go my merry way then. I'll see you next time partner, and thank you for the free check-up"

"Don't get too used to them"

He nodded, tipping his hat and leaving.